You're at the funeral

You're at the funeral. [[I'm at the funeral.]]

You're at the funeral and it's cold and humid out here, your hair frizzled and afoul. [[Or well, it's not exactly the funeral.]]

Okay, yes, you're at the funeral gathering that's being hosted //after// the burial. It's really pointless semantics whether you want to consider this still apart of the funeral service or not. It doesn't matter. After such a blowing loss to each attendee's personal bubble, the family of the family thought it would be appropriate to hold a quiet gathering to "recooperate" and celebrate the memory of today's special dearly beloved. You're not sure why you're really here, [[you]] don't fit in by any standards with these people. [[You already saw them carry him down|burial]], you got what you came for. [[Observe the space around you.]] [[Observe the tight-faced individuals that invade the space around you.]] [[Come on, walk along and be welcomed inside the house.]] [[You're right, you don't belong. Leave.]]

The location in question is a small cottage plopped in the middle of a fortress of verdant green pines painted extra vibrant in the current muggy weather. You think to yourself, if you were a wizard this would certainly be your place of [[solitude]]. [[Ruminate some more.]]

They're all dressed to the nines, gossiping amongst themselves and weeping crocodile tears. Some of them glance your way and then look the other when they see you notice, but it hardly bothers you. [[Ruminate some more.]]

Right well, it's better now then never. Best to get it over with, you think. You saunter on over to the lineup of guests congested near the door of the house, carefully balancing the basket you're holding. They are all being welcomed inside, one nuclear family at a time, by a figure unseen. You absentmindedly wait around for a brief respite, and then are snapped back to attention when you hear a woman calling for it. ".. Excuse me?" [["Ah, hi, yes, sorry..."]]

You stand around kicking the grass a little. You find yourself a little stuck in place, wasting time being concerned about wasting time. You know that whatever sham shit they set up in there will not satisfy the memory of your friend, but you don't know if you're ready to make like a healthy person and move on from indulging your grief. Do you really want to leave? [[Ruminate some more.]] [[I do.]]

[[You|you]] ruminate some more. [[Observe the space around you.]] [[Observe the tight-faced individuals that invade the space around you.]] [[Come on, walk along and be welcomed inside the house.]] [[Actually.. maybe I should leave.|You're right, you don't belong. Leave.]]

Eventually you huff in exasperation and throw down the gift basket you so lovingly held in your arms to the bewilderment of those around you. You know for a fact that DNA be damned, none of these people will ever matter to you in the same way and as thus you hardly care enough to acknowledge the dirty looks sent your way. [[I'm getting in my car.|Walk out the door and get in your car.]]

"... it's kind of like loneliness but cooler I think. Like lonely is kind of sad but being in solitude is like, oh yeah this is my element, this is my zone, I'm training to be a hero, that kind of thing. But also, solitude doesn't actually have to be like.. lonely even? That sounds really stupid but like... before you started showing up, this was my place of solitude, no people around, no nothing but... I think.. even with you now, it still kind of is." [[...|Observe the space around you.]]

You're a mess. The suit you're wearing's barely ironed and the bags under your eyes keep growing in size. You're carrying around a giant pre-assorted gift basket [[filled with items you don't remember]] and it's really taking up the small amount of space your scrawny arms can handle, making you look a little stupid. At the very least, your brain doesn't seem to feel the need to cry just yet, if it will at all for the rest of the day. You're honestly fine all things considered. Look at you being emotionally stable! [[Ruminate some more.]]

There are maybe definitely some chocolate almonds in there that are maybe definitely melted by now after sitting in the car for some time. [[Whatever. Not your almonds.|you]]

She gives a small sociable smile behind thin lips. "Oh, no [[trouble]] at all." She's a woman of average built and average height, clutching onto a dainty little purse, standing at the door. Her eyes look tired, and sad. Based on what he has told you about her, you assume she's the mother. "And you would be...?" [["It's uh, Casey. I was a.. a friend."]]

It obviously is a little aggravating to her, your already apparent weak sense of etiquette. If he was here with you right now, he'd probably laugh at how quickly you're already being judged. "That's a new record," he teases, smile a sunbeam, "It usually takes them a full minute or two." [[It is a little funny.|"Ah, hi, yes, sorry..."]]

