Where Has the Air Gone?
AU! Writing exercise to examine writing out Graham's (non-canon) death
Where has the air gone?
Breathless to the point of near collapse. He grasped at his side. The pain wasn't subsiding any. It felt like he had just ran 100 miles. The shape he was in, he could hardly run one mile without panting and kneeling to the ground, much less 100. Still he was gasping for a breath, curling up into the fetal position.
Despite his age, he wasn't much better than a pathetic baby in this state he was in now. Everytime he tried to inhale, he choked on his breath like his lungs were filling up with water, but none came out with his little coughs. Some how, the coughs were dry-- horrible violent dry coughs that made him feel like some vital organ would come up his throat and out of his mouth.
He had been so content with his life for the short years he had lived. Well, he thought they were short anyway. He was in a constant state of feeling like his life was just beginning everytime something good happened to him -- and to an optomistic guy like Graham, good things were constantly happening in his life.
But people kept telling him that he was getting too old. He couldn't live the way he used to. He never liked to believe it. Not for a second. He was still just as young as he always was.
But the way he was now, hacking up his own blackened lungs mae him start to doubt his recent beliefs.
He supposed he always knew it though; with each passing birthday, he was indeed getting older. He might not have felt it then but they were adding up. His heart ached and felt heavy against his chest, like it was contracting and falling in on itself. His worst fear had been realized-- laying on the ground and facing his death all alone. He had lived his life up until this point to excess, trying to ind any and all company he could just so he wouldn't be alone as he spoiled his liver and fried his lungs. All of those things made him feel happy, kept him happy, and kept him from feeling or fearing anything else. His own optimism had deceived him, and yet again he was reminded of how much of a fool he always was.