All my life I've been a reader. Books, magazines, newspaper articles. You name it, I've read it. As I've gotten older I've noticed a parallel between the stories I read and life in general. I realized that I could look at my life as a story. Most people's entire life make up their story. My story is short. My story starts in the month of June, not long before I turned fourteen. As you open up my story, and feel the crisp new pages beneath your fingers, and smell that brand new book smell, you'll realize my life didn't begin until him.
Most people don't find their true love at thirteen. We were different. From the instant I saw him, I felt like I got it. I saw the look in his eyes, and I could feel his excitement for the future, his insecurities, and the pain hidden deep inside him. As we got talking, I knew he got me too. We were almost the same person in that way. We felt the same on the inside. We were different than most kids our age, which was why we bonded so well.
The longer we were together, the more he changed me. It was like he made me into a better person. He was the streak of light through my dark teenage years. Without him there beside I don't know how I would've made it. It's hard growing up with everybody watching. But through every rough moment, every insecurity, he was there. And I was there for him. As he hit fame over night I was right there beside him, helping him along the way.
From day one our relationship revolved around music. On the very first day I met him we were supposed to sing karaoke together. My favorite thing I ever did with him was when we wrote songs together. We'd sit somewhere, anywhere, and write together. All the time. Once we'd finish we'd go in his house and pick up the guitars and mess around on the keyboard and put the final touches on it. When we were done we'd play the new song together. That was my favorite part of the whole songwriting process. He made such beautiful music. His voice combined with the guitar or the piano was just so beautiful.
I should've known. I should've known that things couldn't stay perfect forever.
One of the things I always admired about him was how much he cared about his fans. He was in New England and there was a huge snowstorm. I'd been with him on his tour bus for a few weeks. I watched his show from one of those little staircases that they used to get on and off stage. I had a huge smile on my face the entire time. He really gave it his all that night. I'd never seen him do a better show. Once he got off stage we hung out in the dressing room for a while, before his dad came in and presented a choice. They could either try to drive through the snowstorm or cancel the show and wait out the storm. He and his brothers all said they would never cancel on their fans. I wished I could go with him. To this day I wonder what would've happened if I would've just gone with him.
I had a flight to catch in the morning. So I stayed in some cheap hotel, while he and his brothers drove off in a van. The tour bus left before them and they were going to meet up and get on it later.
When I got back to LA the next afternoon my mom was crying as she met me at the airport. She said something about an accident. Something about the van hitting black ice and skidding off the road and flipping into a ditch. Everyone else escaped okay. He didn't.
Which brings me to where I am now. The end of my story. Sitting here, in a modest black dress, on a hill in a cemetery. California is supposed to be hot and sunny. Today is stormy. I'm just sitting here, getting soaked, staring at the new mound of dirt that covers his grave. I know my life won't be the same anymore. It'll be empty, filled with the void of nothingness.
So I know they say every story has to have a problem, climax and resolution. But sometimes the problem is too big to be resolved. Sometimes you read and read until you flip the last page and find that empty page of nothingness, the inside of the book cover, and the story was 'resolved', but that problem will live in your heart forever. The pain slowly burns through your heart until the day you die. Because while you might put the book down, that character in the story is stuck on the abyss of that blank card stock for all of eternity. Alone, without their other half, their heart breaking more and more each day. And while I'd say I feel sorry for them, how can I when I am one of them? Now the music in my heart is dead, just like the beautiful music that used to come out of his mouth.
Wow. So that really awesome last paragraph was not written by me, it was written by the AMAZING FanFiction writer Nileylovva. If you haven't, go check out her page and her stories. They're really good. So did you like the one-shot? I know it's pretty short. I have a hard time writing long one shots. Thoughts? Reviews are always nice :)
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