Who Said It Was Gonna Be Easy?

Days passed. 4 to be precise. I still rang alexs phone, although now it wasn't even going to voicemail anymore like it had for about a day after alex had...y'know. I texted, even though they weren't sending properly. I refused to believe he was gone. I couldn't get my head around it.

It was all my fault. Why didn't I just let him have the day off? He would have been fine if I hadn't have made him go into school for half of the fucking day.

The last thing he'd said to me was my name and presuming he hadn't rang anybody after he rang me and presuming he hadn't talked to himself, his final words was my name. That was getting me through. It was also slowly killing me from the inside out, like some form of torture.

I cried myself to sleep every night. As soon as I'd come in from work, I'd go straight to my bedroom and pick up the clothes Alex had worn when he stayed over, clutching them to my chest as tears would roll down my face. They still smelt like him.

Nobody else seemed to care that he was gone. He was gone and he wasn't coming back. I wondered who would clear out his locker and what would happen to all the stuff in there. I assumed it would all just get thrown away, without even a second thought. Just like alexs life. My mind wouldn't stop replaying moments from when he'd stayed over. The way his eyes twinkled when he spoke about music and supernatural. The way he smiled as I pulled him close. The way he would hold my shirt in his hands as his tears soaked my tshirt. I missed him so much. I felt like somebody winded me every time I thought about him. I couldn't sleep at night knowing he was gone, knowing I'd never hear his voice again. I wished I could turn back time and save him.

I'd made everyone in his class change seats so that his seat wouldn't be empty anymore, as it when it was empty it was forever drawing my eyes to it as I mourned for him. My students noticed I was acting strange and various teachers came to ask me if I was alright, if there was anything I wanted to talk about.

"Alex" I wanted to say. I wanted to pour my heart out to somebody, to be given a shoulder to cry on like I'd done for Alex. But I said nothing. I just shook my head and told them I was tired, that I'd be fine soon.

Weekend came and I spent the whole of it on the couch, holding my last piece of Alex as I curled up under the duvet and cried whilst rewatching the 3 episodes of supernatural that Alex and I had watched together. I would have watched more of them but I'd promised him we'd watch it together. I gave him my word I wouldn't watch an episode without him. Even just the thought tore me apart. I'd hear his voice whispering to me softly as I lay awake at night, torturing myself with thoughts of what could have happened between us. Would he have fallen for me as hard as I'd fallen for him? Was he in love with me? Would he have fallen in love with me if he hadn't have killed himself? It killed me that I'd never know how he'd felt about me. And it killed me that I didn't take the chance to tell him how I felt about him before it was too late. It killed me that perhaps if I hadn't have kept it to myself, he might still be here.

Notes

Um yeah so this happened.







Sorry I guess