Forevermore {h.s}

75.

I put my hands under the cold water that has been running for about 2 minutes now. I need to blink a few times to remind myself of my consciousness and peek in the mirror.

I haven't been sleeping great, but I think it's better to say I haven't slept at all.

The water splashes my face as awakening and my brain cells come to the life once again.

It's been a couple of rough days not just for me, but for everyone. I think I should be the last one complaining here.

The funeral for Theo took place in the local church and cemetery. The atmosphere was strange and almost uncomfortable, it was bittersweet to say goodbye to someone you should hate. But hatred is a strong term.

Saying goodbye to someone who helped you be comfortable in a room full of strangers or help you figure out your problems but saying goodbye to someone who also stabbed you in the back and got you to live in fear of someone killing you any day.

Theo was gone and he's never coming back. It took me a while to realize that fact and it's still taking Charlie some time.

He's in the first stage of grief, which is denial. He doesn't want people to be sorry, he wants them to tell him his boyfriend is still out there and this is all a joke. He wants him to come home.

He can't and doesn't want to believe it, even though he saw him get killed with his own eyes. He witnessed how the bullet flew through his forehead and how he was dead on the spot with no sign of life.

We've all seen it, but the only one who couldn't accept it was no one else but Charlie.

And I have no right to blame him.

Theo was his angel as he once said. An angel controlled by the devil. Manipulated, brainwashed and scared for his life. It still hurts me when I think about it.

I get this never-stopping feeling in my chest that won't let me breathe and shuts down my lungs. It spreads across my stomach until I have to hold it in my grip.

After I wash my face a few times, I unlock my phone and look at the message I've sent Harry 3 days ago but he still didn't respond.

"Hi H, how are you doing? I hope you're doing okay, I'm still here if you need something, I love you, A" is what I texted and started overthinking a little about it.

What if what I'm doing is actually annoying? Maybe he doesn't need me right now, he only needs himself and nothing else. Maybe he needs to cope with everyone alone.

My mother told me I can't care too much about people but I obviously never listen. I care about Harry more than I care about anyone else. And my messages to him are simply a reminder that I'm here for him and that he can talk to me.

I scroll up to my phone and notice how many messages I've sent since the funeral. The day after, I almost blew up his phone but deleted half of those messages. I was scared, scared he was going to leave me alone here so I told him I'm coming over to check up on him.

Harry was laying on the couch when I walked in and quietly kicked off my shoes. His eyes were shut and lips gently apart, so I grabbed a knitted blanket and put it over him, after that, I put down his glasses and placed them on the table and left. I was happy he was able to sleep.

A few days after that, he still didn't talk to me. Didn't respond to my messages or calls. Every time I tried to visit him, his house was locked so I thought that maybe he was trying to focus on his hobbies and started taking photos again.

However I tried to contact him it didn't work. And it didn't let me sleep.

I've been trying to force myself to turn off that damn phone and leave Harry alone but something alarming in me was telling me I should care. That I should be beside him and tell him he'll be okay one day.