Five Feet Apart

by Rachael Lippincott

If I’m going to die, I’d like to actually live first.

It’s a picture of a frowning Will, a wilted bouquet of flowers in his hand, a bubble caption underneath it reading “Sorry.”

Death. That’s what I am. That’s what I am to Stella.

I didn’t know it was possible for a person to make old things become new again.

You affect people more than you know.” He touches his chest, putting his hand over his heart. “I speak from experience.”

I laugh, making a snow angel too, my whole body cold from the snow, but warm from the moment.

And every breath he gets, he gives to me.

Abby smiles wider now. “I need you to live, okay? Live, Stella. For me.”

I straighten, desperately pulling in one more short breath, knowing deep in my chest that it is the last breath I will ever get. And I give it to her. I give everything I have to her, the girl that I love. She deserves that.

I push every bit of air in my body into her lungs, collapsing on top of her, no idea if it was enough, hearing the sirens of the ambulance I called blare in the distance. Water trickles over my head as my hand finds hers and I finally let the darkness consume me.

“I guess it’s true what that book of yours says—the soul knows no time. These past few weeks will last forever for me.” He takes a deep breath, smiling with those blue eyes. “My only regret is that you never got to see your lights.”

“I don’t want to leave you, but I love you too much to stay.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, smiling through the tears. “If I stop breathing tomorrow, know that I wouldn’t change a thing.”

That breath is my favorite part of the whole video. There’s no struggle. No wheezing. It’s perfect and smooth. Effortless.

“We need that touch from the one we love, almost as much as we need air to breathe. I never understood the importance of touch, his touch . . . until I couldn’t have it.”

I think that pull, that hurt, will always be there. But all I have to do is see her like this to know it was worth it a million times over.

The pain reminds me that they were here, that I’m alive.