Authors Notes: Hey guys! I haven't been writing much recently (I won't be updating for awhile) But I've craved for writing some one shots. With this one, PLEASE BEWARE, it's very angsty. Infact, it's a bit mind-scarring. There's a lot of dramatic depression and wistful wishing. Excuse the angst, it just seemed right. :)

Can't Let It Die

Tommy Pickles. Whenever I heard that name I could feel my heartbeat pick up, my palms become sweaty, my skin become clammy. His eyes were always bright with ideas. They could see into my soul. I wasn't much of a "feeling" sharerer, but when Tommy Pickles eyes fell on me, I felt like I could just put the weight of the world on him. He wouldn't mind, either.

We'd always just been friends. We met when we were still in diapers when I became Chuckie's new sister. It would only be natural that feelings for Tommy began to develop. What could my parents expect?

There was always one rule between Tommy and Chuckie, though. No liking best friends sisters. That meant that Tommy and I could never be anything but... friends. Not even best friends. I was always tempted to ask Chuckie about it, but I was afraid he'd laugh me out of town. All I could do was enjoy the fact that I was Tommy's good friend. We went through elementary with no problems, a few bumps in middle school, and by our sophmore year in high school, we were craving each other.

"Do you really think we should be skipping like this?" I asked as Tommy grabbed my wrist and began towing me behind him. The hallways were becoming quieter. Fourth period. We had this class together. It was Physics with Mrs. Snodgrass. Gross. We had a movie to watch about weight and what not but Tommy had different ideas.

It wasn't like Tommy to skip out on class and act out of line, so he must of had a really good reason. He lead me down the language arts hallway, classes in sessions. The bell had just sounded and Tommy wasn't even speaking to me. What could he be thinking? He then pushed the exit open at the end of the hallway and lead me to the football field.

Completely desserted. I looked around expectantly. Something awesome, like the colorguards at their finest, or the football team running a perfect play. Nope. No one was even here. No one was mowing or painting grass. No one was running the stands. We were all alone.

"Tommy?" I cocked an eyebrow up at him. He was smiling at me and gestured for the football field. I followed him him in an utter confusion. He lead me to the center of the football field and just grinned at me. I crossed my arm, "So, what's up?" I asked. As soon as that sentence escaped my mouth, I heard a creak. My eyes widened as the sprinklers went off. Instantly, Tommy and I were soaked.

Tommy broke into rolls of laughter while I touched my soaked pigtails. I grew self-conscious of my hair. It was most likely frizzing. I began patting my hair down, "No, don't." Tommy grabbed my wrist and pulled it away from my head. We stared at each other through the mist of the sprinklers. He still had hold of my arm as we gazed into each other's eyes. "Don't..." He repeated, shaking his head. He lowered our arms and continued just staring at me. My cheeks tinged pink.

"I bet I look horrible," I muttered, patting my hair again.

"No," Tommy said, taking both my arms again, "You look beautiful." We both turned red as he said this. Why was he so charming? "Kimi?" I looked into his eyes and my breathing hitched in my throat. His eyes were shimmering, almost sparkling, in the light. There was some sort of inspiring light in his eyes. I couldn't sputter any words out. I was still shocked.

"T- Tommy," I managed. His hand gently met my cheek. His hand was cold and wet, but then again so was the rest of us. I melted into his touch. To feel his soft touch felt so... wonderful. My heart was hammering in my chest as my hand covered his, the sprinklers still dousing us in cold water.

The next thing I knew, he was leaning forward. His face was nearing mine and I almost leaned back, completely embarassed. His lips were warm despite the cold water. My first kiss. In a football field. Getting soaked in water. My eyes slid close and pushed back against his lips. He wasn't such a bad kisser, but it made me wonder if he had kissed girls before. Whatever he had for lunch was faint on his lips, but the water was washing the taste away. I felt his hand slide down my neck and rest on my shoulder. I felt like I was flying. Weaving inbetween the fluffy clouds and singing like the Glinda the Good Witch from Wicked.

