Connor
{edited}
My back aches from the stiff bed I'm lying on. The cold of the room makes me want to curl up with Troye and just be. Troye. Is he okay? Oh my gosh, I drank and drove and we crashed. Oh my gosh.
"Sir? Please, don't try to sit up!" A pushy nurse gently lays my shoulders down on the uncomfortable bed. My breathing becomes rugged before I speak.
"How's the other boy? In the crash?" I demand answers. The nurse's plastic smile drops as she tries to beat around the bush.
No. No, I don't believe it. Troye isn't dead, he isn't!
"I'm so sorry, sir. He had a lot of head trauma." I close my eyes and let out a shaky breath. I didn't get to say what I wanted to say. I didn't get to tell him that I loved him and that he meant the world to me.
My heart shatters. I feel broken and completely empty. This isn't fair. This isn't fair! It should've been me! Not Troye, not pure, innocent Troye...
I burst into tears and let it out. He's gone. Gone.
-
The following days have been terrible. There has been zero productivity in my life and today's the day of his funeral. I don't want to go. I want to lie in bed all day and beat myself up.
I'm so stupid. I should've called a cab or we could've taken the bus. But no. I drove and now Troye is dead.
"Connor, I know it hurts, but you need to go.." My mom's soothing voice tells me over the phone. I nod and hang up, before realizing she didn't see me nod. Oh well.
I drag myself into the shower and wash lazily. My heart hurts. Everything hurts and it's my fault. My fault.
A few hours pass and I'm standing in front of a lot of people Troye knew and loved. "Um.. Uh, T-Troye was my best friend and boyfriend. He meant the world to me and I hate myself for what I did. I-I should've called a cab or we should've walked. I was about to tell him I loved him when we crashed and now I'll never get to. I'm so sorry, to all of you. I took away a beautiful and innocent boy who had the entire world before him. He could've done great things with his voice. And for that, I'm so sorry." I step off the podium and hurriedly walk away. The service ends and everyone is walking to their car for the burial.
"I hate you, you jerk!" I was being pushed against a wall. Tyler. His ex boyfriend. I push him off of me, I'm bigger than he is. His tramp boyfriend follows behind quickly, grabbing Tyler and holding him back.
"Yeah? Well, guess what? Me too!" I get into my car and lock the doors. I hate me too. Everyone hates me. I did this. I took Troye's life.
The drive to the burial is painful. So painful. I don't want to drive or do any thing. But here I am, sitting in a metal chair and watching my boyfriend be dropped six feet under. The casket is closed, and a few men are passing out roses from the top of it. I accept one and smell the rosy scent. Troye would have loved it.
I stick around afterwards, still sitting in my metal chair. I seem to be molded in it, refusing to get up. "You're going to have to get up. Would you like a phone call when the headstone is up so you can visit?" A man asks in an annoyed tone. I just nod and scribble my phone number on a card of paper and leave, my heart hurting and throbbing.
