#t.willow.one

He’d been working on his second cup of coffee, slowly, when he caught it - a name he hadn’t heard in months. Rowan. Rowan Forsyth. They’d taken him off the attendance lists maybe a month and a half ago, and, in some ways, that had felt worse than leaving him there. The hurt was fresh, still; could see it, feel it, when the teams huddled up, when they loaded on the bus. Ollie had quietly had Rowan’s numbers retired. Willow, she just kept coming out to every game. Like she was waiting for her brother to run out of the locker rooms with the rest of them. It’d be cruel, to have to see that jersey, to watch someone take his place. As if anybody ever could. He’d been such a good kid, steady, sunny, the kinda guy who kicked everybody up a notch. Thinking of Rowan like that - been, was, past tense, over - it was gutting. Oliver wouldn’t pretend to understand what Willow had gone though, was going through, still. Would live with, for the rest of her life. Just, that space. But when that was all you had, you held on. Ollie had lost people, before, he knew that much. At least he’d been able to bury them, though, in those cairns at the bottom of Lake Harmony. Willow and her parents, they had no explanation, no body. No real ending. Just the memories, and the questions. All unanswered, and staying that way.

But now, now, he was back. The school nurse, Cindy, had heard from a friend at the hospital. The family was going to be taking him home today, sometime. The news was, well. Oliver had sat there, stunned. Back. He just... he wanted to do something. 

He’d taught them both, the Forsyth kids. Coached Rowan since he was this tall, braced a broken wrist, packed that sprained knee, last season, in ice, right there on the bleachers. ‘Cuz Rowan, he didn’t want to miss the rest of the game for that. And Willow, she’d always had that big heart, shared it around with the rest of the school, with the town; always fundraising for some good cause or another, always doing good work. It’d been a privilege, to lend a hand where he could. Ollie was happy to turn over his classroom to those peer counselling sessions she’d run, the tutoring. And their folks, they’d always been kind. Treated him like family. Which... he needed, up here. More than he’d realized. (His people weren’t so far, right? Wrong. They were miles away, in their own way.) The steps to the Forsyth house were familiar enough, after all the times they’d invited him over for dinner. They had probably had too many visitors already, or they would, soon, and everybody in there would need their rest, but... he’d be quick, get out of their hair. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Oliver gave the door a light knock. Going to drop off a few things, best wishes. Not much. Just something.