serenade

002. ❛ gone ❜

real life

november 28th 2023

it's been a month since liam died, but it feels like it just happened. i replay that day over and over, like maybe, if i look at it closely enough, i'll see something i missed-a way to make it not true.

october 16th, 2023.

that day is burned into my mind, into my body. it feels like all the clocks stopped then, like i've been stuck in that one terrible moment, unable to move forward, unable to breathe in a world without him.

liam was my big brother, my whole world wrapped up in one person. he wasn't just family; he was my best friend, my hero, the only person who knew every piece of who i am. he's been there for every moment, every scraped knee and every laugh, every single nightmare, holding me tight until the shadows went away. he was there at the worst moments, filling the empty places left after mom and dad died, when i was just five years old and barely knew what loss was.

i remember that day, too. the memory is like a bruise, sensitive and dark, but impossible to ignore. i was so little, standing there at their funeral, trying to understand how they could be gone when they'd been so alive just days before. i clung to liam's hand as tightly as i could, holding on like he was the last bit of family i had-and he was. i remember him wiping away my tears, his hand shaking as he did it, even though he was barely holding it together himself. he made me a promise that day, through his own tears: he would take care of me. he'd never let me go. we'd get through this together, somehow.

and liam did take care of me. he did everything he could to keep the darkness from touching me. even when he joined one direction, when life took him far from home and turned him into this bright, untouchable star, he still made time for me. i was just a kid, but he made me feel like i mattered, like i was part of the magic he was creating. i remember the night of the x factor auditions when he came home after they'd told him he'd made it. i was in bed, half-asleep, but he came into my room, shaking with excitement. he told me everything-about the band, about harry, louis, niall, and zayn, and how his dream was finally coming true. in that moment, he seemed invincible, like he was made of light.

even when he was on the other side of the world, even when he was performing to sold-out stadiums, he was still my brother, my liam. he'd call me from every city, sending me silly pictures and telling me stories that would make me laugh until i cried. he never wanted me to feel left behind. he'd promise me that no matter how far he went, he'd always come back. and he did. until now.

i still can't believe he's gone. i sit by the window at night, watching the rain trickle down the glass, wondering if he's somehow watching me from somewhere out there, trying to reach me. i trace the raindrops, pretending each one is a piece of him coming back to me. people say time heals, that the pain fades, but all i feel is this emptiness, like there's a hollow space where my heart used to be. the world around me moves on, but i'm stuck here, holding onto fragments of him that refuse to fade.

and then there's piper sullivan. if liam was the moon, piper is the sun. my best friend for as long as i can remember, without her, i don't know how i'd be surviving any of this. piper just knows things, sometimes before i even say them. she knows when to talk and when to stay quiet, when to be lighthearted and when to sit in the dark with me. she's seen every part of me, the good and the bad, the scared little girl and the broken mess i am now.

the day liam died, she was there before i could even think to call her. she just showed up, her face as pale as mine, her arms already open. she held me as i fell apart, as i screamed and cried, as the world caved in. she didn't say anything; she just stayed, her presence enough to keep me grounded. piper's the kind of friend who never leaves, who doesn't flinch, who doesn't turn away from the ugliness of grief.

now, a month later, she's still here. every day, she shows up, checking on me, bringing me coffee, coaxing me out of bed when i can barely bring myself to move. some days, she drags me out of the house, insisting that i get fresh air, that i remember what life feels like. we sit in coffee shops, her sipping her drink as she watches me carefully, always ready to catch me if i fall. she doesn't fill the silence with meaningless words; she lets me sit in it, lets me hold onto the memories of liam without rushing me.

sometimes, i wonder how i got so lucky to have her. liam was my anchor, my family, but piper is my lifeline. she's the one person who understands the mess of who i am right now, who sees the raw edges and broken pieces and doesn't try to fix them. she just... stays.

i think about liam constantly. it's like he's everywhere and nowhere, like he's this ghost following me around, haunting every corner of my mind. i hear his laughter in the quiet moments, feel his hand on my shoulder when i'm falling asleep. sometimes, i imagine what he'd say if he were here, what advice he'd give me, how he'd make some terrible joke to make me laugh. but he's not here, and every time i remember that, it feels like losing him all over again.

the things that remind me of him are the worst-songs he loved, the smell of his old cologne, the sound of his name in people's mouths, always in past tense. each reminder is like a dagger, sharp and sudden, slicing through whatever fragile stability i've managed to find. people don't say his name as much now, though; they look at me with pity, with this quiet sadness that makes me feel like a stranger in my own life.

it's been a month since he left, and i don't know if i'll ever feel whole again. but i have piper, and maybe, for now, that's enough.