Outside Work We... •[TNN One-shots]•

Puzzle Piece •|| REECE + AUTUMN ||•

Prompt: Reece finally puts the last piece of the puzzle.

[TW: !! IMPLICATIONS OF SUICIDE !!]
(READ WITH CAUTION!!!)

The puzzle sat in its usual place on the corner of Reece Knight’s desk in his old childhood home, its faded cardboard edges soft from time and touch. The image itself was nothing special - a field of wildflowers under a clear sky, dotted with careless smudges from years of half-hearted cleaning.

It was a cheap charity shop find, bought with pocket money by a fifteen-year-old girl who thought puzzles were still cool when no one else did.

And now, twenty-one years later, it was nearly finished.

Reece slid the drawer open, retrieving the small velvet pouch he kept in the back, away from loose paperclips and the blunt scissors no one used. Inside was a single puzzle piece. He turned it over in his palm, its colors dulled with age - a blotch of green meadow, a sliver of pale blue sky.

Today was Autumn’s birthday.

She would’ve been thirty-six.

Reece let out a slow breath through his nose, the ache in his chest familiar now. Less sharp, but no less present. Like an old injury that stiffened in the cold. He could hear her voice sometimes, not in that spooky, haunted way, but in the quiet moments. When the kettle boiled. When a certain song came on the radio. When he saw a girl with ginger hair tied up in a half up half down hairstyle.

He looked down at the puzzle. There was only one empty space left - top right corner. He hadn’t touched the thing for a year. That was the rule.

One piece every birthday.

No exceptions.

No cheating.

Reece didn’t even remember when he’d decided that. It wasn’t like he’d planned it. After the funeral, after the screaming and the silence, after the police visits and the awkward casseroles from neighbors who didn’t know what to say, he’d come home and found the half-finished puzzle on the coffee table of their childhood home. She’d gotten about halfway through. He sat down, numb and grey, and placed a piece. Just one.

And the next year, he did it again.

And again.

And again.

Until today.

Reece ran his thumb along the edge of the piece, then leaned forward and fitted it into its place. It clicked in softly, like a heartbeat.

Complete.

He sat back, his throat tight, and stared at it. It looked… ordinary. Whole. Unremarkable. Just a stupid wildflower puzzle she’d bought on a whim.

But they had a thing, him and Autumn. Ever since they were kids, every time they finished a puzzle, they’d color the back with felt tips. Little messages. Doodles. Inside jokes no one else would get.

Team Knight’s Masterpiece, she’d called them.

Reece hesitated. Then, with careful fingers, he lifted the puzzle off the table, tipping it gently so it flipped onto its back in one solid piece. It was faded, the pen marks bleeding slightly from age and humidity. Scribbled hearts. A badly drawn stick figure of their old cat, Muffin. A faded, swear-filled note she’d written about how fucked up and shitty their father was.

And in the top right corner, behind the piece he’d placed today, was a line of handwriting that nearly stopped his heart.

“You’ll be okay without me.”

It was her handwriting. Slanted. Messy. The ‘Y’ curling too far, like it always did.

Reece stared at it, a sound catching in his throat. It felt like being punched and hugged all at once. The room blurred at the edges, and for the first time in years, the tears didn’t come with shame.

He reached out, tracing the words with a fingertip.

“God, Autumn…”

He didn’t know how long he sat there, the afternoon light shifting across the floor. He thought of her freckled face, the way she used to call him ‘Big Brother’ when she wanted something. How she’d sneak out to the park at night and leave him a note under his pillow, “Gone on an adventure, cover for me.”

He thought of the way she laughed. How it sounded like a hiccup when she couldn’t stop.

He thought of the last time he saw her - pale, quiet, her eyes too tired for fifteen years. How she’d hugged him tighter than usual before leaving for school.

If he’d known…

If he’d known.

Reece swallowed hard. He pressed the heel of his hand to his chest, trying to hold it together, because that’s what you did. You held it together. You kept going. You buried the bad days under work and drinks with friends and the quiet ache of things unsaid.

But sometimes it crept back. In the corner of old puzzles. In the ghost of a voice. In the shape of a name you hadn’t spoken aloud in months.

“You were wrong, you know,” Reece murmured, his voice rough. “I wasn’t okay without you.”

He leaned back in the chair, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper. The room smelled like dust and the fading scent of coffee from God knows what morning. The kind of mundane things she would’ve mocked him for, calling him old man Reece.

And maybe he was.

Thirty-nine now. Too old for ghost stories. Too old to talk to people who weren’t there.

And yet.

Reece carefully lifted the puzzle again and set it in a shallow frame he’d bought months ago, telling himself it was for when this was done. He placed it on the wall above his desk. Right next to the framed photo of them on his ninth birthday, grinning in front of a lopsided cake.

“You’ll be okay without me.”

Maybe.
Maybe not.
But he was here.

And he would carry her in the small, quiet ways. In the puzzle. In the old notes. In the way he said ‘mind yourself’ to people he loved, because she’d always said it first.

He sat there for a while longer, watching the light fade from the room. The day stretched thin and golden outside the window.

When the sun dipped below the rooftops, Reece stood, grabbed his jacket, and locked up his old bedroom. Before he left, he glanced once more at the puzzle on the wall.

“Happy birthday, kid.”

Then he closed the door behind him.

[A/N: I don't think I've written a sad one in a bit. :) (let's just ignore the fact I haven't written at all in a while) But, I'm sad and that means all of you are sad as well. :D]