thoughts ≠ sx

all i know

it's quiet here, in the meadow. strange, i guess. normally it's buzzing with bees and aidan will laugh and tug my hand when i cry out about a bee getting too close.

aidan isn't beside me anymore, and the buzz of bees is all gone, replaced with various noises of sniffling or feet crunching against flowers and grass.

there's a bouqet in my hand, of beautiful roses. they were handed to me by aidan's mom, with a smile filled with plastic and tears, and i stepped forward to hug her, feeling her tears hit my exposed neck.

i rub her back and look up at aidan's dad, who looks as sad as his lovely wife, but still looks oh so strong and steady.

i hug him too, and his hug is as tight as hers, and its his way as letting me in.

i'm in all black- a crisp black dress that aidan loved when we passed it in the mall, and he forced me to try it on and bought it for me on my birthday. the shoulders dip slightly, and i hope they are symmetrical. my posture is normally amazing, but it feels like lead weights are strapped to my shoulders, weighing me down. black ballet flats sit on my feet, like i should be dancing through the fields of lavender.

but i'm not.

i stand hand in hand with aidan's parents, clutching their palms in case i fall.

the funeral is open-casket.

i don't breathe as i walk up, as people stare at me as the beautiful girl with the roses that may faint at any moment, because she's fragile without her partner in crime and i am, for once, okay with being the sidekick.

i pluck a rose out of the bouqet and let out a harsh breath as i stare down at aidan's face, paler than i'm used to. it looks like porcelain, and i touch his skin. he feels dead. i cup his cheek anyway, stare down at his closed lids. there's a black suit on his body, and i fix a cufflink absentmindedly when i lay the rose on his chest. i press my lips to his forehead, the warmest part of him, and close my eyes, letting a tear hit his skin.

for a moment i hope it will be like those cliché movies, when my tear hits him it'll possess the magic to wake him up, to bring him back.

it doesn't.

i walk back down to aidan's parents, and stand in line with quivering lips and clenched toes, watching them close the casket. i walk hand in hand with aidan's older brother down to the meadow. we were never really close- he's quite popular in his grade, and good-looking, but he'll never get close to aidan. i stroke my finger over his knuckles when his eyes mist over, and the sudden thought about how many girls would probably die to be in my place right now hits me. it's a vain thought and the words tumble into a spot too close to home.

i shut my eyes and bite my lip as the flowers start to tickle against my ankles.

the dirt they dig smells earthy, and i remember what aidan once said about being terrified of being buried alive. i almost scream out of fear and muted panic, but instead i turn to the priest and say are you sure he's dead?

he gives me the saddest look i have ever been on the receiving end of, filled to the brim with pity and some dulled down version of empathy, before aidan's older brother, grant, is curling an arm around my shoulders and pulling me.

grant, aidan's parents and i stand on the opposite side of the people, a dark blob against the purple of the meadow, and i finally let the tears stream down my face as i throw the dirt on the casket.

people leave, hugging me and some even pressing gifts into my hands, offering me food or water or a ride home.

i deny them all, take the gifts with a thank you but no smile, and say i'm riding home with aidan's family.

i don't want to, but i owe it to them.

grant leaves last, casting me a sad look and kissing me on the cheek, telling me he'll meet me in the car.

he's the older brother i'll never have.

i drop to my knees next to the stone, trace over aidan's headstone with my fingers. the gravediggers know they'll have to shoo me out soon, but make no move to.

i take a deep breath and stand, wiping dirt off my knees.

i take one last look at aidan's grave, and walk away.

i remember that song he always used to hum, or sing.

"the flowers will blow,
and away they'll fly,
but don't worry, i know,
it'll always be you and i."

what a funny way to lie.

[]

dedicated to zeeglur for kind of inspiring this, and for giving me the idea of the name 'grant', i loved it too much to not pin it to a character.