41. Brayden

Chapter forty-one

Brayden

Two weeks later

W hen you're trapped in a cycle of tears, time slips away like sand through your fingers. These past two weeks blurred together—I can't pinpoint where the days went or who crossed my path. All I know is that each night, I bury my face in Bohdi's chest, Bexley's quilt buried between us, until sleep claims me, and then I'm haunted by Bex's face. But in my dreams, he's different. Happy. It's where I seek comfort in losing him.

His sunken cheeks have filled out, his face radiant. He smiles freely, and when I look at him, it's like gazing into a mirror—except I know it's Bexley because of that unruly, overgrown hair he always tucked behind his ears.

He tells me it's better where he is now. That he misses me but will remain by my side every day. I've asked him countless times why he did it, but he never answers directly. Instead, he insists I find peace in his newfound well-being.

He's OK now.

Every morning, I wake with the mantra: He's better.

But the truth is, maybe he is, but I'm not. I'm shattered, piecing together fragments of our shared soul that he left behind.

And I keep telling him, if he'd stayed, I would've helped him. But he only replies, "It was too late."

Yet every night, my dream unfolds the same way. Bexley waits for me at the park gate—the same one we hang around in as kids. His smile is bright, and in his hands, he holds those nostalgic Nerds Ropes.

It's a bittersweet reunion every single time, because dreams don't last forever, and my body won't sleep forever.

Yesterday, I learned I could go visit Bexley and say my personal goodbyes before the funeral today, but I couldn't. I knew that the body that lays in that casket isn't my brother. It's not the Bex in my dreams and I want to hold on to that version.

As I sit staring at the solid casket in front of me, I still can't believe that Bexley is in there. Kal and Tray sit either side of me, while Kal's Mom and Dad sit beside Kal, with my Mom in between them. She's crying like her life has ended when in fact she is the root of all of this. She is the reason Bex is in that casket. I've told her Bex was the only thing that kept me coming back to that trailer. I promised her once I had removed everything to do with Bex from there, she will never see me again. Of course, she wept and begged me and said how sorry she was, but she wasn't. Bex was her pawn, her drug line, and now he's gone. What is she going to do?

Fucking die, I hope.

There's no seat in heaven for her. Hell can have their way with her.

Staring across the casket, all my teammates stand in their smart suits, paying their respect as everyone's eyes are on the casket as the pastor reads words about Bexley. Every morning this week, Bohdi would ask me one thing.

"Tell me one memory of Bexley."

And then he'd ask me the same thing before I went to bed. I would sometimes get lost in my stories, but I didn't realize he was writing a eulogy the whole time. A couple of nights ago, he read it to me. A lifetime condensed into one speech. It held everything: the laughter, the unfulfilled plans, like that trip to London, and the ache of loss. Bohdi became my rock—the one who held me when my legs faltered, who cradled me through tear-soaked nights.

Denny questioned Bohdi's whereabouts, but Boh slipped through the cracks, leaving only apologies. I spent a week cocooned in his house, but grief doesn't hold to calendars. School couldn't wait. I returned, seeking relief in familiar faces. Kal and Tray stood by me, their silent strength supporting my fragile resolve.

In class, I found moments of respite, the dull lectures, the scribbled notes. But I was always dying to get back to Bohdi's so I could go to sleep and be with my brother again. Cope believes I'm still at my mom's, unaware that my old bed remains untouched.

I feel a nudge as Tray looks at me.

"They're ready for you." He nods to the pastor, who has obviously finished, but I didn't hear a thing. I said I wanted to do my own reading. I wanted to write my own for Bex. I tried to make it long. I wanted everyone to know how special he was, but then I realized I didn't need everyone to know how special he was. I only needed him to know that.

So as I step up and walk toward the front, I don't read from a script. I don't read from notes I had jotted down. I speak the truth to Bexley and only Bexley. I stare at the casket, tears running down my face.

"To my other half, my twin: Why did you slip away, leaving me here? You told me last night in my dreams that it's because you're better now, but can't you see the wreckage you've left behind?" Clenching my jaw, I dig my nails into my palm, taking a deep breath.

"Your laughter lingers in the breeze, teasing me with memories. I glimpse your reflection in the mirror, the same eyes, the same curve of lips, and I ache. Tell me Bex, did you take a piece of me with you? Or did I lose a piece of myself when you left?" A tear slips free, trickling down my face. I dig my fingers into my palms harder.

"I would have held on, Bex. I would have fought against the darkness that consumed you. But you slipped through my grasp, and now I'm left with the jagged edges of our severed bond. We were more than siblings; we were halves of a whole, stitched together." The sounds of cries slowly blend into nothing. All I hear is the gentle wind and if I close my eyes, I swear I can hear Bex's voice.

"When your heart stilled, mine fractured. Our laughter, that once brought me peace, now echoes and haunts me each day. I search for you in every gust of wind, every raindrop that trickles down my skin. Perhaps you're there, whispering secrets in the rustling leaves, urging me to find comfort in memories. But how can I mend when my crumbled walls were because you knocked it down? I carry your absence like the heaviest weight to carry, like an open wound, bleeding grief into the emptiness. And yet, I cling to the fragments, the shared laughter, the silent conversations, the unspoken promises, as if they can somehow weave me back together." My head drops as I stare at the blood trickling down my hands, but I don't stop. I dig more.

"Bex, my twin, my missing half. I cry for the life we should have lived, the adventures we should have shared. Our souls were tangled, and now mine flutters, unleashed, searching for you in every shadow. Did you know, in that final moment, that our connection would shatter? That the universe would crack our shared core into a thousand tiny pieces? I'll hold your memory close, tending to the shards of our shattered soul. Perhaps, in their jagged edges, I'll find a way to piece myself back together." Then it hits me with the raw, intense pain. "I love you Bex, BB for life."

