ORIGINAL:The Boy With A Touch Of Cancer(BxB)

29. The funeral

A/N Hey guys! 👋
I'm so sorry for not updating in so long; I've been insanely busy lately...but...I'm just trying to make excuses for not writing this chapter.
To be completely honest, I haven't wanted to write this chapter because I knew what it would be covering (you'll find out why in the next few sentences).
I haven't been able to find exactly the right words to describe this chapter, but I feel happy with how it turned out -even if it took me an inordinate amount of time to make. 😆

Alrighty my little loves, enjoy the chapter (keep a tissue box handy, this one's not too happy, flirty, or funny.)

Abby's POV-

"You look really pretty."

I glanced up from my mug of coffee; finding my father staring at me. He leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms over his chest; a look of interest in his emerald green eyes so similar to my own.

"Thanks," I murmured, turning back to my coffee. Wow, dad. You compliment me on my dress I'm wearing to a fucking funeral. Thanks...

"You sure you don't want your mother or I to go with you?" He pulled a chair out across from me and slowly sank down in it.

No father. I don't need you or my "mother" coming to my best friends funeral.

"No," I replied. "I don't need you or Natasha to come with me." I was aware of how bitchy I sounded, but dad's been asking about this all week.
Constantly bringing up the fact that Will's funeral was today and asking 'if there was anything he or Natasha could do?'
Other than bringing back my best friend, there wasn't anything they could do to make me happy.

And you'll have to go through this again with Ethan... Oh, shut up!

I gripped my mug more tightly as another wave of anger flooded my veins. The hollow ache in my chest getting ripped open like a knife slicing a hole through my heart.

"Are you sure? I can take off work, and Nat-" I cut him off by jumping out my chair so aggressively it clattered to the floor.

"No! I don't want you or your fucking girlfriend to come with me!" I growled.

Dad flinched, hurt flashing in his eyes that I didn't care for. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes for a moment.
His calming technique.
The one he always uses when he needs to speak in a level tone. To not lose his temper. To keep himself from saying or doing something he'll later regret.

"Alright," he relented after opening his eyes. "If you don't want either of us there that's fine." He pushed his chair back and stood up before stalking out of the room; shaking his head.

I dropped my head into my hands; silently forcing myself not to cry. I took a deep breath, mentally telling myself to calm down. Don't cry. Don't fucking cry, Abigail.

I removed my hands from my face and bent down to pick the chair back up. I slowly slid it against the table, then grabbed my mug.

"I don't know what to do with her," I heard my father say from the other room.

"She's going through a tough time right now. Just give her some space," Natasha answered gently. If there was anyone who could calm my dad down it was her. Never me. No, I could never calm that man down.

I washed the cup out, carefully placing it in the sink, and grabbed my purse from the table.
"I'm leaving," I announced as I stepped into the entryway.

Dad and Natasha separated; Natasha, sending dad a warning look. "We'll be here for you if you need us." Natasha reached out for a hug, a hopeful look in her dark eyes.