Suicide.
It always left a mess. Not physically, of course. Not always. But mentally, emotionally. Without a doubt. An irreversible mess, that will never leave you, never can be fixed. Because you can't just replace the dead. You can't forget all about the dead. Especially with suicide. You can't go without thinking that you could have stopped it. That, if you said something different, stayed a little longer, that they would be alive and smiling.
Joy.
Maybe if they had tried to listen, she would still be alive. Maybe if Fabian had given her that kiss, put his feelings for Nina aside... Maybe if Patricia had tried to comfort her and understand her, instead of being so focused on Sibuna and Eddie and Nina... Maybe if Mick had stayed...
Maybe she would still be here.
But as some clutch to others sobbing and others sit stonily silent, too shocked to say anything, at the funeral, the feelings of "maybe" still aren't going away. And they never will.
Suicide.
It always leaves a mess.
A/N: I wrote this forever ago. MONTHS ago. It was a one-word prompt from tumblr. dot orally forgot about it. But I found it and figured I would post it. Hope you liked it.