Chapter Text
The casket is laid wide open in front of a room of people. Inside, the body of a young boy. Around nineteen years old. His short brown hair combed neatly. His suit pressed and steamed. His face is fully relaxed. His hands unclenched laying at his sides.
His chest is completely still.
People approach the casket one by one, saying their goodbyes and their last I love you. The air is deathly still though a slight chill ran throughout the room. The soft spoken voices echoed quietly from wall to wall. Muffled cries and sniffles from grieving friends and family members. Footsteps slowly started to subside as people began to take their seats.
A woman, who looked to be around her forties, approached the casket. The room fell silent apart from the occasional sniffle. She peered down into the open casket. Her gaze fell upon the boy within. She looked to be trying her best at holding it all in, but you could see the difficulty in that.
Must be his mother.
She studies his face. The way it looked completely drained of life yet so relaxed. His pale skin and slightly chapped lips that lay expressionless. His eyelashes which lay gently atop closed eyelids, no fluttering, no twitching. Just, still. The small dimple on his chin that she used to tease him about lightheartedly. The rosy cheeks she used to kiss goodnight which are now drained of color.
Her heart aches painfully at the sight of her baby boy in such circumstances. Her eyes linger on the still face. Her vision grew blurrier and blurrier until his face was a mess of blurs. Too blurry to make out anymore.
She lets her eyelids fall. Letting out a sob as she clutched onto the side of the casket for support. Feeling as though her own body might give out as well. But it doesn’t.
Turning to face the crowd of faces, she wipes her tears away. Taking a few deep breaths as she reaches into the pocket of her black gown, pulling out a small piece of folded paper.
Staring at the crowd, a sea of dark and gloom, she begins reading. The words come out choked and shaky. She manages to speak clearly for a short while, describing her son in such beautiful heartwarming words. But it isn’t long until her voice breaks off again only this time she can’t continue. Thus ending the eulogy. Short and brief but excruciatingly emotional.
It can't be easy for a mother to speak of her recently deceased son. After all, a mother should never have to outlive her children.
The pastor moves to comfort the mother, helping her move to sit down but she refuses. By now she's uncontrollably sobbing. Crying out for her baby boy. Gripping to the casket. Mourning as she runs a hand over the boy's cold face, caressing the skin of his cheek.
Moments of silence pass only interrupted by the cries and mumbles from the grieving mother as she tries to talk to her son one last time.
Finally she’s standing from where she was kneeling beside the casket. Her hand was still on his face. “My baby. Oh my baby boy,” her voice breaks.
“May God be with you… Tyler. My son.” Her last words before she's seated back in the audience.
“Tyler… Tyler.” The pastor clears his throat just loud enough to snap Tyler out of his trance.
Tyler blinks aimlessly. Shaking his head slightly as he looks up at the pastor who is standing across from him. Just on the opposite side of the casket.
He’s slightly confused as his gaze leaves the pastor and down to the open casket. It’s not him in there anymore. A different face lies within the casket. An older man who looks to be around thirty.
He must’ve zoned out again. Imagined it all. Imagined he was the one in the casket, his family mourning over him. If they even would if such circumstances were to have occurred. A part of him feels disappointment. Already mourning the feeling of being mourned over. Wishing it were real.
His trance is broken again by another sound from the pastor. He’s clearing his throat again in an obvious attempt to get Tyler’s attention.
His gaze is pulled away from the casket and back up towards the pastor who is now giving him a knowing look. The pastor raises a brow. His eyes slightly widened in concern for the boy.
Tyler suddenly realizes why he’s here, to play the piano. The memory of it all rushing back to him. He must’ve really been dazed for a while. He softly gasps as he understands what the pastor was trying to tell him. He gives him a short nod before returning to the piano that stood just behind him.
Not too long after the funeral had taken place, the casket and the guests had been moved outdoors for the burial. Just outside of the local church they were in, is the old church cemetery.
The guests gathered around a freshly dug out hole in the ground. The casket attached to lowering straps, prepared for its descent.
