A Strikingly Cliche Story of an Even More Strinkingly Anti-Cliche Girl
Her mind had fallen unknowingly into the dreaded clutches of love through everything about him - his disgruntled appearance when he'd walk into school every morning, the pop of his eyes as he saw her, the elation and vibrancy he showed whenever around her.
She hadn't wanted this at first, hadn't wanted to succumb to that teenager cliche of falling in love. The idea of her actually wanting to be with someone and being head over heels for them disgusted her, rather than enthralled her, like most normal teenage girls. But it had happened, and it was far too late to take it back.
But Matthew was so cliche, that he simply wasn't cliche. Adorable quirks that he had about him brought a smile to her face. When he'd make faces at her from across the room during class, she'd cover her mouth with her hand and direct her attention to the front of the room so as to not encourage him to goof off more.
They'd not often go out in public, seeing as how Gretchen found it disturbing to display their affection (save for some hand holding, and maybe, maybe, a peck on the lips) anywhere that wasn't private. Matthew had always teased her about it, but never overstepped her boundaries.
Many of their dates consisted of a couch, a movie, someone's house, and food, and both were perfectly content with that.
When it came down to it, Matthew had always loved more, had always been more compassionate and caring and adoring than Gretchen could hope to be. It seemed that he lived only to make her life better.
And that propelled her feelings for him further.
He was silly, the kind of person you'd expect to jump up from his seat at any given moment and begin singing without anyone questioning it. His childish antics brought Gretchen down from her adultish pedestal, whereupon she watched her life play out before her and made strong, executive decisions to carryout.
Her severe need for his affection drove her closer and closer to him. When she'd had an off day, she'd not tell him, but go to him and envelop herself in his veil of positivity and love and gentleness.
And then his body had been jolted in his car, airbags opening their cushioning around him and suffocating him, and even then, he spent nearly fifteen minutes suffering and struggling before his life had finally flown off without so much as a necessary goodbye.
She hadn't known, hadn't expected, hadn't even thought about what would happen if he died. The grief and shock that consumed her ate away the happiness she'd stored for the two years they'd been dating. Every image, every thought that passed through her mind of him gouged out her innards, crippling her from the severe heartache.
Gretchen didn't even attend his funeral.
The idea of seeing him resting to know he'd not awake, sleeping forever on a bed he'd never even seen before, made her stomache weak - so weak she nearly wretch her latest meal up with every thought of it.
She'd never wake up to his sincere lips on her nose, his ginger fingers tracing the outline of her face. Her eyes would never blink open in the morning as sun rays hit their cuddled bodies to his eyes caught up in so much ardor and admiration as they stared at her. The gleam that would sidle into them warmed her even on the chilliest days.
And she'd never feel that love again.
What she needed most was that veil he had provided, to keep her from losing herself. But it was gone, just as he was.
Her lips would part, wanting that name 'Matthew' to slide off them in the familiar movement she'd grown so accustomed to and had taken for granted; nothing would come. Gone was the name to her; her mouth was unable to utter that single jumble of letters.
She remembered as her hands had let every item she'd had that brought the memory of him fresh to her desiring mourn drop into the enormity of cardboard assembled in a box. Item upon item upon item was put in there, each one bringing more and more unresolved, nightmare-worthy pain upon her.
As soon as she'd put everything away, she shoved it away, crawled into her bed, and covered herself in her blankets, which hid her for days to come, her entire being feeling hollow and useless all the while. Her brothers would later silently take it away to the attic, back in the far corners of it so Gretchen wouldn't be tempted to find it; refresh her memories and summon her tears anew.
He'd have hated to see her like this, would've ushered her to perk up through use of his charming humour. The smile she'd wear would have naturally appeared in just minutes, and she'd have nodded in determination and made the best of the rest of the day.
The absence of his normal optimism hit her hard. It grew harder and harder to think of all the pros of things when the cons grew pungent in their looming presence.
Gretchen was a downright mess with little chance of recovery. Never had she ever felt so alone in anything. Her very presence cast undying misery upon any of her companions when near, drawing upon their happiness until they were emotionally exhausted. And she never told them what was bothering her, never explained what had happened, never even complained about not feeling well. It was simply the way she'd conducted herself that brought hurt upon her friends.
And just as the accident had taken the life out of him, Matthew had taken the life out of Gretchen.
