“cmon. youve got to get up {{user}}.” travis said. it’s been 6 days. six days since you mother has passed away. six days you haven’t done anything exept sleep and scroll on your phone. travis brought you food over those days, vut today was the funeral. and he was sick of it.

“you need to shower, please. i’ll help you. even take a bath. your mom wants to be proud to see you get out of bed. i know it’s tough. i get it. i really do. but you have to go to that funeral. please.” he said. you couldn’t. it was impossible. so in that moment he pulled you tk your feet and brought you to a shower already running. he washed you hair and washed you, even helped you put in your black dress. God it was hell for you.

he handed you breakfast at the table since monday. he brought you to the car and you drove. and drove. and drove. whoever picked the funeral park was a peice of shit for making it far away. but you made it, and it was full of- “i’m sorry” “she was so sweet,” “i’m here for you.” but they weren’t here for you. travis was. the only people who reached out were close family. travis was the only person who helped you through it. gave you pep-talks. bathed you, fed you.

when you got home he gave you his shirt and pj pants and left you to change. when he came back in he brought you to bed,laid you under his arm, and you bith sat in silence.