I just wanted to fall into Tommy's arms and never leave. I don't care how soaking wringing wet he was, I enjoyed being there. The space between us closed out and our bodies were mashed together. We fit perfectly against each other, like we were made for each other. Maybe we were... Was this fate?

"FINSTER! PICKLES!" Our lips parted immediately and we turned to see the big assistant teacher. He reminded us of our elementary bad-teacher, but Mr. Gussener was worse. If you were caught out of class, you better be praying to God Mr. Gussener was in China at the moment. Our hands were clasped as we stared at him. For once, I was shaking in my boots at the sight of him. With Tommy's hand closed over mine, I felt like we could conquer anything.

I cried everytime I though of that during my senior year. I couldn't bare to even think of our first romantic moment. It was too painful. Infact, this is the first time I've even talked about it. I told Lil about it months later after our relationship became official.

Official. The sounds funny. We could actually say it with no shame and no blushing. We were truly together. Hand in hand. Partners in crime. Chuckie was oddly alright with it. He said he only got defensive because he took the big brother role too seriously. He was happy though I found a great guy- since he and Tommy had quite the past together.

Highschool was a bittersweet scene. Freshman year was the year of fun. Sophmore year was the year of gushy love. Junior year was the year of utter heartbreak. Senior year was the year of depression. I can't say I didn't enjoy it. Every step through that was painful and exciting. Moving forward. That's how I liked it when I was younger. And now? I perfer to just stay in the same place.

Nowadays I find myself sitting at my own apartment. Staring at the wall. There's a T.V in my apartment but I never turn it on. I pay basically nothing for my apartment. It's payed off. All I have to do is use things. Which I rarely do. Sometimes I'll take the bus to the library and sit there for hours. I'll sit in the romance section with a box of tissues and a stool-cushion for the uncomfortable library chairs. I'll cry my heart out. People will gawk at me, but I won't notice. I'll hug the book to my chest and stuff my face into a tissue. It feels good to cry like that every now and then.

Official. That word looks like venom when I see it written somewhere. I want to punch Tommy everytime I see something that reminds me of us. When we were together. All of us. I see Phil and Lil occasionally. They're living together. Phil is working as a cashier at a gas station and Lil is taking night classes and waiting tables. Phil is a mess. Lil pretends like everything is alright.

Suzy... she moved away immediately after everything. After Tommy and I... She claimed medical school couldn't wait any longer, though she wasn't planning to go to college until we all graduated. The gang. Together. Angelica can't even look at anyone with the same last name as her. She changed it afterwards. Angelica Thompson. It sounded weird. It was always Angelica Pickles.

Chuckie. He's been alright, actually. He's taking everything as best as he can. Ever since Tommy fell out of the role as leader, he seemed to step up and put the pants on. He didn't hold everyone together well, but he did the best he could do. I was proud. I was expecting him to break down and hide under his covers for the rest of his life. He cut his hair and gels it differently though. He hit the books hard afterwards. He did nothing but busy himself after us.

Now, Dil was another story. The poor little guy didn't know what hit him afterwards. At first, he thought we were kidding and he was waiting for someone to jump out with a camera and say 'you got punk'd!' How could he believe that his big brother, the one who'd always been there, was gone. I was right there with you, Dil. I thought he'd be there forever, too. Now Dil just hide at home. He usually plays with a little kids builder kit. It has a screwdriver in it. It hurts me to see it, but for Dil to hold it. It burns his hand. He's okay with it though.

As for me? I was angry. Then sad. Then angry again. I couldn't control my emotions and I felt myself spiral out of control. Tommy wasn't there to grab my arm and pull me into his arms. He'd done that a lot during our relationship.

"You aren't invited," Dana Cathwitch called at me when I spotted invitations in everyones hands, "But you are Tommy-boy." He winked and pushed the envelope into his hands. He looked horrified as she gave him the invitation. It was almost as if she just handed him a pack of drugs.

"I can't go," Tommy held the invitation out to her. I immediately was washed down in guilt.

