I need to stop with the depressing stories.

He lies there, pale and cold. You stare at him, tears have been dried in your eyes and it hurts so much, you hurt so much. It took a few minutes to sink in that he's really gone, that your boyfriend is never going to come back, his body is iced over with death and there is nothing you can do to bring him back from the darkness.

Even as much as you want to hold him forever, you can't hold a corpse.

A police officer asks you if this is your boyfriend and you nod, because it is. As much as it pains you, you have to identify him, his family are long gone and you were all he had in life.

He was also all you had.

Friends were never a thing you were good at making, relationships just managed theirselves around you, until you had met him. He changed you, he made you who you are today and you love him for it, you loved him for it.

You leave the morgue and end up sitting on the sidewalk for what seems like enternity. It's dark outside, nobody really sends you second glance as you take a chug from the bottle of vodka in your hand. Remembering your boyfriend only makes it hurt more so you stop; you stop thinking all together and finish off the bottle of vodka. Thankfully, you're quite good with alcohol so a bottle of vodka does nothing to your system. You wish it did as your boyfriend's name pops up in your head.

Ryan Beckford. You fell in love with the name as much as you did with him, it suited him perfectly. Honestly, you can't remember how you met him in the first place, you have been with him for five years, six this November, but you can remember your first date with him. He drove you to the riverside at 7pm and walked along the river banks, muddying up your loose jeans and his combats, but neither of you minded because you had eachother. You also remember being fifteen when you met him, but waiting a year or so to confess your feelings for him.

Then it hits you where it hurts the most; the day he died. Three weeks and a half ago, your boyfriend and you had a minor argument, leading to him leaving the apartment and slamming his car door shut. Half an hour later, you got a call from him, he was apologising for everything he'd ever done to you, he even apologised for falling in love you with you after playing you for a very long time. You were shocked, you were also upset and angry so you hung up.

Worry had been poking around you when he kept calling back, then when he stopped and he didn't come home that night. You sat by your mobile, ready to pick it up if he did call again, you were ready to forgive him because you love him, you need him. Then he never called back. He never came home. The apartment became a dull and gloomy place where you just moped around, sometimes with the television on just so you can imagine him laying on the couch when you shower.

The hospital called you soon after three days, notifying you that your boyfriend was in hospital and was critically ill, he had parked his car at a trainline crossing and apparently waited to get hit, according to a local shop keeper. Snatching your wallet and coat from the counter, you rushed out of the front door and got the bus to the hospital.

The nurse was right, he was critically ill. His heartrate was slow, he was pale and covered in bloody blotches, bruises and scrapes. He wasn't awake when you got there, so you sat quietly in the chair next to his bed and held his hand with vice grip, hoping he wouldn't slip from you.

He never woke up.

A few hours after you arrived, he fell. You realised that no matter how tightly you would hold his hand, he was going to slip. Nurses rushed in to help recover him, but he was gone.

'Time of death: 2:51pm, tuesday 30th April.'

Ever since his death, you've been attending health sessions that will hopefully make you forget everything; you know it won't, but a guy can dream can't he? These health sessions do help quite a bit, there are various people there who are dealing with the loss of a loved one and understand exactly what you're going through; it feels nice.

What else also feels nice is when you fall on to your soft bed and snuggle yourself into the pillow. You inhale the fading scent of Ryan and imagine his warm arms wrapping around your waist and his whispers, telling you that he's right there and everything's going to be okay.

Yes Jake. Everything's going to be okay.

When you feel all alone,

And the world has turned its back on you,

Give me a moment please to tame your wild wild heart,

I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you,

It's hard to find relief and people can be so cold,

When darkness is upon your door and you feel like you can't take anymore. . .

You sit up from your spot on the bed, thinking, hoping Ryan is standing by the stereo and looking at you with his fresh smile. But even though that was his favourite song being played, he's not standing there by the stereo. Instead, it's your best friend; Roxy.

"Late night?" She smiles. You smile back of course, but your eyes aren't. Roxy obviously notices this because she sighs lightly and turns off the stereo; you hold up your hand,

"No, no, leave it on. It was his favourite."

She switches it back on and walks over to your bed, giving you a hand to help you up. "You can't keep living in the past, Jakey, it's not going to help, believe me."

"I know, I know." You sigh, "But I don't know any better."

"You still have his clothes here." She points to the shirt draped over the radiator. You glance over at it and feel a jolt of sickness form in your throat.

