On the day that Jade's funeral was held Beck just couldn't bring himself to walk up to her coffin. One by one each attendee went up to say their goodbyes, but Beck stayed in his seat, glued there by a force that wasn't visible to one's eyes: dread.

He dreaded saying goodbye to her; of seeing her and waiting for her to pop up out of her coffin and laugh about how she tricked them all. He knew she wouldn't. It just wasn't possible this time. There would never be another time when Jade would trick anyone.

Even as Cat fell to the ground sobbing and Andre and Tori were trying to shush her, Beck didn't even shift in his seat. He watched, as they finally got her up on her feet enough to where they could drag her to the bathroom for her to take a moment, with an unseeing gaze.

The speeches were spoken; the tears were shed; laughs rang through the air, loud and clear, when a good story was brought up. But through it all tears still held their presence on the face of many. Jade might call this a sappy scene from a movie—one she wouldn't star in— but it had become reality.

At the end of it all Beck remained detached and his eyes held no more moisture than usual. Part of him felt cold and selfish ('Jade would cry for you', he would scold himself angrily), but mostly he didn't have the energy to care. He just wanted to go back home and sleep. It was the only thing that seemed to require the least amount of effort.

When it was all finally over he made his way through the small church Mr. and Mrs. West had rented out for the occasion; exchanging a few words here, shaking hands there. It was the longest walk down an isle that could be no longer than ten yards of Beck's entire life. As he flopped down on his bed he would have been thankful for it being over, but he was asleep before he could even think to feel anything more than a deep exhaustion.

Weeks later Beck went down to the mall he used to be dragged along to so Jade could search through rack after rack of clothing to then growl in disgust over how crappy many clothing stores were. He felt out of place, being there by himself. He hardly ever came here by himself to buy something. If he did it was to get Jade a present for some holiday or her birthday, but he had done neither for months now.

Taking a deep breath, he swung the doors open and made his way down the middle of the mall. No particular place came to mind of where he should go to hang around. He just needed to find something that wasn't a total waste of money, so his mother would get off his back about him needing to get out and do something. Somehow he had been suckered into going shopping. Not exactly his way of coping, but if did help his way of coping—being left alone—then he could suffer for an hour or two.

The sights of the stores seemed dull and boring. Beck didn't care about this sale or that great price for pants there (they weren't even good looking pants). The music in that store was giving him a headache and he wasn't even inside of it yet. And what was that smell? It was so strong and intruding on his attempt at staying peacfu—oh, it's just Hollister.

He quickened his pace to get away from the powerful aroma of the overpriced, brand name store, and ran into a woman in the process.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized and grabbed the woman by the waist to help her keep her balance. He quickly let go and dropped his hands back down to his side when he realized what he was doing. Jade would not be happy if she saw—

'She won't,' he realized with a heavy feeling. Never in his life did he think he would miss her yelling at other girls to get off of him more than he did now.

"That's all right," the woman said cheerily with a smile plastered on her face. She was probably in her mid thirties, with a kind round face and big blue eyes that held a hint of boredom within them. "Would you like to try a sample of our perfume? It's our best one and could be a great gift for a lucky lady," she informed him with a big, fake hearty laugh. She was trying way too hard. He took it as a sign of her desperation to just sell the damn thing and get through her shift.

Just as he was about to decline she sprayed a big puff in front of his face (definitely trying to pass this bottle off to someone else already) and he waved some of it in the air in an attempt to get it away from his face. As it spread through the air a whiff reached him and he ended up sniffing it up without meaning to. He stopped waving his hand and let it hang suspended in the air.

The saleswoman took this as a good sign, like he was surprised by how good it smelled. He was surprised alright, but not by the quality of the smell. "Doesn't that smell great? And it's not an expensive perfume either. It's actually very affordable at a price of-"

He was off before she could get the price out from between her glossy pink lips.

The mall was suddenly suffocating Beck, the scent of the spray following him with every step he took. He entered the first store he saw and bought a couple of shirts and a pair of jeans that looked to be around his size. He practically ran out of the store and down the mall, back to where his truck was parked, which earned him a few stares from passing strangers. There was no time to care. He had to get out.

The bags were tossed on the driver's seat and the key jammed into the ignition, causing the engine to jump to life, before Beck could take a deep breath and feel like he could somewhat breathe again. He drove a few miles over the speed limit in hopes of leaving the smell behind. It was no use. The particles of the misty chemical spray were permanently latched onto the inside of his nose.

He hadn't smelled that crisp, clear smell of Jade's perfume since the day before she died. Smelling it now was like a smack in the face from Death himself. He could imagine a dark figure in a cloak laughing as Beck sped away, horrified and aching inside. Still he didn't cry. Not yet.

It wasn't until after he had drove in circles and through a few neighborhoods that he found his truck parked in a spot near the front, and himself treading through the grass to get to where she was buried. He stopped in front of the headstone that marked the very spot his best friend and last love was and would be for the rest of the time he lived.

