Bobtina One-Shots

A Few of My Favorite Things

[As much as I would love to (and probably should), I'm not starting this whole "I'm back" thing with a happy one-shot. It takes place near the present. Sorry guys, hope you like it though!]

Bobby's Point of View

I took a deep breath and got out of my car, hoping my eyes weren't too red and puffy as I walked to the Grimmies' door. Probably for the last time.

Since Christina died, they decided to move back to New Jersey. Honestly, I should too. Everything here reminded me of her. But everything there would, too.

Maybe I should just move somewhere I've never been before, I thought, then I won't be reminded of her.

I knew, though, that I would always be reminded of her. So would it matter where I was when I was reminded? Probably not.

I knocked on the door. The same door I'd knocked on for numerous dates, for New Year's Eve parties, for birthday celebrations, right before tour, or simply because I wanted to see that beautiful smile. It was all over now.

Bud answered the door. He looked like he might've been crying, but it was hard to tell how long ago. Probably a few hours.

"Bobby," he said in a voice that was usual chipper, but was now monotonous. "Come in."

I walked up the small step through the front door and took a deep breath to calm myself. I was going to start crying again. Soon. It might as well be a controlled crying.

I looked around the room, it was so different than how it normally was. Everything looked the same, but Mark didn't sit laughing next to his sister on their DS's. Tina wasn't in the kitchen, baking cookies and dancing to the radio, to what was often her daughter's music.

Mark sat on the couch alone, watching TV and not moving at all. Tina was at the table. Papers everywhere. Probably stuff about Christina. Letters, bills, payments from YouTube. It was probably hard to go through those.

"Bobby," Tina said, a little more life to her voice than Bud's (but hers always did). "I'm glad you could come. I just thought you'd like to get some things from Christina's room before we start.... taking it apart to move." She took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to start crying. You'd better go in there before I start."

"It's OK, Tina," I said, looking down at my fidgeting hands. Why did I seem so nervous around them? They were like my second family. "I'm doing the same."

I turned away and walked toward Christina's room. I went through the living room, and Mark actually turned to look at me.

"Hey, Bobby," he said hoarsely, like he hadn't spoken in a while.

"Hey, Mark," I responded. "How're you holding up?"

He sighed. "I'm OK. I could be better, but I already am a lot better than I was last week."

"Well, last week was a hard one," I said, thinking about the funeral and seeing the news and all the tweets and the pictures and just Christina, but Christina in the worst way.

He nodded. "She's here though. I can feel it. Just know that we're all messed up from this, Bobby. None of us will ever be the same."

I nodded softly. "I know."

"You better get in there," he said, turning back to the television.

As much as I wanted to say something, to let him know I felt pain like he did, I didn't let myself speak.

I silently went to the hallway and took a deep breath as my hand touched the doorknob. I wasn't sure if I could do this.

I looked at my feet. I gripped the doorknob tight. I shut my eyes, imagined her in there. I imagined her smile, the way she talked. Her laugh. I took one more deep breath, and I quickly opened the door.