The Aftermath Of Death

When you have a dreamless sleep waking up is harder. Because you aren't fully aware that you were sleeping at first. And with heavy eyes you squint at the unexpected light as the last time they were open there was only darkness. The slit of light is enough to trigger the headache and the knowledge that you had to open them the whole way fills you with dread.

The hangover is what he felt first. Then the the obvious sense that he wasn't where he was supposed to be. He wasn't at home in his bedroom. Wrapped in his cotton sheets and warm and dry. He was wet and he could feel his skin crawl with dirt and it prickle at the freezing temperatures. He could feel all of this but wasn't fully awake. It was just a feeling. Then there was the shouting, kicking and the laughing.

'Excuse me? Mr?' A high pitched squeal erupted out of the silence. Franks eyes shot open to be blinded by the early morning winter sunshine. The blue sky was radiant and happy and he could hear the faint buzz of traffic and the singing of the birds in the surrounding trees. Frank quickly remembered the voice. He tried to turn his head towards the words but his head was heavy and full of toxins. He groaned bringing his hands up to his eyes and pressing the edge of his palms onto his eyelids to then groan again. A thick layer of dirt had dried over his hands and under his nails and he rubbed it into his eyes causing his pain to double. Finally being able to turn his head, Frank catches sight of a small girl. She was wearing a long red checkered coat and black boots. Her coats was buttoned wrong and there was excess coat which skimmed her pale knees on one side. Her boot made contact with his ribs slightly as she kicked his lightly trying to gain his attention. She looked concerned and intrigued and she offered him her hand to pull him up. Gripping onto her hand the girl seemed to have more strength in her than he did. He slumped against the nearest head stone and there found an empty bottle of vodka. The little girl moved closer to him and smiled.

'Why were you sleeping?' She whispers. Her voice is sweet and innocent and she has a childish lisp. 'Are you a zombie?' Frank chuckles at the girl amusement. He shakes his head and immediately regrets the action cupping his head in his hands and groaning. 'Are you dying?' The girl says casually something that no girl of her immaturity should be able to see sense of. Death is something we should not be comfortable with when we are young. It's scary and a nightmare that would keep an adolescent up at night worrying about the future. A child should only think about death in a way that worried them. They should only experience death when they find their goldfish floating at the top of their bowl or when their old dog is sent away to a farm. No child should see death the way this girl obviously saw it; casually.

'No.' He groans out still not removing his swirling head from his dirty hands. She hums and moves closer peering over his shoulder. He hopes she would leave soon. He can't stand children and he can't stand anyone when he has a hangover. This child's questions will only add to the ones his mother will give him or the ones he'll have for himself when he tries to work out what happened last night and why he was in a graveyard.

'Were you visiting Gerard.' This got Franks attention. Yes, he remembered why he was here now. 10 years. He peered up to the girl and nodded slightly. 'Was he your friend?' She was persistent and interested.

'You could say that.' Frank mumbled shifting against the stone so could look down on it. 'Gerard Arthur Way, beloved Son, Brother and Friend. Forever missed. 1984-2006'. Frank smiled sadly stroking his dirt covered fingers across the cool stone. The coolness frightened him slightly taking him back to the way Gerard's skin felt. The memory of that seemed closer to him than it should've. Last night was still a blur. All he could remember was getting home from work and crying until he found the closest off licenses to his home and bought enough alcohol to empty his wallet of all his cash and began to drink it quickly to numb the pain.

'I'm here to see someone.' The little girl interrupted Franks furious train of thought as he tried to decipher where he had been. He offered her a sideways grin and sad eyes which she accepted. 'My mum. She is dead and I'm here to see her with my...' The little girl was interrupted by a girl shouting towards her.

'Jessie!' The girl was tall and thin her face mirroring the young girls. She was out of breath and running towards her sister, Frank guessed, they did look similar: Petite features except for a prominent nose which was upturned. Pale and freckled skin. 'What are you...' She moves closer to the scene and catches sight of the man. He was leant against a headstone covered in mud and obviously hungover or drunk going by his dizzy state and drooping eyes and the empty bottle of vodka beside him. 'Get away from him.' She pulled her back from Frank and put a protective arm around her securing her into bear hug. She kneels down to her level and smiled at her. 'Go over there and wait for me. Please.' Her eyes are sad and the little girl doesn't argue even though she seems desperate to talk to the man. She runs ahead, but not before smiling to Frank. The older girl turned to him grunting. 'Dirty drunk!' She spat the words out and kicked dried mud onto him. Frank hanged his head and sighed because he deserved the girls reaction to him. She walked away quickly and he could see her grab her sisters hand and pull her towards the newer graves.

