the dumping ground // one shots

time // drabble

time is a funny thing.

there is no true limit to it; something only ends when you believe it has, whether people agree with you is another story entirely.

unfortunately, in certain situations, not many people will. for alex, this was one of those situations.

mike keeps telling him he is in denial.

deep in his heart, he knows he is but that does not mean he can merely accept it. what kind of best friend would he be if he did?

time seems to pass too quickly, however he can still keep his head afloat, continuing to stop himself from drowning in the sorrow.

but then there is a funeral, and a gravestone with his name etched into and it all becomes too much.

alex stands underneath the blossoming tree and cries because the flowers are not allowed to begin again when the boy he fell in love with cannot do the same.

the tears fall rhythmically, in time with his shaky breaths as he tries to compose himself. crying will get him nowhere, he of all people should know that. he clenches his teeth and forces himself to pick up the pieces of his broken heart, they are sharp and prick his fingers but he pretends not to notice.

he stares down at his tainted hands and the wreckage he has caused. it could have all been avoided if he never left the streets, never fell in love.

a church bell rings in the near distance, he needs to leave soon. he gazes upwards as the hands change, knowing the next hour will only be another filled with grief and what ifs.

and he does not look away from the clock as he requests one last thing.

time... please do not take him away.

a single leaf falls from the tree, much like his plea falls upon deaf ears.

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a v v smol chapter in which i've realised that i keep killing people off, i don't know what that says about me