You're having a really rough week. Your beloved pet that you've had since childhood has died from a sudden illness. You've been in your room for two days straight, because you can't stand the silence around the house. Silence being the lack of paws hitting the floor.
There's a knock at the door for the third time today.
"It's Belgium," your mom says. "Again."
"Well, tell her I'm not home. Again," you respond from inside the blankets.
"Sweetie, you have a hundred and twenty three messages."
"Why are you looking at my phone?"
"Belgium's really worried about you, could you go talk to her? She's a good friend, I think it would help you."
"K fine." You slide out from your bed and trudge to the front door, where, sure enough, your persistent friend is waiting. Upon seeing you, her eyes widen, and she practically jumps on you.
"Oh (Y/N)! I was so worried I thought you were dead! Why didn't you respond to any of my texts or calls?"
You look down not knowing what to say.
Belgium pulls away holding you at arms length. She puts her finger under your chin and lifts your head up so you're making eye contact. "Have you been crying?"
"Well...I uh, maybe, yeah I guess," you mumble while she's brushing your hair out of your face.
"What happened?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"I do."
"Well, I don't, okay? So, um, you can leave now, I'm not dead, so...yeah...I'll talk to you later." You pull away from Belgium and run back to your room.
A couple hours later, you're woken up by your phone ringing. You look at the contacts to see Belgium's name. You put the phone down and roll over.
There's a knock at the door. Is she serious?
You pull the covers over your head. Then you hear footsteps in your room.
"(Y/N)?"
She's in your room!
"WAIT DON'T COME IN HERE!!" you yell, jumping out from under your covers.
Belgium shrieks and then laughs. "You gave me quite a scare there (Y/N)."
You're out of bed. "Can you get out of my room please? Come on let's go somewhere else-"
"Why? I've never seen your room. It's cute!"
"It's embarrassing! It's not clean, look you can't even see my floor-" you gesture to the sea of clothes underneath you.
"You think I'm going to judge you for having a messy room?"
"Well, no, I mean, I don't know. I wanna...impress you. You're so pretty and sweet and such a good friend, I don't want to seem like, you know, a slob or unworthy of-"
Belgium silences your accidental rant by giving you a kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to make you some homemade Belgian waffles. You can come in the kitchen or stay in here and I'll bring them to you. It's up to you." And with that she walks away.
You love her, and you want to go be with her in the kitchen while she's making something for you. But you also just want to wallow in your own self pity in your bed, in your room, and be pathetic.
You have a hanging picture of you and (pets name). You stare at it, like you have for the past couple days. There's a sinking feeling in your stomach, like you're trapped. Like all this time you felt like looking at that picture was going to bring your pet back, but it didn't. So what was the point?
A warm, delicious smell fills your tiny room. "Here, I brought you a waffle." Belgium comes and sits on your bed. She puts a warm plate beside you. You've hardly eaten anything lately.
"Thank you," you mumble. You watch her eat her own waffle for a second like a creep. Then you slowly pick up the fork, cut off a tiny piece and nibble it. It tastes just as irresistible as her other waffles.
Belgium's waffles are better than any other waffles you've ever had. Their distinct sweetness reminds you of the times you spend with her. Her smile, her laugh, her headband. She always made a cute kitty face when she saw your pet. One of the things you love about her is how much she loved your pet. When they would jump onto her lap, she would make the cutest face and rub them behind the ears.
The waffles pretty much tasteless mush in your mouth now, you haven't swallowed. You take off another chunk and swirl it around in the syrup. The sun comes in at a certain angle, making your room a little brighter. Tears start running down your cheeks. They get in your mouth making your waffle taste salty. You set your fork down and rub your eyes.
Belgium starts to rub your back, which makes even more tears start to fall. She pulls you up from laying down position into her arms. You start crying into her shoulder. She rocks you back and forth like a baby and says "Shshshshsh, it's okay. I miss (him/her) too."
You look up. "Wait how did you know?"
"Your mom told me."
"Of course she did."
"She knows how much I worry about you."
"God, okay."
You stay in that position for a while. You eventually stop crying and just lean into her shoulder. She smells like syrup.
"You know," she says. "Just because someone dies doesn't mean they're gone forever."
"Well, you know--"
"Yeah, I know they're DEAD, but I mean, you'll never forget about (pets name), will you?"
"No, of course not!"
"Then, (he/she) isn't really gone, as long as (he/she) lives on in your heart. The ones you truly love will always be with you."
As cheesy as that sounded, it's probably true. You have your memories of (pets name), and you may never be able to see him/her in the flesh again, but he/she was a part of your life, had a good time with you, and will always be remembered.
"Thank you Belgium," you whisper.
You decide to take the risk and say something stupid. "You'll always be with me."
"You'll always be with me too."
