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I remembered a lot from my quiet life in Italy; we owned an old worn-out villa near the sea, it belonged to my grandfather's side of the family- passed down from generation to generation. I believed I'd inherit it too, and remodel it the way I wanted--unless Madison decided he wanted to take it for his own.

Maddy and grandpa didn't get along well, they both shared strong opinions about everything: politics, religion, lifestyle, science and occasionally what should be cooked for dinner. How a six-year-old dared to constantly argue with a fifty-year-old was beyond me.

I knew grandpa loved Maddy and vice versa, but they acted like they didn't like being near each other. Which was fair, considering how strong-headed they both could be.

Today just happened to be one of those days when their fights would divide the family.

Grandpa was showing us a collection of books he got centuries ago, during his time in the ice age. Madison was actually the fault for this, he wanted to know how grandpa found his books. I, of course, wasn't paying attention to what he was saying, Madison seemed to find it more interesting than I did.

Instead, I stared out the window, the sand sparkling under the sun called my name with such serenity that it drowned out whatever was the cause of Madison and grandpa's yelling. I see grandma bended down, no doubt collecting some sea shells-- something we both loved to do every often.

I turned my head away from the window in shock, something had fallen and shattered on the marble floor. Grandpa began calling him ungrateful and a brat, and in turn Madison called him pigheaded and cruel.

Soon Madison was being aggressively shoved out the room by grandpa, their screams moulding together until they reached the living room where ma whispered with dad. I followed them out, occasionally looking out the window, wishing I could run into grandma's arms and collect shells.

***

I sit motionless next to her, I don't know what to say or how to say it. Should I apologise for feeling like I'm worthless to my family or should I accept that they'll never think of me as enough?

I scratch my head aimlessly, this entire day has been a mess. I lean further onto her and lay my head on the stone, despite her absence I still feel some sort of bittersweet tranquillity.

If she was here none of this would happen, I would be happy and if I wasn't she would hug me. She would hug me with her entire body, not just her arms; whenever she hugged me it felt like my body was being wrapped in a warm blanket, and I would feel safe within. Words alone can't describe how much I miss her, and how much I want to be with her again.

Tears form in my eyes, I let out a frustrated sigh as I press the palm of my hands to my eyes. I've been crying so much this entire year, I hate it.

I wonder if Divine and Peter left already. No, they wouldn't have; they would wait for me or even be looking for me. It's funny how I know for sure those two wouldn't abandon me here, I should probably go find them so we can all leave this awkward situation.

I tell myself that but I can't, for the life of me, care enough to get up. I haven't visited grandma's grave since the school year began and right now I just need someone who wouldn't ask me questions.

"You know, grandma," I start as I wrap my arms around my knees and lay my head on my knees, looking at her. "I bet you fifty sea shells that life would have been easier if you were buried in Italy..."

I could just hear her response, "Don't act dumb, Mango. You know I want to be next to my family- my sister, my brother, my mother and my father. But mostly I want everyone in Jackson City to see my grave and have a heart attack." Her high pitched laugh rings in my ears and I chuckle as I turn my head away from her and into my knees.

She loved to torture people who hated her with her presence, she said it was the biggest comeback,

"Why should I make their life easier just because they can't see me? If they're going to hate me then I want to be there to feel it."

My stomach grumbles but I choose to ignore it, I don't want to leave just yet.

"Are you planning on starving yourself to death?" At the sound of his soft voice, I raise my head, and we meet eyes. He looks so exhausted.

I smile lightly, "I'm going to leave soon, just want to stay with her more."

He stuffs his hand into his dress pants, he dressed so nicely for this...we all did. "Do you want to be alone?" I shake my head and he nods but keeps his distance. I want him to come closer but given the circumstances of our situation, his hesitation isn't misplaced.

"How did you find me?"

"We are at a funeral, in the graveyard. Where elsewhere would you have walked to?" He looks at my grandma with a smile, "I remember you and Madison," I frown at the mention of that name, "would bring me here so you could talk to her. I was so happy to be included in something so special." He meets my eyes again and my heartbeat increases.

I glance at the grass, meeting his eyes gets harder the more we're together. His shoes come into my line of vision, I smell him and feel his warmth; it sends tingles down my spine.

I look up at him to see that he's already looking down at me. My breath hitches when he raises his hand to caress my hair, I flinch slightly and that makes his hand stop mid-air. I feel bad, it isn't my fault but the look of hurt in his eyes made me ache inside. Peter is so sweet, so caring and affectionate...but I'm haunted by things that won't allow him to love me.

