Very, very, very short little oneshot I wrote. It could actually qualify as like ten categories. Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy, Angst, Spiritual, and Romance. Well, five. Anyway, this is my first try at a serious oneshot, so be nice.
Guilt
The rain beats down on the four men carrying the coffin, but they don't pay any attention to it. They have a job to do. They step completely out of the funeral home and start in the direction of the grave, which is out back.
Behind them a large group of sorrowful people follow, their black clothing making them all blend seemlessly together. She can make out certain faces, like his parents and siblings. She doesn't know most of the people there, but they all know her.
She's the reason Oliver is dead.
She decided not to go to the service. It would make things too hard, to see his lifeless face staring up at her. Instead she just stood out in the rain, her black dress coat getting soaked by the steady downpour of rain. Without an umbrella, she is completely unprotected from the precipitation.
She doesn't care, though. She likes to see it as God washing away her sadness, drop by drop. But sadness is not the strongest emotion she feels. The guilt she feels cannot be washed away by the rain.
He had told her he would die for her. When he said it, she thought he was just trying to illustrate how much he loved her. She never would have guessed that he would carry out that promise.
She slowly walks towards the grave. She owes it to him to watch him be lowered into the earth. She thinks to herself that he would have liked to be cremated. He wouldn't want to spend eternity rotting beneath layers of dirt. If it had been up to him, he would have liked his ashes to be spread out among his favorite places. That much she knows.
The priest says something about how everyone there would be missing him and shares the same pain. He is wrong. No one shares her pain. The whole thing was her fault, she was the one to blame. No one else carried that weight on their shoulders.
If only she hadn't suggested they go to that particular show. There were plenty of other broadway showings in New York City. Why did she choose that very one? And why did she insist that she needed to finish her bottled water before they went in? If only they had gone in a few minutes earlier.
But they hadn't. That man, that evil, terrible man, had come up to them and demanded that she give him all of her money. If only she had given it to him. If only she hadn't screamed for help, causing him to force them into that alley.
She had tried to convince the man not to hurt them. She tried to make him feel guilty, but he had been a heartless man and wasn't capable of feeling guilt. If only she hadn't tried to fight back. She could have just given him the money, instead of taking out her pepper spray and spraying it in his face.
That was what got him so angry. So angry that he lifted the gun and promised to pull the trigger. She remembers how she closed her eyes as tight as they would go and prepared herself for the pain.
She heard the gunshot, yet she felt no pain. It wasn't until she opened her eyes that she saw Oliver lying on the ground, his shirt being painted red with blood. The man was running away, trying to escape from the felony he had just committed.
She had kneeled down next to him. She had been crying. He was looking at her with such love in his eyes, and she immediately knew why he jumped in front of the bullet. She grabbed his hand and begged him not to leave her. She remembers the horror that pulsed through her when she felt his hand turning cold.
"I love you. Look in my pocket." He had said. She had started crying harder and kissed him before assuring him she loved him too. But it was too late, for he was already gone. She had quickly fumbled through his pocket until her fingers reached something velvet.
She pulled it out. It was a black box in the shape of a heart. She had slowly opened it, only to find the most beautiful diamond ring she had ever seen. She had took it out and slipped it on her finger.
"Yes." She had whispered. Even though he was dead, she wanted him to know that her answer would have been yes. Something on his own fingers had glistened. It was a ring. She immediately figured it as his own engagement band, so they both would have an engagement ring and a wedding ring. She had shakily slipped it off his finger and noticed an inscription.
"Can separate us." It said. She had furrowed her brow. What had he meant by that? She quickly memorized the words and slipped the ring back on his finger. She had then broken down in tears on top of him. Someone going into the theater had seen her and called an ambulance.
And now here she is, watching as his coffin is slowly laid into the dirt. She closes her eyes, she can't imagine him trapped in that box for the rest of eternity. He definitely would have wanted to be cremated.
She closes her eyes tighter as tears roll down her face. In the rain it doesn't look like she's crying, but she knows she is. She can feel the hot tears against the cold rain, and for some reason that makes her cry harder.
She doesn't want to be in the rain anymore, but she stays. She needs to feel the pain. He deserves her tears. The rain is no longer washing away her sadness. It is masking her tears.
Suddenly, the rain stops. She looks up and sees a black umbrella over her head. She looks at its carrier and sees Lilly, her best friend, her sister-in-law, her confidant. Before she knows it, she is crying into Lilly's shoulder.
She runs out of tears. She needs to give him her tears, yet she has no more. She just stands there, staring at his grave. Most of the other funeral attendants have already left, but she remains there.
She should be the one in the grave, not him. After all, the man had been shooting at her, not him. Was it selfish of her that she let him die for her? She though it was.
Lilly tells her that she needs to get some rest. She agrees wordlessly and lets her best friend take her home. She gets put into bed. Lilly apologizes for her pain and then leaves.
