🌹Rosie🌹

With the setting sun caressing my face and the smell of sunflowers wafting up my nose, I continued my way up the steep path and momentarily bitched at my Dad for being situated so far up the hill.

"I bet you're loving this, old man," I quietly mused, breathless by all accounts.

Note to self; visit the gym.

I proceeded to round the corner and upon finally coming in to view of Dad's grave, stopped dead in my tracks. Slumped pathetically against the headstone was none other than Will O'Connor, guitar in hand, humming along to an unrecognisable tune. Majority of his face was covered by a baseball cap and although a clear attempt at a disguise, his efforts were fruitless. That distinguishable body of his was a huge giveaway and don't even get me started on his rubbish stab at subtlety. He was a rock star trying to hide, for goodness sake. You'd think he'd leave the guitar at home.

"I don't know if anyone's ever told you but a baseball cap actually draws more attention to the owner," I stated, casually floating towards Dad.

The brooding rock star obviously hadn't been expecting me and his sudden need to stand just about confirmed it. He nervously glanced at me, to the headstone, then back to me; all within a two second timeframe. His shaking hands hinted towards his inner turmoil and honestly, I'd never seen a person freak out so much.

"I sh-should leave you to it. S-sorry."

"Don't leave on my account," I replied, removing the cellophane from Dad's flowers. "I'm just passing through."

He looked at me as though I'd grown two heads and truthfully speaking, I wasn't at all surprised.

"Okay, that was a lie. I purposely made the trip but seriously, sit down before you fall down," I encouraged, not liking his sudden sway.

My reference to him fainting must've knocked some sense into him, for next to happen was his bottom hitting the ground so hard, I almost said ouch myself. He stared at me through uncertain eyes; each once framed with long, dark lashes and casting a light shadow across his cheeks. His hair fell longer than usual and although dark, the nearing sun lit up his natural highlights, proudly so. His pearly white teeth worried that bottom lip out of habit again and if he didn't ease up on it soon, I suspected he'd draw actual blood.

"This is my first time coming. I figured I'd go unseen this time of night," he suddenly declared, breaking through the awkward silence.

His voice was gruff and took on a rather strained element; something I couldn't imagine being good for his singing career.

"Might wanna ditch the guitar. It's kind of a big give away," I replied, offering some sound advice.

I took my own seated position at the opposite side of the grave, though made sure to open myself up as far as conversation went. For some reason, I wanted him to think I was approachable.

"Good shout," he smiled, caressing his beloved instrument. "How you doing? You okay?" he then asked, genuinely concerned.

I busied myself with the flowers.

"Fine." Lie. "Could you pass me that, please?" I questioned, gesturing towards the plant holder.

"Sure."

He obliged, no questions asked.

"How about you? You okay?" I continued, returning the polite gesture out of obligation.

He stared at me a moment, chewing that bottom lip again.

"Are you seriously asking me if I'm okay?" he dumbfounded. "Shouldn't you be hitting me with the plant pot, rather than accepting it from me?" he chuckled, though did so rather weakly.

He was nervous.

"Maybe I should," I countered, taking a water bottle from my backpack.

I emptied its contents into the pot and neatly placed the bright flowers inside. I then set about positioning them in the centre of the headstone and gave my handy work a satisfied nod.

"I wouldn't stop you," he offered, rather taking to the idea.

An awkward silence settled between us and although desperate to fill it, I resisted temptation. I wasn't sure how I should feel about having Will here but found I wasn't completely opposed to the idea. It was nice knowing someone other than myself, Ben and Zoe visited Dad.

"I don't really know what to say to you," he admitted. "I used to fantasise about meeting up with you one day and had this entire speech planned out. I'd tell you how sorry I was and that I'd never forgive myself for what I did. Yet, here you are and I've drawn a complete blank," he explained, throwing some intense eye contact my way.

His gaze alone could slice straight through you.

"There's no need to apologise. I already know you're sorry," I responded, cowering away from his captivating eyes.

I couldn't bear to see the pain present in them.

"Still, you must hate me."

"I don't even know you," I replied, speaking my mind. Possibly for the first time ever.

"But you know what I did," he protested, obviously looking for an excuse as to why I should dislike him.

"I hate what you did. There's a difference," I corrected, tweaking a limp flower.

Its wilted form came to life as soon as I lifted its neck and once again, I found myself smiling at my work. Too bad I couldn't do the same for Dad.

What I would give to see that smiling face once again.

"I hate me," he informed, adopting bitterness. "I'm not looking for sympathy, Rosie. I just think you ought to know that," he stated, looking out into the distance.

From a mile away, the church bells chimed, signalling seven O'clock's prompt arrival. It was a nice interruption but unfortunately, the distraction didn't last forever.

"It doesn't help me," I stated, once all noise had diminished. "Knowing that you hate yourself doesn't bring me my Dad back. It doesn't make getting over him any easier and it certainly doesn't make me feel better," I specified, hoping to get my point across.

Housing what looked to be shock, Will succumbed to my explanation, no doubt trying to process my every thought. His forehead creased and with a deep scowl that could only be described as painful, I'd say he was having a hard time wrapping his head around things.

"Right, I just wish someone would punish me, you know?" he self-confessed, gaze lowering. "I have an entire team dedicated to making me feel better and I get it, I'm not the only member of the band and if I bail now, they'll all suffer."

"Is that what you want? To bail?" I questioned, saddened by the thought.

