CWs/TWs: character death

You know. You guys are gonna laugh at this one. You're really uh... You're really gonna guffaw when you read this because...

Well.

You know why.

.•°*°•.

It was an odd feeling to hear that tone.

It was... a gentle feeling.

Serene, almost.

Like the world was finally quiet.

Quiet...

How funny is that? To be in the room as your child is dying and everything feels quiet. Even as doctors and nurses rushed into the room, pushing Joel aside to get to Grian... he felt calm. Like he had nothing to worry about. But there was something to worry about, wasn't there?

Right.

Grian was dead.

Suddenly, that thought brought Joel back to reality, though he couldn't bring himself to move as he watched the doctors attempt to resuscitate him. Tears sprung to his eyes and clamped his hands over his mouth to stop himself from crying out.

Dead.

Grian was dead.

The doctors charged the defilibraters and pressed them to Grian's chest, but there was no response from the boy.

Gone.

Joel felt hands grab his arm and lead him out of the room, pulling him into the quiet and cold hallway.

Grian was gone.

Words were being said to Joel, but he couldn't process what he was being told. The sounds of his world crashing down around him were too loud for that.

He realised he hadn't been breathing when his chest began to hurt, and the small gasps of air he started to take weren't enough. He was guided to sit down, but that seemed to only make it worse. He tried to take deeper breaths to no avail as tears poured down his cheeks like an overflowing waterfall of grief. The desperate sounds he was making as he suffocated were pathetic and he felt embarrassed to be in this state at all, more so in public. He noticed his foot tapping relentlessly on the floor at such a fast tempo that only made him feel worse, followed by him becoming aware of just how much he was shaking and crying. He was practically wailing.

He felt hands grab his shoulders and he flinched hard before looking up at the nurse who had grabbed him.

"Breathe," she probably said, but Joel couldn't hear her over himself so he had to read her lips. "It's alright."

Joel lowered his head and shook it, wrapping his arms around himself as he lost more and more control over his movements. He wasn't ready for this moment, he wasn't prepared nor did he even think about how he'd feel when it happened. He did expect to be a mess, though, and he was right about that much.

His chin was lifted to look at the nurse - who he noticed wasn't actually a nurse, but rather one of the psychologists at the hospital - and she smiled gently at him. "Can you hear me?"

Joel blinked, sniffled, and hiccuped before he nodded.

"Okay," she said. "I need you to breathe with me, okay? I know it's hard, but it'll help. I promise."

Joel squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head again. He didn't want to breathe, he wanted to see Grian.

"Just a few times," she said, now rubbing circles into Joel's shoulders with her thumbs. "It'll help you feel better, I promise." She waited until he opened his eyes, then smiled again at him. "Good. Now, try to take a really big, deep breath in as I count to four, okay?"

Joel hiccuped a bit, but started to breathe in and she counted to four a bit too slowly for Joel's liking.

"Now hold it," she said. "One... two... three... four. Good, now let it out."

As Joel released the air in his lungs, he felt his shoulders and arms relax.

"Good job," the psychologist said softly. "Let's try that again. In, two... three... four. Hold..."

As they repeated the process, Joel felt himself relax more and more. His hands stopped shaking and his foot stopped tapping, and eventually he stopped crying.

"There we go," the psychologist whispered soothingly. "See? Don't you feel better now?"

Joel hesitantly nodded, looking away from her.

"Let's get you to the lobby," she said. "We'll get you all the documentation there."

He couldn't muster the strength to speak, but nodded in response.

.•°*°•.

"Yes, Jimmy," Lizzie said as she carried three large cooler bags of groceries and some plastic bags from Walgreens. She kicked the car door closed and started for the house. "You can just leave the furniture in the- Yes, I know." She paused as she held the phone between her ear and shoulder so she could pull her keys out of her pocket to unlock the front door. "Jimmy, you need to relax, okay? I know it's a tough time but-" She sighed as Jimmy started to ramble again. "Hun, you'll be alright. Just focus on getting the furniture here. Don't think about things too much, okay? You'll be alright."

The door finally opened and she dumped all the bags on the floor. She let out a sigh of relief after letting go of the weight.

"Yeah, I-" Lizzie paused when she felt her phone buzz and she pulled it away from her ear to look at it. She was getting a call from her obstetrician. "Jimmy, I'm getting a call. I'll call you back later when I get to the hospital, okay? I love you." She hung up and took a deep breath before answering the call from her doctor.

"Hello," Lizzie said, walking to the living room to sit on the sofa.

"Hello," a high-pitched female's voice said on the other side of the line, "is this Mrs. Smallishbeans?"

Lizzie nodded like the lady could see her. "Yes."

"Okay, we've gotten your results back from the lab," she said. "Most of your hormones are normal, however, your progesterone levels are worryingly low. Unfortunately, it's unlikely that you'll have this baby."

Closing her eyes, Lizzie took a deep breath. "Okay, thank you," she said, her voice quivering. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

"We have options for HRT for when you're pregnant in the future," the lady offered. "But you're very unlikely to ever give birth on your own."

Lizzie chewed on her lip for a moment. "No, thank you," she said. "I'm not interested in taking hormones."

"Alright. Have a nice day." 

"Mhm."