She closes her eyes and tries to sleep. The whole scene keeps replaying in her head. The man, the gun, and the shot. She doesn't want to see it. She doesn't want to think about it. She doesn't want to think at all. She just wants her pain to go away.
She sighs and tries to clear her mind of all thoughts. She needs to stop thinking in order to sleep. She wants to sleep. Not just for the night, but for forever. She wants to slip into an unending slumber.
She wants to die. She wants nothing more than to go to her medicine cabinet and take every pill she has. But she doesn't because she doesn't want him to have died in vain. He died so she could live, so she wouldn't take her own life.
She can't clear her mind, so instead she thinks of him. Of the day they met, their first kiss, the first time he told her he loved her. They had been through so much together, he helped her through every bump in the road.
But now, he is the bump. No, he is more like a mountain, blocking her from moving any further. This time, there is no one to rock her to sleep, to whisper sweet things in her ear, to kiss her tenderly and promise to always be there.
As she finally reaches an uneasy sleep, a single tear rolls down her face.
--
It's pitch black. She is lying on something cold, yet soft. She feels sand beneath her fingers. She doesn't question it, though. She is too devastated to feel anything but guilt and sadness. Worry and inquiry have no place in her.
It suddenly occurs to her that she cannot see anything because her eyes are closed, not because of lack of light, like she originally thought. She slowly opens her eyes.
She is on a beach. On one side there is miles and miles of sand. On the other is water, water as blue as the sky. She looks up. The sky is cloudless, yet the sun is nowhere to be seen. Still, it is light out.
She looks around. There is not a single sign of life. She cannot hear anything, but she supposes it is because there is nothing to hear. The water is waveless, the air is windless, and the whole place is lifeless. She is alone, yet feels for some reason unphased by this.
She likes being alone. She walks towards the water. She dips a single toe in and jerks it back out. The water is freezing cold, cold enough to be ice. She can see the bottom of the water. There is just sand. Still no life.
She turns around. There is nothing here but sand and water. She thinks of exploring, but decides against it. There are no hills, just flat land. She can see the horizon, and there is nothing but sand leading up to it.
A sudden splash makes her jump. She spins around and looks at the water. There are ripples coming from ten feet in, expanding out and disturbing the peace. She looks at the space where they started and sees nothing. She can see nothing, yet she knows she is no longer alone.
She dips her toe in the water again. It now seems even colder. Maybe whatever fell in made it get colder. She doesn't know. She doesn't know anything about this place expect that it is just a vast exspanse of water and sand.
She turns around to check if there is anything new on the horizon. There is still only sand. She hears another splash, and a strange muffled noise that sounds like it could be a voice. She whirls around and sees a new set of ripples coming from five feet in. Whatever is there is getting closer.
The water there is not deep, she should be able to see it. But still, there is nothing there. She looks harder. She realizes that movement only happens when she is turned around. She slowly faces the sand again.
As if on cue, there is another close splash. But this time, she does not turn around. She can hear it coming out of the water. There is nowhere to hide here. There is only sand and water. She can try running away, but decides against it.
"Miley."
She jumps. She knows what it is. Who it is. And it brings tears to her eyes, because she knows that this cannot be real. He is not really there. He can't be there, he is dead. She turns around as slow as she can.
Still, she sees him standing there. He is wearing what he wore the day he died. His shirt is still covered in his blood. She cries harder; this isn't possible. He takes a step towards her. She takes a step back. He reaches out his hand. Another step back.
"Please don't be afraid of me." He whispers desperately. She brings back her foot, but doesn't take the step. She trusts him. She loves him. But this still isn't possible.
"You're not really here." She chokes out. He takes another step forward, but this time she doesn't step back. She is frozen on the spot, wanting both to run away and run into his arms.
"Yes I am." He contradicts her, taking another careful step forward. She shakes her head vigorously.
"N-no. You're dead. I-I saw you die. He…he shot you." She insists.
"I am dead. But that doesn't mean that I'm not here right now." He says calmly, still sounding slightly desperate to gain her acceptance of his presence. She shuts her eyes and opens them again, thinking that he would be gone. But he is still there.
"H-how?" She asks.
"That's not important." He answers. He takes another step closer; he is now only a few steps away from her. He reaches out his hand again and this time she carefully takes it. She is surprised to feel that it is not warm. It is cold.
But she can still feel it. He is really there. In fear that he will disappear, she throws herself into his arms and finds herself crying again. She feels a cold drop of water on her head and realizes that he is also crying.
"I'm sorry. It's all my fault." She whispers. This only causes him to hold her even tighter. His embrace is cold, but she doesn't care. She just likes being in his arms again.
"No it's not. You didn't force me to go in front of that bullet. You didn't shoot the gun. That man shot the gun and I chose to save your life. This is all my fault. And if I could go back, I would jump in front of that bullet every single time." He assures her, stroking her hair.
"But I don't want you to be gone. I want you back. I…I can't live without you." She says into his shoulder. He lifts her face up to face his own.