"No, Tommy," I shook my head, "If you want to go, you can. You know how I hate terrible parties." A small smile curved up Tommy's mouth, but a twisted scowl appeared on Dana's hands. Love flowed through Tommy's eyes as I smiled brightly back. He tossed the letter at the shocked Dana.

"I really don't want to go," He replied. Dana strutted up to him and took his hand, placing the invitation in it. Her face then neared his. Tommy's eyes were wide with shock. I furrowed my brow and took a step forward. Dumbass. Had she forgotten that Tommy's girlfriend was in the room?

"Hey," I grunted, crossing my arms. Dana's eyes darted to mine. I hope they were cackling with fire. She then let out a loud guffaw. It was so annoying. She then put her hands on her hips.

"Oh, sorry," She placed her hand on her chest, "Jealous that your boyfriend is more attracted to me than you, Kimi-Cake?" What did she just call me. I rolled my eyes melo-dramatically. I had a million insults for her, but one thing Tommy taught me was to hold my tongue and think rationally. "Oh, now you're playing the silent-game. You call for my attention, then you treat it like your personality? Worthless?" The insult stung. I was sure I cringed at it, which fed more power to Dana.

"Dana," Tommy placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to put the fire out between us. She giggled at his touch and flipped her platinum blond hair over her shoulder.

"I love it when you get rough with me, Tom!"

I had heard enough. I let out a small wimper and swung around on the balls of my feet. I put my face in my hands, unsucessfully blocking the views of my tears. I wasn't sad because of Tommy's betrayal. He did nothing wrong. Something inside me cracked though. It felt like it was just split and broke like fine china. My personality must of really been worthless.

Suddenly, a warm hand grabbed my arm. I was ready and I was flung back. My face collided with something sturdy and warm. Arms closed around me. I balled Tommy's shirt up in my hand and pressed my face into his chest. He rocked us back and forth, humming an Emica song. It was cheesy but it made me giggle.

"Point for Tommy," I heard him mutter. I laughed harder into his chest, dabbing my tears away with the back of my hand. I just wanted to stay like this forever. In his arms and laughing. It was all so perfect.

"PDA!" I heard kids shout. I wanted to bunt them out of the country so Tommy and I could just be alone. I closed my eyes and just listened to his heartbeat. It was going at a steady pace. His chest rose and fell. I could of almost fallen asleep in his arms. Little did I know our time was limited.

God, that seems so long ago. I cried over the easiest things in highschool. After highschool though, my emotions were too raw to use. Right now, as I write this, I feel as if I have no emotions. I cried all my tears away in highschool. I can only cry every now and then. Is that possible? Can a person cry away everything? Cry their lifetime of tears in one year? Am I not allowed to cry anymore?

He wouldn't want me to cry. But I did. I was weak back then. I'm weaker now, though. I'm more fragile, as Chuckie would tell me. He will come and visit me every now and then. Less frequent now. He's a big time scientist. It's nice to know atleast one of us hit it big after us.

I'm twenty-seven. I can't believe that. The last thing I can remember is being sixteen. Eleven-fucking-years ago. Where has the time gone? Where has everyone run off to? I feel so alone. Nothing is the same. I want to change it all. Just scream. I want everyone back. Sitting in a circle like we did in middle school. Sharing secrets, cracking jokes, and eating a whole load of food.

We were twelve... I led a wonderful childhood. I was the Student Council president in ninth grade. It was unheard of, but I was voted it. Teachers were impressed. Tommy was impressed. That's all I ever cared about. As I stood in the bright lights pooling the stage, I squinted and scanned among the applauding people. There was Tommy in his favorite denim jacket in the back. He was clapping. Clapping the loudest. I could hear it. He had a pearly smile on, his eyes dazzling. I could see every detail of him from the stage.

My adulthood is a different story. Why am I even still breathing? I need to find some excitement. Get out more. Take care of myself more. I've been sitting around since high school. Since junior year. For nearly ten years, I've done nothing but sit around and wait.

