CLOVE

sixteen

☘︎ clover ☘︎

*two years ago*

As I stand nervously outside the apartment building, I take a deep breath to steady my nerves. I check my watch to make sure I'm not too early, but I'm still afraid I might have overdone it with getting ready. I smooth down my hair one last time and ring the doorbell.

A few moments later, the door opens and my boyfriend, Will, stands before me, his face lighting up with a smile. "Hey, you made it," he says warmly, stepping aside to let me inside.

I feel a surge of relief and happiness as I step through the doorway. Will gives me a quick hug, before leading me into the living room. "I'm glad you could come," he says, shutting the door behind us.

I follow him into the room and take a seat on the couch. I glance around nervously, taking in my surroundings, trying to calm my racing heart. Will plops down next to me and slings an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

We settle into a comfortable silence for a moment before Will speaks. "How are you feeling?" he asks, his voice soft and laced with concern. "I know today must have been hard for you, with the funeral and all."

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my emotions in check. "It was tough," I admit, my voice a little shaky. "I still can't believe they're gone. It just doesn't seem real, y'know?"

Will nods, his grip on my shoulder tightening slightly. "Yeah, I know," he says, his tone sympathetic. "It's normal to feel that way when you lose someone you love. It's going to take time to adjust."

I nod, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I know," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... I keep expecting them to walk through the door and tell me it was all a bad dream. But they're never going to come back, are they?"

Will seems to sense my emotions and starts to fidget beside me. "Hey, don't think like that," he says, his tone a little impatient. "It's not going to help you to dwell on things you can't change."

I take another deep breath, trying to steady myself. I hate the way Will brushes off my feelings, making me feel like I'm overreacting. But I don't want to start an argument, so I bite my tongue.

Will continues, his tone a little sharper than before. "You need to focus on the here and now, not the past. You can't keep wallowing in grief forever, you have to move on sometime."

Will suddenly turns to me, his expression hardening. "You know, it's your fault they're dead," he says, his voice cold. "If you hadn't had that damn concert, they would still be alive. You killed them, and you have to live with that for the rest of your life."

I feel like I've been punched in the gut. I can't believe he just said that. I try to speak, to protest, but the words won't form in my throat. All I can do is sit there, stunned.

Will continues, oblivious to my shock. "You're responsible for their deaths, and you have to live with that for the rest of your life. But sitting here and wallowing in self-pity won't change anything. You need to grow up and accept what you did."

Tears start to well up in my eyes, and I blink rapidly, trying to hold them back. I can't believe this is happening. I never thought Will would say something so cruel.

Will notices the tears in my eyes and his tone softens slightly. "Hey, don't cry. I didn't mean to be harsh. But you need to face the facts." He reaches out and puts a hand on my arm, his expression slightly apologetic.