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the weeks seem to pass by in hours. blurry, monotonous, dragging. you’re surviving by a thread Vi has single handedly kept woven tight.
you’ve been through plenty in your lifetime in the lanes— who hasn’t? we were never set up to succeed.
but grief? never.
evident in your eyes clinging onto light, sorrow deep in your soul bleeding out.
Vi’s done this before— grieved family, felt the loss within herself, their decayed flesh and blood taking a piece of her with them.
it kills her to see it on you; the same lost, wandering, dull sparks inside you, just as she felt at 15— repeating when jinx slipped through her fingers once again.
you remember how she went quiet and kept going. how she seems untouched and crushed by the loss— because she’s done it before.
you haven’t.
not that you wish it happened earlier, but you never learned to grieve, cope, keep going through death.
you tell yourself not to feel sorry for yourself, Vi has it so much worse and she’s stands tough, strong, bright.
and all you can seem to muster is a shower when she drags you from bed and a meal she brings to you— half-eaten and nauseating.
Vi stays in bed longer in the morning and earlier in the nights. she lets you talk, stay silent, cry, repeat the same few sentences— failing to really process anything.
she lets herself cry about you too— she knows you’d rather see how real your feelings are in her own heart, rather than ‘staying tough’ for you.
your grief takes her too.
her fingers mindlessly coil your hair around them, letting you focus on anything other than an ache that seems richer every few days.
she faces you, your eyes fall on her chest, feeling the warmth of her palm in yours.
“i wish i could tell you it gets better, but it doesn’t. it gets easier to live in, but it all aches the same if you let it out.” Vi doesn’t mean to worry you, but she needs to be honest. you can’t expect to be the same, because you can’t. grief is life changing.
“you seem so good at it.”
“time. and experience.” Vi’s voice breaks a moment, but it doesn’t get her.
“they weren’t even..great to me. they weren’t around when they were alive. “
“but there was always a chance, y’know? jinx could’ve gotten help, powder could’ve come back, even just for a moment— but now they can’t change. that’s why.”
Vi is quiet while she finds the right words.
“people can change, get the help, do the right things, come back around. but death is permanent. and i don’t…no one is ever really ready to accept that someone they love can’t change.”
pressure builds behind your eyes, but your too dehydrated to really cry. though your eyes stay red, puffy, and tired all the same.
Vi’s thumb swipes the creases beside them, same as she would if you had tears left.
“do you still think about your parents everyday? jinx?”
“pretty much. sometimes it’s like they’re trying to get my attention— big reminders of them right in my face. but more often it’s the little things. they stack up, feels like they’re torturing you at times. you can find them in everything.”
she cradles the back of your head and pulls herself in to kiss your head, temple, corner of your lips. “you’ll make it. it’ll be easier. i love you, sweetheart”
you wrap your arms around her waist, bringing yourself into her, face to chest.
“love you too, Vi.”