At the time my mom sensed that her already questionable child had got a sudden increase in her fears, she began to fear that I might take a wrong turn or shall I say, suicide. It was not like I couldn't but I didn't want to for I was yet another product of humanity who values life more over death and justifies living a life with, "You only live once."

But who's gonna tell us, we only die once too.

But, you see, I had to live to not kill my parents the way he killed his and me.

I took out my phone once again, having nothing better do to instead of just aimlessly swiping through my phone each minute; and begin reading through my messages though there was only of them, and that too from my mom. It was sent last night but I wasn't a great fan of my mom's texts so, I was opening it at the morning.

"All the storms will calm themselves after a good night's sleep." My mom's goodnight text bewildered me.

Right, as if it's that easy because you know, illusions like this work only on young kids with problems perishable enough to be silenced by a mere sleep. My storms were a bit complicated to heal under slumber influence as my storms were created by deathly dews which no sun ever will be able to evaporate.

Oliver was dead; I was aware of the fact and I was in no mood of being in a delusional hypothesis of thinking that he will remain in my heart, forever and ever. He was gone to be a part of the ground with nothing left here and all the mess inside my chest were just memories. Memories I was supposed to live with. You know what? The dead don't die alone they take a souvenir of every beloved's heart with them and that's where the dead's memories live.

It would have been a bit easier if I was in my own room instead of this alien house my mom had shifted me into. But within the first day of Oliver's death, all the local channels were overfilled with mine and his names dominating all the civilians' soft heads. They played and replayed the video everywhere and all of the school and the neighborhood became overly conscious of the fact that I am one of the breathers in this world.

With all the complications everyone was throwing at me, my mom thought it was better to shift me here to her original house.

But there are many problems with it. First, there is only one original member here and that's my granddad whom I had never ever seen since my grand arrival seventeen years ago.

Second, I have been here for three days and I haven't seen him anywhere, nor at the dining table neither anywhere else.

Third, my mom is a Japanese woman so it's obvious I am living alone with a nanny who doesn't know any English and though thanks to my mom's nativity and my dad's obsession with J-pop jamming, I do knew some Japanese but can some be a match for all? No, strictly no.

So, how am I supposed to heal? The main reason I was packed off to here.

I woke up from my daily breakdown by my mom's ring.

"Hi, mom," I said, definitely not in the mood of talking with her now.

"Are you okay?"

"Do I sound like that?" I said, irritated to my last bone. I loved my mom, I really did, but she was just a bit overbearing some times.

"Is your grandfather there yet?"

"No, Mr. Minamoto is still nowhere to be seen and I have lost all hopes of ever meeting him over my stay here."

"I don't know what's wrong with dad. His shyness is getting too much." I doubt it can even be called shyness at this point, mom. But I said that only in my heart for my ears wouldn't like to get trolled for the next two hours.

"So, till when do I have to be cooped in here?" The more I remain in here, the more Oliver I can see.

"Not today. I have asked a friend. His son will come in two minutes and take you to school. Be good to him." I didn't even have the time to process the information when I heard the bell ring.

"Mom, I think it's he. I am hanging up."

"wait-!" I clicked the red button. I mean it when I say that my mom is irritating.

I was still in my bedclothes, a simple tee with black trousers and my too thick hair wasn't looking its best. The bell rang again. There was no time to waste. I had to open the door.

I ran my hands over my face as if it could clean up the mess my face was.

"Hey," I said immediately. One thing was sure, the visitor was tall enough to make my short genes have bad necks for several years.

The boy looked surprised and I could see why. He didn't say a word and introduced himself in.

"I will get ready in some minutes." I began walking to the inside, he could surely wait for some minutes, couldn't he?

"Dad said you are in a recent shock so I have to be careful with you. But you seem to be fine for a person who has a dead ally." There were no emotions on his face but I could see he was mocking me. He gave me his full attention, "Are you even sad?"

"I am sad. Do I look like I am having fun? I am making myself look like that. I have just come to a contract with my sadness. I will be sad if I am, I cannot change my mood, of course, but I am definitely not going to show it around anymore."

"Why? What's even the reason to do so? It's your life. You can be as disappointed as you want to be."

"To not overreact. Because when you do everyone looks at you with sorry eyes and I am tired of their eyes. I am tired of feeling all the eyes on me." I don't know why but all those feelings returned, all hot and crisp to my eyes ready to embrace the ground.

"How can you not overreact over someone's death? And how do you react over someone's death?" I looked up in his eyes. I couldn't understand the feelings in his eyes but they were so similar to something in mine.

We both went to a silent therapy at the back of our heads. My head's place was too lower than his so I couldn't see whether there were any tears in his eyes but then again, he had turned his head I wouldn't have been able to see his face even with my dad's genes.

He sighed and said, "I am sorry if you felt bad but we should get going."

"Yeah, sure! I will just get my appearance a bit finer. I possibly can't go like this." I laughed, failing to bring any emotion to his face. I rushed back inside and changed into a pink sweater with mom jeans.

By the time I got outside, I couldn't see anything new except the school's address written on a paper, and that weird boy was gone. It took me some time to realize with my lagging brain cells: he had ditched me.