Frank tipped his head back inhaled the scent of dirt and decay. A cemetery always had a certain smell of fresh grass and mud and life, but at the same time the decay and sadness which consumed all moment in this melancholy place. He remembers all the nights he spent in this place when he first met Gerard. This is where they would walk through at nights. It was the only place in the entire world where they could be together without anyone noticing them. They would speak of life and adventure and the future.

It was now a few months after their first encounter at the train station. They were walking through the cemetery and it was black. They could hardly make out their own feet as the trampled across the gravel path which led them up the winding darkness. Gerard was rambling on about some new idea he'd had. He was a writer and he was always scribbling ideas and talking so deeply about either his own characters of the ones from the minds of people he so wanted to be.

'The understanding of it is that he is alone and wants to be alone. But he knows that overall in the world he lives in that a man on his own would be seen as a strange being. Rumours would start. A spy? A criminal or even worse gay? Although homosexuality is totally fine to him and to us, in the world he lives in people just wouldn't accept him if he was. Even though he isn't all he wants in life is to be alone. But he can't be so he forces himself to...' Gerard stops taking suddenly and looks down to Frank who didn't seemed to be responding. 'Are you listening to what I'm saying?' Frank nods, but Gerard eyes go wide and he looks unconvinced.

'Artist in Russia. Set in the 1920's and he's gay.' Frank rattles off the basic facts of the story. Gerard smiles and Frank thinks he's gotten away with it.

'He isn't gay...and it's the 1930's.' Gerard corrects him, but Frank just looks up at his through this fringe and tries to look innocent and smiles brightly.

'I just get distracted.' Frank says trying to explain himself. Gerard is suspicious to why he is so easily torn away from the conversation they are having. 'You are just really nice to look at.' Frank says quickly in the way he always does; pushing out all the air until he has to breathe again. Gerard smiles and continues walking. Frank hurries to catch up. 'I'm sorry I'm...weird. I didn't mean to..' Frank catches Gerard's hand and twists him around to face him. Frank was always worried about being too forward with Gerard. Even though he was older he always seemed on edge about what was going on with them and always unsure. Though he always liked to take control.

'Don't apologise I like it.' Gerard stepped closer to him and lifts up his chin so that their eyes meet. 'L..like what?' Frank stutters out quickly a small blush creeping onto his face. 'You are weird and interesting and different and I like that and I like you.' He says coolly moving his face down so it's close to Franks there noses brushing against one and others. 'I really like you.'

And then he kissed him. Softly, but passionately and with desperation like he needed his lips and taste to survive. It only lasted a moment, but to Frank it was enough to see him through a lifetime.

Frank brought his hands up to touch his lips as he vividly relived the night of his first kiss. His lips were cold and dry and he grimaced as he remembered how much he hated hangovers. He didn't understand why he had let himself get in that state or why he was so drunk that he didn't have the wits about him to go home or even somewhere considerably sensible. He could've died of it wasn't for the fact he was wearing a lot of layers and the stormy weather hadn't continued into the early hours.

He let his migraine disperse and he began to gather himself from the ground. Once on his feet he spun around to have one last look at the grave. He smiled sadly touching the top of it slightly. 'I like you too.' He whispered. A small tear falling from his cheek and onto the lilies which looked old and covered in mud. As he turned away from the grave and spotted a tree he was hit by déjà vu and a flashback to the night before. The rain on his face and taking shelter from the rain last night under the tree in front of him. Someone was with him though someone who was both familiar and a complete stranger to him. He shook his head to rid the thoughts. He was hungover and needed coffee and a shower before he even tried to work out what had happened last night. He trudged out of the graveyard and made his way back to his inner city apartment. Still not being able to shake the feeling he was being watched.

Notes

Chapter two!

Tell me what you think.

-C