Page 69 of Until Forever Falls

Why not him?

Why the fuck did Beckett get erased from the world while they get to wake up tomorrow?

He should have fucking lived. I hate myself for thinking it, but—I’d trade them both for him.

They’ll get better.

They’ll walk out of that hospital, go home,keep living.

But Beckett—Beckett won’t.

The rage is too big for my body. It burns under my skin, desperate to escape, desperate to break something.

So I let it.

A brush, a candle, my own fucking fists against the floor.

None of it helps.

The door rattles. A voice yelling my name.

Let them come in. Let them see what’s left of me.

I drop my forehead to my knees, and when the door finally breaks open, I don’t even have the strength to lift my head.

Brooks doesn’t kneel. He collapses, landing hard, hands clutching my face like I might disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

His whole face is a wreck—tear streaked, eyes swollen, mouth trembling like he too is seconds from imploding.

There’s blood smeared across his fingers, his wrists.

I don’t know if it’s his. If he had to break down the door. I don’t ask.

“I’m here,” Brooks chokes, yanking me into him, and I submit. Like a fucking coward, because I’m not strong enough to hold my own grief.

I’m floating, or sinking, weightless in a way that makes no real sense. Brooks’ arms are a tight cage around my ribs. The steady rise and fall of his chest lulling me into a haze.

It smells like pine. Like snowmelt. Like every Colorado memory we have together, laughing too loud on the playground that made us feel invincible.

And then it hits.Beckett died.

“I can’t,” I whisper, my hands clenching Brooks’ shirt, knuckles going white. “I can’t do this—”

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t tell me I can.

“I won’t survive this. I won’t survive without him.” The words come out so quietly I barely recognize them as my own.

He squeezes me so hard my ribs threaten to break, but I don’t care. I wish he’d crush me. I wish I could disappear.

“You’re not alone, Dylan. You hear me? On everything I have, everything I am—I promise I’m not leaving.”

But Beckett left. And if he could leave, what the fuck is stopping the rest of the world from falling apart too?

A week feels like a lifetime. My mind keeps circling the same thought…there has to be a way to undo this. To bring him back. But no, this is final. The casket sits in the distance, a dark, cruel thing that feels like it’s mocking me. It’s there, holding the person I loved most in the world. It shouldn’t be him.

It should be me.

The grass beneath my feet is perfectly trimmed, and the faint smell of wildflowers drifts through the air. It’s the kind of day Beckett would’ve loved—blue skies, just warm enough to be outside. But all of it feels wrong. Too pretty, too calm. Like the world has no idea what it’s done.

---