One year—one year of Olette pulling him out of bars, cleaning up after him, countless drunk kisses and breaking pieces of her heart. One year, of Hayner being oblivious to his best friend's feelings and one year of total and complete fuck ups. She was always there, everyday—every minute, sharing his dinky apartment with him while Pence and Roxas, went on to better and bigger things. Olette, no not her, she stuck with him until the very end—he popped open another can of beer; the third can today. She would always tell him that he wasn't a fuck up and that he could do so much better if he just tried, he would just pass out on the floor. He never asked why she was with him, he never said thank you or I love you—even though he wanted to, he wanted to tell her that he loved everything she did for him; always. He would push it aside, because there was always tomorrow; he would tell her and then she would leave and that would be it. He didn't know that one day; there wouldn't be a tomorrow for her.
The day played clear as crystal, as if it was a film that only he access to in his mind, he had wandered into the street and a car was coming. He remembered her scream, then she shove him out of the way—it hit her, he remember that screeching sound and when her body hit the pavement.
"Olette!" he screamed, crawling over to her; he placed his ear on her heart; it was thumping so slowly. "Call an ambulance!"
"Hayner—" she coughed up blood; tears were burning his eyes; that was suppose to be him.
"Please don't die," he cried, gripping her hand softly. "An ambulance is coming, just hang on—c'mon Olette please, don't die—not now."
"I love you, Hayner—" she coughed, more blood. "I always have…"
"Olette—please don't die—don't go…"
But it was too late; he remembered trying to bring her back with the kiss of life; the way her blood tasted on his lips. He remember when they came to get her, going slowly and study; because there was nobody left to save. He remembered sitting with Roxas and Pence at her funeral, the sat in the front row; just the three of them. He remembered them crying; three grown men, crying for her the love of their life and without her they felt incomplete, like part of them was dead in that coffin. He remembered carrying her coffin to the burial site, and helping putting his best friend into the ground. Hayner remembered taking the blame, crying himself to sleep and just not feeling; just being, being dead and for the next two months that how it was; and then came December. On December fifteenth he went to her grave, to wish her a happy birthday—not surprised to see Roxas and Pence there, they stood there together; paying respects.
"Remember how big she was on New Year's resolutions?" Pence said, in a whispered.
Roxas smiled, nodding and Hayner said nothing, just looking at the two of them with empty eyes, they left after that and Hayner went home. He thought about it, and he thought about it; and days has past and New Year's was coming fast, then he had it. He wanted to be alone on New Year's, so there he was sitting on the couch waiting for the ball to drop; he threw his beer can down.
"I'll be a better person this year—I won't drink and get a real job, become something—just like you said I could." He stopped, the tears falling down his face. "I love you too and I'm sorry, so sorry."
The ball dropped and that was it, the beginning of a new era and the end of Olette—she was gone forever like 2007, but he could always remember her; and he always would. He would be better because of her and hopefully that would be enough for her to forgive him, for not telling her sooner.
--le fin apply disclaimers.