1k Oneshots

Back to Me

[A boy mourns for his best friend]

Words: 2530

・❥・

His eyes floated around the classroom: peers laughing and smiling all around him, the light in the room bright to his eyes due to the windows cracked and the horrendous light fixture above the teacher’s deck, who sat smiling as papers got graded and sorted out, pressed down. Everyone seemed happy, a free time that they rarely got taken advantage of by socializing.

But he doesn’t belong there

His pulse was screaming against his ears, yet a silent voice in front of him where the empty desk sat caused his stomach to run against its ribs and crawl up his spine. He shivered, the warm air suddenly empty and cold. It’s been cold, he thought to himself. The silence and the emptiness in front of him hurt, anguished with guilt, and he didn’t understand it. What if something had changed yesterday? What if he was there with him instead of being alone and moping in his own problems when his friend had so much more on his mind, when his friend was crying and writing letter after letter to everyone and saying goodbye. Writing a letter to him. What if he had paid more attention… so many what ifs, he stopped himself.

But there wasn’t anything he could do.

His breath caught for what felt like the hundredth time this morning.

It had happened last night, and his mom had given him the letter when he woke up over breakfast, a family meeting as they all sat in silence. He cried, he sobbed and ran to his room, throwing his school stuff together in shock and ignoring how his parents kept expressing their condolences, telling him that he could stay home today. But the letter said to keep it a secret. He was in schock.

His friend didn’t want to be a ruckus towards the school, getting everyone sad one day. He knew they’d eventually find out one way or the other, but he couldn’t bring himself to break what was written in the letter, it was too much. Everything was too much the moment he saw the signature on the letter, a different name his parents didn’t even bother to ask about, his mom seeing the moment he glanced over it, and seeing how a single tear suddenly drove down his cheek and fell against his lips even in shock, the salty taste reminding him of one of places they’ve gone; diving into the ocean in the middle of the night fully clothed, shoving each other around in the water and laughing their minds away, so happy to be with each other for the first time in what felt like forever. His friend had gone to camp for two weeks and those weeks were the longest time he’d ever had to live through. How was he going to live the rest of his life if only two weeks made him mope. He might not…

“Hey,” a kid waved a hand over his eyes, ignorantly smiling. “You good, man?”

No. What a stupid question, in his head his eyes narrowed, how could I be okay when all I can think about is him and everything that- “Yeah, uh, I’m alright. Thanks.”

The kid moved away, turning to a friend group that he knew slightly. They sit together sometimes, but they didn’t look at him. He didn’t even know if he could look back at them if they did. Why Sunday? Of all days, of any day, it had to happen when he wouldn’t even allow himself to stop and cry. It felt like he couldn’t stop crying with shock jolting through him, the feeling of his lips trembling catching his attention right before the bell rang. Second period, after what felt like hours of the first. It felt like nothing was real, he had been certain his friend would eventually show up in class a few moments late, caught up in traffic.

A different kid stopped him at the door, asking the same question the other kid did. Is this what it’s like to be depressed all the time? Have people asking and asking about how I am when I’m obviously not okay, when they don’t actually care.