My voice breaks as I crumble to the floor. Everything I have held in over the past two weeks tumbled from my lips. Begging to know why he left me. Kal and Tray pick me up and Denny walks behind holding me up. When I'm brought back to my seat, my eyes meet Bohdi's, wishing it was him holding me up. His eyes swim with unshed tears as he clenches his jaw. His eyes bore into mine, a silent message: I've got you.

And I hold on to that until I can lie in his arms again tonight.

I don't travel with my mom, but there are some bits of Bex's I want to get. Bohdi said for the time being I can store stuff at his until I go through it and decide what I want to keep. There isn't a lot, but I can't see myself throwing any of his stuff out. My phone pings and I pull it out of my pocket

Sir:

I'll park down the road from your mom's and take your time.

Apparently, Denny already questioned why Bohdi was at the funeral. None of my other teachers were, so that's why Bohdi couldn't give me a ride home. Kal's dad stepped in. Now, I sit outside the trailer, my heart heavy from saying goodbye to Bex.

People claim that goodbyes are the final chapter, but they're wrong. Bex's memory lingers, etched into every reflection I catch in the mirror. Inside the trailer, I bypass the familiar surroundings, heading straight for our shared bedroom. A cardboard box awaits me, and I begin taking down photographs. It's a bittersweet task, each image capturing Bex's infectious joy. These snapshots are my lifeline, the tangible traces of our happiness.

Next, I open the nightstand drawer, revealing a stack of old diaries. Nine of them, each filled with our secrets, dreams, and whispered promises. I place them carefully in the box. Knowing that on the toughest days, I'll reach for them, tracing Bex's words with UV pens, as if he's still here, writing them just for me.

Next, I open the wardrobe. I had already taken a few sweatshirts out of here. Wearing Bex's clothes is something that makes me feel closer to him, but now I can have his whole wardrobe. Once I've taken everything off the hangers, I glance down at some screwed up clothes at the bottom. Picking those up, I notice a duffle bag zipped up.

I place the clothes I had in my hand and open the duffle bag. It's filled with clothes, shoes and two diaries. I pick the diaries up and open one up which has a UV pen buried into it. With trembling hands, I shine the pen on the first page, but there's nothing. My gaze shifts to the second diary, where faint indents reveal hidden writing. My heart races, and I sink onto the bed, the UV pen quivering in my grasp.

"Please don't let this be what I think it is." Shinning the UV pen on the page, I read the writing . . .

Bray,

Do you remember when each day you didn't wake up with that tight feeling in your chest like a weight was baring down on you? Do you remember the days when breathing was easy? Do you remember the days when you woke up with a smile and not a sinking feeling in your stomach that something wasn't right, but you couldn't pinpoint what it was? Do you remember the days when I didn't have this monster swimming in my veins and drowning me from the inside? Do you remember the days when you woke up happy? Do you remember when I was your best bro? I miss those days. I need you to think of those days for me and hold on to them. I need you to do that for me, OK? I promise, those days will come back. I need to go away for a little while and find myself again. I need to be on my own and clear my head. I can't be here, around these people, around that poison that I crave so badly. I'll never get better and I want to. For us. For me. I'm not saying goodbye. Because this isn't goodbye. Your twin, your other half, is coming back like he used to be, I promise, Bray. I have taken one of our diaries we used to write in so I can read them back when I miss you so much it hurts. You've been missing me for years now and I'm sorry. You'll always find the old me in those pages, Bray. Just read back and I'll be there. I'm going to write notes to you so you can read them when I'm back. Don't stop writing to me, I'll be back to read them. I know why it hurts you to let people in, Brayden. Because you let me in and it fucking hurt, didn't it? It cut like a knife to your veins, bleeding you out every single day. I'm so fucking sorry. I never deserved you as a brother, but I thank the lord every day I was blessed to enter this world with you by my side. Keep shattering, Quake. Love you infinite. Bex. Brayden & Bexley Best Bros BB for life. P.S.: Can you do me a favor? Can you go to the store and buy some candy and save me some bro?

"No, no, no!" My voice cracks, the words torn from my throat like shards of glass. The diary slips through my trembling fingers, crashing to the floor. I crumple, my chest collapsing as if someone's stomping on it. Breathing becomes a pointless struggle. It can't be true, a cruel twist of fate.

"It was an accident." He didn't choose to leave me.

A primal scream echoes through me, reverberating off the walls. I rise to my knees, clutching the diary to my chest. Everything I've wrestled with over these past two weeks, the sleepless nights, the unanswered questions, the gaping void in my heart, it all unravels.

Today, at the funeral, I stood in front of his casket, silently pleading for an explanation. But he lied, he fucking lied in my dreams. He didn't mean to leave me. He fought for us.

The sobs come in waves, crashing over me. The room spins, blurring into a chaotic whirlwind of memories and pain. I can't stay here, can't bear the weight of this grief that blankets this room. I pull myself up, my legs wobbly, and grab the UV pen from the floor. It's my lifeline now, the secrets etched in invisible ink.

Stumbling toward the door, I gulp in ragged breaths. The world outside beckons, a place where I can scream at the sky, where the grass cushions my fall. My knees buckle, and I collapse, unable to move. The pain wells up, threatening to drown me. I release the agony.

"Come back, Bex," I plead, my voice torn by desperation. I scream at the vast sky, as if my cries could summon him from wherever he's gone. But the heavens remain silent.

"Brayden," Daxton's worried voice comes from somewhere behind, but I stand up and I don't turn back. I stumble away as much as my legs will take me. Away from everyone. I can't see Bohdi. Not now. Not like this. The ache in my chest threatens to consume me as I stagger away from the trailer park and there's only one place I want to be right now.