Bobtina One-Shots

At Fault

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A/N: this one is sad, guys. I'm sorry, but I had to. and I want to point out that I think we all have a tendency to feel the way Bobby does at the end of this chapter, but no one here is at fault, okay? also, there are some things written in here about Stephen that I will comment on if asked, but I don't want to get into any fights or anything so.... yeah. I hope you like it, even though it's really sad. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED :D
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~June 11, 2016 1:36 a.m.~

Bobby's Point of View

How did I let this happen? How did I let her go on tour without me? How did I convince myself she would be fine? Why did I do this? She's dying and it's my fault.

Thoughts raced through my mind throughout the whole plane ride, but as we were landing, they got worse.

What if she already died? What if I never get to say good-bye? Like, for real, not just "see you after tour!" What if the guy didn't really kill himself, what if he's going to kill the rest of us?

"Bobby?" Tina's small, shaking voice said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I cleared my throat and looked over at her.

"Yeah?"

"You know we landed, right?"

I nodded.

"You just seem dazed. You can't go into a bad place, Bobby. You have to stay happy, positive, optimistic. For her."

I nodded again.

"I will, Tina, I promise."

We didn't have any luggage, so we found Detective Moreschi quickly and the Grimmies and I headed to the hospital, tears in our eyes and our hearts beating quickly.

We all had our phones out, waiting for the airplane mode to completely turn off, so we received messages again. We wanted to know if Mark had texted, if she was okay, or in surgery, or if recovery wasn't possible.

The only messages we received, though, the only ones that flooded our phones, were not from Mark. The messages that flooded my phone were from my parents, sisters, and other family members.

Let me know what happens.

Please tell me this isn't real.

Are you OK, Bobby? How are you taking it?

The messages the Grimmies received were from many others, aunts and uncles, cousins, church friends, pastors, best friends, and anyone else who knew Christina.

Nothing from Mark. Nothing from the Before You Exit guys. Nothing.

It could be taken as good, or it could be taken as very bad.

I was crossing my fingers. I was praying with all my heart. I was wishing on anything. I just wanted her to be OK. I just wanted this to be a dream.

The minute we arrived at the hospital, all of us ran in.

We saw Mark. We saw the Before You Exit guys, Connor, Riley, and Toby. We saw tour managers. And no one looked happy.

Tina bursted into tears without the words being said. She knew. We all knew.

"Christina was taken to emergency surgery, but her heartbeat was no longer there. They tried to save her, but–"

Bud shook his head, signaling for the man who was speaking to stop. He hugged Tina, letting her cry into his chest, and I looked at Mark for a moment.

"I need some air," I said hoarsely, the lump in my throat growing.

I went outside and cried. The front of a hospital is probably a terrible place to cry, but I couldn't find a better place.

Why'd you let her go? Why did you let her break up with you? Why did you let her go on tour without you? Why did you let this happen?

- - -

"Bobby, you need to talk to someone. Holding it all in will not help. We all miss her," my mom said, standing over my childhood bed as I laid there, wrapped in blankets, for the third day straight.

I groaned in response, and I heard her sigh and sit beside the bed. She was going to start crying.

"Please just.... eat something," she said softly. I could basically see her eyes filling with tears. "We can't lose you too."

I cleared my throat.

"I'll come out in a little bit," I said, loud enough for her to hear through the blankets.

She sniffled, and a minute later I heard the door shut.

That's when I could go back to it all.

The feel of her cold, limp hand against mine. A hand that I had once held in a movie theater on our first date. A hand that I had kissed at prom. A hand that had once been as warm as Christina's smile.

I could still remember the last words I said to her. I could still remember the way she looked when she left for tour, and even more vividly the way she looked in the hospital. The way her body laid, limp and unmoving. Not even a shallow breath.

I was surprised I had any tears left in my body, but I was crying into the pillow yet again. I was sure my eyes were bloodshot like crazy, and I probably looked like a hard drug addict.

Not to mention the fact that I definitely didn't smell good.

I was suffering, torturing myself as I thought of the good times we'd had. I thought of the way I let her leave me, both for tour and in our relationship.

How could I let her go to Stephen? He didn't treat her right. He treated her more like a step forward for his career, a person to use for their talent. He treated her like a girl that could project his talent until he was done with her.

I should've told her when I had the chance. I should've let her know that she deserved to be treated like a princess, and he was treating her like a maid. I should've taken her far away, where no one could hurt her. I should've taken her somewhere where I could hold her forever, somewhere where we could be happy.

I was at fault here. I was the one that let her go. I let her tell me she needed a break. I let her go on that tour. I wasn't there to stop him. I wasn't there to protect her, and I should've been.

I'm the reason she left, I'm the reason she died.

I'm at fault. So I deserve this emotional agony. I deserve the memories, I deserve the loss. I deserve the pain in my chest. I deserve to lay in these blankets and cry.

Because I'm at fault.