Second chances are rare diamonds in the rough, as is allowing oneself to truly be happy. Will Noah and Milan push through their pains of the past to grab the priceless gem by the hand? Or will the tests put to their love prompt it to slip through th...
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Noah
From up above, birds chirped. Singing to me softly as if knowing that I needed soothing.
Nearby, accenting the quiet rather than interrupting it, leaves bristled among trees. Some carrying with the wind, longing to be free, and others choosing to stay. Strong and rooted.
The sky was blue. Clear and aspiring, clouds white and plush, as if challenging whoever dared to stop and look up to start fresh. To smile bright.
However, I couldn't.
No matter how promising the sky, how calming the trees, how soothing the birds, or how intoxicating the scent of the coffee in my hand, it felt nearly impossible to bring myself to smile. To even try.
It felt almost impossible to feel anything other than melancholic sorrow, hollowing my chest and hardening my throat. To see anything other than the tombstone before me, the blue of the sky and faded green of the trees blending and blurring, into nothing but gray.
The long black trench coat I wore felt thicker than usual, my scarf that usually kept my warm now suffocating me slowly. The leather gloves on my hands, I could feel every fiber of its material against my skin, as well as the material of my knit indigo sweater, and the way my shoes hugged my feet. Swallowing me.
I wanted to leave.
The thought of fleeing this graveyard screamed at me every second and every moment since before I even arrived.
I didn't feel ready. No matter how many times the thought had crossed my mind before this day, and no matter how many memories of my father crept up on me since his passing.
He was gone now. Completely. And I wasn't so sure if I'd accepted that yet.
Grass, withered and hardened by cold weather, crunched beneath the soles of my black leather boots as I closed the remaining distance between myself and my father's grave.
In my other hand was a bouquet of flowers. Fresh from my mother's garden, and his favorite. Lilies.
Reading the words carved into the stone, my eyes glossed as my hand shook, even as I was trying my absolute best to keep it together. To remind myself of why I was here. And it surely wasn't to break down, or fall apart.
I just needed to visit him... To feel near him. One last time...
"I brought you these," I whispered, my voice barely audible to my own ears as I sat it atop his grave. My hand couldn't seem to stop trembling, so I soon stuffed it into my coat pocket. "I told Mama there was no use if they'd just die soon anyway," my laughter was soft too. And sad, as I let my head fall. "But she said you'd like them anyway..."
Without permission, though I couldn't seem to put up much of a fight, a tear rolled down my cheek. Wiping it away the second I felt it, my gaze darted elsewhere amidst the graveyard. As if I weren't the only person here; needing to be strong even though my audience was empty.
