Faults // Brooklyn Wyatt ON HOLD

Olivia, 26 Days Left

(Olivia's outfit above)

January 6th, 2018

"Hey, Olivia, are you okay?" My friend Brooklyn asks, jogging up to me.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just stressing," I smile at him.

I met Brooklyn a while ago, he spilled my drink on me by bumping into me and offered me a new hot chocolate and a new friendship, I thought he was weird and crazy. To be fair, I was right. He's just the best possible meaning of those words.

"Stressing over what?"

"Oh, it's seriously nothing," I smile sweetly.

I've always wondered about energy. I find it fascinating how you can't create it and you can't destroy it, it's just the one thing that's constantly there. Brooklyn is the type of person who just always has so much energy, you can see it radiating off of him, from his vibrant eyes to his cheerful smile. But where does all his energy go when he dies? It can't just leave him. I find it easy to imagine what people look like when they're dead - pale, motionless, not smiling, non-vibrant colorless eyes. But I can't imagine that for Brooklyn.

I tell him that it's nothing serious, but it is the most important decision I have ever made in my life. I have decided on a suicide date, I have thought this through very thoroughly and there is no changing my mind this time.

I used to talk to Brooklyn about these thoughts and he would help me through them, but he was 15 then and I was 14, and I decided not to burden anyone with the thoughts anymore. So, I've gotten so good at pretending to be better that two years later I managed to fool myself into believing that I am better myself. For instance, I will have a genuinely amazing couple of weeks, and then I'll go home and my family will remind me of all the reasons I wanted to die in the first place.

"Anything that bothers you is important," He says, looking me in the eye.

For a moment, I consider telling him about everything. But, instead, I smile sweetly at him and tell him that it's nothin I can't handle on my own.

We walked side by side in soothing silence to a nearby Costa, we like to sit in there and share new music and he'll show me covers that his band have done before they post them. They're an amazing band, I've been to some of their shows too. When we get there, we immediately begin chatting about everything and nothing all at once. I accidentally slip up and say something about death, which worries him for a minute, so I change the subject to something happier like how fame is treating him.

"I'm hardly famous," He says smiling.

"Oh, come on! You so are, your shows are sold out like everywhere," I state.

That sets him off talking, he tells me about where he's playing and what parts in what songs he's going to do and his hopes for the future. I could listen to him talk all day, his eyes and eyebrows move with his words, and don't get me started on the way his mouth moves when he talks, he gets to me.

I've had feelings for Brook for a very long time, but I've never acted on them on them before and I certainly can't act on them now when I plan on being dead in less than a month.

Pull yourself together, Olivia.

We sit in costa for another good few hours, I tell him about the courses I'm taking in college and he laughs at me because he doesn't go to college because he's already making himself a career doing what he loves most.

"Well, it's getting dark out. I'll walk you home?" He says standing up, I copy him and slide my coat on.

"Yeah, that would be great, thank you," I smile at him.

We make small talk on the way home, but our teeth are chattering too much to keep a proper conversation going. By the time we get to my front door, our lips have gone blue. We laugh at this.

"Right, well, thank you for walking me home and for today in general," I say, shyly.

"It's no problem, Liv. I could spend all my days with you," He says quietly, smiling at me.

"Goodnight, Brook,"

"Goodnight, Liv," And he kisses me on the cheek.

He waits by the front fence until I get inside my house. I wave at him before I shut the door.

"Oh, God," I mumble as my mind swirls around with thoughts of Brooklyn kissing my cheek and my heart pounds against my chest like a lion trying to escape a cage.

I hear my parents arguing in the kitchen, and I know at least one of them will take their anger out on me if they see me. So I replace my thoughts of Brooklyn with the words Powerful, Fearless, Independent, Indestructible.

I whisper them to myself as I sneak past the kitchen and make it to my bedroom without a single insult being thrown at me. I sigh of relief and send Brooklyn a quick text.

iMessage to: Brook 💓
6:38 p.m.
Text me when u get home x

iMessage from: Brook 💓
6:39 p.m.
I will ❤️x

And my mind goes back to a cycling routine of thinking about Brooklyn.