Her sad eyes gain a brief glitter. "Oh.. I.. I wasn't aware that (text-colour:grey)[~~s~~]he had any. (text-colour:grey)[~~S~~]he was always a little reserved, you see..." she trails off, "But nevermind all that, I'm thankful (text-colour:grey)[~~s~~]he had someone after all. You see, I'm h(text-colour:grey)[~~er~~]is mother. It's nice to meet you, Casey." [["It's a pleasure to meet you too. And I'm sorry for your loss."]]

She beckons inside. "Oh, and thank you for the basket, you can put it down on the table over there." [[Do that.]]

It's a little ways in from the entrance, in the living room. A table full of all sorts of goodies, flowers, the like. You know it's only common courtesy and all, but giving [[gifts]] at a funeral has always struck you as a bit strange. [[What now?]]

Seriously, what now? It's more or less the same situation as outside, except your hands are a bit lighter. People talking with each other and holding each other.. some distraught, some expressionless, others trying to be lighthearted. On a nicer note, there's some food here this time, but you're not sure you feel like eating just yet. [[Look around.]] [[Observe the folk.]]

It's a nicely lit living room with sofas and a TV. There's not anything special to point out, really. You passed by the [[bathroom]] on the way here. There's stairs to a [[second floor]]. There's an entrance to the [[kitchen]] from here too. [[Okay.|What now?]]

It definitely feels a lot more stuffed in here than out there. Extended family members are grouped all around the place. There's some you can infer as being cousins and some maybe uncles and aunts? Grandmother? Grandfather? Maybe gruncles? You've never bothered to study the inner machinations of your own family gatherings so you're not exactly an expert at this. At least for certain, one of these is prooobably his dad. Maybe. Unlike your family gatherings, there's a notable lack of children in the area, who were most likely shuffled somewhere else to ignore for the time being. You're quite the anchovy in a tin can. [[Listen in! Maybe try to introduce yourself!]] [[Hey! How about don't! do that.|What now?]]

Pissing seems like a good idea honestly, but something about the whole process is deeply tiring you right now. [[Stop thinking about the bathroom.|Look around.]]

This is most likely where all the bedrooms are. It's tempting to go up but it doesn't seem like anybody's allowed to, and while the place is stuffed, it's not stuffed enough just yet that you're sure nobody'll spot you. Most people wouldn't care but surely talk would spread to somebody who did, and you'd rather not piss anybody off, at least for now. [[Maybe later, then.|Look around.]]

"Casey, when I move in with you, you gotta teach me how to cook, 'cause I swear you got the hands of an angel. And as much as I'd like to, I can't make you do it all the time." [["I wouldn't mind."|Look around.]]

You attempt to ever so slowly inch yourself closer to where the life of the party is, in orbit of some couple of older women conversing with each other. ".. It really is a shame isn't it? (text-colour:(grey))[~~S~~]he was such a young thing. And in such tragic fashion.." "Well, it's not like there was much to save, honestly.. The kid was [[suicidal]], you know? It was bound to happen one way or another." "Yeah.. God rest h(text-colour:(grey))[~~er~~]is [[soul]]." "Who's that over there?" "Maybe some colleague? Coworker?" They're talking about you now. You feel a little sick. [[Walk away.]]

You both were. [[Misery loves my company.|Listen in! Maybe try to introduce yourself!]]

Aimlessly, you walk away somewhere else that isn't here. Should you have said something? You're not sure. He'd laugh it off, you think, it wouldn't have been a big deal to him. But he's not here and you are and it was a big deal to you. You end up so tightly wound in your thoughts you accidentally bump into the back of someone much taller than you. [["Ah- I'm sorry."]]

The man turns to face you and gives you an incredulous look. He's tall and rigid, this guy looked like the second [[worst person to piss off|piss off]] after a bouncer. This guy probably was a bouncer. He was the saddest, scariest man you've ever seen. "And you are..?" [["C- Casey. I was a friend.]]

"Casey.." He holds out his hand, "I'm (text-colour:grey)[''REDACTED'']'s father." Shit... [["Oh. It's good to meet you, sir."]]

You take his hand and he makes some sort of grunt in his throat. The look he's giving you is still there, and you kind of don't blame him. Like the mother said, nobody really thought the deceased had a [[friend]], much less some scrappy looking one with racey eyes and who shook in place like a chihuahua. He's thinking something [[accusatory of you]] but he's not saying it outright. ".. And, how did the two of you meet?" [[Lie.]]

