Dear Matthew,

One - Bean Castle

I walked through the corridors of this stupid institution that had no other job than to make children's lives hell. I didn't know what I was doing there. there was no reason for me to go to class when the only thing I got was sympathy looks from everyone. I don't even know half of these people.

it's been a week. 

I didn't want sympathy, and I most certainly didn't need stupid frat boys thinking they had the right to make fun of my brother. it is for this reason that I'm here in the first place. 

"Miss Harper, I know that this is a hard time for you and your family and quite frankly, we've been patient. I've been very patient with you and your outbursts and rebellious violent acts but this has to stop." sighed Mr. Hindly, our beloved school's principal. "you broke the poor kid's nose. and he isn't the first one either." he crossed his arms, probably trying to intimidate me. 

"Yeah Maximus, I didn't say anything wrong. I just started the very publicly announced knowledge of the fact that your sweet brother shot his goddamn brains out" mimicked the jock whose nose I broke not fifteen minutes ago. I went to lunge at him before I was held back by the counselor, for the third time today. all this douche was doing was making me unbelievably irritated and I wanted to do nothing more than just leave this dingy place. 

"My name is Maxine, you idiot. and for your knowledge, he didn't shoot himself. he's fine." the counselor's arms tightened around my waist as he pulled me outside of the principal's office.

"Let me go!" I struggled, needing my space. "Alright, alright, I'll let you go but you have to promise me that you won't freak out again. we need to talk about this." he kept his grip waiting for confirmation from me. I slowly nodded my head and he eased his grip on me until he wasn't touching me anymore. 

"Okay. Good. Now please follow me to my office." he started slowly walking to his office, not waiting for me to follow him. I felt compelled to follow him anyway. I didn't want to talk. there wasn't anything to talk about. 

I walked into his office without lifting my eyes off the floor for even one second. I sat down on of the chairs adjacent to the desk and Jimmy the counselor sat in the chair in front of mine and not in his designated seat. I still didn't look up but he earned a glance when he cleared his throat.

"Listen, I know that you don't want to talk. and that's fine. but you can't keep acting like Matthew is alive. he isn't. I'm sorry." he stated very softly but I didn't even want to listen. I barely heard a word, tuning out everything he just said. Jimmy just sighed and grabbed something from his desk, "Take this." I didn't. I kept my gaze fixated on his shiny pricky shoes. "your brother had one. I gave it to him." he added calmly which made me look up, confused.

"Matt came to see you? why didn't he talk to me?" I rushed out, not thinking much before saying what I said. I didn't really care, he used to tell me everything. I didn't know what part exactly did I mess up. Jimmy sighed and looked at me sadly. 

"Matt went through some rough patches in his life that he didn't want you to know about. To him, you were his baby sister and he didn't want you to see that side of him just yet. I'm sorry we couldn't help him, both you and me."  I didn't reply. I just stared at the brown journal that he had in his hands. "you can write to him, you know. Just like how you used to when he was still with us. you can tell him about your day, or how you're feeling. you can sketch-" I cut him off by grabbing the journal and standing up abruptly, leaving the office immediately after saying a low thank you. 

the minute that I stepped out of the office, I was met with a hard chest and a strong waft of the smell of sea salt. but not the type of sea salt that makes you scrunch up your nose in irritation, but the type that gave you an intense wash of nostalgia and peace. and it was all familiar for some odd reason. I looked up to find a startled (and very handsome) dude staring at me.  

"I'm sorry-" I started but stopped when he breathlessly asked, "Max?" I stayed silent for a total of around 5 seconds before I asked "How do you know my name?" 

"I had a few classes with Matt. We were friends. he always talked about you but he wouldn't introduce me to you, like, ever." he had a faint smile on his face by the time he was done with his little story time. I kept quiet and didn't reply until he sobered up and cleared his throat, reaching out a hand for me to shake. "My name's Nico." I looked at Nico's offered hand for a few seconds before retrieving my backpack and walking away. 

"hi, Nico," I muttered, walking away. I just wanted to leave this place. "Where are you going? there are still two periods left!" he called out, jogging after me to meet my step for step. 

"Not staying. don't skip for me though, you were going to Jimmy?" I asked, trying to distract him from following me. 

"Yeah no it's fine I just wanted to ask if you wanted a ride home or something?" he cringed at his words as I slowed down to a stop making him stop his jog as well. "Listen there, Nicolas or Nico or whatever the hell your name is. I don't care that you had a few classes with my brother, that doesn't give you the right to humiliate me or run after me thinking you have some responsibility to take care of me, because you don't. I'm fine, I can take care of myself." I stated firmly, hoping he didn't catch the shake in my voice at the end of my monologue. 

I walked off but stopped shortly after hearing him say lowly, "Nicodemus."

"What?" I asked, wanting to make sure I heard him correct. "Nicodemus. my name's Nicodemus. and it's fine if you don't want to be friends. I get it, these are your boundaries and I just- I need you to give me a chance." Nico expressed, flapping his arms in the air just the slightest bit. 

"I need to go," I muttered, leaving him hanging in the hallway. I exited the school grounds, glad I dodged any guilt-ridden teachers trying to convince me to stay for the full school hours. I wasn't going to attend that stupid assembly. he isn't dead.

You aren't dead. 

I walked straight into our backyard, not stopping once before I was tugging on my hair tie, letting my short soft curls loose and tugging on the rope attached to the tree to climb up to our tree house. Baba had built it for us when we were children when we first moved into the neighborhood. Matthew was twelve and I was only eleven making our baby sister Jenny seven. Jenny was too young to climb up there so Matthew would carry her piggyback style and climb up there and then he'd reach out his hand for me so I'd be able to safely get in there. I knew how to do it but I didn't mind the extra help from my best friend.

it shortly became my favorite place in the world because it was the one place where I and Matthew got to actually hang out. Matt was a social butterfly, on the first day of school, he made at least five new friends. he was just so lovable, everyone wanted to be friends with him. it sometimes kind of intimidated me because I always thought that I was a burden to him or you know, just Matt's annoying little sister. But he noticed. he always did. he always assured me that I wasn't a burden on anyone and that I was never annoying and I believed him. he was just that genuine. 

I quietly sat down on the little makeshift couch that I and Matt made with a bunch of beanbags that Baba brought us. also, the reason why we called the treehouse Bean Castle. the treehouse was so very little that it barely fit the both of us on the same side so we'd have to sit across or diagonal from each other. I sat down where he'd usually be. the minute that I sat down, I heaved the components of my stomach into the nearby garbage bin that I kept up here. he was always so messy. 

after emptying my stomach, I sobbed for, I don't even how long. I always lost any sense of time in the Bean Castle. I hate crying. it irritated my face beyond measure and my eyes hurt and my head hurts and my heart hurts, everything hurt. such a useless gesture if I'm being honest. 

Jenny cries all of the time, but I guess that's okay for a twelve-year-old girl who just lost her brother. I know he's gone. I know he's gone because I don't get hot Cheetos stashed into my backpack without Mama noticing anymore. I don't get hugs that smell like body wash and wood anymore. I don't see him anymore. 

I sniffed a few times, grabbing the brown journal that Jimmy gave me and grabbing a pen along with it. He wants me to journal to Matt. Fine. 

Dear Matthew,

.....