he was only 14

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Outside of a small church, a tanned ginger woman looked up at the guests, trying her hardest to not burst into tears already.

There weren't many; most people said they were 'too busy', like her co-worker and best friend - Eggy - did.

"Th-thank you all for coming..." she mustered, her voice shaking with grief. "I'm grateful to see you all here, and I'm sure h-he would be grateful t-too."

As she said that last part, she instantly burst into tears, silently sobbing as she knelt down onto the concrete floorpath leading to the entrance of the church.

One of the attendees - a dark brown haired man, with his husband and son with him - walked over to her, kneeling down.

"...I'm sorry about your loss, Basketball." he said, slowly pulling her up. "He was a great kid, but just know he's safe now, okay?"

"Yeah, b-but..." Basketball muttered, wiping her eyes. "I failed him... I was supposed to be there for him, a-and I-"

"No, no, you did what you could. I'm sure he loved you up until the very end..."

"Wh-"

"Yeah, I'm sure he did." a blonde man, holding a ginger boy's hand added, walking over to them both. "Say... I brought you a drawing he made during a sleepover."

As he handed her the piece of paper, she began to cry again, looking at the two stickmen labelled 'ME (GRASSY!)' and 'MOM <3'.

"...Thank you..."

"We'll be here for you if you ever wanna talk." the brown haired man said, before walking over to his son, who was completely silent. "It'll all be okay soon, little guy."

But he stayed silent, all because he couldn't get the image out of his mind.

...

"Grassy, I made you a snack!"

"Grassy?"

...

Inside of the church, he sat down on a bench, and so did everyone else there.

A stranger - seemingly someone that worked at the church - spoke, talking about his short but sweet life, something about God gaining an angel, and then some people came up, said some words, maybe cried a little, but he was somewhere else entirely.

All he could think of was that day.

...

He wasn't sure what came over him.

Maybe it was a higher being.
Maybe it was a gut feeling.
Maybe it was overthinking.
Maybe it was true, maybe not.

But he ran.

He ran to his house, fearing the worst had happened. That his best friend would be nothing more than a memory, slowly fading away from his mind as he grew older.

Unlike how his best friend would be able to.

Almost pounding at the door, he hoped for his mother to be home.

"Huh? Junior, what are you doing here?"

He didn't answer her; he just ran past, hoping that he wasn't too late.

"Junior, tell me. Tell me why you're here."

...He could barely muster up anything. Just silence, but he was panicking. Every second wasted meant the likelihood of him still having a best friend decreased.

"I... I HAVE TO CHECK ON HIM!" he yelled out, running up the stairs.

He practically threw himself at a door, swinging it open. He was about to say something, but he was immediately greeted by something that cut off anything he was going to say.

More swinging.

...

He couldn't think about anything else. Not even when one of his dads asked him if he was okay, not even when he watched some big wooden box be lowered into the ground, not even when the owner of the church read out a small poem about him.

But as he reached into his pocket, he pulled out a crumbled piece of paper drawn using crayons of two more stickmen.

'ME AND MY BEST FRIEND, JUNIOR!'

He silently cried, glancing at the huge rock he stood in front of... and he laid six feet underneath.

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(645 words)

oh no! fj's mental stability! it's broken

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