Author's Pov

'Dear Orson,
Remember you once asked me why I didn't believe in love and I replied, saying it's just a fictitious feeling. I wasn't lying that day, for me, love isn't a feeling, it's a person and that's you.

When I saw you for the first time in high school with your contagious grin, that warm sensation that bloomed in my chest was love for me, when I discerned the stars twinkling in your eyes while we sat on the fairy wheel, that unwitting smile that arched in my lip was love for me. The shiver that ran down my spine on the day you kissed me as we watched the sunrise from the top of the hill, was love for me.

For as long as I could recall, you were the only one who filled hues of ardor in my achromatic life. If it wasn't for you, happiness would have been a foreign sensation for me. But it was a shame that I couldn't return you the favor, for I was ruinous. Lethal to be precise because each time you got closer to me, the more scars I left in your impeccable soul.

I know you will loathe me for taking this decision but just know that I faded away merrily, with your memories vividly in my mind.

Be happy, be selfish, and before falling in love again, make sure you are cautious enough to never let another malignant pair of hands ruin your innocuous heart again.

I love you, more than I ever expressed.

- Yours forever and more, L."

Orson lost the count of how many times he had read this mere page. Each word registered in his mind as the words of the Bible on the pastor's tongue.

He never understood when Lilith said she loved feeling numbed. It was unfathomable for him to accept the fact that the brain which was created to deliver senses through our bodies could have been deadening as well.

But now as he was reading this letter for God knows how many times, he ultimately got why being numb was bliss. It acted as a guard against the excruciating misery. Numb was all he felt right now and that's all he desired for.

A knock on the door took him out of his trance. Ushering the tears that adorned his cheeks, he glanced up to find his mother offering a dejected smile. But he couldn't have mustered to return the gesture which shattered the woman's heart.

Helen Sullivan, a prominent psychiatrist who was known to stitch back the torn souls with her miraculous skills. Yet here she stood, helplessly watching her son crumble under her gaze just like the sand in a fist.

"They all are waiting for you so that we can start the funeral." The word funeral stabbed Orson's heart in indescribable ways. The images of her pale blue face haunted his mind, making him shut his eyes immediately to escape the nightmare.

Letting out a shuddering breath, he nodded his head at Helen, his utterance voiding any emotions. And it would have been a lie if she denied that her chest didn't clench seeing it. Ten years ago, when Lilith ran away, that was the first time Helen saw her son learning how to fake a smile and now she could have only imagined what else her son would learn this time, only if she knew.

"Dad didn't come this time as well, didn't he?" Helen stayed silent at Orson's mocking tone. She knew he was well aware of the answer. Kevin Sullivan, a self-made billionaire and notorious for being a workaholic. His absence didn't faze Orson, after all the man missed his own mother's funeral 12 years back, then how could he have been present at the funeral of a mere girl.

Scoffing, he stood up from his bed, catching a glimpse of his unkempt state in the mirror. Red shot eyes, disheveled hair, his grey hoodie wrinkled and stained as that's what he had been wearing for the last 36 hours, staying in his childhood room whose bright pastel blue color contrasted with his inner turmoil.

"Give me a few minutes, I will be down soon." Sighing, he rubbed his face out of exhaustion. Helen just a wiped a stubborn tear at her son's dreary state before nodding her and left promptly, unable to take the ghastly scene in front.

Orson, on the other hand, stared blankly at his beloved guitar which was shattered on the floor. And the felon behind it was none other than himself, his happiness was already being buried under six feet today, then what was the point of having it anyways.

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Clavicus stood in the corner with his hands stuffed in his pockets, observing everything with a blurry vision as tears were his only companion for the past 36 hours. It felt repetitious as funerals were his old acquaintance. He was used to the sight of his loved ones adoring a ghastly shade of blue on their skins and being caged inside a coffin.

That day was still flashing across his eyes like a curse. He vividly remembered how he could have felt his heart clenching as Lilith left his room, he knew something was wrong. And now he was only left with remorse for not discerning the underlying meaning behind her words. But it still baffled him as to why she chose to take this route?

"We should start the visitation now." Lilac articulated as he approached him, his face stoic as ever which formed a qualm in Clavicus's mind, how was he so calm at his own sister's funeral?

As if Lilac could have read his mind, a scathing chuckle left his lips. Leaning against the wall, he lit a cigarette and took a long drag, the smoldering sense running down his throat. Nowadays only cigarettes made him feel any sensations, otherwise, he was as dead as a doornail from inside.

"Stunned by my composure? She was dead a long time ago, now she is just getting the proper burial." Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he kept staring at the coffin where his sister lay. Just like Lilith, the facade of nonchalance was slowly consuming him into malignant darkness.

Before Clavicus could have asked him about it, his gaze made contact with Orson's dull eyes. Pain resided in his heart as he took in the disheveled state of his once lively friend. Averting his gaze, Orson sat in one of the seats.

Weeks ago, when Orson watched Lilith sitting in the last row at her best friend's funeral, his heart crushed after taking in her pain-filled gazes, thinking how he could have never even imagined being at her place, but the destiny proved him wrong in the most vicious way.

Lilith was going to be buried in the graveyard near Orson's house which was owned by his father and all their family members were buried there. So the funeral was held in his backyard. Only a few people were invited.

Orson quietly perceived Mrs. Stone bawling, holding the menacingly cold hands of Lilith. He still couldn't bring himself to behold her in this state again. The memories of that day started to roam in his mind. How he and Clavicus left no stone unturned to find her after she went missing for 5 hours. After tracking her phone and detecting her location, they went there with their hearts crippling from inside.

The first time he found the letter in the car, he could have felt the ground splitting under his feet. After getting the whole beach searched by the police, they finally found her, dead. Bruised, pale face with blue lips, the very same lips he had kissed so delicately the night before. He knew that her desolate face would have haunted him all his life.

"You should visit her now, the burial will start shortly." Clavicus sighed, giving his shoulder a squeeze of console. How naive was it of Lilith to think that he could have protected Orson's innocuous heart whereas it died with her that day as well.

"I don't want to, just proceed with the burial." Orson articulated, his face so blank, that it almost resembled a corpse. He knew he didn't have it in him to see her in that state again. Clavicus wanted to protest, reminding him of how it was the last time he would have ever been able to see her. But he suppressed his urges and just nodded.

Lilac slowly ambled to his sister's casket, his tears freely flowing as her lifeless body blurred his vision. As a med student, dealing with dead bodies was an everyday ritual for him yet seeing her broke every ounce of his soul.

Even after he lost his parents, he never felt like an orphan because he knew somewhere his sister was still striving like the brave woman she was. But today, the reality hit him harshly, he finally felt like an orphan.

Placing a tender kiss on her forehead which didn't hold the warmth like before, he murmured against it how he loved her, before closing the casket with his heart shattering. While Orson watched it from afar, closing his heart as well.

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Soon the morticians place the coffin on the grave. Sobs and whimpers of Mrs. Stone echoed the graveyard and Helen consoled her while lamenting herself as well, watching her son perceiving the love of his life being buried under six feet. She knew that today two bodies were being buried.

Orson stood there, the reality yet to hit him as he was still numbed, after all the first stage of grief was denial, wasn't it? But as he saw the burial being done, the air was sucked out of him. This was it, the girl who had confessed to him about her undying love was now six feet under.

Then it had hit him, what if he was truly a curse to her? Because whenever he tried to get close to her, the more she was engulfed with clouds of nightmares.

And that's when stage two of grief began, Pain and guilt.