We were never meant to say goodbye...

Jaylen gripped the letter like it was the last fragment of his sanity. If he let go- no he couldn’t do that, because that would be like accepting that she was gone, that Tam was never coming back. Jay knew deep down that that was the truth but that didn’t mean he had to accept it. To him, she could never be gone; she would always be that better part of him, his best friend, the light in the world that he could only hope to be.

The letter was still unopened, with his name scrawled across the front, in the handwriting he loved and knew so well. His fingers shook, as he unfolded the letter, with sweat from his fingertips gently marking the edges. But apart from that it was completely unblemished, each slant and curve of her handwriting tidy, and unsmudged

until his first tear fell.

Immediately Jay wiped it away, trying to undo the damage, but with no luck. He hurriedly held it out to read, so it could avoid the torrent of tears that was yet to come.

Dear Jaylen,

I know when you are reading this, I’ll likely be dead, if I’m lucky. I could be insane, or possessed, but no matter the outcome, you’ll only be reading this, if I’m gone and not coming back.

Ever.

I don’t want you to look for me, or try necromancy, because even though it may be possible, with the help from the right warlock, it would never end well. I mean, we have watched enough horror movies together to know that the dead person ends up murdering the necromancer, or maybe they are an evil alternate version of themselves, but whatever. The outcome is rarely good. 

Okay, back to the point. Don’t bring me back.

I want you to know that I’m not scared, not of dying, but going insane. I can’t imagine not being able to think, with voices crowding your head all the time. And, jeez, don’t even get me started on possession- but that would still be my preferred option because how cool would it be to have those black eyes and be evil, unless of course I attempt to kill you or any of your or my family, then of course you have my complete permission to kill me. 

I won’t mind.

Much.

Joking.

I’ll mind a lot, but I’ll be dead. Just another reason not to try necromancy, because damn, I’ll be hella pissed at you, and probably go for the classic murdering option.

Do you remember when we were about nine we described our perfect funeral? God, we were weird kids back then, but that’s not the point. The point is do you remember mine?

“Of course I remember it, Tams, I would never forget.” Jay whispered to the letter. “Everyone in purple, or yellow, with no flowers on your coffin, which had to be made out of chocolate, only glitter on it. God, I hope you don’t expect me to do that now!”

Yes, I may have been slightly… hopeful, and imaginative, with all the chocolate and purple and glitter, but all kids were- are- like that. It’s what makes childhood so great- the complete lack of constraint. Don't worry though, my expectations have changed slightly. Now, if you ever find my body, please give me a proper Viking send off, with the fiery boat and flaming arrows. If you can’t find my body, no fear. Just make a dummy, and give it ginger hair. Everyone will know it’s me. 

This letter is a bit of a mess, but I can’t help it. I want to write so much, but I’ve got so little time. I’m sitting in my room, surrounded by memories, constantly reminding me of all that ever was. You’ve seen my room, and it chaos- organised chaos- but chaos all the same, with pictures and drawings and toys from years and years ago. 

I remember Charlie, and his laugh and smile. No one could smile like my little brother could. He’s the one I miss the most, out of all my siblings. I think it helps that he is the only one. Stay with him, please, he won’t be able to cope on his own. 

I remember Kenji, and the way I complained every time I had to walk him or pick up his poop. I wish he was still here, with me, snuggled under my duvet each night, radiating warmth, every time the heater was broken, which was actually quite a lot. I never thought I would miss him so much.

And I remember you. I remember the first time that you came up to the Institute, small and scrawny, sniffling and snivelling. Just a small 7 year old, who didn’t know who he was, what he was. Your hair was burnt, and singed around the edge, so we shaved it off. Did you ever forgive us for that? But when it grew back, we saw it in healthy and vibrant and that’s when I realised it wasn't just one brown, but made up of a multitude of shades. Caramel and walnut and syrup and chocolate. God, I’m making your hair sound like one of those crazy meals we loved to dream of eating. 

When you came in, I was watching through the banister (surprise!) and I thought that I would never want to be friends with you, that you would never be a part of my family. I didn’t know that in years to come I would be willing to follow you anywhere, that we would become inseparable, no matter what crazy, thoughtless plan we thought of. As mum liked to say ‘she never met anyone with more of a talent for self-destructive plans than us.’ You simply laughed and carried on. 

We have had pretty crazy adventures, like the blue octopuses, and the flying hippo demon, but I wouldn’t have traded them for the world. I would do it all again, if it meant I could see you one last time. I hope you would too. 

Thank you for being my friend, my world, my everything. 

Goodbye

Tam

Jay slowly lowered the paper, and looked up, in an attempt to stop his tears. It didn’t work, and they trickled persistently down his cheeks. 

“Oh Tamsin,” he said, “We were never meant to say goodbye.”