long, long ago

The 5 Stages Of Grief : Depression

And as he replayed her falling down when he wasn't fast enough to save her, as she screamed in fear and pain, as his enemy laughed manically, over and over again in his head, it wouldn't leave. Her voice crying out for him, needing him to save him, he wasn't fast enough to grab her hand and pull her back. So he screamed and weeped in the field, calling out her name. The pain was too consistent in his head, the sound of her voice too much for his heart, everything rushing through his blood. And in that moment, he told himself that he would never love again.
He looked over to the stack of books that they read together and brushing his fingers over the frail yellow pages. One was named "The Art Of Love". He remembered when they would sit on the edge of the very cliff she was pushed off of, and then they would laugh and pore over the book. He remembered that she would swing her legs back and forth, then giggle and lean her head on his shoulder. The way she would smile and look into his eyes and peck him on the lips. He sobbed as he pulled the book out from the shelf and threw it onto the ground. The tears fell from his face again like they did every single night without her. He ripped the pages apart and kept shredding them to bits as he sobbed harder. His hands shake as he held up a single page that had "I love you so much Techno and I want to spend the rest of my days with you <3" written on it in her handwriting. He clutched the fragile page to his chest and curled up in a ball on the floor next to the fire.
Still laying on the floor, he heard voices shouting from outside. The old front spruce doors opened and people he wished to forget yelled out,
"Techno! Ay how you holding up? Oh Technoooo....Techno? His brothers asked repeatedly, trying to comfort him. Yet they didn't realize that he was to far gone, constantly staring off into the distance, trying to pretend that no one would ever matter to him again. He wouldn't ever love the way he used to love her. He wouldn't care for anyone the way he used to care for her. No one mattered. Only the crackling fire was the one that remained with a full soul.

"I want you to go away. Leave. Right now." He said, his voice cracking and he felt as if he was being pulled down into the floor.
The days were getting longer but to no avail. He just layed in his bed, the one that layed next to the empty one. Again, he was taken back to the sunny day when she first asked if she could put her bed next to his. There were so many memory's that wouldn't stop flowing into his head, each one playing over slower than the one before. Now that days were getting shorter. Eating when only needed. Laying in bed even through day. Sleep. Eat. Sleep. Eat. Over and over again, each day was a waste. All spent inside in the dark, never wanting to see anyone again. Occasionally Ranboo came to see the poor boar, sometimes with tea and sometimes with gifts. Ranboo would try to comfort him, but it usually ended up in him saying, "I'm sorry, I don't quite remember who she was. She must have mattered a lot to you though, and I'm sorry for your loss."
Hours turned into days, days turned into months, months slowly turned into years. And one day, he sat up from his bed and looked outside. There was a fox, laying outside the cracked window.

Her favorite animal was a fox.
And because of that, he slowly began to accept.