A tone signaled Lizzie that the lady had hung up the phone, and she allowed herself to cry. She dropped her phone into her lap and covered her face with her hands. This had to have been the worst summer of her life. 

.•°*°•.

Scott was exhausted. He and Jimmy had spent the last half hour just moving furniture from the attic of their house to Jimmy's truck, and that was a lot of work for Scott. He even broke a nail in the process. That definitely required some spa time. 

"Hey, babe," Scott said, walking back outside after washing off all the dust that gotten on his hands from the old furniture, "do you mind if we go to-" They stopped in the doorway when he saw Jimmy with red, watery eyes as he nodded to someone on the phone.

"Thanks, Joel," Jimmy murmured, his voice quivering. "If you need anything, just, y'know.. Ring me." He sniffled, said goodbye, then took the phone from his ear and stared at Scott for a moment. "He's gone," he said simply. 

Scott wasn't expecting the harsh sob that ripped through them at the words. They knew it would hurt, but not this bad.

That poor kid really had an impact, didn't he?

.•°*°•.

Scar was hysterical when he found out about Grian. He didn't even try to control the way he wept, falling to his knees on the floor as he wrapped his arms around himself. His entire world felt like it was crashing down, his very existence becoming meaningless without Grian in his life. One of his favourite people in the world...

...was gone.

It hurt. A lot. There are no words to describe how agonizing it was for him to hear the news, nothing could measure up to the torment of those words.

"Grian is dead."

He couldn't have been. They were lying. Right? It was just some sick joke that everyone but him was in on... Right? That had to have been it. There was no other explanation because there was no way that Grian could've possibly have been dead. No, Scar was supposed to live the rest of his life with Grian. They were supposed to build a family together, have kids, grow old and get all nostalgic and cry about how they missed being young and energetic and-

The entire future that Scar had built in his mind with Grian was gone...

No, no, no, it was a joke, remember? A joke, haha. A funny thing to laugh about. A funny... thing...

But death isn't funny. Not a single thing about losing someone you love is funny, not a bit of it. It was serious and sad and it hurt, it hurt so fucking bad, and Scar couldn't seem to breathe or speak or even think of anything other than-

"Grian is dead."

Shut up.

"He died shortly after one in the afternoon."

Be quiet.

"His funeral is in two weeks."

Shut up, dammit-

"Scar."

A gasp.

Silence.

Scar's mind cleared and he stopped crying, everything - the whole world- stopped.

Arms embraced him.

He was warm.

He was safe.

He could breathe. 

Everything was okay.

If only just for a moment.

.•°*°•.

Lizzie walked into the hospital expecting to be able to see Grian one last time.

Unfortunately for her, his time had already run out.

She found Joel filling out paperwork in the waiting room.

"Joel?" she said softly, confused, walking over. Her heels clacked against the tile floor. "Wha- What's this paperwork? Why aren't you with Grian?"

Joel stopped writing and took a moment before looking up at his wife. His eyes were red and tired, his cheeks were wet and pink, and he had wrinkles carved into his forehead. He looked so... broken.

Lizzie gasped and covered her mouth. She didn't say a word as anxious thoughts ran through her mind.

I wasn't there again.

I missed him again.

I failed again.

Why am I never there when-

"Liz," Joel said, and suddenly he was standing up in front of her, worry etched on his face. "Hey, hey, it's okay-"

Lizzie closed her eyes and shook her head. Without saying anything, she turned around and rushed out of the hospital.

She couldn't stand being in that horrible place of death.

.•°*°•.

When Joel walked in the front door, he could hear Lizzie crying in their room from the doorway. He sighed and tossed his things to side somewhere - he didn't care where, he just wanted to get some sleep - so he could take his shoes off. He sauntered into the living room and laid down on the sofa. He figured Lizzie could use some space and, honestly, so could he.

He closed his eyes and sighed again, waiting for sleep to come for him. Which, surprisingly, it came quickly, whisking him away from reality to a place of darkness and relaxation.

Away from Grian's death.

Away from his feelings.

And most importantly, away from the pain.

.•°*°•.

Two weeks passed sooner than expected and Joel wasn't ready to face Grian again. Although his body wouldn't really be there - just his ashes - it still felt like Joel would have to see his face again, and he really didn't feel like doing that. It was too soon, the pain wasn't gone yet. Not that it probably ever would be gone, but it was nice to have hope.

Lizzie had taken it upon herself to decorate the room with flowers - roses, orchids, carnations, and valerians - and pictures of Grian, mainly from when he was in junior high and high school. She spent a good hour or so making sure it looked perfect before setting the urn in the middle of the display, not settling for any less for her son.

Joel was at the funeral home from nine in the morning until six in the evening, greeting people and having small conversations that he didn't want to have as the people came and went. He cried more often than not and he was glad that not as many people came as he invited. He did receive numerous gifts and cards of sympathy, though, which he wasn't sure how to feel about.

He had dinner with Lizzie, Jimmy, Scott, Mumbo, and Scar afterward at his house, and he opened a bottle of champagne to share (though Mumbo was still a year too young to have any, so he had some apple cider instead).

"Cheers," Scott said in Joel's place since the latter didn't have the strength to, "to Grian."

Everyone raised their glasses.

"To Grian."

The End