*Not edited* Not proofread

Short and sweet this one :)

Chapter 49– It's catastrophic:

I don't attend the funeral. I can't. It's not my place. It's for his friends and his family, the people that know— knew— him; that cared for him.

I don't attend because I already had my chance to say goodbye. These people didn't. So I let them have their moment without me there. I'm sure I wouldn't be appreciated, anyway. It's not like we were real friends.

Therefore, instead of tainting the ceremony with my hate, my anger, my bitterness, I wait outside, leaning against the walls of the church, listening in silence to the cries that come from inside the old building with a heavy weight on my chest. My eyes close as I hear people begin to speak about Zeke; the person he was and the life he lived. The memories they shared and all the stories he was apart of.

There's a word for it. Bittersweet. I never really understood it before now, I thought it was a strange word that didn't have a real meaning; didn't fit a real situation. But I guess that's another thing I've been wrong about.

"Kody!"

"What do you want, you insufferable human."

"We won!"

"Good for you, I don't care."

"Why didn't you come? Where are you?"

"I told you, I didn't want to come."

"Oh... well maybe the next one, yeah?"

"Whatever. Don't call again, okay?"

"Goodbye, Kody."

The air is icy, I can feel it on my face. It whistles as it soars through the tree branches around the graveyard. I fold my arms as I cross my chest, my head spinning, my heart racing.

"You have a beautiful smile."

"You're a terrible liar."

"I'm not. Lying, I mean. You really do have a pretty smile."

"You have a pretty smile, too."

The rain comes suddenly. It's soft at first, but it gets heavier and heavier as the seconds pass. It hits the ground with a harsh slap and wets everything it touches.

I can feel the cold, but I don't feel cold.

"If you could be anything in the world, what would it be?"

"Away from you."

"Well, Kody, that's not very nice."

"Well, Zeke, I'm not very nice."

I don't hear the words they speak about him, but I know whatever they say will be good. Not just because that's the unspoken rule of funerals— only speak kindly of the dead— but because there isn't anything bad you could say about Zeke.

But I doubt they know who he really was.

Nobody ever noticed Zeke the way he should've been noticed. Nobody cared as much as they should have cared. Nobody appreciated him they way he should've been appreciated. Until it was too late.

Myself included.

"And I'm grateful to have been your friend."

"You consider me a friend?"

"Of course."

"God I'm gonna miss you."

The funeral is short and sweet— according to everyone else. But in my opinion, it isn't enough. He deserved more than an hour of recognition.

He deserved more than what he got. But I guess that was always the case with Zeke.

I stay back as they lower the coffin into the ground. I stay back as everybody begins to cry. His mother can barely stand as she sobs on the shoulder of a taller man, Zeke's father. It takes everything in me not to go over there and put a bullet in their fucking heads and let them join their son. They shouldn't be allowed to be sad that he's gone when they were never happy that he was around.

I spot Dakota and Zoe as the blonde boy tries to comfort the crying girl, despite him being the one that looks like he needs comforting. He's not crying, Dakota doesn't cry— or at least not in front of others— but he cared for Zeke. They were friends, after all.

I see Gray and Lilah next to the other two, both of them have red-rimmed eyes. Gray doesn't seem to be crying anymore but Lilah is, and she's loud with her heartbreak, she's loud with her pain.

Landon is nowhere to be seen. I scan every single face, but he's not amongst the group of people dressed in black. I know he was there at some point, he wouldn't have missed this for the world, but maybe it got too much to handle. Maybe it got too much to bare.

Maybe he realised he would never get to love Zeke the way Zeke loved him.

I still don't believe in it. Love. It's a sickening word. The whole idea of loving someone, being loved by someone, isn't something I can ever seem to grasp. But after seeing the way Zeke's face lit up at the mention of Landon's name, even when he was struggling to breathe as he spent his last minutes alive, I believe that other people believe in it. I believe that love exists in the mind of each individual. Love isn't an emotion, like anger, or rage, or annoyance, or anything of the sort. But it's a belief; like religion, like alien's, like ghosts.

I don't believe.... but Zeke did.

And he believed in Landon.

___

I've never witnessed grief— not up close. I've never experienced it either, not really. If someone were to ask me how I think grief looks, I would say ugly; pathetic. But that's without ever seeing it.

But I've seen it now, and it looks worse than I believed. It looks catastrophic. Like every single life has been changed. It's disruptive. Unforgiving.

I feel like grief and me have so much in common.

When the funeral ended Jace accompanied me to the car and drove me back. Our small temporary house was still packed up and ready to be moved out of; it had been like that for two weeks. He offered me a drink and put the TV on as I was left standing in the hallway.

Zeke was buried the standard six feet below the ground, and there I was... upright and breathing, my cold skin warming from the heating Jace left on, my hair clinging to my neck and itching my wet skin.

During these last two weeks, from the moment Dakota opened the door to the janitor's closet until now, life never once stopped. It didn't offer sympathies or pay its condolences. It didn't even have the decency to just slow down for a second and let anyone fucking breathe. The clock still ticked and the sun still set every night just to rise the next day. It didn't seem bothered at all that there was now one less person in the world to witness it.

I couldn't stay in the house much longer, so that's how I ended up in the cemetery.

And there he is. The boy with the tattoos and a broken soul. I wonder how empty he feels now.

I can't see the look on his face, his back is to me and his head hangs like there's so much weight on top of his shoulders. His hands stay in his pockets and he looks awkward as he stares at the new tombstone.

"Can-- Can you do me a favour?"

"What is it?"

"I know you've noticed... the way I look at Landon. Beautiful, isn't he?"

"You have bad taste."

"Mmm, I don't think so. He has the prettiest eyes, and his muscle... But it's not his looks that I'm on about. It's him. As a person. As a man. He's beautiful."

"What's the favour, Zeke?"

"So impatient... I just want you to tell him that. That I think he's beautiful."

I take cautious steps towards Landon as to not startle him, though he's so deep in thought I don't think he would notice me even if I came running whilst flailing my arms around and yelling his name.

When I come to his side, I don't dare look at him. I just stay focused at Zeke's name engraved on the stone peeking from the ground. I know he notices me standing next to him, but he doesn't look at me, doesn't even flinch. We stand in silence, waiting for someone to speak first. It's him.

"Was he scared?"

You have a beautiful smile.

I swallow the lump in my throat. "He was Zeke."

Landon releases a shuddering breath, like he had been waiting his whole life for this one answer. As if the entire world relied on my response. And then he's falling to his knees, and I swear I feel the ground shake. His head is in his hands and his shoulder are shaking; he's gasping for air and the sounds he emits make my heart squeeze; he's breaking right in front of me and I don't know how to fix it.

"I don't know what to do, Kodes. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. He's gone. He's just gone now. And I don't know what to do."

I watch him. I watch his tall, bulky frame shake uncontrollably and I feel his frustration. I don't know what to do either Landon.

"Before..." I pause to try and find the right words; to try and not sound so blunt and dismissive. But there are no words to soften the situation, so instead I alter my tone so my voice isn't so harsh. "Before he died, Zeke wanted me to tell you that you're beautiful." It sounds so odd coming from my mouth, but I knew this was a favour I couldn't reject. "He told me he loved you, and that he wished he spent less time being mad at you and more time just being with you." There's silence as he takes in my words. I can't see his face, so I don't know how he's reacting to this information, but at least he's no longer crying. "He isn't mad at you, Landon."

Our eyes meet, mine tired and his red and sore. A sole tear runs down his cheek and he offers me a wobbly smile. "You promise?"

I hated promises, but this one? "I promise." This one I could make.