✔ Statistics » Timothée Chalamet

F o r t y - O n e

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The sun shone dazzlingly above the lively color of a Spring day, one which appeared offensively bright and cheerful, as though it was meant to torment the redhead, to show her the world moved on without looking back, as opposed to the way she wanted things to be, grey and fogged, raining along with her tears. 

But the world wasn't built like that, and as she ran her palm through her silky, pure white dress, the universe smiled, accompanying her as she walked down the path, surrounded by hundreds of live souls, among many departed ones.

In a furious stream of many others, ones she knew from the summers spent in the forbidden mansion, or even ones she had stumbled across around the city of London, she felt nothing but alone. Even as her partner pressed her palm for reassurance, she felt nothing but her heart refuse to acknowledge the finality of death.

All trudged with their heads down, keeping to themselves, perhaps to postpone the inevitable sight. Despite the sadness, the field of white created by the saddened figures was more than enough to put a smile on the girl's face, for so many came to say goodbye, respect the passing, accompany the lost soul on her journey to the beyond. 

The girl walked in the far back, behind all mourners, for she couldn't bear to be the star of the show. It wasn't about her, but she knew everyone would make it seem that way, because she was the one left alive to deal with the bundle of grief. 

Manon felt as though she was all alone, unable to fully grasp the fact she wouldn't get to hear her laugh one more time, nor smile, nor give away an embrace full of warmth. Her grandmother would never get to walk her down the aisle or watch her future generations grow, she would forever provide comfort for the soil below, all while her remaining loved one above would long for her presence and comfort. 

 And sure, she subconsciously knew she wasn't alone, Timothée by her side and his family watching her from afar, sending her a comforting look every once in a while, it wasn't the same, it would never be the same. 

Anne-Marie had seen her at her worst. When she was a behavioral hurricane, when she took the unspeakable measures she would forever regret, when she withstood the pain of her parents, even the one of heartbreak. She was her safe haven, and she was gone, and with her, Manon felt as though an integral piece of her was taken, one she wasn't sure she would be able to function without. 

It wasn't long before a tear in her dress was made above her heart, to signify the loss. And when the body was lowered to the welcoming earth below, she couldn't look, couldn't fathom the idea, so instead, she buried herself in the boy's arms, the same boy who tried to keep himself together with all of his might, because he too wanted to burst into tears, but couldn't, for her sake. 

People kissed and hugged her, wished her well, before leaving the scene as though nothing ever happened. She was left alone, and those people who spared her a moment of mercy and sadness would soon return back to their lives, live it the way it was meant to be lived, while the way it was meant to be lived for Manon, was now below her feet. 

The brokenhearted rested her palm over the star hanging mercilessly across her neck, one she hardly brought out from the depths of her drawer. She wasn't much of a believer, neither was Anne-Marie, but she had taught her to be kind and courageous, and that was belief enough.

Despite it, she then and there, found herself praying there was a heaven, an afterlife, a place, where one day, they would be reunited, where they would get to speak again, say the last words they never got to say.