It's something you've already been aware of for this entire time but it's only becoming more relevant now that not only were you his only friend, but in others' eyes you were just //only// his friend. Your feelings on the trajectory of your friends' wishes were never relevant. [[As if they cared about what he wanted.|"Oh. It's good to meet you, sir."]]

"My dad..." He soured his nose, "He's like a freaking hawk, you know? My mom's already judgy enough, but my dad, oof. He doesn't trust anybody, and I mean you shouldn't trust just anybody, but my god does he not trust //aaaanybody//. I'm like some lost little lamb to him, probably." You joked about how you were scared about everything too, so the both of you might get along. He looks at you closely, suddenly a bit more serious. "I don't want you to ever meet." [[...|"Oh. It's good to meet you, sir."]]

Well.. you were never quite as good at lying as your friend was, honestly. And the mixture of this and the sudden terror from the question itself causes you to tell the actual story, but with the places switched instead. You tell him about how you supposedly got into a fight with some other teenagers in high school and how they overtook you and threw you in a ditch and that his child had found you and helped you up. Afterwards you kind of hit it off. Thankfully your mouth decided it best to shut up before saying [[too much|the secret spot]]. He looks at you somewhat coldly. "... Uh-huh." [[He's blaming me for the misfortunes of his failed offspring.]]

"What the- you made this? I thought you weren't really the artistic type!" It's a poorly drawn out idea for an album cover, featuring a dragon, roaring and breathing fire. You argue that you still aren't and the dragon looks like a sickly green horse, dead and drooling blood. You really wanted to capture the kind of vision he seemed to wear around on his sleeve, but it just wasn't possible. He laughs the biggest laugh you've ever heard and slaps you on the back (ow). "Come on, I like it. It's official, this is the cover." You sputter and try to protest it's just a mock-up and that he should think about asking somebody else for some Actually-Decent-Shit but he refuses and holds the paper away from your grabby mitts. "I'm going to dedicate a song just for you as a return gift, ok? You gotta say ok." [[".. Okay."|Do that.]]

It was a little pathetic, honestly. Near a river that ran along the woods and through the town was a dingy little corner under an abandoned bridge. Rambuncious little scamp you were, you decided to explore it on your own. You were expecting to find ghosts, but instead you found the same kid you helped up the other day and who subsequently ran away from you, mad you helped him. He looked a little shocked to see you. "Hey, it's you.. what are you doing here?" You shrugged and said you wanted to explore. "Well, go do it somewhere else, this is my place. You wanna know why other kids don't come around here? It's cause I beat 'em up." You pointed out that it actually seemed to be the other way around the other day. He got red at the ears and huffed, "Yeah well, I just wasn't in my element then. That was their zone, this is MINE. Anyways, even if it wasn't I could easily beat you up right here, right now 'cause you're all bones and no meat. And I don't care that you helped me too, I'll still do it." You came a little closer anyways, just to see if he would. "Hey, I meant it! You got a death wish?" he squinted his eyes at you, "Man you must be really stupid.. but, ugh.. ok um.. I said I didn't care but.. how about, since you saved me, I get to save you by not killing you right now and letting you hang out here, but ONLY once, OK?" You said you liked that deal. So the two of you hung out that day. And then the days after that. [[No matter what, this memory will only be for the both of us.|Lie.]]

You ask your friend if he's ok. He seems out of it. "Yeah, I'm fine." You say ok and eat the chocolate you stashed away in your bag. "I don't think I'm really me. I think I'm a wrong thing." You ask him what he means and he says nevermind and asks if you could let him have a bite. [["You know I've always got an extra bar snuck out for you."|"Ah- I'm sorry."]]

You saw the body. He was wrapped up in the prettiest white dress you'd ever seen. It was foreign, it wasn't right, you thought. An alien did this. An alien abducted him and returned him back all wrong. This was another entity altogether. This was the work of a trickster, of a mindflayer, of someone trapping you in a nightmare. So this is how he'll be buried. [[You didn't know how to face someone so godly being rendered like this.|He's blaming me for the misfortunes of his failed offspring.]]

You don't want to think about it. [[His lips looked like they were sealed with glue.|Or well, it's not exactly the funeral.]]

