So, here you go guys. The new story you wanted. This story is somewhat more sophisticated than my previous stories, so I hope that doesn't put you off. The beginning words will make sense later on in the story. Enjoy!

Forever And A Half – started October 20, 2015.

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Chapter one – Little Less Carefree, Now

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"Forever and a half ... "

I glance down at him, realising he has fallen into a deep sleep ...

... Sleeping soundly.

Drifting into a world where dreams come true, and there is no pain to hold you back.

A place where everyone has joy and laughter, and togetherness and wonderment rules over hurt and despair.

A place that he currently lives, but I must wait for.

* * *

-The summer of 1987-

I run through the fields with childish glee, allowing my hair to blow freely in the summer breeze as I move. Nothing can hurt me in this moment; I am carefree and enjoying freedom.

Aged twenty-five, I have nearly all that I need in life. I've finished college, but still don't have a job, due to lack of inspiration on what to do with my life. However, I'm able to get by, as my mother passed away just seven months ago, and left me all she owned. Father lives on his own not far from here, but he already has his fair share of possessions.

I come to a sudden stop when I hear a distant call. It's pretty far off into the distance, as I can only just hear it.

... But I can hear it.

I decide to follow the sound, walking through the fields slightly breathlessly, due to the amount of running I've just done. Trudging through the overgrown grass in my simple sandals, I repeatedly hear the cries – which have a certain brittle quality, but are easily recognisable as a man.

Remaining still for a brief moment to catch my breath and find my bearings, the cries are still ringing in my eardrums, growing ever-louder with every step I take. I shield my eyes from the sun and scan my surroundings. Most of it is just fields, but in the near distance I can see a gathering of trees which lead to the countryside roads.

I look down at the ground and see a pathway through the grass, created from an excess of people walking down the same route. I follow it, leading myself quickly to the trees, and I finally see the road and pavement more clearer.

The calls, on the other hand, are almost deafening, now.

"Hello?" I call, a certain level of uncertainty in my tone.

The cries immediately stop, and I half-lid my eyes and shield them with my hands to see someone sitting on the edge of the curb, head in hands and bowed down.

I approach him cautiously, feeling a little more nervous with each step I take.

"E-Excuse me," I breathe.

The person lifts their head and looks at me, and I feel my nerves disappear instantly. This man is unlike anyone I've seen before – his deep, brown doe eyes are connected to mine, his caramel skin sweating in the summer heat, and his shoulder-length black curls pulled partially back into a messy ponytail.

"S-Sorry to disturb you, sir, but ... what seems to be the matter?" I ask.

I notice tears in his eyes, and one slowly trickles down his face, before falling onto the gravel road beneath him.

"In the politest possible way, Miss, it's nothing for you to be concerned about," he responds finally.

I edge closer to him, feeling the urge to find out his troubles. You know what they say – "A problem shared is a problem halved".

And that's just the saying I speak of next, sitting down by his side, trying to get a better look at him.

"A problem shared just makes two people miserable instead of one," the man retorts softly, "I don't wish to trouble anyone else but me."

"What's your name?" I find myself questioning him.

"My name is Michael. And yourself?"

"My name is Citria. How old are you?"

Before he answers, another tear freely rolls down his cheek.

"I'm twenty-eight. How old are you?"

"Twenty-five," I mutter, "Please tell me what's hurting you. I might be able to help."

"I don't want to bear you any worry or anything."

"Michael ... I've never seen you before. Are you new around here?"

"I've lived here for twenty years."

"How come I've never seen you?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"Okay," I pause, "But I can see you're hurting. Please tell me why."

"My entire family," he answers simply, "All of them."

"What about them?" I have an inviting nature in my tone of voice.

"I-I really think I should be getting home, now."

He stands himself up, but I grab his lower arm and pull him back down onto the curb.

"No, I want to know you're okay."

"But you barely know me. I don't want to place any weight on you, Miss."

"Honestly, it would be more of a weight wondering what you were going to say," I admit.

