A.N : Here's the second part since two of you asked. I wished I could have replied, but there it is.
Warnings: Character death, depression-ish, mention of murder.
The next day, Alfred went at school. He cried all night, wishing it was all a bad dream, but he finally fell asleep. Tired of crying. Tired of feeling the pain he had. Tired of feeling his heart, his body and his mind ache so much. When he woke up, his dad wasn't at home. The blond boy had expected him to at least be there for him, but he wasn't. At school, people were acting as if nothing happened. They were smiling, laughing and living their happy life. Even Matthew's teammates were having the time of their life. Alfred was angry at them. Angry that they all forgot that Matthew was just killed. He was about to yell at them when he felt a small and gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned to see those violet eyes, this soft shy happy smile. The blond hair. "What are you so worked up about Al?" asked the quiet voice he knew so well. It was Matthew, Matthew who was still alive, flesh and blood right next to him. He hugged him, hard, afraid to let go, afraid that if he stops he'll be out of reach again. He cried in Matthew's chest repeating the same words. "You're here! Thanks god you're here, I love you so much bro. don't ever frighten me ever again like this" "I love you so much, thank you so much for being here" And Matthew laughed. "I love you too Al, what got into you? "
Oh how he wished it happened like that. The truth is when he went downstairs this morning; his dad was there, in the kitchen, holding the newspaper. On the front page was the photo of Matthew, Tim and Maria. The black bold letters brought him back to reality like the world had just fallen on him without warning. He could read: "Triple Murder" "Triangle love would be the cause" He felt his knees go weak, and sat on the floor and cried. He didn't have any tears left, but he sobbed anyway, his dad trying to comfort him as much as he can. But really, what could he do?
He went to school, his dad seeing his friends would help him. Alfred didn't say that he wouldn't have any friends if that means he could have Matthew alive again. He would rather live forever alone, but still having Matthew breathing. He didn't eat. He just couldn't. At school, the atmosphere was heavy and Alfred couldn't handle it. They all felt sorry for what happen, but they didn't dare to come close to Alfred. After all, he was Matthew's best friend, they were always together, they didn't have the right to go and see him. Alfred never felt so alone. He wanted Matthew to be with him, as selfish as that sound; he wanted Matthew to be alive, to be with him, laughing, joking, and breathing.
As the day advance, Alfred started to stop feeling his pain. As if he aches too much, his mind and body shut down. He was walking, going to classes, talking like he was a robot who was told to do so. Every action was mechanical, he didn't want his personality to resurface, it would be too painful for him to handle. He had broken couple of his bones, lost all of his grand-parents, but nothing hurts as much as losing Matthew. In his worst nightmares he didn't lose Matthew, the Canadian was always with him and alive. He never died, he couldn't die, but that bastard of a killer had other plans in head. The worst, he wasn't eighteen; he wouldn't be judge like an adult, and that made Alfred see red. He swore he would kill the guy if he ever came out of jail.
The next few months were painful. He went at the funerals, it was hard, everything was just too hard. He didn't want to say goodbye to his Mattie, but they forced to. They buried him six feet underground and all he had been a sad grey stone that didn't reflect Matthew's personality and photos of them. He couldn't look at the photos too long, he would start to cry. Every day he would go on Matthew's Facebook page and read the messages they send each other. He would ignore the sympathy messages. Every once in a while he would go and visit Matthew at the cemetery, talk to him aloud or in his head. At this point he didn't care if he looked crazy, he had already lost one of his life's foundation, losing the others didn't seem as painful.
To say after six months that Alfred started feeling better was an understatement. He ate a little every day, smiles and laughs at jokes. He kept playing baseball and won the championship for Matthew. He realised they grew closer sine Matthew died, but that didn't mean he was repaired. He still felt empty. He had something missing inside of him and he knew he could never have it back. He would cry at night from time to time, when everything was just too much. Everyday he would walk with a hole in his soul, the hole that Matthew left when he was force to leave his life. Alfred wondered if one day this hole would stop aching so bad. Event when he started college the hole was still wide open, not even close to heal. He doubted he would heal one day, but he lived his life for Matthew. He wouldn't die. Wherever he went, he would bring Matthew with him. When he visited Europe, Matthew's dream, he knew Matthew was with him. He would speak to the soft blond as if he was next to him and people would often think he is crazy, but he knew Matthew was listening to him up there, wherever he was. The hole, Alfred could still feel it, months had passed, so many things happened, but the hole never healed. It couldn't and Alfred would still cry at the loss of Matthew. He still hurts from the lost and nobody could heal him. Not therapist, not his parents, no one. Alfred learned to live with the painful hole inside of his soul. Its way worse than a broken bone; those could be mended, not soul.
A.N: There it is, the following. There is no event whatsoever but two people asked for this so here it is.