He narrows his eyes. "Listen to me. You think I don't know who you are? You're the reason my (text-colour:grey)[~~daughter~~] son got screwed up in the head the way (text-colour:grey)[~~s~~]he was. Talking about freedom, about having a life where (text-colour:grey)[~~s~~]he belonged, for fuck's sake, I was h(text-colour:grey)[~~er~~]is father. This is where (text-colour:grey)[~~s~~]he [[belonged|burial3]]. This was h(text-colour:grey)[~~er~~]is family. The only reason why I'm not beating your ass to hell and back right now is because it won't change a single thing. I'm never going to get my little (text-colour:grey)[~~girl~~] boy again," he chokes up a bit. "Don't you dare cause any trouble for us while you're here. After this, you better not show your face anywhere near us again. You understand me?" [[Say nothing.]]

You don't want to think about the body. [[Hands were clamped like the devil.|Listen in! Maybe try to introduce yourself!]]

He inches closer. "I said, //did you understand?//" Your lips are trembling and your hands are shaking. [[Nod.]] [[Punch him.]]

".. Good." He walks away. You're wholly unsure of what to make of the fact that you're able to aggravate those who've never even met you. You sort of stand in place for a while. You realize the space around you has become even more crowded, and that everybody's now here. There might be speeches soon, even. You're not sure you want to be around for that. (if:(history: where its name contains "second floor")'s length is 1)[[Maybe now would be a good time to sneak up.]] [[This was a waste of time. You're going home.]]

You punch him square in the jaw and you get into a fistfight and cause the elders to shriek and the cousins to point. "Ignore it all you fucking want, he was my best friend and you're nothing! You'll never be as good a man as he was!" He punches you in the eye and you fall to the ground. He grabs you by the suit and drags you to the door, his wife screaming. While dragged, you grapple for the tablecloth and pull down your gift basket, holding onto it tight for dear life. He throws you out, yelling "Now get off my property!" and slams the door. Some of the people outside look at you with bewildered eyes while on the wet grass floor all you can do is smile. And you tremble and you smile and tears form in your eyes. You get up shakily, your stupid messed up basket in tow, and you walk and get into your car. [[Drive that baby.]]

You wait around for a little bit until you're sure everybody's attention seems to be fully averted from you. As soon as you see the opportunity arise, you deviate from the crowd and quickly duck and run on up. Up here there's three doors. The parents' room, it sounds like from the caterwaulling behind the door, was where all the children were crammed. The second is just another bathroom and the last is... [[It's a little obvious which one I want to see.]]

That's all there is to it. You're leaving, you decided. Away from this horrible house and it's horrible people who will never see the beautiful way your friend existed for what he was and the way he loved life. [[I'm walking out the door and getting in my car.|Walk out the door and get in your car.]]

You quickly slip inside the door and lock it for good measure. You stand there, your hand on the doorknob for a few more seconds before turning around. You're not sure how to take in the sight at first. There is no spark of vibrancy; it's all sanitized to a frankly saddening degree. You don't know what you really came here for. [[The closet?]] [[The desk?]] [[The bed?]]

It's full of stupid trad-cath frilly shit. It seems like the usual hardcore things your friend wore has either been discarded or he had to hide it elsewhere. You feel a little hollow. [[Close it.|Still in the room.]] (if:(history: where its name contains "The desk?")'s length is 1)[[Destroy the sin with your holy paint.]]

There's nothing on top, but if you open the drawers there's some tubes of paint and some little instruments.. a harmonica, an ocarina, a kazoo... [[Stuff it all in your pockets.|Still in the room.]]

The bed. You sit at the bed. It sinks under your weight. You look silently at the pillow. [[Take the pillow.]]

You're still here with nothing but a clock audibly and mercilessly working at the hours. What are you still here for? [[The closet?]] [[The desk?]] [[The bed?]]

You rip out all the dresses from their fixtures and throw it on the ground. You then begin to open up all the caps you can, your fingers hurting, and bleed it all everywhere. You stomp the globules down into the fabric for good measure, and throw the empty tubes against the wall. [[Cathartic.|Still in the room.]]

You take the pillow and you take off the cover. You look for the loose stitch job and you rip it open. You feel around the stuffing until you come to find an [[entire bottle of pills]]. [[It hasn't been opened.]]

