one | bystander

Arlow wondered what dying felt like.

As she stared down at the churning waters below, her skin prickled as goosebumps appeared. Her breathe deteriorated into the air as if it had never been there. She was tempted to climb over the railing that separated her from the icy current and feel the coldness of the waters herself.

The urge to know the sting of death was strong but it only lasted a moment. Yet, a moment was all it needed.

Her white fingers gripped the smooth metal railing and she pulled herself up and swung her legs over. As she lowered her feet to the side walk once again, a breath escaped her lungs and a tiny smile appeared on her face.

Leaning out, she let her head fall back, her hair hanging in the empty air. She wanted to let go, to fall, and never have to see the burning sun shine again. Every time it rose in the fluorescent sky it meant that another day was coming and going. Another day without him.

She could no longer feel the railing beneath her fingertips but she knew that her grip was slipping and she didn’t care, just like when she stood next to his casket, people grabbing her hand or hugging her. Their words had blurred together into one sentence ‘it’s going to be okay’. That’s when apathy settled it, paralyzing her to the world around her.

Closing her eyes, she went into freefall but the euphoric feeling that she expected would settle in her chest was missing. Instead, panic flooded her hollow rib cage like concrete in a mold, making her fall faster than before. Her eyes were wide open now as regret slid over her skin like the water below her.

The moment she connected with the surface of the water, her whole body jerked as if she had hit the pavement. Any oxygen that had been in her lungs was now gone, bubbling in the water around her. The bright sunlight that she had hated so much now disappeared until the light beams no longer penetrated the water, reaching her.

Watery emptiness surrounded her like darkness on a starless night. The water burned her eyes yet she was too scared to close them, afraid that they would never open again. She clawed for the surface but it was so far away, so distant, so unfamiliar.

Her vision blurred from lack of oxygen and her body went limp. No matter how hard she forced herself to move, her body never obeyed.

That’s when Arlow Willowbrook realized what dying felt like.

She had believed that dying was warm, like a tearing sensation as your soul escapes your body but now, she knew that it was cold. Freezing. Lonely. And ever so dark.

This is how he felt, as he sunk to the bottom of the river, struggling to escape the icy clutches of the abyss.

Her chest ached as the thought flitted across her mind like dandelion seeds blowing in the wind. In his last moments, had he thought of her?

After all, she was thinking of him.

***

The first thing Arlow registered was the softness that wrapped around her. If this is what heaven felt like, she would be perfectly content to remain where she was, never stirring from her comfortable slumber.

A loud beeping penetrated the silence that had surrounded her and she flinched, her whole body stiffening for a split second. She knew what the sound was before her eyes were open—it had penetrated so many nightmares, haunting her as far as the deep abyss of sleep. The image was seared in her mind like a hot poker on the skin, making her shrink in confusion in pain.

The bed before her was so big compared to the shrunken form of the person who lay on it. The walls were blindingly white, the smell of antiseptics stinging her nose and giving her a migraine. A bandage was wrapped around the patient’s head, the only visible injury as the rest were hidden by the sheet. Blood was soaking through, the dark red contrasting against ever-brightening white.

As the beeps floated through the thick air, they deafened out everything else, ringing in a steady beat. Her heart kept in time with it and her chest rose and fell as her breathing synced.

What made her feel small was the rate at which everyone around her moved. No one stood still. Nothing remained the same for a single second except for who lay in the bed, white sheet tucked under their arm, eyes closed in peaceful rest.

She had hoped it would last forever, not caring that he was teetering between life and death. All she knew for certain was the fact that he was alive—for now.

A sigh of relief had escaped her lips and she’d allowed her shoulders to relax ever so slightly but that’s when everything changed. The room around her became nothing more than sheer chaos, catching her up in its flow and spitting her outside of the hospital room. The heart rate monitor was beating at a rapid rate, each beat bleeding into the next until it became nothing more than a drawn out scream from the machine.

People crowded around the bed, holding a clear tube to his mouth as other’s pressed on his chest, panic and adrenaline showing on their faces. Arlo wanted to scream at them to stop, to leave him alone, to let him go. He was gone already in her eyes.

Almost as if they had heard her silent pleas, they cleared away from the side of the bed but only for a second. They prepared the defibrillator and placed it on his chest, their

“Clear!” resonating through the hallways.

Shouts erupted as the body lurched on the bed.

Once.

Panic set it. She felt it rising in her stomach, building as it went.

Twice.

Her finger trembled, her arms and legs next, and then her whole body. She pressed her hand against her mouth, refusing to make a sound.

Three times.