Love me...

He doesn't. He wouldn't.

His cold fingers brush my forehead, I bite my lip when I feel the tears forming. His thumb caress my forehead carefully as if scared that it'll cause a reaction from me. It didn't. It was so simple and soft yet I found myself pressing my head closer to him,

He took it as a sign to touch my entire face with his hands. Rubbing my cheeks and wiping away any stray tears I couldn't control. He is so gentle. So gentle with me that I forget my family ruined my life. Peter makes me remember what it feels like to be gently touched.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Mason." He kneels in front of me and I nod, but he holds my head firmly in place, "say it. Say you didn't do anything wrong, that none of this is your fault... That you deserve better."

My throat closes tight, "I know, Jung."

His eyes sternly pierce into mine, he doesn't believe me. I know it's not my fault, I know. "Say it, please."

I know it's not my fault, but I can't say it. A part of me still blames myself; that me wanting to stay with Peter is what started a chain reaction of misfortune. But with that logic, it's the same as saying that my grandma asking to be buried in this town is what began all of this.

If she hadn't wanted to be laid to rest with her family, then I would have never met Peter and we all would be happy in Italy. Yet, I can't find it in myself to blame grandma.

So why do I always say all of this bullshit is my fault? All I asked for was a friend, not a ruined family.

"It's not my fault. I--" tears flow down my face, and I wipe the mucus escaping from my nose, "I deserve so much better than this. So much more." Saying it felt like a huge baggage was lifted from my shoulders, I've been blaming myself for so long, I honestly thought everyone blamed me too. My mom probably does, but her opinion will never matter to me again.

Peter, the only one that can calm me, pulls me onto his chest and rubs my back. "And just like that, you're free." He sounds like those pastors that deliver people from possessions. Maybe I was possessed.

I chuckle and clean my face on his white hoodie, which causes him to push me away,

"Ew! That's so gross, Mason!" He pats my essence off him with a smile, "Way to ruin a beautiful moment."

I wipe my entire face clean with my hands, laughing lightly. "What beautiful moment? I'm an ugly crier." That's another thing Michael and I have in common.

He sits down beside me, shoving my shoulder with his, "That is true, you look hideous right now."

I glare at him, "Most people would have lied through their teeth, but not you, Jung, not you."

"Not me." He takes my hand into him, his thumb caressing my knuckles. "I wanted to tell you something after this whole thing was done... I wasn't sure if I should but watching you cry and be vulnerable with me," he stares straight into my eyes with so much intensity I want to stand up and leave. "I know now, I can't deny it anymore."

I wait for him to continue but he seemed more content with abusing his bottom lip, "Pete? Is something wrong?"

Shaking his head he gives me a reassuring smile, "Nothing, I just need a minute to find my courage...I seem to have lost it somewhere," He lets out a nervous laugh and I smile. He takes in a deep breath and loudly exhales, "Mason, I--" he takes a breath again and all I can do is watch, bemused. "I- I, Uhm, uh, I probably should have rehearsed this. God, I'm an idiot. "

I groan in annoyance, "Duuuuuude, just tell me!"

"Just wait a sec, asshole! It's harder than I thought it'll be!"

I snort, "Ha, that's what she said."

He gives me a look of disgust and annoyance, "Please refrain from straight men jokes, it's not cultured." I roll my eyes and nudge his arm, edging him to me what's making him so anxious.

Instead of talking at all, he plays with his bangs that he'll need to cut soon over they'll blind him, and then fiddles with my fingers. Those don't satisfy him either, he then pulls my face closer to his and kisses me.

It's sloppy. He kisses me as if I was his very first kiss and he was still learning, I find it cute. I smile, and take the lead, making the kiss more organised and easy for me to follow.

He sighs when I bite his bottom lip, asking for entrance, and he grants it to me. I grab his waist to pull him closer to me, sort of pleading for him to straddle me...in front of my grandma. Wasn't this disrespectful to the dead, making out in their place of rest?

My thoughts fade when he finally sits on my lap, his legs on either side of me, and his hands cup my cheeks and travelled down to my neck and he squeezes it, something tells me that since he can't touch my hair he'll settle for my neck. I don't mind.

My grip on his waist tightens before moving to his hips and then his back, I hate these clothes separating us.

Believe it or not, despite us having personal time and space at Divine's cottage house, we've never done more than kiss with our clothes on. Something keeps us from being intimate, we were horny and needy for each other but a barrier was there that didn't allow more then kisses.