"That's where I keep it, just in case," He told you about it some years ago. "I mean, I don't want you to get any funny ideas and do the same thing. But.. that's where I keep my 'scape route." You are silent. "I'm sorry Casey, I don't know what to say. I don't like living. That's all there is to it. I don't like living there. I don't have anything. There's so much I want to do and I can't do it." [[Of anybody out there, you're someone with the biggest dreams I've ever seen.|Take the pillow.]]

"Casey... I don't think I want to die anymore," He says it to you a week or a month before the present circumstance where you're sitting on his bed doing fuck all. "I think everything good's possible when I'm away from everything bad. It took me a while but I see it now, I can see it. We're going to make so many things together, just us and maybe others too, but right now it's just us. I can move in with you, and I swear you won't just be working your ass off for me because I love you, and I want to see you be well too. And even if I don't, I still think there's a light there for the both of us. Everything is worth it when I know it'll happen. I can make it. You can make it. I love you." [[I hate you.]]

You begin to silently cry. You cry so much it hurts. You don't know what to say. The man tells you he wants to live and then he ends up breaking his head on some damned rock in the middle of nowhere. You're angry he died so stupidly. You're angry that he'd tell you not to be angry because he'd think it was funny and you're angry that he'd also be agonizingly sad. You don't know how to cope with it. You don't know how to cope with the idea of someone like that dying. To hell with death having no meaning. You hated it. [[I kick my foot in and I feel something under the bed.]]

You debate going back to your apartment but you decide not to. Instead you make a bit of a detour, until you find the river and the abandoned bridge. You get out and you sit near the water, taking your shoes off and dipping your feet in. You tear open the gift basket and get the melted almonds and the sparkling water you forgot about and you pop it open and pour one out into the river, watching the bubbles melt into the flow.

You are surprised and jolt at the sudden impact. It shakes you out of your feelings for a moment. You stand up and bend down low, looking underneath. [[It's a box.]]

It's a big wooden box with a handle. You open it up and you find cash. You find cash, you find CDs. You find all sorts of writings and you find your shitty contibutions like the art of the dragon and the really bad cat you made and the guy you made up together who one day woke up with a second head. It's a treasure trove of everything. It's all that's left, you realize. It's all that's still here with you, of him. This is what's left of his soul, no longer with his body and no longer with the living, this is what's left. This is his light left and this is what you both have accomplished together. [[You are going to leave with this box, one way or another.]]

You close it back up. You take this chest with his heart inside and you leave the room. You run downstairs, hoping to make a break for it, when you run into the father. "What the hell were you doing up there? What did you take?" His voice is booming in your ears. [[You attempt to shove him aside and run.]]

He's bigger than you, and stronger. He grabs a hold of you and it chokes you a little, but the reaction is a little late and you manage to get him off balance. He's trying to grapple for the box, but you don't let go. You're not letting go, not until he breaks your arms and your fingers or the world ends and you all die and even then when you're nothing but dust you're going to grapple on as particles and never cease. The other relatives clamour and try to grab onto you, but you scream and you fight with everything you have until you barrel outside the door, kicking over all the gifts in the process. Everybody is screaming bloody murder at you and the parents make a sprint towards you but you are faster and you jump inside your car and drive away while everybody gives up the chase. [[I'm a little scared.]]

You are a little scared. They could call the police. They could do anything. But you're trying to trust that the light at the end for you isn't going to let that happen. And you keep driving and driving, even after you pass your apartment, you keep driving and you take a detour til you see the river and the spot under the abandoned bridge. And you sit down and you open up the box and pick out the CDs labeled with their stupid vibrant names, until a particular one catches your eye and you hold it up out against the setting sun shining with the clouds cleared out and shining as clear as everything it reads, "CASEY'S SONG :)"

You go back to your car and drive way back to your apartment, not letting up your frustrated face the whole journey. You get to your door, you open it, you walk in, you close it. You're fine, you're honestly fine and you can start to move on. And then you look in the mirror and you see your hair frizzy and afoul and it hits you all at once and you drop to your knees and cry about it. After that cry you're fine again and you feel nothing and you lay in bed and think about things and how you have to face the fact that someone like your friend is capable of being dead and someone like you still here and you fall asleep.