Ginger, a 21-year-old young man, sat in a booth at the neighborhood coffee shop on a warm Sunday afternoon. It was 1 p.m., and he'd been there for 30 minutes. A saucer held a cup of hot mocha coffee in front of him. When the doorbell rang, the redhead peered back over his shoulder. A young man with raven hair and olive skin entered, standing 5'6" tall.
"Hello, Thomas," Ginger said happily.
"Hello," said Thomas. "We need to talk," Thomas said sadly as he sat across from Ginger.
Ginger sat up tall, hands in his lap. A terrible feeling crept into his stomach.
"Something's wrong," the redhead observed. "What's going on?" he wondered. For some seconds, Thomas remained silent.
"Let's break up," Thomas proposed. Ginger's entire world collapsed around him.
What Thomas said shocked Ginger to his core. His hazel eyes welled up with tears.
"Why?" "What happened to us?" he hiccupped.
"I fell in love with someone else," Thomas admitted. Ginger's delicate cheeks were bathed in salty tears.
"After two years, you decide to call it quits?" he shouted. Ginger scooted out of the booth and stood up.
"I'm sorry," Thomas apologized.
"Did you ever love me?" Ginger inquired coldly. "Or was our relationship a big fat lie?" he asked, wiping away more tears that threatened to fall. Thomas sat there, unsure how to answer. "If that's the case, then it's goodbye!" cried the redhead.
Ginger pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his black, low-quality leather wallet. He strolled out the front door, leaving it next to the half-empty cup of coffee. The coffee shop grew silent, and several eyes were drawn to Thomas's table. Salty tears streamed down Ginger's cheeks as he weaved his way between numerous groups of afternoon shoppers. His body felt numb, and his thoughts were racing.
"Why did this happen to me?" he thought. "I am such a moron to think our love meant anything," he wept.
Ginger strolled aimlessly through the congested streets with no particular destination in mind.
"Hey!" said a brunette woman as he bumped into her. Ginger kept walking, staring blankly ahead.
"Obviously a drunk," the woman whispered as she went about her business. His thoughts were so preoccupied that he didn't notice when dark clouds clouded the once-blue sky or thunderclaps sounded out. He could only feel the ache of his wounded heart. Thunderclaps and lightning strikes could be heard. As he stepped onto the gorgeous sandy beach, hard rain pounded his pale skin and saturated his flaming red hair.
As it rained, Ginger's hair clung to his neck. His damp garments were clinging to his skin. His hazel eyes lacked soul and expression. He was just staring out at the lake. His feet walked on their own, bringing him closer to the water. The further he walked, the more water got into his shoes. The higher the water rose on his body, the deeper he went. He leaned back and closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink into the water.
Nothing
There is no discomfort or noise.
Nothing but peace and quiet
That is, until he was dragged out of the water by a powerful arm.
While turning his head, he coughed up salt water. Sand grains covered his cheek. "Let me go!" Ginger yelled as he felt himself being turned onto his side. "I want to die!" he yelled. He crawled to the water's edge on his hands and knees.
"No, you don't," a man firmly stated. Ginger's world dimmed as he lost consciousness.
Ginger awoke the next morning to find himself in a hospital room. His parents were present in the room. Thomas stood behind them.
"Thank goodness, you're awake," Ginger's mother said as she held him.
"You had us worried sick," Ginger's father stated.
"Mom, Dad," Ginger whispered, puzzled. "What exactly is he doing here?" Ginger inquired coldly. Ginger's parents turned to face Thomas after following his gaze.
"He was worried about you," his mother commented.
"That's bullshit," Ginger growled. "Get him out of my sight," said the young man.
Lance, Ginger's father, motioned for Thomas to follow him out the door, while Irene, Ginger's mother, approached the hospital bed.
"Hon, I'm not sure what triggered this, but the doctor told us you tried to kill yourself," she added, alarmed in her tone. "Why would you do such a terrible thing?" his mother wondered.
"I don't want to talk about it, mom," Ginger said gently. "Maybe Thomas will tell you," he suggested. "If you can get him to tell the truth," he said, turning away from her. Irene had a puzzled look on her face.
Irene walked out of Ginger's hospital room and into the waiting area. As she approached her husband and Thomas, her eyes were filled with fury.
"You better give me a damn good reason why my son is in this emotional state," she snapped back, pointing to Thomas. The young man with raven hair simply stood there, speechless. He was reminded of his talk with Ginger the day before.
"You had better tell us what happened between you two," Lance advised.
"I broke up with him," he whispered, too scared to say it out loud. Ginger's parents were both taken aback by what they had heard.
Irene inquired, "What were you thinking?"
"Our son is in a hospital bed right now because of something you said," they retorted.
"Get out of our sight and don't come back," Irene said firmly. Thomas returned home, his head bowed in shame.
They turned around as two sets of footsteps approached Ginger's parents. One was Ginger's doctor, while the other was a young man dressed casually for the summer.
"Hello, Dr. Lee," Lance murmured softly.
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. May," the doctor said. His spectacles hung from his neck, and his light brown hair was combed back. "This is Alex Stephenson," he said, introducing the young blonde. "He's the one who pulled your son from the water," the doctor explained.
"We want to thank you for saving our son," Lance said, reaching out to shake the young man's hand.
"It's my pleasure," he said, returning the handshake. "My main concern was that he kept saying he wanted to die," he said. "Why would a soul as beautiful as his want such a horrible thing?" Alex was curious.
"We were both trying to figure out the same thing," Irene said as she approached. "You see, his boyfriend of two years just dumped him yesterday," she continued.
The combination of everything that had happened the day before and what he had just heard had left Alex shaken. He turned around and stared everyone down.
"I realize I'm not family," he said, "but may I see him?"
"Yes, you may," Lance said, smiling as he placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. Alex's gray eyes twinkled with joy.
"Thank you," Alex said as he bowed his head. As he neared the door, Alex quietly listened for any sounds in the room. He quietly opened the door because there were none. Soft snores could be heard from the bed. A smear of unruly red hair could be seen under the duvet. A chair was set up next to the bed. Alex stayed deafeningly silent. He did nothing but sit in the chair and stare at Ginger while he slept.