But this kiss is different, he is different. He usually took the lead with these things, mostly because I didn't know how to, but now he lets me have control. As if he trusts me to pleasure him correctly. Is this what he wants to tell me? That he trusts me with his body and more?

He moans when our bulges touch and I hiss. Not here. We can't be intimate here. "Jung." He hums in response but gives my jaw kisses and bites my neck. "Peter, we can't-" He grinds on my dick and I tighten my grip on his hips, not to stop him though just to keep myself grounded.

Good lord, this is sinful.

His grinding continues and I find myself blank-minded, enjoying the tingles around my body. He moans in my ear and I nearly lose it, his arms are around my neck and I forget what I needed to tell him.

At some point, I move his hips myself to fasten the pace. I feel my abdomen tighten and I chase for my climax, grinding in sync with Peter. I open my eyes and groan out loud at the slightly brighter sky. The cloud was clearing way for sunlight.

Peter has his head tucked in my neck, breathing hard and heavy sometimes letting a few moans slip. My fingers curl around his brown hair and I pull his face out of my neck, we stare at each other shamelessly.

We enjoy this. The first intimate action we've had. Sweat drops down his face and his hair is somehow in more disarray, and I love the look.

I feel myself about to cum and I think he knew because he fastened his pace, even more, making me throw my head back, both my hands keeping me upright. My hips move against his and I'm so close as Peter grabs my neck and kisses my lips. I'm almost there-

"Peter! Mason!" We stop abruptly. Did I hear that right?

"Mason?! Peter?!"

Who the fuck is disrupting the dead, and my orgasm?

Peter grunts in panic and anger, sharing my thoughts about our action being cut short. He slowly climbs off of me, stumbling to stand up straight and I feel proud. I get up too, dust my pants as well and adjusting them.

I walk to Peter and pat his hair down, he smiles brightly at me and goes to do the same to my hair. He stops halfway and decides to fix my shirt and tie instead. I love how he remembers not to touch my hair, even though he badly wants to.

We finish fixing our clothes just as the cockblockers present themselves to us.

I try not to glare at Divine and Michael, "You should have shouted louder, I don't think the Dead heard you."

Rather than taunting me back, she runs into my arms and hugs me. "At least I'm not the one fucking in front of them," she whispers. I sense her smirk and push her away. Little shit.

"You two okay?" Michael questions and I find myself looking away from him, a bit betrayed by him. He had every right to be happy to see Madison again, but I guess I'm disappointed he didn't call out the bullshit.

Sensing my hesitation, Peter answers, "Yeah. You didn't leave with your parents?"

Mickey snorts, "You fucking kidding me? Of course not! I'm happy Madison is alive and all but what they're doing is fucked up."

I look at him, surprised, and letting those two cuss word slide.

Dee nods with a somewhat proud and satisfied smile, "You should have seen him. Never have I seen a kid cuss so much, he threw hands with everyone! Your mom started crying at some point, Mase, even your dad looked close to tears." She frowns slightly, "However, your grandfather is a tough one-"

"He told me that as half blood, I wasn't allowed to interfere with family matters. As if I wasn't more present than him." He rolls his eyes and dismisses it but I know it hurt him. He couldn't even call our father his father.

I let go of Peter's hand, walking up to my little brother and hugging him. I can't believe I thought this boy wouldn't stand up for me, or himself. I place my hand on his shoulder, "Want to talk to grandma before we leave?"

He nods excitedly, for some reason he seemed to have a better relationship with a dead woman than he did with anyone else. Since on Tuesdays Michael preferred to walk back home from school, he'd stop by to talk to grandma. I'm sure they both enjoyed the company.

"We went to see my mom before coming here." Dee adds but I know what she's trying to do when she looks at Peter expectedly. We all had a loved one buried here.

Peter scowls at us, "No."

"You said you would, if given the opportunity. This looks like an opportunity to me, my love."

"I fucking refuse." He hisses, his shoulders tense and eyes darkening. He looks almost like a cat; Kitty does the exact same thing when Michael tries to bath her.

I roll my eyes, "I'll come with you." Before he can protest, I turn to Divine with a smile, "We'll see you two at the parking. Let's say thirty minutes from now?" She nods happily.

"Do I get a say in this?"

"No," I answer and drag him towards Phillip's grave. Sometimes Divine doesn't know when to mind her own fucking business.


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