He exhales through his nose, clearly showing defeat, and he makes himself more comfortable on the curb, before looking me deeply in the eyes.

"We were having a family reunion about an hour ago. Everyone I knew was there, and even some people I'd never met before."

"Yes?" I push him to continue.

"And ... the thing is, I have a cousin, he's called Astrix, and we can't stand the sight of one another. He was there, and I refused to be there if he was. So I left the party and came out here to take a walk to pass the time."

"Keep going."

"About fifteen minutes ago, I went back to see how the reunion was going, and ... "

He pauses momentarily, tears forming in his eyes. He wipes them away with the sides of his forefingers, and looks down at the floor.

"And when I went into the room, all of them were ... "

"Go on," I say softly.

"They were all dead ... "

I find my eyes involuntarily widening, and I feel my heart beat a little faster than before.

"Michael, I'm so sorry."

"I don't even know how it happened. In less than forty-five minutes, it went from a family reunion to a mass ... death! And do you know what hurts the most, Citria?"

I avert my eyes to the ground, not wanting to meet his gaze at this moment in time.

"No."

"The fact that ... "

As he pauses, I look back up at him, and again, he has tears in his eyes.

"I-I never got to say goodbye to any of them, and now ... I have no one! I have no family, and all my friends were there, too!"

His silent tears transform quickly to loud sobs, and he buries his head into his hands, letting out an agonising cry of pain and loss. I find myself wrapping my arms around him, just to try and calm him slightly.

This man, who I've known five minutes, has been through more in an hour than I have in my entire life.

"I'm really sorry, Michael."

He doesn't answer through his cries, but I know he's acknowledged my words. I rub his back as part of my hug, and he leans his head against my shoulder, obviously not caring about anything but his sense of loss in this moment.

"You have somewhere to live, don't you?" I ask.

He lifts his head from my shoulder, looking me in the eyes. I can see the pain he's bearing, and how much hate for the world he has.

"Yes. It's just down the road. But the thing is, I lived with my mother, father and siblings there, and that's where the family reunion was ... "

"Have you called the police about what's happened?"

"No. I can't face them."

"You've got to, Michael. Someone could have—"

"Could've what?"

"It's only a possibility, but someone may have killed them all."

To this possibility, he widens his eyes, and even more tears become visible in them.

"Killed? If someone has done this, then I ... I don't know ... "

"You've got to call the police. Come to my place to use my phone, if you'd like."

He looks at me again, doubt clearly lingering in his mind.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course. Come on."

I lead him back to my home, walking slowly for his sake, as he's finding difficulty in walking without falling to his knees in grief. I really feel sorry for this man, and that's why I'm trying to help him as much as possible.

We arrive at my home, and I unlock the door, letting him enter first. He takes in his surroundings, looking somewhat impressed through his pain.

"You've got a nice place here," he says weakly.

"Thank you. The phone's just here," I reply.

I hand him the hallway phone, and he twirls the curled wire connecting the phone to its hook in his fingers as he dials 911.

"Hello? Police please ... I just went to my home, where there was a family reunion, and ... all my family has been killed," he speaks sadly, "Yes ... yeah, if you could, that'd be great. Okay. Thank you. It's ... 29 Labbas Avenue, in Gary. Yeah, close to that large group of trees leading to the countryside. Yes ... thank you. Goodbye ... "

His voice trails off with his last few words, and he hangs up swiftly, replacing the phone back on its hook, before throwing his head back and burying it into his hands again.

"What is the point in existing?" he asks sadly.

"You always have something to live for," I say.

"Oh, what? I have no family, no friends, temporarily no home ... I'm nothing, Citria. I'm nothing!"

He then looks around the room in anger, before dashing from the room, and going outside. I follow him, and he runs towards the large gathering of trees nearer to his home.

I look around for him, but he seems to have vanished into thin air. He's nowhere to be seen in this moment of time.

"Michael?"

