Two of Us

She didn’t think she could ever comprehend the way her friend felt when he lost his mother and sister. She only thought she would be able to put herself in his shoes to be able to console and comfort him properly. Never did it cross her mind that it would happen to her. Or at least, not as soon as it did.

She’d been sitting in her old bedroom for hours since the memorial for her father, reminiscing and mourning.

She was grown now, but he was always her best friend.

Ironically enough, her dad was the one who chose to take care of her after the accidental pregnancy her parents had in college; not her mom. He stayed in school after she was born and continued to raise her with the help of his own family until he was able to afford a place for them. For as far back as she could remember he was the only force that kept her together all these years, even after she moved to another country for school and chose to live there. They would call, visit each other, and she was never once embarrassed whenever he would surprise her at the university. Maybe it was the fact he wasn’t too much older than her; after all, he was in his early twenties and starting graduate school at the time she came into the world. He taught her everything he could that wasn’t taught by her teachers. They cried, laughed, argued and joked around too many times to count. Now, however, the bad moments seemed especially precious. It was too little too late, and most of those fights were done during the cliche rebellion stage of being a teenager, yet she could finally see the concern and care behind her dad’s strictness and anger all those times she would show up late or not answer her phone.

The only sound that could be heard from her room were the sniffles every few minutes or so. Beyond that door, the sound of her grandparents discussing whether or not they should consider contacting the girl’s mother.

It seemed like hours of constant tears and blocking out conversation about the one who didn’t care to stay before a new sound entered her bubble. The turning of the knob and swinging door caught her attention, but she didn’t dare look up. She thought it was her grandmother wanting to try and get her to go downstairs or talk to another ‘friend of her father’s’ who would just give the family members the same condolences as everyone else. With that she sighed, blinking slowly and wiping a sleeve across her face. “I’m sorry if I’ve been rude, but I really don’t want to see or talk to anyone.”

“Should I just come back dressed as your gran to be able to enter, then?”

Her head jolted toward the familiar voice. A young man stood in the open space between the doorway and the room; one hand reeling its way down from pointing to the outside world. She quickly went to clean her face as best she could, looking directly at him as she spoke. “What are you doing here?”

A gentle smile settled on his face as he moved toward her; she felt the bed shift as he took a seat behind her on the mattress. “Your grandparents called. They thought you could use a friendly face.”

The only thing he heard in response was a soft, empty chuckle. He wasn’t expecting her to have anything to say or thank him for coming. This was about being there for someone he cared for at a time they needed it most. They hadn’t known each other long - they met at a coffee shop a few years back when he was working on his music and she was starting a new semester. It was a cute story about the barista calling out the order and setting it on the pickup counter, only to have two people reach for the same drink. They’d been friends ever since. One never let the other down or diminished their spirit, and he wasn’t going to start now. So he let the silence overtake the melancholy room until she decided it was okay for her to say something.

After a while of sitting and contemplating, a shaky voice announced itself into the quiet. “How did you do it?”

Was there a proper way to console her? Should he use tough love or soft words? Would anything he said come off as helpful in such a moment of vulnerability?

“I didn’t - for a long time.” He stared at the pastel wall in front of him, tilting his head as he put all the heart he could into what he would say to her. “Even with the rest of my family and the support from my friends, I felt alone. She’s my mum, you know? Months of consoling myself when I thought I was getting better went by in slow motion. It was like a part of myself left the world, especially when we lost our sister not too long after. Pouring myself into my music and being able to create something beautiful out of a tragedy is what really got me going again.”

She turned her head slightly, seeing his still figure facing the same blank space. “What do you mean?”

“Her words always rang in my head - they still do. I know she wouldn’t want me to give up or hold myself back. They’ll always be in my mind and in my heart. And I know they’re cheering me on from where they are; just like your dad is with you.” He nudged her shoulder, smiling when the corner of her mouth twitched upwards. “Nothing is ever easy when someone so near and dear to you is taken from the world. Sometimes I still wish it was me instead, though I know that’s far from what they would both want.”

There was that lack of conversation again. However, no matter how many times the silence would befall them, it was comfortable. Within the somber air was something that very few people were lucky enough to have. The strength their connection held went beyond keeping in constant touch when he left to do performances and radio shows before and after his album. It went beyond him making sure their friendship didn’t go awry while he was starting and preparing for his first real tour as a solo artist. It was the gestures he made over and over again that showed her not everyone would leave her when she was vulnerable or just needed someone. With everything going on, it didn’t feel right to call him up and disrupt his life because she chose to lock herself up in her old bedroom. Her father’s parents felt different, and here he was. While he was in the middle of a major turning point in his solo career, he still flew to America and found means to make it her childhood home just so she wouldn’t be alone. She didn’t know anyone who had a friend so kind and selfless; she certainly never did, at least not at such a level.

“I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here. I didn’t think they would call you.”

“I’m glad they did.” The brunette finally turned around, his upper half twisted so he was leaning on the bed with one arm as he faced you. “We may not have known each other for too long, y/n, but I know you. I know you wouldn’t have done it yourself because I’m gunning up for my tour and you didn’t want anyone to see you so broken.” He chuckled lightly, “You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, and also the most considerate. Pride and kindness is an awful combination, love.”

She rolled her eyes immediately, but her lips twitched up for the second time since his arrival. He analyzed the slight change of expression on her face, the shine of her sad eyes, and what was left of the cries from before he showed up sliding down her cheeks. “It took hours to get here from home; I’m sure you’d been sitting here for much longer than that.” He stood up, moving around the bed to crouch down in front of her. Without question he wiped them away, straightening back up only when her face seemed clean of tears. “Let’s go somewhere.” He said softly, reaching a hand out. “What do you say?”

Her smaller hand fit into his as she accepted the offer, rising off the now dented spot on the soft mattress. She followed him out the doorway, orbs and mind working together to reminisce all the time she and her father had as they passed his bedroom and the office. Every moment was flooding back into her mind, only this time there were no tears. Maybe it was because there simply weren’t any more to be shed. Or maybe it was having a presence there to comfort her that made walking through this hall just a little bit better.