"You don't have to. I'll always be there with you." He promises. Her heart leaps and before she can second guess it, she closes the gap between them. His lips are like ice, but she doesn't mind. She is caught up in the emotion of kissing him again.
She lets out an involuntary shiver because of the coldness of his body. He immediately pulls away, he knows why she shivered. His face looks sad, though she has no idea why.
"My body is cold." He says.
"I don't mind." She promises. She leans up to kiss him again, but he turns his head to the side, staring off into the endless horizon.
"There's a reason why it's cold." He whispers.
"Why is that?" She asks.
"I'm dead. My body is lifeless. My heart doesn't beat, my blood doesn't flow, my lungs don't breathe." He explains. She is once again brought back to the fact that he is dead and that this is only temporary.
"Then how can you move? How can you function?" She asks, secretly wishing that he would discover that he actually is alive and is just so cold from being in the freezing water. But she knows that is not possible.
"Because dead people don't need a beating heart, flowing blood, or breathing lungs to function. They're dead. I'm dead. You're alive. Your body is warm. You heart beats, your blood flows, and your lungs breathe." He explains. She carefully lays a hand on his chest. She can't feel a heartbeat. But she can feel the sadness making its way back into her own beating heart.
"I don't care. I'll stay here. We can both stay here." She says, referring to the endless beach they are standing on. She wouldn't care to spend eternity there, as long as she had him.
"You don't understand. You don't understand how I'm here or how you're here. I can stay, but you can't. There's nothing here to live off of. No food, no drinkable water, no shelter. I don't need those things. You do." He whispers. He kisses her again, then begins walking back to the water. She doesn't want him to go.
"I don't care! I'll die! I need to be with you!" She screams. He whips around, looking almost angry. He grabs her shoulders roughly.
"Don't say that! Don't ever say you want to die. I died for you. I died so you wouldn't feel any pain. So stop feeling pain!" He demands.
"I can't stop my pain! I love you! I have to go through the rest of my life loving someone who died because of me." She yells back.
"For God's sake, Miley! I didn't die because of you. I died for you!" He screams. She freezes. Suddenly she is kissing him again, but this time it is a more hungry and needing that before.
It just feels too good to have the guilt removed from her. She knows now that she is not to blame. He chose to die. She didn't tell him to die. She didn't ask him to die. He chose it.
She runs her tongue along his bottom lip. He opens his mouth and allows her access. They explore each other's mouths, trying to memorize the taste and the feel. She pulls back, but he just pulls her back to him.
"We're running out of time." He says between kisses. This only causes her to pull him closer to herself. She doesn't want to let him go. She wants this to last forever. And she knows that it can't.
"I can't live without you." She repeats from before.
"You don't have to. Look at your ring. When you put the two of ours together, it makes a sentence." He says. Before she can even glance at her left hand, he kisses her again. She can tell that their time is about to end.
"I love you." She whispers.
"I love you, too." He says. He kisses her one last time before turning around to go back to the water. She feels herself being pulled towards an unidentifiable force. She doesn't want to leave, but she knows she has to.
He wades into the water. He doesn't flinch at the coldness, for he too is cold. She looks at her hand, it is slightly transparent. She still feels like she is being pulled. The greater the pull gets, the more transparent her body gets.
Soon, she can't see herself at all. She knows that she only has a few seconds left until she leaves this strange beach, made up of only endless sand and freezing water. She quickly looks at him.
The last thing she sees is his head go under the water, then disappear.
--
She jolts upright. She looks around and discovers that she is still in bed. She puts a shaky hand to her lips, they are cold. Her whole body is cold. He was really there, it all really happened. She let's out a releived sigh.
Tomorrow she will call Lilly and suggest they go shopping. Oliver didn't die just so she could live. He died so she could live a fulfilling life, not just one full of mourning and regret.
She suddenly remembers what her told her. "Look at your ring. When you put the two of ours together, it makes a sentence." She quickly takes the ring off of and looks at the inside. She can't see anything, but that is because it is dark.
She switches on a light and looks at the ring again. There, neatly inscribed in fine cursive, are the words, "Not even death". She begins crying, it was almost as if he was expecting what happened to occur when he was getting the rings.
She feels a sudden shiver. The room feels a lot colder than before. She looks around, but sees no one. Still, she knows he is there. She knows he will always be there, watching her and waiting for her. Waiting for that day in the far, far future when they will both once again be reunited.
"Not even death can separate us." She whispers. And for the first time in many weeks, she smiles. A true, genuine smile. For her guilt is gone, along with most of her sadness. Her happiness is overflowing, now. She now knows that she is not alone. She will never be alone.
For not even death is more powerful than love.
Sooo, did you like it? I think it's sort of a pathetic attempt at something dramatic, but I just thought I'd throw it out there and see what you think.
I was in a melodramatic mood when I wrote this. Can you tell? Or is it good? Am I just being paranoid?