I didn't know why exactly? I knew very little about the band's history and the extremities each member went through to get to where they were now. I suppose my reaction came down to one thing and one thing only; it would be a shame to see them give that up now. My people pleasing tendencies were winning yet again, along with my need to see others succeed.

Brilliant timing, as usual!

"No. I just wish I had more time," he replied, making little to no sense.

I looked away and instead, settled my gaze on the beautiful plant-life that lined the cemetery. There was a huge apple tree over by the far right in full bloom and its vibrant colours made me want to grab a book and curl under it for hours on end.

"I think time is overrated," I expressed, pulling on a wad of grass. "Life can be cut short at any time, so I say stop feeling sorry for yourself and start moving on."

My tone came across a little harsher than intended and made my insides cringe. I was far too conflicted for my own good. On one hand, it was nice having him here yet on the other, I found the situation awkward.

Luckily, he didn't respond. He simply sat there with an even deeper forehead crease than before, giving me no option but to want to smooth it out. Thankfully, I resisted.

"One life was taken that night, Will. Not two. So get up, dust yourself off and live the life my Dad lost," I instructed, going for determination. "Drink a few too many beers, go bungee jumping, sky dive out of a plane. Honour my Dad; don't insult him by wallowing in self-pity."

I was surprised by my sudden burst of confidence, though decided to fully embrace it. Often, I would hide my true feelings and simply react in a way that was deemed appropriate by those around me. For weeks, I cried over losing my Dad and to this day, I still struggled. No one helped because no one could possible understand what I was going through. Constantly stuck in a state of unknown territory, I had grown accustomed to pretending. That way, I could distance myself from reality and convince everyone I was fine.

I wasn't fine.

I was a lonely girl, lost in the midst of grief.

I no longer held the ability to form my own opinions and found reacting to things in a way that was expected was my greatest defence mechanism. I was an expert at hiding my true thoughts and for the most part, it worked.

"Was he a bit of a daredevil, your Dad?" asked Will, possibly looking too much into the bungee jumping/ sky diving comment.

He suddenly smiled and for the first time in our brief encounter, I experienced the real deal. It wasn't fake.

"God no! He was Mr Sensible through and through," I laughed, taking him along with me.

He offered the air surrounding us a slight chuckle and I swear the world was a better place for it.

"You're right, you know? I shouldn't be wallowing in self-pity," he agreed, flashing me a wary smile. "But I am sorry and I just-"

I cut him off.

"I know," I insisted, needing no more to be said.

His apology was written all over his face. Pleading eyes so desperate and a lower lip half chewed to death. I didn't need spoken confirmation to know how truly heartbroken he was and whilst society was inclined to force hate upon the situation, I simply couldn't bring myself to agree. I'd often wondered what I would say to him should I have had the opportunity to speak and now that I had, I was glad. It played out differently than how I'd imagined but for the most part, I was pleased. I still wasn't sure if I was comfortable with him visiting Dad's grave but decided to let it drop for now. What plausible reason did I have for him to leave other than 'because others might not approve'?

"Do you mind if I carry on coming here?" he asked, perhaps sensing my indecisive thoughts regarding the situation. "I understand if not."

Oh boy.

"Erm..."

I looked to Dad, silently asking him for help. In the back of my mind, I could hear Ben lecturing me for even considering this, yet soon shot him down. Will required an answer from me and if I had to be completely honest with myself, I wasn't totally against the idea.

"I don't see why not," I replied, feeling both relieved and conflicted for having said so. "Just don't come on Monday's. Ben comes then."

"That guy who was with you during the trial? Is that your boyfriend?"

His question made me laugh. The thought of Ben being seen as anything other than my relation was absurd, though I could certainly see why Will would maybe think that. He was far too overprotective for his own good and often smothered me.

"No, he's my cousin but he hates your guts," I smiled, gaining an accepting head nod.

"Right," replied Will, averting his gaze elsewhere. "I'll stay clear on Mondays."

Just as he brought his eyes up to meet mine, his phone blared out, demanding attention. He spoke briefly to whoever was on the other end and eventually finalised the small encounter by mumbling a quick, "I love you too, Mum." His cheeks held a healthy red at being overheard and even though I tried not to smile, his clear embarrassment over the situation was very amusing.

"I should get going," he stated, returning to a standing position.

His leather jacket creased at the hem and dark blue jeans that hung perfectly around his hips didn't seem much better either. He'd obviously been here quite some time before I arrived but I didn't pass comment. How he dictated his time had nothing to do with me.

"Okay," I replied, crossing one leg over the other as a distraction tactic.

"Take care," he smiled, zipping up his guitar and shoving it on his back.

He carefully rearranged his baseball cap and stuck on a pair of avatar sunglasses; disguise in full swing.

"You too," I managed, desperate for some time alone.

"Thank you," he added, confusing me as to what he was so thankful for. "I just." He paused. "Thank you."

I offered him silence in response and watched as his back slowly disappeared out of view. He had a definite swagger about his step and oozed a type of confidence I supposed only belonged to those in his line of business. Being in the public eye twenty-four seven couldn't have been easy; the option to switch it off not really a choice. He'd been famous since twenty-two(ish) and five years later showed no signs of that slowing down. Even after everything that had happened. I imagined the events of the trial had affected the band somehow but I'd never know how exactly. All I knew was Will O'Connor held a lot of guilt in that 'Rock God' body of his and I, being the perfect people pleaser, felt the need to help the situation.

I felt the need to help him.

I just didn't know why.

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