Swallowing thickly, you reply. "I was going to clear it out later...after the funeral."

Roxy nods heavily and claps her hands together, "right, first thing's first: shower, teeth, hair, get changed and we'll go."

"Go where?"

"The health meeting!" She reminds you; you shake your head slightly and look at your watch. The one Ryan bought you.

"That's not until four."

"Well I want you to meet someone." Roxy says as she looks around the room, as if everything else is more interesting than you.

"Someone...?" You ask, expecting her to finish. You know she's only trying to help and you know it's what's best for you, but you just don't feel like going anywhere right now, except to bed.

"Shower, now." Roxy points to the bathroom. You realise that you aren't getting anything out of her and you aren't avoiding the shower; not that you would want to, seeing as you have been in those clothes all night. So you shower, shave, brush your teeth and dry your hair before changing into clean, Ryan-free clothes.

It doesn't help the tight feeling in your chest.

Roxy is waiting for you in the livingroom, her blonde hair is a welcoming sight in your dull apartment. She sees you in the hallway and smiles, holding her arm out to link in with yours, "come on, I didn't lock my car."

You link your arm with hers and roll your eyes comically, "all right, all right." And you leave the apartment with her. You don't bother taking your keys because you know she secretly has a pair.

The drive to the local health centre isn't long, about ten or fifteen minutes away. You usually drive there on your own but today you accepted the offer of Roxy to drive you, which was a stupid idea because now you'll have to leave when she decides to leave; which is usually never because she loves flirting with all the men there.

You probably don't really mind spending more time with Roxy, you hardly ever leave the apartment anymore because sunlight isn't what you want to see. Plus, you never feel like doing anything outside.

It takes you a while to get used to the brightness of the outdoors when you step out of the car; you look over at Roxy, a hand shielding your eyes from the sunlight. She smiles in that cheeky way that you adore and leads you inside the health centre; you both know to ignore the many smokers outside, all they do is mock the people that enter and exit through the main doors. Sometimes it's insulting what they shout, but you learn to just cover it over with your own set of conversations with Roxy.

Your mind wonders to why you're here an hour and a half early than you should be so you're literally about to ask Roxy when she stops and shushes you. "I wanted to get here early, so you can meet this someone."

Ah. Yes, 'the someone' she wants you to meet. "Roxy," You groan, but she stops you.

"You need other friends Jake!"

"I have plenty of friends."

"Name three. I'm not one of them."

You pause. Oh God she's right, you haven't got many friends. She obviously takes your silence as defeat as she replies with a smug expression. "Exactly," She states. "Now just shush that trap of yours, he's really nice and you two will get along just fine."

You do 'shush your trap' and calm down, you didn't realize how worked up you were getting over this. That smug expression doesn't leave her face as she leads you down the long hallways that smell of old wood and mixed scents of other people. Even though this place is big and local, it's normally empty throughout the hallways due to meetings, so a long and dreadfully anxious silence splits through the air like a dagger as you both walk.

She stops outside a meeting room and peers through the glass on the door, mumbling something incoherent to herself as she did so. You lean against the mocha-coloured wall and wait. It seems like a complete century before Roxy backs away from the door and watches the couples pass her, her smile never fading or her wave not stopping. Until, two fairly normal people are about to pass her and are speaking to each other, well, were speaking to each other before Roxy grabbed them both and pulled them from the doorway. A surprised gawp escaped the raven-haired woman as she was dragged into Roxy's line of vision.

"Jaaaane!" Roxy beamed, her smile almost ripping her cheeks. It took a moment for this 'Jane' to adjust her glasses before she grinned largely at Roxy and welcomed her into an embrace, saying hello and asking her how she was doing. You can't help but notice the blonde fella standing beside both of them, hands in pockets with a blunt expression plastered on his face. And what was going on with those sunglasses? You honestly feel like calling the fashion police on this man.

Roxy takes you off guard when she nudges you; it seems she's been trying to get your attention for a few moments while you were observing the blonde fashion disaster in the corner. "Jake, this is my cousin: Jane, and her boyfriend, Dick." She says once she has your attention. Jane begins to giggle as Roxy shoots her a glance before looking back at you.

"Hello there." You smile politely and offer a hand to shake at Jane, who gladly takes it and smiles back.