For a long time I was waiting for Tommy to come back around. I had to get over that. He wasn't coming back around. How could I be so stupid? I was like a little kid sitting by the fireplace on Christmas Eve. I was waiting for the reindeer to land on our roof. I held the cookies in my hands. But then I would blink. I would be rubbing my eyes and yawning. I'd sit up. The presents were there and my cookies were gone. I'd miss him. I didn't care about the presents during those moments. I would sit and pout. I just wanted to tell Santa Claus how grateful I was that he travelled all around the world and always gave me what I wanted. The cookies weren't enough, but my parents always told me they meant the world to Santa.

Why am I sitting down and writing this then? Did I finally find the need to write down the shittiest life ever? To let everyone know that I've been hurting for years. I'm still bleeding while everyone else has been stitched up. Sure, everyone changed. Lil smiles and laughs every now and then. Hell, Chuckie is making millions. Without Tommy. That's weird to think. Who would of thought that Chuckie would of become famous without the guy who was his anchor during their adolescent years. Chuckie was the guest of honor at international science conventions. My parents were so proud. I was so proud.

I worked at a shoe store. I went into the back storage room and found the correct shoe and size for an interested buyer. I didn't mind. The storage room was chilly. It reminded me of Tommy's room. Always freezing. That was okay, too. Tommy always let me wear his favorite denim jacket when I was when his room. His smelt just like him. Peppermint and pine. I have no idea why he always smelled like pine, but his scent was so intoxicating.

I'm getting angry just writing this. Dammit. I wish I could of known. Seen it coming. We didn't break up. I know we didn't. That's why I never thought of everyone else. Even if I had moved on. Gotten happier. I wouldn't of dated anyone else. We were still together. I could look over my shoulder and see Tommy's favorite denim jacket lying on the chair by my front door. I never wear it. I don't want to ruin his scent. There's a rip on the cuff and a small hole on the collar.

Sometimes when I wake up, I wonder if it's going to be gone. Not that it would get up and wonder off. I walk into the living room every morning, hopeful. Hoping that Tommy is just sitting on the couch in his favorite denim jacket, kicked back and relaxing. I skip into the living room. I swear to God, that's the light up of my days. Wondering if I'll see him.

That sounds pitiful. I'll bet he's frowning down on me right now. I bet he wants to slap me in the face and tell me to get a grip. I would slap him back, though, and say hold me. I need him to hold me now. Like when I shake on my bad days. I'll shake and shiver, craving his touch. I curl into a ball on my couch and stared at the wall, just shaking as if it's cold. I'll feel cold as if I'm in Tommy's room. As I sit on my couch, hugging myself, I'll wait for him to press his forehead against mine and cuddle me close. Just like we did in the privacy of his bedroom.

For ten years, I've been haunted. My hand is shaking as I write this. I'm using my favorite pen. It's Tommy's favorite color. Dark blue. Ocean blue. The color of my eyes. He always told me he loved my eyes. I would only laugh and kiss his cheekbone.

Here I go. I'm going to write it. As fast as possible. Maybe the system will work like a band aid. If I do it quick and fast- maybe it won't hurt. I'm sucking in a deep breath as I tighten my grip around my pen.

Tommy died in a car accident. He's never coming back.

It was a mistake to write that. I'm staring at it now. It's a hard truth. I've tried to tell myself. I'd cover my ears if someone else was going to say it. Like when Phil grabbed Lil and litterally slapped her, screaming that in her face. She was hurt, I was crying. Chuckie was holding me. That was senior year though.

Tommy died in a car accident. He's never coming back.

That looks better. I can still see it though. That's alright. I'll just shake it off and pretend like someone else wrote it. That's right... After us I found myself blaming others. I was always pointing my finger at someone. I didn't care who it was and what had happened, I was always directing the flow the other direction.

God, I bet I'm on the hit list of so many students I got in trouble. I was trying bury myself. Furrow myself into a hole and never come out. Just without thinking- "THEY DID IT!" That wasn't like me before. When I was still in Tommy's arms. I was happy. Comfortable. I think I'm finally ready.

Tommy died in a car accident. He's never coming back.

