“they’re not coming back.”
words. ah, words… repeated endlessly in sixer’s mind like a track played on a seamless loop, yet there was no visceral way to end, or even so much as delay it. it was horrid, really. the daily reminder of what she’d done. what she’d done to her first love, the first & only person she had meant to confess to. it had been such a nice friendship as well, that the feelings were built upon. only, she hadn’t had meant to strike them that hard. she had thought it was just a mild concussion, shaking them so in an attempt to get them to awaken. she had had no clue at the time that it was a intracranial haemorrhage. she hadn’t known that shaking them so violently, tears running down her own face as well as their own, would’ve only agitated the injury & etched their death closer to the present time.
ever since that incident, sixer had cut back on the script. she stopped using it in an entirety, even if it triggered the most horrid hallucinations of noob she could have ever dreaded to perceive. it was cruel to her wellbeing, but it was what noob had wanted.
… sixer watched on as they buried noob’s body. it had been an open casket funeral, a small gathering that sixer had brought the most flowers to—tulips, specially the red ones, noob’s particular favourite. sixer looked on in scorn as the other attendees brought the casket flowers that noob would’ve detested.
as sixer approached the still body of their one & only lying so stiff in the casket cushioning, she laid a hand over their cold one, expression nothing but remorse. she had leant down to kiss the still body, yet right at that time the pastor had declared for the prayers to be said. sixer ended up having to pull away in a haste, a subtle tear escaping her eye.
sixer visited noob’s grave every single day. mornings, afternoons & nights, she didn’t miss. three times a day; hell, she ate less than that, which was something she’d cut off on significantly ever since noob’s untimely passing. sixer’s mother was worried for her. she couldn’t care less.
one night, an oddly quiet one, sixer was standing in front of noob’s gravestone, clutching yet another bouquet of red tulips to add on to the growing pile of wilting flora. she stood there with her head hung low, eyes fixated on the frosty grass beneath her feet scuffing the ground.
“…i quit the script for you,” sixer spoke, crouching down in front of the gravestone as she laid the bouquet of tulips atop the ones from that day’s afternoon. she placed her palm atop the top of the gravestone, tracing the smooth stone edge as if it was noob’s face, rather than just cool rock.
“it was what you wanted…& i did it. you’d be proud of me, & my mum says i should be too… but i just—“ sixer inhaled sharply, cutting herself off. her gaze drifted aside momentarily, before drifting back to meet the name etched onto the gravestone front.
“i can’t be sure whether to be proud or not until you tell me you are. i miss you, dear.”
that nickname had become a habit for sixer whenever she was addressing noob. she didn’t bother to change it anytime soon. she got up, sighing pitifully to herself as she turned to the graveyard exit.
& promptly froze at the sight that met her.