I hear the same cries as before, but they're already close by. I follow them until I come to a clearing in the trees, and I find Michael violently kicking and punching the tree trunks, screaming words of strong profanity.

I run towards him, taking a hold of his arm before he can punch the trunk of another tree.

"Michael, violence won't solve anything."

Ignoring my words, he forces my grip from his arm, and punches the trunk of the closest tree. He lets out another growl in anger, and uses more kicking and punching to abuse the tree.

"Damn you, Mother Nature, for taking all I had! I hate you! I hate this life!"

He runs to another tree, pushing his entire body against it, seemingly trying to knock it down. He then begins to climb the tree, and I feel it's my duty to follow him up there, to see what he does.

Once we both reach the top, he begins tearing the branches and leaves off the tree, before punching and kicking as best as he can whilst sitting down.

"Michael, stop, you'll hurt yourself."

He ignores me again, kicking and punching anything in sight apart from me. He continues screaming profanities, and a loud cry of agony escapes his lips. He then stops completely. His entire angry state fades, and he turns suddenly pale.

"Michael, are you okay?"

Before he can answer, he begins to fall backwards, and I dash to catch him before he falls. Grabbing his hand to save him from falling, I look at him in worry.

"Michael ... you look sick."

I pull him up completely, and he sits, legs coiled around the branches to keep him in the tree. He's breathing heavily, sweating immensely, and he's paler than the average English girl – and they're almost comparable to a pure white sheet!

He then leans his head back against the trunk of the tree, closing his eyes and parting his lips to breathe easier. I watch him, and notice he's shaking a little. The loss of his entire family and all his friends is getting to him.

Then, his eyes snap open, and he crawls towards a lower branch, before quickly climbing down to it, and jumping down to the ground. Before I realise what's going on, I hear him retch, and he doubles over and throws up.

"Oh God," I gasp, climbing down from the tree to get to him.

Once I reach him, I move his loose curls behind him, so he won't get anything in them. The poor man is worked-up, and now it's even making his health deteriorate. This isn't good at all.

Once he's finished, he stands back up properly and wipes his mouth, giving me a forlorn look. He's still pale, and the sweat on his forehead is gradually seeping down his face.

"I-I'm sorry," he apologises quickly.

Then, he walks quickly in the opposite direction, to get away from me. He almost seems embarrassed that he just threw up in front of a person he's known less than an hour.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"Home. The police will be there soon."

I run after him, eventually catching up and walking by his side.

"I'll stay with you, if you want me to."

"I don't want to be a burden. You've already seen enough today."

"No, I'll stay."

He nods, unsure on how else to reply to my statement. We continue to walk until we reach his house – which is rather big, and has ivy and flowers adorning the front garden.

"Your home looks beautiful," I tell him.

"Thank you. But I'm never going to look at it the same way, ever again."

"We should wait outside. Aren't your family and friends still in there?"

He stops in his tracks when he realises I'm right.

"Oh God, yes. I'm never entering that house again, as long as I live."

"No one's expecting you to, Michael."

He leans his back against the house's wall, and allows his legs to bring him down to a sitting position on the floor. He takes his legs into his embrace, and leans his head against the brick.

* * *

"We'll start an investigation, Mr Jackson, and we'll bring you in for questioning regarding all of this, when the time is right," one of the officers informs Michael, later on in the day.

... So his surname is Jackson.

"Thank you. You've been very helpful," Michael says softly.

The officers get in their cars and drive away, and I glance over at Michael, who still looks shaken-up from everything that's happened today.

"You've been brave," I state.

He looks at the house, which has now been cleared of his family and friends' bodies, and sighs.

"I guess you don't realise you can be brave until it's your only option."

"So, what are you going to do now?"

He looks down at the floor, a single curl drooping down in front of his face.

"I don't know. I have nothing."

I decide to take a moment to think. This man literally has nothing now. No family, no friends – nothing.

"You can stay with me," I say.

