[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.
I walked in, and it hit me. Her scent. It was all over in here. She was all over in here. She overpowered every aspect of the room.
I shut the door, and before I could even touch anything other than the doorknob, I sat in the middle of her floor and cried.
I cried as I thought of all our memories, whether happy or sad, angry or calm. I cried as I thought of her laugh, the way her eyes lit up when you were goofing off. The way her eyes lit up whenever she was singing, talking, laughing, sitting.
I cried as I thought of her appearance. That smile that could make any dull day brighter. Her hazel eyes, bright and interested in everything. Her hands, the way they went over the piano keys like that's all they were meant for.
Gosh, I just wanted her back.
I would give anything. I would take her place in a heartbeat. I would trade so much just to see her for one more day.
Finally, after about ten minutes of just crying, I got up to start going through things I might want.
It felt weird at first, like these things weren't rightfully mine, so why was I touching them? It felt like Christina had these in her room for a reason: they were hers; they were private.
In truth, though, she had all of it in there because every item brought her joy in some way. And that reason made me feel less weird, less guilty. This was just one more glimpse into her life.
I looked on top of her dresser, where a bunch of jewelry was. Some of her "signature" pieces were missing, as she was wearing a few when she was buried, like her purity ring and the necklace I gave her. Others had already been taken by Sarah or Lauren or Tina, things they'd given her, things she had that matched what they had, things they could wear to remember her.
I looked over the rings, earrings, necklaces, and few bracelets. I looked for pieces she wore on dates, things she wore for memorable concerts. She loved so many of these.
I saw a bottle of perfume, I wondered if it would smell like her. I wondered if I could take it and spray it whenever I missed her. I wondered if the scent would make me feel like she was here again, safe and in my arms.
I sprayed it, though, and it did smell kind of like her. It was missing important parts though. The parts that really made it Christina's scent. Or else it was just some perfume.
I moved on, looking at the posters. I considered taking one, but I didn't need one. There were other things, more sentimental things, I'd rather have.
Like a note I found tucked under a book on her nightstand. A note from high school, something I wrote her. It was cheesy and embarrassing, but she had to have kept it for a reason.
That girl. She had me believing she was completely over me, and then I'd find another sign that she was still rooting for us as much as I was, even if she was dating someone else. Something kept drawing us together.
For me, it was the energy she had. The way it was impossible to be anything but happy around her. I don't know what she saw in me, but I was glad she did.
I ran my fingers over her pillow, then almost instinctively laid on it.
I started crying again. All I could smell was her. I could feel her next to me, I could see her smile and hear her laugh.
What I would do to have her back.
I got myself together, and continued looking for little things I wanted of hers.
I opened her closet, old video games on the floor. What a dork. I started sifting through her clothes, as weird as that was.
I found that red dress, one of the only ones she actually wore. The one she wore when she won her AMA. I felt her family should have that.
But I found the black one. The prom dress.
I took the hanger out, laid it on the ground, and pulled the thin plastic cover off of it. I felt the fabric. Again, I smelled it, smelled her and just cried.
Why did you leave me? I asked. Why would someone do this to you?
Why? Why? Why? It was all I seemed to be asking lately.
I covered the dress again. I was taking this, even if it was weird.
I opened a dresser drawer, her "I ❤️ Drummers" shirt on top of one of the piles of clothes.
I took it out, hugged it to my body, placed it with the other things I was taking with me.
I laid on the floor, looking at the ceiling, and just wished one more time that she was here again.
She never would be, though.
And as I shut the door and looked at the few items in my hands, I thought, These will always be a few of my favorite things.
•••
Author's Note:
Sorry it hasn't been edited! I JUST finished it and thought I better post it soon :) sorry about the sadness, the next one will be better! Love you guys!
- thatsmyswift xx