Bottle Ol' Oneshots

Moving On-TBNRhutt/TBNRduty Oneshot

At the start of 9th grade, I was diagnosed with depression. A perfect way to start off the year, and it certainly helped me survive high school. That was 6 years ago. I'd be lying if I said I'm better now, but I'd also be lying if I said I'm exactly the same-or worse even-as I was back then. Life had only gotten worse, and the only thing that kept the balance from tipping was him.

How could I have explained it? The smile that formed on my face immediately when I saw him, the beating in my chest that pounded harder and faster when he was nearby, the feeling of serenity and peace I got anywhere around him. That boy that I'd fallen undoubtedly in love in; it was all unexplainable. It started with a few little things, enjoying the way he would smile with all his perfect teeth showing, having to laugh with him not because whatever it was was funny but because no one could resist his laugh, and then completely obsessing over him.

The thing is, I couldn't. I spent 6 years with this amazing human, and I still could not find it in me to explain to him what I felt. I wish I could've, or at least tried harder, because it's too late. If only I'd paid more attention to the things that were going on with him. Not his smile, not his laugh, but him. The sadness that were hid behind the smile. But nope, I didn't and now he's gone. Fate is awesome, I tell you.

My friends tried to help me feel better once he died. "Don't beat yourself up for it, Preston" or "It wasn't your fault. There was nothing we could've done." I pushed them away, though. I don't need them comforting me with lies. Give me the hard truth instead.

My favorite comfort was from Rob because it actually spoke to me. He'd simply said "Look at it this way, Preston. It's better to have loved and watched that love burn in front of your very eyes than to have never loved at all." He's the only one that's actually somewhat helped me since all of this has happened. Of course, Brandon would've helped more, but he was better than nothing.

Running helps one think, I've realized. All this time remembering all the things that have happened, and I haven't even noticed I've been running all over town. I also didn't notice how I slowed down when I reached the graveyard. I try and resist the urge to go, but somehow, it's like something was calling for me. Come in, Preston. Find where you'll be soon. Find him again. And so I push open the little gate that creaks when it opens and walk in.

It seems like I remember every single detail about this place. Maybe I have spent way too much time here, grieving and trying to get over him. I've memorized the cracks in the poorly made pathway, the dying and dead flowers everywhere, and the old willow tree with no leaves. I recite the names of each tombstone as I pass by, knowing their full names and how old they were. Old Mary was 84 and she died of old age, Sam was 40 when the car tragically ended his life, Tina, who was my neighbor for quite a while, died from a fire which she couldn't outrun at 62.

And then him.

Brandon, the only person I've ever loved and the only person I'll ever love. I sit down next to his grave and stare at it. He was so young. Why did he have to die? I trace over the words carved into stone with my fingers. Maybe he'll feel it. I sigh and lean against the tree. Brandon's grave is new, so it was put far out in the graveyard. I notice something I haven't seen before.

A new grave, a new person dead. I crawl over to it slowly, too tired to get up, and read the name. He was 19, only a year or so older than Brandon, and his name was Vik. I've never seen this before. There's a fresh flower-it can't be more than a day old-placed right in front of it, a rare sight to see, and a picture frame with what he'd looked like. I look up from it and see a boy staring at me. I back away slowly from the grave, and he nods.

With a quiet sob, one I'm sure I wasn't meant to hear, the boy picks up the bundle of flowers that was there and replaced it with the ones in his hand. He looks at me and hands me the old ones.

"It looked like you wanted these," he whispered. I shake my head, but he gives them to me anyways. I take them and mumble a quiet thanks. He stares at Vik's grave for a bit longer before backing away and running out of the graveyard. I put the flowers in front of Brandon's grave.

I went to the graveyard at the same time the next day. This time, I brought some flowers for Brandon and for the other boy. I've never thought to give flowers before, and I feel that Brandon deserves some. I put them right where the other ones were, sit against the tree, and wait.

I waited for the entire day, but he still didn't come. I didn't catch any sight of him-or any movement at all for that matter. When the sun started setting, I grab the flowers from Vik's grave and replace them with mine. Don't want some flowers to go to waste. I walk down the street hanging my head; today's been quite a waste. Yes, I got to spend time with Brandon, but that wasn't the only reason I was there.

The next few days were almost exactly the same. I'd wake up and buy flowers, and then go to the graveyard, only to be disappointed and walking home at the end of the day. I'd decided, then, that I would go for one more day and then stop.

"Hey!" Someone shouts behind me. I turn around and find the same boy that was there yesterday. I stop and wait for him to jog up right in front of me. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," I reply, and I don't resist when he takes the flowers in my hand. It's his anyways. As he's walking away, I feel happy. I haven't been happy in such a while.

Maybe it's time to move on.