Grief is everywhere and unavoidable. While they crash like waves, the stages come through as tides.

And I have been running in the opposite direction for a long time, holding onto the sliver of hope I had crushed a while back.

Today is his birthday. It is June 3rd, 2019. He would have turned 20, and we would each be heading into our first or second year of college.

Unfortunately, fate does not give grace to its victims, but it does challenge its favorites—if it even has any.

Part of me wonders if I was thrown off the world, then pulled back on as a test, but stealing Bryson away from me as a punishment for failing.

Either way, the past is settled, and there is no changing it.

Opening my eyes, I squint at the bright sky. The sun is blinding, setting my body on fire with its rays, but the grass beneath me is cool; slight moisture dampening the back of my t-shirt.

He disliked the summertime, despite his birthday being during it.

Growing up, he played hockey, following in his older brother, Tyler’s, footsteps, so that may be part of the reason he was so drawn to winter.

I close my eyes again. It is too much.

Everything has been lately, yet I can’t seem to get enough of it.

During junior year, I was in desperate need of a reprieve, but now? I am beyond numb to the point of returning.

My heart is heavy with feelings my brain cannot process, and my lungs feel like they’re tightening at the thought of them—of him.

I do not know which is better.

Would I rather forget him or remember him?

What would be the cost for moving on?

I wish there was a switch to make my head quiet.

Rolling over onto my stomach, I peek my eyes open and stare at his headstone.

Light grass stains and small cracks make up part of it.

My chest tightens.

“Hey, detective Wright.”

The world around us is too quiet, and my head feels clouded—as if the walls are literally closing in.

I swallow harshly.

“I would ask how you’re doing, but it’s not like I’ll get an answer.”

The Earth remains still.

I glance down and an image of him from a memory pops into my head.

He wore a short but textured, dirty-blond haircut that was always parted in the middle. Pristine, tan skin along with a well-defined jawline and high cheekbones made up his facial structure.

Mentally trailing my eyes over him in my head, I pause when I reach his eyes.

Happiness, sadness, frustration, confusion—I have seen every single emotion displayed in them.

But my favorite look was when he glanced at me with love.

If only I had realized sooner, maybe there would be a possibility that things would have changed, and we would have survived the tragic ending of us.

Even so, you cannot work your way around fate.

Almond-shaped eyes with light green and gold flecks made up his irises. The edge of his eye faded to a darker green on his left than his right, but he had long, thick, blond-eyelashes that rimmed the top and bottom.

I miss being able to see them in person.

Heck, I miss him in general.

“Dante and Natalia are engaged now,” I tell

him with a smile, my eyes burning. “They are definitely an interesting pair.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, I continue. “Aaron got offered a scholarship at the same college Erik got accepted into, so they are doing well.”

I bite back my bottom lip, fumbling with it for a moment. “Part of me is happy that they’re both getting out of here because, I mean, Aaron deserves it after everything, and Erik has worked so hard.

“But there is always that little bit of me that thinks about you and remembers you cannot see us now, though I know you would be proud.”

It is getting hard to grapple my emotions.

“Dillon is still the same wide-eyed boy he was back in seventh grade when I first met him, except he met this real pretty girl, who Dante calls, ‘Little Liz.’”

My mouth closes, and I glare at his grave, something in my head splitting.

For a moment, sensitivity takes over, and I strangle out, “As much as I don’t want to, I can’t help but envy them, because that could have been us.”

A tear slips down my cheek, and a sniffle is my pathetic attempt at gathering myself.

“It shouldn’t hurt this badly to love,” I cry. “You let me with the, ‘what if?’”

—

A mouthful of accusations and a river of tears later, I drag myself up from the Earth, parting from my deceased lover.

I came to the conclusion that it would be best for me to leave. Dread coursed throughout my body as I began to walk away, but I reminded myself of one thing.

It was now or never, and I cannot live with the dead. There is no surviving off of what isn’t there.

Note: This is unfinished, and there are a few things missing, though I hope you enjoy what is there so far!