1001 LOVE STORIES(book Of Oneshots)

Death (95)

Word count: 3927

A/N: I have 5 more days to finish these last two chapters of my final story and edit it. 😭😭 Life hurts so much I'm actually scared. But I found a finished story in my book. I didn't publish it because it was too much like a prior story. Buuut I have nothing other and I feel bad for not publishing more soooo here's death. 🤷🏾‍♀️

The moment I saw the blue notebook I recognized it. Only for the life of me I couldn't remember from where.

Thinking nothing of it I picked it up from the lost and found opening it and seeing the name that clicked in my head.

If lost return to Conner Michaels.

Memories swam back to me in pain. It felt like my heart had shattered for the second time.

Flashes of the asshole I was and the pain I caused popped in my head never lasting more than a second before getting replaced.

I instantly dropped the book in fear. I remembered how often he wrote in this book I remembered never seeing him without it I remember him dropping it trying to avoid us.

I remember him leaving it abandoned in the halls as I dragged him inside the boys bathroom.

This is what fags get.

My words caused me to shake slightly them cutting into my skin. I didn't want to remember all the things we did to him that day.

I didn't want to think about my actions.

I didn't want to go back to hating the fact I was still breathing.

I didn't want to think about the cops I talked to, the disappointment in my father's eyes. The fear in my little brother's after being drug out of my room in handcuffs.

I didn't want to think about the deep gut punching pain that came from hearing that word.

That one word I never expected to crush me to death.

Suicide.

Tears hit the open pages of the book at my feet and I realize that even though I didn't want to think about it. I still did.

We didn't bring up Connor. We didn't think about the things we did. e went on like he never existed.

But I couldn't. I couldn't go on pretending like Connor didn't do what he did because of us. Because of me.

Connor. My Connor.

The guy I started off loving more then life itself.

But fuck me because I couldn't handle that he was braver then me.

Fuck me for being too afraid of my own feelings.

Fuck me for thinking that the more I'd hurt him the more likely I would be to stop loving him.

Fuck me for thinking I did.

Until that Saturday.

But I pick up the book. Looking at the beautiful handwriting.

I smiled as pain set in.

Picking up papers written by him. Secretly digging in the trash to get papers he threw away just to see what he wrote.