“It’ll be over soon.” She chanted the words silently, body rocking back and forth with the natural meter of the sentence. Tears blurred her vision.

Four.

The scream erupted from her throat, tearing at her vocal chords and letting the tears fall from her eyes. People stepped away from the bed, slowly leaving the room. They brushed past her like she wasn’t there.

Maybe she wasn’t.

She turned her back to the room and forced herself to walk forward, away from the room, her body numbly trembling. Each intake of oxygen was a struggle, her chest shaking with every breath.

As the doctors called the time of death, Arlow Willowbrook was as far away as she could get, huddled in a corner in the abandoned wing of the hospital, staring numbly at the sickeningly white walls that surrounded her.

She jerked awake, eyes wide. Tearing the heart monitor from her finger, she yanked at the IV in her arm, kicking at the sheets. Arms surrounded her, holding her back as she struggled to free herself. The coarse fabric of the sheets brushed against her bare legs, making her realize how small she was in the bed under her.

“It’s okay.” They had chanted the words over and over again till they had bled together, barely cohesive. She was too panicked at first to realize what the words were but as her breathing slowed, they registered.

“It’s okay?” she shot back at them. “How is this ‘okay’?”

Markyus kneeled before her, holding her in place, his eyes meeting hers. “Just take a deep breath.”

She obeyed despite the urge to shake him off and leave. Every second she stayed in the room made her feel more and more nauseous. Everything was spinning, everything was white, and everything smelled clean, burning her nose.

Her fingers clawed at the tape that kept the IV in place. Ripping it off in one smooth motion, she bit the inside of her cheek as she pulled the small plastic tube from beneath her skin and let it fall, drops of blood splattering as it hit the smooth floor.

“I’m leaving.” She pulled away from his touch and slid open the door, letting it slam in his face. As she walked past the receptionist’s office, a nurse spoke up, asking her something, but she continued on. Markyus would tell them what was happening.

The icy air skipped across any exposed skin and she shivered, wishing she had a jacket to keep her warm. She waited by the door until he emerged, instantly regretting her decision to not leave without him.

“What were you thinking?” His voice was commanding and she flinched back for a moment. “Where you thinking?”

No words came to mind so she remained silent.

His shoulders relaxed slightly as he took a deep inhale. Looking up to the sky, his brown hair appeared more of a copper color and his eyes turned gold. She shivered next to him, hoping that the silence would last for a little longer.

Something weighed down on her shoulders, its warmth seeping through the thin hospital garb and to her freezing body beneath. Instinctively, she leaned into it, slipping her arms into the sleeves of Markyus’ Carhartt jacket.

“Was it because of him?”

The words hung in the air on invisible strings, turning slowly in the lazy afternoon wind.

She ignored them and asked her own question. “Does my mom know this happened?”

Seconds of silence ticked by as nervous rose in her chest.

“No, I didn’t tell her.”

An audible sigh escaped her lips and she stepped forward, hailing a taxi. She climbed in the back and he handed her a bag before stepping away from the car.

“You’re not coming?” She looked up at him.

“No, but I’ll be over later.”

Nodding, she shut the door and the car pulled forward, leaving him to stand alone on the edge of the sidewalk, shivering in the mid-winter wind.

His form got smaller and smaller as they drove away but she didn’t take her eyes off him till he disappeared completely. She sighed and leaned back in the seat.

Being alone had never been that big of a deal for Arlow. She’d always found a way to keep herself preoccupied but now, things were different. Now, she couldn’t trust herself to be alone.

She caught herself as she leaned forward, mouth opened to tell the driver to go back, to get him. Forcing herself to keep the words on the tip of her tongue, she clenched the paper bag on her lap and gritted her teeth.

Although his words had been annoying at the time, she knew he was right.

It’s okay.

***

The first thing Arlow did was change. She slipped out what she had been wearing and into a hoodie and skirt she had grabbed from her closet, pulling her hair up into a loose bun.

As she made her way for to the kitchen, she stopped by the fist tank in the living room and crouched down, sprinkling nuggets of food. It looked at her, its mouth opening and closing as it waited for the food to settle to the bottom.

“Life’s easy for you, huh?”

The Arowana didn’t answer, mocking her.

Straightening with a sigh, she walked to the fridge and opened it, leaning against the counter as she examined the contents inside. Disappointed but not surprised by the lack of appetizing foods on the shelves, Arlow let the door swing shut.

“Would you like me to make you something?”

She jumped, pressing a hand to her chest. Butler Kai stood there with an easy-going grin across his face.

Relaxing, she spoke. “No, I’m fine for now.”

