(c) Departure [G]

Title: Departure
Type: Fiction, oneshot.
Rating: G
Word count: 741 words.
A/N: It's pretty angsty, different from other stuff I've written. Concrit would be much appreciated. The line sung is from Always by Bon Jovi.

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You blink hard, chin tilted way up to rest upon his shoulder. His voice is in your ear, telling you, Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, softly, desperately.


I’m trying; no, you’re not. A streak of heat down one cheek, another streak, another and another and another. Your face scrunches up, contracts, and you must look like an ugly baby monster. You can’t not cry – how could he expect that of you?


He hugs you tighter, and you sniff, choke, boo-hoo over the broad shoulder. After a while of this, you close your eyes, pull yourself together. You cannot ruin this moment – you cannot. You need to cement all this, everything, in your memory so you won’t ever forget. His being gone is bad enough; your forgetting would make it worse.


So you close your eyes, let the sniffles and hiccups subside. Softly, you apologise for dampening his shirt, and you feel the slight rumble of his chuckle through his body. You bury your face into his shoulder, into the welcoming darkness. Remember, you have to remember; in a little while, all you’ll have left are memories.


Calm now, you breathe in deeply. You’ve got to remember, everything. The way he smiles, how he bites the inside of his cheek when he’s trying not to cry, that funny laugh of his; how wonderfully solid he feels, the way he envelopes you, that sweetish scent of whatever it is he uses. He just…overwhelms you, and all you want to do is curl up into a little ball inside the cave he makes with his arms and live there forever.


I’m going to miss you so much.


I’m gonna miss you too.


He leans his head against yours. You don’t know who he is to you anymore – best friend, boyfriend, brother? All you know is that he means a whole lot, and you are nowhere near ready to let him go yet. You know that leaving will probably be good for him and hate yourself for not being a hundred percent supportive.


Stopped crying? His own eyes are suspiciously overbright, but you attempt a watery smile. Your mask of dried tears is stiff, and the smile comes out looking more like a grimace, you’re sure. The problem is that the corners of your mouth are too heavy – everything’s heavy, especially your heart. It weighs you down, makes your chest ache, turns all the colours of the rainbow into ugly shades of grey. You don’t want to have to give him up, you don’t want him to go.


You look away miserably, try to convey this to him. He understands – when has he ever not understood you? An apology is whispered into your ear, voice cracking on the last syllable. There’s nothing to be sorry about, you tell him, and he gives a half-hearted shrug.


I will always love you.


Like the song, he smiles.


To be honest, you don’t know what kind of love you mean. But love is love is love, and this always was rather unconventional, so you gave up trying to pin down what kind it was a long time ago. Best friend, boyfriend, brother – all you know is that you love him, and you love him a lot.


I will love you, baby. Always.


He sings slowly, deliberately, and you smile. The both of you finally let go of each other, standing face-to-face, just taking each other in.


The silence that passes is heavy but comforting – like a warm blanket on a rainy night – stretching out for hours and hours. Neither of you speaks, because there is really nothing left to be said.


Suddenly, his head comes up just the tiniest bit, and his eyes widen slightly; he has heard something you haven’t, and it’s time for him to go. He looks as scared as you feel, but you don’t know what to say, how to comfort him. You move towards him; he pulls you the rest of the way. One final hug – warmth, comfort, finality – and then he’s gone.


Gone.


Standing alone now, a hot tear slips down your cheek; you’re never going to see him again. Maybe sometime in the distant future, but till then, never. Turning on your heel, you leave, trying not to start missing him so soon. You train your eyes on the ground as you walk, and fervently hope that he’s okay.


Because, well… If he’s okay, you know you will be too.