"Very gentleman-like, aren't you." She chuckles. You laugh in return and turn your attention to the blonde with your hand offered. He looks down at it then back up at you before shaking hands. What a stubborn-"Dick, was it?"

"Dirk." He corrects, placing his hand back in his trouser pocket. Roxy snorts into laughter with Jane and you're very confused, so you shoot this 'Dirk' a questioning gaze. "It's because my name is similar to 'dick'. They think it's the funniest thing on earth."

You nod, truely concerned about the humor in this hallway. You're waiting for Roxy to stop laughing so you can leave this ever-so-awkward silence between you and Dirk, you feel uneasy as if Dirk was staring at you, but you would probably never know due to those ridiculous glasses. Just as you were about to speak to Roxy, Jane slips her arm around Dirk's waist and pulls him close to her, leaning up to whisper in his ear.

"Don't you know whisperin' is rude," Roxy grins when Jane shushes her and looks over to you. "So yeah, this is Jane and Dirk, who I wanted you to meet."

"If I may ask, what is a happy couple like you two doing in a place like this?" You idle up a conversation when you feel a silence slipping over the hallway, only when the silence continues after your question do you realise the mistake of opening your mouth. Jane clears her throat and smiles weakly, "Relationships...tend to have...problems." She says slowly, as if trying to explain to a child.

You nod and say nothing more, knowing full well you shouldn't say any more. You look over the Dirk-fella and immediately you feel that something isn't right, maybe she has a terminal illness and they need support to help them through it? Or perhaps he's abusive - with that thought, you study Jane's appearance to see any bruises or scars and when you find nothing, you still dislike this Dirk-fella because of that single thought. What was happening? Has your lack of social contact completely destroyed your moral of 'don't judge a book by it's cover' or in this case 'don't judge a bloke by his sunglasses'.

Before you know it, Roxy's dragging you out of the hallway with Jane and Dirk walking behind you. Once you're all outside, you stop in your tracks. "Roxy, what about our meetings?"

"Ehh, they can wait. You need to get to know these guys!" She smiles widely while trying to pull you towards the car, but you refuse to move.

"Roxy, we need to go to our meetings; especially you." You say firmly. Her smile drops and she rolls her eyes at your serious expression, she turns to face the happy-looking couple and sighs, "daddy won't let me miss a class, sorry guys."

Jane chuckles. "I understand, another time then."

"Of course, wouldn't miss it for the world, how about tomorrow night?" She suggests, standing in the middle of the road. You set a small smile, typical Roxy: completely unaware of the world around her.

You wave at Jane and Dirk as they descend into the car park but your gaze stays on Dirk's back for a moment, studying his appearance. What a strange bloke.

Roxy then drags you back into the building and leaves you when you both walk past her meeting room, giving a loose hug and small wave as she closes the door behind her. You smile and walk to your own meeting.

Roxy has been your friend for god knows how long and has always been the one to cheer you up when you've been down; even when you pushed everyone you ever knew away after Ryan died, she still stayed. As stubborn as she was, she would still give you space but let you know her shoulder is still there for you to cry on. You're proud to say she's your best friend, although you're not proud how you've not been a very good friend to her. In the past, a few weeks into your relationship with Ryan, Roxy lost her mother to cancer, which was hidden from the entire family for two years. Roxy got very, very depressed and turned to alcohol for comfort.

Some nights she would turn up on your doorstep, in her pyjamas, crying and in need of friendly comfort. Ryan never complained, he would sleep on the floor beside the bed with you while Roxy snored away after a long night of crying, he would also cook breakfast for her when she had the worst of all hangovers. With the help of you and Ryan, and Roxy's little sister Rose, Roxy got a place in the health clinic with meetings every two weeks. You never thought you'd need to be in that clinic, but Roxy insisted that you needed help.

Initially, you should have been there for Roxy 24/7, knocking the alcohol out of her hand when she was down. But you wasn't, you were with Ryan and you were selfish, that's something you will never be able to forgive yourself for. You admit, Roxy did get help because of you, but it was mainly Rose that did all the work.

One day, you'll make it up to Roxy. You're just happy to see her smile and laugh.

I guess I could say I'm back from that ridiculously long break with a fanfic which I was planning to update weeks, no sorry, months ago but never got round to actually doing so.

Brand new fanfic, brand new start. Of course I'm going to be updating my other ones too. Dear god I've got a lot to write, why do I do this to myself?

Later my lovelys! xxx