He usually wasn’t one to facebook stalk people, not if you asked him at least, and he really didn’t know what possessed him to do it either. He hadn’t spoken to Rikard in years. His ex had just stopped responding to him one day and after enough messages and phone calls that were ignored he’d stopped trying himself. It hadn’t really been how he’d wanted things to end, not that he’d wanted them to end either, but he’d assumed Rik decided that long distance wasn’t for him. It would have been if he’d at least been broken up with properly but he’d moved on. He assumed Rikard had too.

Which didn’t really explain why he was trying to find him on facebook again but there he was.

Sacked out on his couch with something or other playing on the tv he was poking around on his laptop trying to find his ex. If anyone had been watching it probably would have looked like something out of a bad romcom but thankfully there was no one around to witness his tragedy.

He found Rik’s page eventually, rummaging through mutual friend lists and was surprised that it hadn’t been updated in a while. Rik hadn’t really ever updated all that often but there wasn’t anything there that hadn’t been from high school. It was odd but given how Rik was maybe it wasn’t that weird. It didn’t help him figure out what he was up to though.

Lysander poked around on a few other sites trying to figure out if Rikard had made accounts elsewhere with no luck so he eventually turned to google. It was easy enough to put someone’s name in and see where they popped up.

Easy, but not always good.

He’d expected to find the facebook link, maybe an instagram or snapchat, something on a social media platform. He didn’t expect article about an attack at a nightclub to start to appear. Frowning he clicked on one from the local newspaper and started to read. The article wasn’t that strange and given everything he knew went on in the city not that surprising either. The ‘terrorists’ had attacked the nightclub and for once actually caused a massive scene with an impressive body and injury count given the numbers. There were quotes from people who’d been there, family members of those who died, statements from the police and the investigators who were looking into things and politicians. At the very bottom of the page there was also a list of names belonging to those who’d lost their lives that night which Lysander scrolled through absently.

Justin Valdez, John Blake, Misty Ventura, Rikard Colby….

Rikard Colby

The laptop almost fell out of Lysander’s lap as he sat up fast enough that his head spun for a moment as he stared down at the list of names.

There wasn’t really any mistaking it. There were pictures next to most of them which he’d been ignoring but he couldn’t now. Not with Rik’s picture right there.

The date of the attack and the date of the article were both after Rikard had stopped talking to him so fundamentally he knew that wasn’t why he’d lost touch. Even knowing that it was a pretty good reason why it hadn’t started back up again either.

Reaching up he scrubbed at his eyes, leaving a wet streak on the back of his hand.

Rik was dead.

Rik was dead.

Even if there had been some good reason Rikard had stopped talking to him; he found someone new, he didn’t want to do long distance, his phone had broken or been stolen …

He’d never get to hear his voice again. Wouldn’t get to see how his eyes lit up when he was actually happy about something. He’d never get to see if they could make up, get to hold his hand or curl up in bed to watch crappy movies. There wasn’t going to be any making up and telling Rik he was sorry for moving away and seeing if they could try again.

“s**t…” He shoved his laptop off his legs, scrubbing at his eyes again as he leaned his elbows on his knees. It was a damn good thing that he lived alone because there was no way he’d want anyone to see, or hear, him like this. He didn’t really cry often and he hadn’t even cried when he’d resigned himself to the fact that Rikard wasn’t responding to him anymore. He’d just let it be because he could always go back and try again. He’d told himself it wasn’t -really- over because no one had officially said it was. The universe had apparently decided for them that it was over though.

In the end he didn’t really know how long he spent with his face in his hands letting the tears fall, it wasn’t important after all. But after some time the tears stopped and his lungs reminded him that being able to breath out of his nose was rather useful sometimes. He got himself a bit more under control and got up to get a box of tissues, blowing his nose and patting his face as dry as he could get it. Somehow he doubted it was going to stay dry for long though.

Not when he needed to make sure he had any pictures he’d taken of them years ago backed up somewhere and when he needed to go digging through obituaries to find out what had happened to Rik’s body. If he’d been buried somewhere he wanted to know where. Needed to know.

More tears, a handful more tissues, and a slog through more obituary pages that he ever wanted to see again he’d found what he was looking for. Rik was buried in one of the larger local cemeteries and after saving the name and address into his phone he set a reminder to go out there that weekend and looked up somewhere he could pick up fresh flowers along the way.

He would go see Rik one more time ...