Screeching, a wizards of waverly place fanfic

Disclaimer: I do not own wowp.

(A/N: this is emotional. For best effect, listen to a sad goodbye song while reading it. I tried to make every word emotional.)

It's kind of like that screeching buzz you get in your ears when you are in a really crowded place, with people's muffled voices reverberating in your ears, jumbled random words making no sense in your brain at all.

She can hear her parents speaking, can see her big brother listening to them intently and her little brother playing video games, but it seems like nothing is making any sense, like nothing is registering in her mind. It's just fragments of words stitched together to make sentences that have no impact on her at all, or maybe they have such great impact that she can't even understand it?

College. That's the only word that she thinks she recognizes. It kind of enters her ears, travels through her body, makes her shiver, goes to her brain, makes her heart leap in her chest. It feels like she is being chopped into tiny insignificant pieces of flesh and blood. And then, once again, it's all back to that annoying screeching buzz in her head.

Her heart still can't stop S c r e e c h i n g.

She's in the middle of his room, in front of his bed, eyes on his wall, his books, his action figures- on all his belongings. Apocalypse is just six months away. And then the tears of blood posters will be ripped, the blue curtains he picked will be changed, the windows will be closed against the cheerful sunlight, the closet will be filled with extra bed-sheets and pillows that will not smell like him, the door will be locked with a key that will not be with him, and everything will just fade into black and white dreams of happy times.

Six months later, there will only be a locked door holding behind a guest room that once used to be her world. So right now, she's going to steal as much of it as she can, keep it with her, molding it with her soul, close to her heart.

Her heart still can't stop S c r e e c h i n g.

It's hard to understand why his favorite seat is the one in the extreme left- all the three chairs in the lair are the same. It's just six months away. Then there will be just an empty leather chair, sitting right beside her one, empty, barren, mocking, lifeless. There will be no feet under the table that she can kick, no assignment on the table that she can glance at and cheat. Then there will be no superior condescending voice screaming at her to stop messing with him, there will be no warm silky breath on her cheek making her shiver like it's snowing, there will be no eyes that will lock with hers and tell her that she's the only one in his heart.

Her heart just can't stop S c r e e c h i n g.

Her feet pause right in front of his door, the hard strong metal cold against her fingertips, tears threatening to drip out of her eyes. Six months later, she will get into trouble, run to this door by instinct, pause seeing the vicious lock hanging from it, will be thrown back into reality, back into the realm of harsh truth where she is all alone and it is mandatory to thrive by herself. Six months later, this door will be off-limits, like it's another dimension miles and years away. It will only live in her memories and dreams, the comforting feeling will remain the same.

And sometimes, her mother will decide to clean the room, and this door will open with a screeching sound of protest. Then she will come face to face with a room that looks centuries old, like it's from another one of her lives in some other world, because it will definitely not look like the room that she spent most of her time in. She will see that the once-shiny marble floor is covered with a thin dull carpet of dust, that spider webs are growing at the corners of his once spotless-room, see that dust particles are floating everywhere, illuminated by the gloomy light rays coming through the barren glass windows. She will see the fan blades covered with dust, see dust settled on top of the paper that he covered his study desk with before he left. She will see an empty bed, covered with a thin plastic sheet that has turned dusty, an empty chair heaving a heavy sigh at her sight. She will turn on all the switches and see that his night light is not working anymore, the torn tungsten filament of the bulb as thin as her power to hold back her tears. A lump will rise up her throat at the sight of her broken, shattered, demolished world. She has never realized that she's as fragile as a flower, until she's crushed by his ambitious footsteps.

Her heart just can't stop S c r e e c h i n g.

Whenever she sees his locker at school, the first thing she remembers is the lame locker combination song he made. It's still so hard to believe that six months later this locker will belong to someone else, that there will be no pictures of the weather girl hidden inside it, that there will be no piles of books with piles of note cards. It's so hard to accept that she will not be able to drop prank mails and laugh her heart out seeing him freak.

Her heart just can't stop S c r e e c h i n g.

He is moving out for college and she needs to move on, fix the creaks in her heart, stop the screeching noise in her head, survive the heartbreak. Six months never seemed so short before. Right now, she has got only six months of breath left.

So she actually pauses for a while, slows down her hectic life, tones down the bright attention-seeking colors on her dress, and just sits beside him, watching the sun set, staring at the beautiful hue of the sky, feeling peaceful. She observes him carefully, studying every expression on his face- from the way his lips curl with a smug grin, to the way his hair falls on his forehead and how he brushes it back, to the way his eyebrows crease and his lips purse when he is thinking about something with great concentration. She spends never-ending hours locking herself in her room and painting him with incredible details in tints of red, blue and gray. Yet, she flinches whenever she hears the forbidden c-word, feels a strange tug at her chest.

Her heart still can't stop S c r e e c h i n g.

Six months later, they will no longer be fighting for the remote, the bathroom, the type of crust on their pizza, the front seat at the cab, the first bite from Max's birthday cake, the perfect gift for their parents. Six months later, he will not be running around in the house, glaring at her as if she's the plague, and she will be running around the house searching in vain for those eyes, expecting to see them somewhere yet knowing that she will not. Six months later, he will not be walking the halls in the school, jumping at the slightest sound she makes. Six months later, she will no longer be sitting on her bed, plotting revenge or thinking of ways to apologize to him without actually saying sorry. Six months later, the house will not break into sudden panicked screams of "ALEX!"

Six months later, he will be standing near the gate, with his bags and boxes and backpack and luggage, looking at his family with tear-filled eyes. Six months later, she will be hugging him as tightly as possible, as if he is sand, slowly slipping out from her hands, even though she is trying to grip it as hard as possible and cling onto it for as long as possible. Her mind will be cluttered with images of all the necessary and unnecessary hugs they shared every now and then, and she will be too overwhelmed to form words and say goodbye.

Six months later, the glass will shatter, the wind will blow, the colossal wave will hit the shore, the thunder will roar, and her world will turn hazy, her head spinning with unbidden images as she will watch him walk away.

Six months later, her heart will still not stop S c r e e c h i n g.

~End of this fanfiction, but not the screeching in her head. ~

(A/N: I didn't even plan about writing anything today. I have a lot of homework. But this just started flowing from my hands. Hopefully you liked it. PLEASE review and let me know! Your feedback is the only thing that keeps me going. Thanks!)