Even in a Million Years

Fifteen

Bailey

I couldn't sleep. In the short time since arriving here, every time I closed my eyes I saw Jordan. He had been in my dreams constantly, every single one actually and I just couldn't figure out why.

I haven't had dreams about him and the accident  in years, but now all of a sudden they're back in full force. Forcing me to relive that night over and over.

He would've loved tonight. His parents worked a lot so it was usually just him and Jules, and us I guess. He was always with us because we were his family, his people, being all together again just made me think of him. No matter how many new people we've adopted, not one of them could file the hole of Jordan's absence.

I was guilty. I mean, I have come to terms with the accident, it took a long time and a lot of forced therapy, but I was able to work through it. I recognized that his death was not my fault. But just the fact that I was alive and my best friend wasn't, is what makes me dread waking up some days. I felt guilty that I got to experience these moments of pure happiness while he never would again.

I needed to do something, anything, because there was no way I could go back to sleep now.

So instead of laying here. I got up and put some clothes on before walking right out of my front door for a walk. It was something. Hopefully it'd be enough for me to get my head away from Jordan.

I walked and walked and walked until I got to Kanes. Now usually he's closed by two, but the lights were still on inside despite the dark exterior, and I still had the key he had given me.

So at two in the morning I find myself entering the one place I've always been able to find comfort in, only it wasn't locked, Kane must still be here then.

As I enter though, instead of being met with Kane behind the counter, I'm met with annoyingly familiar brown eyes torn away from a tv connecting with mine.

"Hi, sorry I though Kane was here I-just-well-I'm gonna just..." I start trickling over my words as he doesn't say anything, "go"

This seems to snap him out of whatever it was he was in, finding his words

"He's in the back right now, you could stay and wait if you want," he states quietly

I think about it for a second.

"Sure," I nod, I walked slowly over to the bar, taking a stool across from him. I'd noticed before, but never really payed much attention until now to the amount of tattoos he'd gotten since I left. He only had three senior year, now, his whole right arm was covered with various intertwining designs.

"You got more," I blurt out. Anything to break this painful awkwardness. I came here to stop thinking and now I'm overthinking.

"What?" He questions, his tone mirroring the one he'd used earlier when I had attempted to talk to him, failing miserably.

"Um, your tattoos, you got more,"

"Uh-yeah, I started the sleeve after Jordan," he says quieter than normal. Well what I remember to be his normal.

Really thinking about it now, since we've been back he hasn't been nearly as loud nor outspoken as he always was when we were younger. We were both like that as kids. His presence took up a room, and he had this air of confidence and dominance that followed him wherever he went.