Hi there!
This is just a random little ficlet that came to me last week, and sort of blossomed. It's only five or so chapters long, and they're not huge installments, so I'll be posting a new part every couple of days or so.
Hope you enjoy…
Title: Drowning Under the Weight of the World
Disclaimer: I own nothing, sad as it is, it is no less true :'(
Summary: Once we were friends, the best of friends. We were the Non-Judging Breakfast Club. He lay down his life for us, but it turns out, this isn't just his story. This is the story of all of us.
"Times change and people change
But true friends are supposed to always be there,
To always care. They're supposed to continuously
Listen and take action,
Save me as I drown."
Vanessa Carlton, 'Drowning'
-
Prologue: Blair
"And if you peel away the skin you'll find the strong survive, but they can't always win."
Hedley, 'Sink or Swim'
Let me set the scene for you.
Graduation Day. 2009. Somewhere over the Atlantic.
We're on the Bass Inc. private plane.
Chuck's private plane.
We're having fun: laughing and joking, drinking.
We're teenagers, reveling in our newfound 'freedom' that is the end of high school.
We're looking forward to sunning ourselves on the pink sandy beaches while drinking cocktails, watching sunset and sunrise across the glittering ocean.
We're best friends, and we're going on vacation together; getting away from it all before the rest of our lives begin.
-
Graduation Day. 2009. Somewhere near the Atlantic.
We're jolted out of our seats, sent flying into one another.
We're calling out for answers, and hearing panic in the pilot's voice when it's supposed to reassure.
We're hastily fastening seatbelts with fumbling fingers, grasping hands as tightly as we can.
We're shutting our eyes and bracing for impact, and rocking violently against the armrests.
We're hurtling towards whatever lies below at a terrifying pace, crushing palms between interlocked fingers and murmuring fervent I love you's like they're our last dying wish.
We're screaming against the torrid of waves rocking the vessel that's supposed to travel by air, not sea and desperate voices are instructing, eyes beseeching.
We're being pushed and pulled and directed towards the quickest, most accessible route of escape, holding hands, banded together; our last line of survival.
-
Graduation Day. 2009. Somewhere in the Atlantic.
We're under water, and it's cold and stifling.
We're swimming against the tide, legs kicking hard against the forces that try to pull us under.
We're ascending, rising through the darkness, holding hands still, and we're breaking through the surface.
He's missing.
We're floating, trying to push away from the flows that threaten to pull us back under, holding tight to one another, and shouting pleas to anyone under Heaven's reach to save us.
He's gasping for breath, and choking on water, and dying; leaving us.
We're losing him.
-
Graduation Day. 2009. Somewhere around the Atlantic.
We survive.
He disappears.
-
My eyes lift to meet the ones staring blankly at me from across the room.
He'd asked me to tell him about it, that night. The journey where we left as carefree graduates, best friends till the end; and returned one less, almost-strangers.
He hadn't said it, of course. No, he'd phrased it differently. But I knew what he'd meant.
"Tell me a story," he'd said.
I think my eyes have lost their color; maybe my face has too, because he's suddenly looking at me like I'm a lost at sea, floundering against a current that threatens to pull me under at any moment.
But this is what he wants, right?
This is what they all want?
Because if I talk about it, if I talk about him, then I'll be her again, the girl I was before.
Except I'll never be her again, that girl: she's nothing more than an image blurred by raging currents and rolling waves.
He's still looking at me, and I can see the questions in his eyes as he wades through them in his mind.
Am I taking my medication?
Did he push me too far this time?
… Am I finally beginning to move on?
Never…
"That's not a very happy story," he remarks, cautiously making his way through the undercurrent.
I eye him carefully, and feel a swirl of emotion spin me on my axis.
I shrug lightly, and tell him simply, "The hero dies in this one. Apparently."
It is explanation enough.
Because, apparently, he did.
And it hurts.
He's gone, and we're here; and nothing can ever be the same after that.
"So this is the grand finale
The crescendo of demise
This is the happy ending
Where the bad guy goes down and dies
This is the end
With me on my knees and wondering why?
Cross my heart, hope to die."
Glasvegas, 'It's my own cheating heart that makes me cry'
TBC…
Hope you liked it.
As I said at the start, this is a very short fic, and updates will be every day-every few days; so hopefully you'll stick around to see how it pans out.
Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think - it means alot!
Steph
xxx