She started her way up the stairs but stopped. For a moment, she remained silent, eyes landing on the pictures above the fireplace. An all-t00-familiar feeling settled over her and the bitter taste of nostalgia burned the back of her tongue. Cold water washed over her skin, searing through the flesh and hooking into her bones. Tearing her eyes away, she looked at Kai.

“There are clothes from the hospital in my room. Please get rid of them so Mom doesn’t see them.”

He nodded. “About tomorrow—.”

“We won’t be celebrating.” She cut him off. “Don’t prepare anything special.”

He didn’t argue but simple did as he’d always done—nod respectively and do what she had asked.

***

Lights flashed across the midnight sky as the buzz of people rose up to the stars. Lock sat in the chair, leg bouncing of its own accord as he watched his stylist in the mirror. His steady dark eyes met hers for a second, sparking a smile on her face.

“Last big fashion show of the month, huh?” She attempted to make conversation and, although he appreciated the effort, he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

He nodded, shifting in his seat. “Something like that.”

The smile on her face died and she continued styling his bleached blonde hair in silence.

Models swished by in their extravagant clothing, looking breath-taking in each passionately crafted design. It was obvious how long each article had taken as some of them were even hand-stitched.

He rotated his shoulders, trying to get the itch between his shoulder blades without popping the buttons while trying to reach it. The suit he had on was as uncomfortable as a burlap sack that had been lost in a pile of hay. Looking down at his bare skin, he silently swore at the designer for refusing to let him wear a shirt. His whole torso would be covered in hives by the time the show was over and he could peel the suit away from his body.

Everything about the coat was disgusting—from the way it stiffened around his arms to the way it smelled. It was as if they had taken the fabric from an ancient couch that had been stored in the attic of some ancient house. The scent similar to mildew made his nose wrinkle and no amount of cologne would mask it. It made him want walk out the back door in that instance and never come back.

It could be worse. I could be wearing a swimming pool down the runway. He tried to find something positive about the outfit but found nothing.

Straightening, he forced himself to take a deep breath, to relax. At this point, he couldn’t tell if it was the overpowering cologne or the smell of the suit coat that was making him nauseous.

A hand fell on his shoulder, snapping him back to reality. The director peered down at him, a knowing grin lighting his face.

“Alright, Lock, you’re up next.”

His stylist stepped back, making last-minute adjustments to the suit which made him more uncomfortable. He nonchalantly brushed her off and followed him, tuning out the casual shouts of encouragement from other models.

“Your brother’s here.”

He scanned the crowd, searching until he found the familiar face of his brother Key sitting next to Arlow Willowbrook. A hint of a smile appeared on his face when he saw her but it was gone before anyone could notice it.

“And—.” The director drew the word out as he bounced from foot to foot nervously. “Now.”

Lock walked forward, the blindly white lights burning his eyes. He would never get to this, no matter how many times he walked a runway. Camera flashes assaulted him from all sides and his chest tightened. The vibrations from the music ran through the supports of the makeshift stage, through the soles of his shoes, and washed over him like a tsunami.

At the end of the runway, his eyes connected with Key’s for a moment before he looked at Arlow, giving her a small smile. She grinned back as her brown eyes shimmered in the spotlights that intertwined this way and that.

His chest grew warm, his heart pounding as he turned and headed back. He had to make an effort not to fall in rhythm with the music but to instead match the pace of those around him. If he was one beat too fast or slow, it would throw everything off.

Step after step, his mind was empty yet his body buzzed from the energy that vibrated in the air around him. Every inch of him was alive as if his chest was about to explode from all the pressure.

It wasn’t until he was behind the stage curtain that the feeling faded away and he stood there as numb as before. The electric feeling drained away from his fingertips and his shoulders sagged.

His stylist was by his side in seconds, removing the coat he had on and slipping him into another, itchy and absurd outfit. A few seconds ago, he had been so alive but now, he wanted everything to end.

***

Rain padded down on the asphalt as Lock headed for the van. His manager sat in the driver’s seat, phone to their ear. He tuned it out and slid into his seat, watching as cars sped by on the freeway.

A sigh escaped his lips and Kevin looked at him in the rearview mirror, momentarily taking the phone away from his ear to speak.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” The words rested on the tip of his tongue for a split second before he opened the door. “I’ll take a taxi home. Get some rest.”

He leaned around the seat, ending the call as quickly as possible, and called after Lock as he made his way across the parking lot. “There are no taxis right now!”

Waving his hand in the air, Kevin leaned back in his seat with a frustrated sigh. “Fine, do whatever you want to do. Just like always.”

Lock was too far across the parking lot to hear what his manager was saying but he could guess. He’d heard it all before and there was nothing he could say that would take him by surprise.