In Loving Memory of

Jade West

July 26th, 1994

October 23rd, 2012

He looked around the rest of the cemetery and saw no one but an older man standing fifty feet away. The man crouched down and set a bouquet of daisies down. He didn't stand back up and after a while Beck gave up on waiting for him to get up.

He was starting to wish that he had brought something to put on Jade's grave. Not flowers, obviously, but maybe a pair of scissors. He gave a weak laugh at the thought of what other people would do or say if they ever caught sight of such a thing.

Beck was starting to get uncomfortable and doubting him even being there. He didn't know what to do now that he had nothing to give her—or her grave, really. Maybe he should talk to her. Isn't that what people do when they visit the remains of those they once knew?

He cleared his throat and shifted his body to lean to the right. "You know, I landed a part in some new movie," he began telling her.

He felt a bit ridiculous and looked around again to make sure that no one new had appeared and could hear him carry on a conversation with his dead girlfriend. It should be normal at a grave yard, but still. It was private.

"The auditions were held down the street from school. It's not the main role, not even a big supporting role, but I've got some lines."

He paused, thinking of a time when Jade had gone over lines with him for a school play. She had been nagging him about making his eyes show more emotion, instead of "some half-assed excuse for emotions".

"I stood in front of the mirror for hours, repeating the lines I was given to make sure that it was real, you know; the emotions. It was kind of like that type of acting you told me about where the actor almost becomes the character." He thought for a moment. "Method acting," he stated. "That was it. Method acting. It worked, I guess."

Beck took a hand out of his pocket and ran his fingers through his hair shakily. What else should he tell her, if anything? What in the world do you talk to dead people about? He decided it might be a good idea to let her know how people were doing. Maybe she could hear him, wherever she was now, or maybe, if he told someone about this, it would be a comfort to them knowing that he had mentioned their name. Though, as the thought ran through his mind, he doubted anyone would ever find out about this.

"Cat's doing better," he said lowly. "She was really quiet at first, but she's starting to become bubbly again. She says it helps to look at pictures of you. I haven't," he confessed. "That picture of you and me that used to be by my bed is in a drawer."

It was hard to imagine that Jade would be okay with that. She would probably smack him upside the head and ask why he would put a perfectly good picture of his loving girlfriend in a goddamn drawer. He just couldn't look at it yet. He'd put it back one day. Maybe.

"Andre and Robbie are okay, too. Andre even wrote you a song."

Beck almost smiled at the memory of Andre handing him the paper with the lyrics on it. He could tell that Andre was nervous about the whole ordeal, so Beck smiled and praised him for being so thoughtful. On the inside, Beck was crying.

"I know Tori wasn't always your favorite, but she sang it for the school. I think you would have liked it," he told her honestly. "Andre really worked on making that song one that you would sing or listen to."

Silence. Now what?

"I don't even know why I'm telling you any of this, because I don't even think you can hear me. I think I've just been standing here talking to a chunk of the ground for these past five minutes or so. I really only came here because some saleswoman sprayed your old perfume all in my face. It kind of made me feel guilty for never saying goodbye."

A single tear ran down Beck's face. He ignored it even as it rolled over his lip and off his chin. He swallowed the lump in his throat with difficulty and went on.

"I just didn't know how." His tone was openly apologetic; begging for her to forgive him for being so rude. "I still love you. I'll never take you on a date again, or listen to you complain, but…" he trailed off, uncertain of where he was going with this. "It was nice when I got to do those things. I may not have appreciated it all then, but I do now," he finished with his voice cracking slightly.

He grabbed hold of his phone and turned it in his pocket to peek at the screen. "I think I should get home now. My parents will start to worry soon. They do that a lot now," he babbled. He was starting to think of so much more that he could tell her, but it really had been a while since he left home. "Um…thanks. For everything." It was a lame ending, but at least he had finally thanked her for all she had done over the years.

As he made his way to his car, he kept his head down so no stranger could see how red his eyes were getting, or how there were streaks of tears on his tan cheeks. When he finally turned the car on and started to back out of the parking space, he stopped suddenly.

On the top of Jade's grave he could just barely make out the sight of a single butterfly. It stood perfectly still, as if frozen by Beck's notice of it. It seemed like a painfully long time of staring and waiting before its wings twitched. Then, before Beck could blink, it took off in the sky, its wings beating furiously and occasionally flashing a blurb of color.

When it had disappeared into the sky Beck glanced back at Jade's grave, expecting it to look different now somehow. His eyes swept over it left-to-right and back again, but nothing appeared to have altered in any sort. He wasn't sure if he should be disappointed or not.

The engine groaned a little as Beck continued to back out, but grew silent as it neared the gate to leave. With one final glance over his shoulder, Beck took in the sight of where the remains of Jade would lay long after he passed on too. He knew he wouldn't be back for a long time, but at least if he ever wanted to go again he knew where to go.

His foot pressed down on the gas and the cemetery disappeared from sight.

"Goodbye, Jade."

A/N: The amount of tears shed while writing this…you don't even know. This one hit home, thinking about all the ones I've lost this year.