I Was Hoping She Would Notice but again Now When She Did... Im Tired
burn me alive if you didn't like story after reading
Don’t Judge My Book by Its Cover or Synopsis
Warning: Not for the faint-hearted or those with tender souls. This story is my outlet, my way of pouring out the weight of my depression and heartache.
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This is a story about a boy, someone who was given a second chance at life after dying at the fragile age of 13 in his last world. This boy didn’t dream of wealth, power, or glory. All he wanted was something much simpler and yet infinitely more complicated a happy, fulfilling life. He yearned to love someone truly, completely, more than he loved himself.
And he tried. Oh, he tried. He gave everything, even his soul, to make that dream a reality.
At five years old, the boy awakened a system some love-giving mechanism that claimed he was living in a novel or plot. It didn’t reveal much, only teasing him with the promise that all would be explained when he turned 18. But he didn’t care about that. He didn’t believe in destiny or fate. “What does it matter if I’m part of some story?” he thought. “I’m not playing by anyone’s rules. I’ll create my own happy life, one where I love and am loved.”
How wrong he was.
The boy devoted himself to those he cared for, never once living for the system or the rewards it promised. He loved because that’s who he was a person who gave from his heart, not because he expected anything in return. He didn’t need to win prizes for his kindness, didn’t need recognition. What he longed for, the one thing he lacked, was to be loved back.
But no matter how much he gave, it was never enough. He sacrificed everything his time, his affection, his happiness and yet, in the end, all he got in return was rejection, indifference, and disappointment.
Still, even then, he couldn’t stop loving. His heart, which had been so brutally trampled on, still beat for the one person he cherished the most Avey, the woman he had loved with every fiber of his being. And when the time came, and Avey needed a heart transplant to survive, the boy made his final, most devastating choice.
He gave her his heart. Literally.
With nothing left to give, he sacrificed his life in the hope that, maybe, in his absence, Avey would find the peace that his love couldn’t give her.
As he lay there, his breath fading, he whispered his last words: “I hope my absence brings you the peace my love couldn’t.” Even in his final moments, he might have asked the heavens, “Why didn’t you make our love story complete?”
And perhaps, if God were listening, he might have answered, “I could have, but she never asked for you in the first place.”
And with that, the boy passed.
But his death wasn’t met with quiet mourning or gentle tears. Lucian’s friends those who knew the true weight of his sacrifice, who understood the depth of his love stood by his lifeless body. They cried. They screamed. They raged against the cruelty of it all.
One of his closest friends, barely holding back his own devastation, kneeled by Lucian’s side. His hands clenched the cold earth beneath him so tightly that his nails drew blood, and through a stream of tears, he raised his head, staring at his friend’s lifeless face.
“You always said you wanted a wedding in Gangsta style, right?” His voice cracked as he forced the words out. His heart was breaking, but even through his grief, a twisted smile tugged at his lips.
“Well, you’ll have it, Lucian. But it won’t be for your wedding. It’ll be for your funeral.”
And as he stood, tears still streaming down his face, he made a promise to the friend he loved like a brother.
“All the world will hear gunshots like firecrackers. The sky will burn with the sound of our grief. And up there, Lucian, you’ll watch what a true Gangsta style is.”
And in that moment, as the world prepared to mourn Lucian in the only way they knew how loudly, violently, with a fury that matched the depths of their sorrow
lucian opened his eyes finding that he had came back in time...when he was 18