His shoulders hunched forward as he laughed quietly, shivering against the winter air. It was impossible to count how many times he had disappointed his parents, company, and manager.

Stopping midstep, his head fell back, eyes staring into space which hovered so close overhead. He stretched his arm out to graze the sky but no matter how far he reached, he always fell short.

His arm fell back to his side as his chest rose and fell slowly, steadily. How many times had he reached for perfection, falling short by what looked like only a few inches but, in reality, was hundreds of millions of miles?

“You’re going to hurt your neck.”

Startled, he turned and bumped into Arlow who stood behind him. For a moment they stood face-to-face, neither of them talking. The fragile silence would shatter at the slightest noise and neither wanted to be the one to break it.

He adjusted his cream-colored hoodie and pulled the hood up. “Are you taking the bus or is Key driving you home?”

“Key already left. I was waiting for you.”

“So you’re taking the bus?”

“It’s two in the morning.” She laughed. “They aren’t running anymore.”

“I guess we’re walking then.”

Nodding, she started walking and he fell into stride with her, purposefully taking smaller steps so she didn’t have to walk faster to keep up with him. Several moments of silence passed and only the sound of cars speeding past them filled the empty void.

It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence but it wasn’t what he was used to. It was like he was passing someone on the street that was going the same direction as him—they didn’t register his presence or importance and just passed by.

He glanced over at her, studying her solemn expression. Her glass eyes were unfocused and she chewed on the inside of her cheek.

Deciding to stop, he waited to see how long it would take her to notice. She continued on for a few more feet before stopping and looking over her shoulder, confused.

“I know today’s not a good day.” He stepped closer. “So thanks for coming to my show.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The smile on her face was almost convincible and he caught himself believing it. He missed the familiar light in her eyes and laughter in her voice. It had been so long since he’d last heard it.

He remembered the day the Arlow he knew disappeared. It would be a year ago tomorrow. Everything had been so sudden, so drastic, and the world had crumbled like a brittle house in a hurricane.

Ever since then, she hadn’t been the same.

Refusing to let himself dwell on the past, he reached into his pocket and brought out a metal charm in the shape of a flower. Upon closer inspection, one would see that it was a phoenix taking off from the center of a lily, symbolizing a restart, a rebirth.

Pulling her hand from her pocket, he pressed the warm metal against her cold skin. It was a tradition they had. After every one of his shows, he would give her a different charm to remember that night.

“I never want to forget this day.” Her words rung in his mind, reminding him of his first show when she had stood backstage with him, cheering him on. He had been there too, supporting Lock like a best friend should.

The memory burned like a flame and he quickly let go of her hand, her skin suddenly searing.

She extended her arm and he unhooked the bracelet. A few seconds later, the charm was added to the collection and he slid it back onto her wrist.

“Just a few more shows and you’ll need a new bracelet.”

It had been an attempt to lighten the mood but it only deepened her frown.

“If something happens to me,” she started slowly. “Would you miss me?”

As the seconds passed, guilt weighed down on him for not answering. He didn’t know how to—there was an infinity of answers he could give but it was hard to choose which one to pick.

“Yes.” It was simple and quick but the world stopped in that split second.

“I miss him.”

The whole night, he knew it was coming and yet it still caught him off guard like a punch in the gut. He flinched, face contorting as pain ricocheted through his abdomen like a tennis ball off a court.

“I do too.”

The mood was getting heavier with each passing moment of silence and it weighed down on them like the world was sitting on their shoulders. Maybe, in a way it was, because they were nothing more than teens that had been thrust into the adult world, fighting to keep their heads above the waves.

In a sense, they were already in over their heads. It had been a long time since both of them had started to sink and it was a matter of months before their feet would touch the rocky bottom.

Both knew that day was coming yet they continued to fight against the pull of gravity, trying to reach the top, trying to breathe. Maybe one day, they would succeed but today wasn’t that day.

“Happy birthday,” he spoke without thinking and instantly regretted it. Looking over at her, he expected to see tears but instead he found her smiling, the familiar shine returning to her gaze.

“Thank you.” She leaned against the railing. Cars raced below them and next to them, surrounding them in the sound of the city that never sleeps. “You’re the first person to tell me that. Everyone else has been too scared to say something wrong.”

He stood, silent, listening to her voice. All the moments he had been a mere bystander, watching as she struggled to find words, to express herself. He’d hoped she would speak, just so he knew she was okay.

And now, she had spoken.

He wanted to do something—say something—so she knew he would always be there for her but no words sprung to his tongue and nothing came to mind. So he just stood, content to be with her as she smiled—really smiled—for the first time in a long time.