It came out a little more natural this time. I'm shaking all over. I'm cold. Oh God. Tommy please just come and hold me. Tommy please just come and hold me. I don't know why I crossed that out. I just became disgusted with myself for wishing like that. I've never been able to talk about it. My parents sent therapist after therapist to help me. Each one talked to me, but I'd end up screaming, thrashing, and throwing things. Tommy helped me create a filter between my brain and mouth. After us the filter snapped. Snapped as if someone put it on the floor and then desperately smashed it with a hammer.

Junior year. Open campus.

"I'm going to go grab lunch," Tommy laced his fingers through mine. I smiled at him as he did this. Pine and peppermint eluded my nostrils. His smell intoxicated me. "Did you want me to grab you something, too?"

"If you didn't mind," I smiled. School was shutting down early today. Classes that is. Today was the start of the football cup since our school made nationals. Our school was hosting the cup, so all the students were asked to stay and support the team. Of course, the food here wasn't going to be cheap, so Tommy offered to go get us food. "Did you want me to go with you?" I asked.

"Nah," Tommy grinned, "I'll be back in a flash. How about you go grab us a seat in the cafeteria and from there we'll go to the game?" I loved his sense of leadership. He always knew exactly what to say, when to say it, and how to deliver it.

"Alright." I agreed. He leaned forward and we shared a passionate kiss.

"I'll see you soon." He whispered, our foreheads pressed together.

"I love you." I replied.

"I love you more."


"I'm sure he's just caught in traffic." Lil said as she bit into her homemade bologna sandwich. Chuckie and Phil nodded in agreement as they ate. I fidgeted in my seat. It wasn't that I was hungry. I was worried. The place Tommy was going to was seven blocks away. Maybe a little over a mile. What was holding him up?

"Traffic," Phil repeated.

"Traffic," Chuckie agreed.


"Kimi Finster," Mrs. Phillips grabbed my arm. She was one of my favorite adults here at the school. She pulled me towards the office. The student body was screaming and cheering as they all began making their way towards the football field. As soon as the door slammed shut to the office, there was a silence. Mrs. Phillips turned towards me, "Tommy Pickles parents just called me on the phone, making sure you were at the school." I cocked my eyebrow up at this. Was he in trouble for leaving school for food? It was open campus, though. "We're happy to know you're alright." She placed a light hand on my shoulder.

"What?" I rasped, my eyes darting around frantically, "What are you talking about? Where's Tommy?" Mrs. Phillips eyes flickered to Mrs. Thompson who was sitting behind the desk. They shared a silent conversation. I was basically in hysterics. A heaviness was seeping in my chest with each ticking second. Tommy?

"Honey," Mrs. Phillips snapped me back to reality, "Tommy was in a... fatal accident," My breathing almost hitched in my throat, "Someone ran a red light and hit Tommy."

"Oh my God," I covered my hand over my mouth, "I've got to get to the hospital!" I spun around and began for the door, but she grasped my hand firmly, keeping me from rushing out of the room. "LET GO!" I screamed.

"Kimi," Mrs. Phillips voice was still even. I wasn't in trouble for snapping at a teacher. "Kimi, look at me." I stopped thrashing and just stared at her, my heart hammering in my chest, "He died at the scene." Suddenly, the whole world shattered around me. I felt myself break down. I fell against her, then to the floor. I crumpled into a ball and sobbed, my chest falling up and down. I banged my fists against the ground.

"YOU'RE A FAT LIAR!" I screamed like a toddler, "HE ISN'T DEAD!" I was just yelling at the ground and her shoes. I open my eyes. The tears blurred my sight and I huddled together. I was almost imitating a perfect hurricane safety position. I didn't want to move. I was aching all over. Tommy? Tommy? Come back!

It's been so long. I'm not over him. I never will be. So much changed after that. I don't want a new boyfriend. A new companion. I really just want Tommy back. I keep reading over what I just wrote a million times. That day was really going great. It's amazing how fast things can change. I was as light as a balloon. I could twirl and dance around. Then within an hour, it felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach and threw me to the ground, daring me to get up.

I'm not mad at Tommy...

I just wish he would come home from getting us lunch.