𝕊𝕒𝕕 𝕤𝕠𝕝𝕓𝕪 𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕤 ♡

Home where you are not there

Only love can hurt like this...

. . . . . . . . . .

Corey stared at his ceiling as he woke. There was something off about today, and he didn't know what. In his defense, nothing had been quite right for a while now.

They'd lost too much. They were too young to have lost so much. There were permanent holes gouged in their hearts and souls, so every day felt bad. Not all the time, not all at once. But there was always an inevitable reminder that so much had gone wrong.

That not everybody could be saved.

That they don't always survive.

So this creeping dread under his skin? It was par for the course. It had been there for almost a year, constantly reminding him that he'd failed in one way or another. In big ways and small ways. In ways he'd regret forever.

Whoever had said that time healed all wounds had been a liar. Some of them, you had to live with—your heart free bleeding into your chest for eternity.

Sighing, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, scrubbing his hands over his face. He glanced at the clock, grimacing. 5 AM was too early for him. He hated waking up early, especially on a weekend. It felt like the universe was conspiring against him.

It was definitely too early to be so morbid.

There wasn't much he could do this early aside from eating breakfast or going to the gym. He was too awake—unable to settle back into sleep, so he may as well get started on the day. Maybe after he ate, he could work on some upcoming video ideas.

His feet carried him to the kitchen without much input. They paused at the doorway, though—freezing him in place as he heard someone moving inside. Nobody should be awake right now. But he could hear it, something metal being moved—maybe a pan or a mixing bowl? Whisking. Crying.

Crying? Who was crying in the kitchen at five in the morning? Who was letting out sniffling sobs as they worked?

It was accompanied by soft muttering, and his heart sank.

He hadn't heard Sams voice outside of small hums in almost a year. Ever since there last road trip, the brightest person in there group had become a shell—wracked with horrid nightmares, flinching at any sudden move, and silent unless spoken to.

He entered the kitchen, hesitation in every step. Sure enough, Sam was at the counter with a mixing bowl—ingredients scattered around him. He was crying steadily—tears dripping down his face. He was careful not to cry into the batter, though, angling his head away as he poured flour into the bowl and mixed.

"F-four eggs," he sniffled, voice so soft that corey almost didn't hear him.

"Sam?" Corey called softly. The blondes head snapped up, staring at him with red-rimmed eyes. He seemed more aware than usual. He didn't really look at things anymore, he usually looked through them. "What are you doing?"

"Making a cake," he croaked, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. "It's Colby's birthday. I'm gonna go visit him."

Corey's heart twisted, bleeding in his chest. Now he understood—why today felt off and why sam was here. Colbys birthday.

He'd forgotten.

"I haven't gone to visit him in a while," he said. "Mind if I come with you? I can help with the cake."

Sam bit back a sob, and Corey's chest ached. "Yeah," he muttered. "I'd appreciate the help. And Colby will be happy to see you. You always knew how to make him smile"