𝑼𝑵𝑬𝑿𝑷𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑫 | 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡

𝐼 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐸 𝑌𝑂𝑈

─────⊰ ✦.*🥀*.✦ ⊱─────

　　 𝐌𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐏𝐀'𝐒 𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐒 beautiful in its simplicity. Davenport helped me arrange it—nothing grand, nothing excessive, just... gentle. A quiet service, a few flowers, a wooden coffin that feels both too small and too final. Only the Davenports and I stand in the pews, and for a moment I ache at the sight of the empty rows. But then again, I remind myself, grandpa wasn't much of a social man. He liked his little world, his quiet routines, his radio, his books.

When I stand to give my speech, my voice betrays me. I try to talk about his humor, about how he never failed to grumble about life while secretly loving it, about how he saved me when no one else did. But every sentence breaks on my tongue, tangled in sobs that won't wait their turn. By the end, I'm a shaking mess. The words spill out anyway, because they have to—because this is the last time I'll ever get to say them to him.

Even now, days later, my chest still feels heavy, like I swallowed something jagged and it's stuck there, scratching me from the inside. His absence is louder than his presence ever was. I keep looking at the door when I come home, expecting him in his chair. But the chair is empty. The air feels wrong. And worse—now that he's gone—I feel suspended in this terrifying limbo.

I'm seventeen, not ready for a life alone, not ready for bills or houses or funerals. College was supposed to be my escape, but what if I can't afford it? What if there's nothing left in his will? I tell myself not to spiral, that Davenport will help me if things get impossible, but the fear still crawls under my skin and refuses to leave.

And now, instead of grieving properly, I'm in detention on a Saturday. Because of course Perry caught the Davenports doing whatever nonsense they were up to, and because I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, I got dragged into this mess too. So here I am, mop in hand, the smell of bleach in my nose, trying not to think about my life unraveling while scrubbing a school hallway.

'Addilynn, will you do the trashcans?' Leo asks, his tone so casual it makes me snap my head toward him. My glare is sharp enough to make him flinch, mutter an awkward sorry, and shuffle over to the nearest bin himself.

Adam, of course, is happily rooting through the garbage like it's a treasure chest. He pops a wad of used gum into his mouth and chews proudly. My stomach flips in revulsion. Bree nearly throws up. Chase just groans and mutters something about health codes.

'This isn't so bad,' Adam says cheerfully, like this isn't actual punishment. Bree mutters about missing Caitlin's party, the boys start bickering, and I just mop and mop and mop.

Then the mission alarm blares. Their eyes widen in perfect synchrony, and they all bolt toward the cafeteria, pretending like I don't already know what that alarm means. I sigh. They'll be gone for a while. I focus on my mop. The floor shines, but I don't feel any cleaner inside.

When Chase finally emerges, I know instantly something's wrong. His eyes are red, puffy, raw. He looks like he's been crying, really crying, and my stomach plummets before he even opens his mouth.

'What's the matter?' I rush to him, heart pounding.

He doesn't answer. Not properly. He just shakes his head hard, like words will hurt if he lets them out. He stares at the ceiling—no, not the ceiling. At the corner, where the school security camera blinks its little red light. His throat bobs as he swallows.

'I don't know if I can do this.' His voice is cracked, splintered. He isn't even looking at me. He's talking to the damn camera. To Davenport? To whoever's always watching?

Then his eyes finally land on me, and it feels like a knife. 'Addilynn... I think we should break up.'

It doesn't register at first. My brain can't even process the words. Break up? No. No, not after everything. Not after burying my grandfather. Not after nights spent curled up against him, whispering that we'd figure everything out together. Not him. Not Chase.