The Fireplace (BoyxBoy)

01. The First Letter

It was a quaint little place, Jake's grandparents' house. A Victorian style building; the bricks pure white in colouring, unadulterated by dirt or grime, the roof an attractive blue colour. The grass in the front garden was lush and green, the winding river stone path inviting and the large oak tree seemed to smile and greet him. The flowers winked in the sunlight, a sea of red and yellow tulips danced in the breeze. The boy bent down and picked one that seemed different from all the rest - yellow at the tips of the petals, changing to a light orange and finally to a deep red at the base of the flower.

The smallest of smiles crossed his lips, before he tossed the tulip away in disgust and loathing. He wondered how such a beautiful, innocent organism could represent something so dark. His life had been light and happy, like the yellow at the tips of the petals. But that happiness had faded away, his life disfigured and four more gone in a flash of blood.

I miss the years that were erased.

Oh how Jake missed the years with his family. Sure, he still had memories. But that's all they were. Memories. There would be no more family holidays, no having fun playing tag in the woods. There would be no watching the sun set over the horizon line and huddling up under the kind and watchful glance of a roaring bonfire. No more happy memories to be made with his family.

I miss the way the sunshine would light up your face.

He couldn't help but remember the many sunsets at the beach. The way the weak rays of the sun would illuminate the smiles of his parents and brothers. Then they'd sit and tell ghost stories into the early hours of the morning, their faces still lit up in the light of the flames.

I miss all the little things.

He missed the way his mother would smile as she dished up their dinner for that night, the way his father's nose would crinkle slightly when he smiled. He missed the way that, every night, they'd make the point to tell their children that they loved them. He missed his two younger indentical twin brothers, two years his juniors. The way that he'd still be confused as to who was who, trying to sort out one boy from the other. The games they played together, hide and seek was a favourite, and how they trusted each other with everything.

I never thought that they'd mean everything to me.

It's true, what they say. That you don't know what you've got until it's gone. It's one of the truest statements in the world. Jake didn't realise the love and happiness that he truly had. In a way, he sort of took his family for granted - like so many children do. And in the blink of an eye they were gone, and all he had were his memories that now held so much importance.

Yeah, I miss you and I wish you were here.

Jake's breathing grew rapid and laboured, hot tears beginning to squeeze from his eyes. He veered off the path and pressed his back against the oak tree, sliding down the trunk into sitting position and tucking his knees into his chest - sobbing into them.

His grandmother rushed over to him, as fast as she could for a woman in her late sixties, and knelt down next to him. She stroked his cheek softly whilst patting his knee. She thought she understood what he was going through, after all she had lost her daughter, right? Wrong.

She had no idea what he was going through. She might have lost her daughter, but Jake had lost far more than that.

Jake lost his world.

.

Jake sat in that same spot a week later, staring up at the huge apartment complex that was next to his grandparents' house. He hadn't been to their house in eight or nine years - they always visited his family - and the amount of development that had taken place was unbelievable. The block of land, once vacant, had turned into the monstrosity that he was now looking at. He couldn't understand how the house next door to it, his new home, had survived.