Strings (1 of 2)

"Some pain stays, but we learn to carry it." - Sabina Laura

[2 hours later]

I don't want to be here anymore.

Well, I never wanted to be here at all, but now I really don't want to be here.

I have gone around the room with my parents talking to whoever they wanted me to. I drank and eventually flirted with the overzealous bartender. I hid in the bathroom texting my friends. I did it all. And now I want to go.

It's not that I don't want to talk about my brother. After nearly four years, I don't tear up on the mention of his name. I think about him every day, sure, but more in a distant way in the back of my head, not every thought all day long like it was in the beginning. The first few months were the worst - but I don't want to think about that now. I can't.

I can talk about my brother, but tonight it's different. Seeing my mother advertise her son's death as a story line for her new book makes me feel physically ill. Seeing his face, forever too young with that goofy smile, on all of the book covers and large signs around the room is just too much.

She doesn't even understand how profiting off of him is wrong. She just sees the publicity and the dollar signs in this event.

Yes, she was devastated by his death. And yes, it did take her three years to publish this book she wrote right after the accident. But I don't agree with it being published at all and I can't just blindly accept the fact that she did.

I stand near the back of the room staring at a large cut out sign of the cover of the book. The event is in full swing closer to the bar on the other side of the room, so it's quieter over here. I can think here in peace.

I wrap my arms around myself and sigh analyzing his face.

You just had to leave me alone at this stupid event, didn't you, Matt? Selfish prick.

"I miss him."

I thought I was alone...

I look over and see Dean standing beside me. I glance around him, Ava nowhere in sight for once after clinging to his arm all night.

I wonder about how long he has been standing there as he inspects the large blow up of Matt's face.

"Me too," I reply softly almost in a whisper, more to myself than to him.

I can see the sadness in his eyes as he stares at the picture and I take a step closer to him. I can't help it.

"He loved you like a brother," I say with a small smile, facing the cover again.

I can see him smile slightly in the corner of my eye and he links our hands together, sighing. If this were anywhere else for any other reason, his touch would be electifying. But here and now, it's comforting. It's familiar and calm. Just like I remember it in the early weeks after Matt's death.

I lean my head against his shoulder as we continue to stare at the picture in silence.

No matter what, we will always have this. The bond Matt created when he left us.

It was there before the accident, but in a different way. We were the three amigos for years before it happened. But there was nothing romantic on my end. He was my older brother's best friend. We were kids.

But after Matty's death, something changed. It was easier to grieve together than alone. It helped having the only other person who knew Matt like I did there every day, feeling what I felt. My parents didn't. It made it almost bearable, even when I was suffocating from the inside out.

We went through it all together. Even if our style of grieving was basically just sleeping together to temporarily forget the pain for awhile. Not the healthiest, however effective in the short run.

But eventually he just became another reminder of my brother being gone every time I saw him, and continuing whatever we had just felt wrong once I realized that. Or at least, that's what I told myself. I moved away for my undergrad... no, more like, ran away. Ran away from the memories of Matt. Ran away from the sorrow. And ultimately, ran away from Dean. I never gave him an explanation, just ended it cold turkey. It was easier for me like that.

And remembering that made this moment feel wrong too.

I'm standing here, letting this perfectly sweet and innocent man comfort me again after everything I have put him through. We both know he wants to know why I left him. Any second now, he will ask for an explanation. In any moment, I will have to face what I have done. All the pain I caused him after all he did for me.

I can't do it.

I can't look him in the eye tonight and tell him all this. I should be able to after all this time, but I can't.

He is the reason I am alive today. He is the one who saved me countless times from my own self when I was too sad and fucked up to even bathe myself. Or when I partied too hard to know what day or year it was. To know when someone gave me something I didn't want or tried to bring me home. He always saved me. I don't have it in me to face what I have done to him. What I destroyed for us when I left. What I messed up... again.

Seeing Dean tonight made my heart ache even more than the book about Matt ever could. For what we once shared and for the memories he brought forth. Because I would be lying if I thought all we had together was grief and sex. That it wasn't real... that it was actually too real.

I need to get out of here now before I go down this rabbit hole again. Everything about tonight has been miserable and too much.

My heart beats faster and faster as my chest gets heavier, making it more difficult to breathe. I think Dean notices because he pulls back to look at me, concern evident in his eyes searching mine.

"Em... what's wrong?" He asks me while squeezing my hand that he is still holding.

I look down at our hands together and make a decision. It's best for both of us right now.

"I... I, uh.... I need to go now."

I rip my hand from his and start speed walking towards the back exit I spotted earlier. Dean calling my name fades as I get further away. But as his voice fades, my panic attack grows. My mind is racing and my throat is closing - as if a punishment for everything I put that boy through.

Panting, I push the door open and escape the room of dreaded memories to fresh air.

I lean back against the door once it closes, clutching my chest and closing my eyes, trying to regain control of my breathing.

He didn't do anything wrong and I just left him again... with no explanation again.

"Fuck." I'm so stupid.

So stupid and cruel and rude. I deserve nothing he gave me tonight. The grace. The kindness. I'm a horrible, horrible person. It should have been-

"Um... are you alright?"

Author's note:

Ok... so I started to like Dean too much and made him a bigger character than I expected to. But I think his past with Emily and her feelings about her brother and her grief were important to share early on and I needed Dean for that.

Who do you think the voice belongs to at the end?

Sorry for the cliffhanger - it will be explained in the next chapter... don't worry.