Tyler hung around towards the back of the crowd. He feels as if he’s intruding on something intimate. So he watches from behind the backs of black figures. His head slightly bowed. Arms resting at his sides limply. One hand picking at the loose peeling skin on his thumb. Mindlessly picking at it as his eyes are locked on the lowering casket from afar.
He feels himself slipping into a dazed state again. The same previous thoughts returned back to him.
His face fell motionless. Expressionless. Just staring dead ahead until the casket was out of sight. The same thoughts of death continued to shove their way into his mind. Not like he was trying much to stop it anyway. He’s way past that point.
He watched the dirt beginning to be shoveled into the open hole. Eating the casket whole. He wondered what it’d be like had it been him in there instead.
He wonders how his family might react. Would they cry? Would they mourn, or move on quickly? Would his mother cling to him like he had imagined back inside the church?
He doesn’t know, but he wished he did. He really wished he knew.
Suddenly he’s feeling very guilty. Very stupid. He quickly blinks his way out of his trance, turning his head quickly away from the scene unfolding in front him.
Tyler feels his face contort slightly, the familiar tightness starting to form in his throat. The slight stinging in his eyes. The quivering in his jaw as he unclenches it to take a breath.
Before he can think, he finds himself leaving the funeral in a hurried state. Pushing through the damp grass, wetting his dress shoes. Carefully stepping around the various headstones.
He lowers his head slightly, watching the stones pass from beneath him. His eyes ran past the names etched into each stone. Some are more visible than others. Some are almost completely indecipherable. Looks as though they haven’t been visited in ages. He ponders the idea of being forgotten after death.
Finally finding the wall of the church, he leans against it trying to hold himself together. He can’t get emotional. It's too exhausting and he's tired of being tired.
He can’t believe he’s done it again, made another funeral about him. This isn’t about him. It never was. So why can’t he just be normal? Maybe he should find another job, but he’s quick to turn that down. Besides the funerals, he loves playing piano for the church. It's the only thing he has going for him right now, as a nineteen year old kid trying to figure it out. It’s the only thing distracting him.
He’s unsure of how long he was standing there, against the wall. Still picking at his thumb, which has now started to turn raw with blood crusting over. He stares off somewhere behind the cemetery into the tree line that surrounds it. Watching the way their branches swayed to the breeze of the rolling in storm. Watches the crows perched on top the spiny iron rod fence which enclosed the cemetery.
Wonders how life must be for a tree. A bird. Did they process emotions the same way humans did? Or were they let off easy? However it was for them, it looked much more at peace.
Right about now, Tyler wishes he were anything but human.
A sudden, high-pitched, innocent-sounding voice is breaking his train of thought again. He is instantly startled. Jumping a bit as his head whips back in front of him.
His eyes are met with a couple of children running up to him. Kids who were attending the funeral. Dressed in formal black attire that they didn’t care about getting dirty. The ends of their pant legs and shoes were covered in muddy water and blades of grass.
They seemed intrigued by something. Like they had something to say and were too excited about it. “Mister! Mister!” The children call out to him.
Tyler is already feeling a bit agitated at the interruption. His brows lower. The irritation plastered itself on his face, though leaving enough room for a tinge of concern.
“Mister, you work here,” a child shouts excitedly. “We saw you playing the piano earlier.”
The other kids chiming in anxiously, unable to wait their turn to talk. “Yeah! You must know about ghosts that live here. Tell us!” Another child shouts out.
Tyler feels the frustration begin to bubble up. Annoyed at the fact he was just interrupted from his thoughts by a couple of adolescent 10 year olds. The nerve of them to try and make light of something like death. It baffles Tyler. If he were the one dead he wouldn’t want people laughing at his funeral. He would want to be mourned over. Something that shows that they care.
“You shouldn’t be talking about that right now. That’s not appropriate. Someone just died.” Tyler responds more sharply then he intended to.
The kids continue to try and push an answer out of him which only aggravates him more. He sighs, turning away from the children. His eyes landed on the tree line again. Trying to regain his train of thought and ignore the prying children.
