((HE'S STILL A KID I just needed an appropriate icon ok))
Where did you put it?
She always kept the house impeccable. There was never a speck of dust, never a sock on the floor, never anything out of place. She took great pride in keeping their loving home warm and inviting- a reflection of their love as a family. Flint never liked to clean, and liked it even less after... that night. He wasn't proud to admit that he let the house fall into disrepair, and that he never cleaned, but just being in the house was painful. At the same time, he preferred not to touch anything if he could avoid it, lest he move something that was last put in place by her.
Right now, that didn't matter. Clothes were strewn about the floor, the beds were stripped, chairs were upturned. The house was a mess. Flint was frantically scouring it, clawing through everything, looking for something. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, just that he needed it and it was nowhere to be found.
Where is it where is it where is it how could you lose it?
He didn't seem to notice that he was an adult again. Nor that was back in Tazmily despite going to sleep in his tiny room at SBG that night. He was too focused on the task at hand. Not even the house-shaking rolls of thunder from the pounding storm outside could shake him from his frenzy as he tore another drawer out of the dresser and fished through its contents. No, no, not there either.
He thought he had put it in a safe place. He thought he would have been able to remember. Of all the things to forget, why this?
Desperately he reached for another drawer, only to find that there were no more. He looked around, scanning the mess for any other unchecked places. No, he had literally looked everywhere. He flung the last drawer across the room, desperation giving way to frustration.
How could you lose it!?
Defeated, he stood up and stumbled over clothing, the twins' toys, and other belongings towards the door. It was still here, it had to be. He just... needed to clear his head a bit. Sure, it was pouring out, but fresh air was fresh air. Outside, the sound of the rain was deafening, but the air was cool and not nearly as stuffy inside. Flint let out a long sigh, trying to gather his thoughts, when-
Not far way, in the dark, lying the mud that had been the worn path to the porch stairs, was something white.
Oh, no.
Flint was filled with dread as he ran out into the pounding storm. Instantly drenched, he fell to his knees and gingerly picked the soggy piece of paper out of the mud.
Dear Flint,
Just like you said they wo-
The rest of the words had blurred into an indecipherable, inky, muddy mess. Even now, that one legible part was quickly disappearing. The letter was so wet that just holding it made it break apart in his trembling hands. If only he hadn't wasted all that time searching the house, if only he had looked outside, if only he hadn't left it outside like the careless, worthless fool he was. What a thoughtless thing to do. The last memento he had of her, and now it was gone. He couldn't even take care of a single piece of paper. What good was he?
It wasn't that he didn't have anything else to remember her by, it was that this was the last words she had ever written to him. As if there was a part of her was still there with him, as long as he had those words. But now they were gone. They were gone and it was all his fault. She was gone forever, all because of his carelessness.
He was so useless.