He looks at me, shock in his expression. "You? No, no, I don't want to be a burd—"

"You won't be," I assure him. "Look, you have nothing. I have a lot more than I need, so you can share it with me. I know we only just met, but you need somewhere to sleep, live, etcetera, so just spend a few nights at my home until you get back on your feet. Okay?"

"I really don't want to intrude or cause trouble."

"You won't be," I repeat.

He exhales loudly. "Okay. Thank you."

"It's nothing. Do you want me to go in there and get your stuff?"

"If you could ... thank you. Just my toothbrush, some clothes and other basic essentials. Thank you."

I nod, and enter the house cautiously. It's a pretty home, but the past events that have taken place are far from the same.

I head upstairs, finding Michael's room easily, due to the child-like door sign with his name written on it. I enter, and pack random items of clothing into a rucksack from under his bed, and I see a family photo on the bedside table.

Walking slowly over to it, I pick it up, and see a whole family ... but I don't recognise any of them to be Michael. All of the people in the photo are dark-skinned. Michael has caramel skin.

Placing the photo under my arm, I head into the bathroom and grab all the toothbrushes, unsure on which one is his. I grab a deodorant, comb and hairbrush, and a shaver, before heading back downstairs.

I decide to look in the living room briefly, and I see torn banners saying "Family Reunion" on. I never came in here earlier whilst the police were investigating, so this is the first time I've seen this room.

The memories Michael and his family must have shared in here ... and now all of them are gone.

I thought having my mother gone was bad enough, but to be in Michael's position would almost make a person suicidal. In fact, I'm surprised he's coping as well as he is – if I knew all signs of my family were gone, I wouldn't have made it this far, I don't think.

I decide to leave the building, and I open the front door again to see Michael sitting, back against the tree in the garden, looking up at the sky. The sun is setting, and he's mouthing something.

I make the decision to remain unseen until he returns to reality, and I stand and watch in the doorway. He lets out a loud breath, and finally snaps out of his thoughts, and turns his head to see me.

"I got your things," I say.

"Thank you ... for everything. It must be such a pain having someone you've known less than five hours in your li—"

"It's nothing. Here," I hand him his bag, and he slings it over his shoulder.

He begins to walk off, but I take a hold of his arm and stop him. He turns around and looks at me, and I give him a faint smile.

"I got this for you," I say softly.

I show him the family photo I took from his room, and upon seeing his family's faces, tears form in his eyes, threatening to fall down his cheeks.

"Thank you."

"Don't worry about it. Aren't you in this photo?" I ask.

He nods. "Yes. I'm right there."

He points at a young man in the photo, and he has dark skin, and black curls that stop just underneath his ears.

"How can that be you?"

"You can't see the resemblance?"

He holds the photo next to his face, and I half-lid my eyes to try and see a similarity.

"Um ... the hair?"

He huffs, dropping his arm back down to his side. "Yes, but come on, it's just a darker version of me ... right?"

"But how come you're darker?"

"It doesn't matter. Do I look awful right now?"

Upon hearing that question, I look directly at his face. No – he doesn't look awful. Far from it, in fact.

"N-No," I respond.

He places the photo in his bag. "Oh. Well, it was taken in ... about '83, I think."

"Four years ago," I calculate, giving a closed-mouth smile. "We should get to my place. You look tired," I say.

He blinks once, noticing at this point how much fatigue his eyes are carrying. "I am ... "

We begin walking, with me leading him to my place. Within five minutes, we arrive, and I show him where he will be sleeping the night.

"Thank you," he says for what feels like the millionth time today.

"You don't need to thank me. Just get some sleep, and we'll see how you are in the morning."

He nods. "Okay. Goodnight, Citria."

"Goodnight," I reply.

I watch him climb the stairs, and I sit back on the sofa, overwhelmed at the day I've just had.

It looks like I'm a little less carefree, now.

~~

Okay, so that was chapter one. Don't worry, the beginning words will make sense later on in the story, like I said before. Let me know what you thought of chapter one! Should I continue?