“Tyler?” A voice calls out to him which is breaking his focus once again. The children quickly hurried away leaving giggles in their tracks.
Tyler is quickly turning his head to the source, which just so happens to be the pastor. A relief that it was only Father Nicolas. Someone who he couldn’t ever find in himself to get upset at. His nerves calm as the pastor is approaching him.
“Father?” Tyler says with a surprised tinged tone.
“Son, you look… uneasy. Why don’t you go home early.” Father says in a soothing, gentle tone.
“I’m okay staying.” Tyler replies short in a quieter tone with not much emotion. Still a bit timid.
“Please, go home, get some rest. I’ll clean up tonight.” Father’s tone is still gentle yet leaving no room for debate. So Tyler can only nod and say his thanks before heading home.
Father has known Tyler since he was young. Tyler’s been coming to this church for a long while now.
Father has a way of speaking when it comes to Tyler, like he knows exactly what tone to use when he’s speaking to him. He has a way of calming Tyler’s nerves. Maybe it’s the trust, or the connection they have. Either way, Tyler has deemed him as safe. Father notices this and is careful with his demeanor around Tyler. He understands that Tyler is a bit timid. Not quick to trust. Almost like a prey animal. Like a rabbit.
So he is glad that someone such as Tyler, had deemed him as safe. It's a rare thing. A special thing.
Upon reaching home, night had already fallen. The storm continued to brew. The winds had picked up since the funeral. Speckles of rain had begun to litter the pavement. The air smelling of asphalt.
One of the few things that seemed to have a calming effect on Tyler. The dark and the gloom. The rain and the winds. Things people deem as depressing. But to Tyler it just feels comforting. Maybe that’s because it's so familiar to him. He doesn’t know.
By the time it was late into the night, Tyler was having trouble sleeping. He hadn’t spoken to his parents since he returned home, nor did he sit with them for dinner. His siblings were surely sleeping by now. His parents as well.
This time of night was usually the worst. Left alone in the quiet of his house with only his mind to talk to.
His television was on a random channel, playing some cartoon he had tried to distract himself with but it wasn’t working too well. He thought about his piano down in the basement. Thought about playing for a while to clear his mind. It always worked. But his family was asleep and he knew better than to wake them with his music. Especially his parents. They aren’t too fond of his passion for music.
They wished their son had chosen a different passion, something he could make a living off of. Something more promisable. Like a sport. Like basketball. Tyler’s parents were his biggest supporters when it came to his high school basketball games. Music… not so much.
Laying in his bed his body felt limp, too tired to try and move it. His mind trailed back to the funeral. The man that was lying limp inside the casket. Tyler felt like that right now. He felt tired. Exhausted. Too tired to feel anything more than nothing at all. A numbness, maybe? Just like the dead man from the funeral, who could no longer feel a thing.
Tyler is sure this is how it feels to be dead. Emotionally dead. The real thing is probably much more peaceful than this. He longed for that. For peace.
While continuing to lay there, his fingers continued to absentmindedly pick at his thumb. He hadn’t realized he was doing it all until he felt the stinging sensation. Glancing down he noticed the side of his thumb was red. A fresh raw layer of skin underneath the outer lay that he had picked off throughout the day. Some spots were deeper than the others. They had bled and crusted over at some point.
Blood had dripped onto his bedsheets. Staining the fabric in a dark shade of maroon. Tyler just stared at it from where he was laying. He had no urgency to try and clean it up or wash his hands. He felt that same blanket of shame drape over him. The same feeling he felt earlier that day. The one that made him feel stupid. He felt stupid right now.
Why was he doing this to himself? He wasn’t so sure. Nothing was ever clear to him anymore. He had noticed that at least.
He only slowly fisted his hands finally getting his limbs to respond to him. Bringing his arms and legs as close as he can to his chest. Getting as small as he can. Curling up into himself. Retreating back to himself. Something he had done since he was a kid. A comforting act in some way.
The burning in his eyes eventually weighed on him, forcing him to shut them tight.