none but the lonely heart

chapter four

It takes a moment for Brett to find his words, caught in a reverie of wonder as he gazes at Eddy. "That was...wow. The amount of feeling you played with—really, that was insanely beautiful."

(Insanely beautiful, and more blossoms begin to unfurl.)

"Insanely beautiful," Eddy echoes with a soft smile, sliding the cover back over the piano keys and standing up. "Thanks. Should we head to the graveyard?"

"Yeah."

• • •

"I dunno about you, but this place gives me chills."

"It's not that bad, really." Brett pushes the metal gates open, and they unfold with a loud, weary creak. "I think." He glances timidly at Eddy as they walk into the cemetery: alone beneath the low whispers of the trees, alone in the rolling silence.

(Eddy's stepping into a graveyard. Brett's stepping into his new home, and his soul greets it like an old friend.)

A cool rainfall slowly crescendos above, the beginning drops playing on Brett's skin, and he vaguely wonders how long it'll last. He vaguely wonders as his eyes sweep through the rows of headstones: how many dreams and memories were lost here, six feet underground?

Not far off, someone is digging a fresh new grave and someone else is positioning a temporary headstone as Brett watches—and a sudden chill rushes through him.

They're digging his grave.

Brett's not even dead yet.

A hand rests on his shoulder as he hears Eddy's voice from behind him. "Let's go look for your grave, yeah?"

"I think I might have already found it, actually," Brett whispers, motioning towards the caretaker, the gravedigger, and the grave they're working at.

"Oh." Eddy's hand falls from Brett's shoulder. "That's—they start digging someone's grave before they actually die?"

"I knew graves could be dug on an accelerated schedule—and the final headstone won't be ready for days-but I didn't think it was this accelerated of a schedule."

"It's only been, what, two hours since you got the call?"

Brett nods solemnly. "Exactly."

Eddy walks over to the workers and taps the gravedigger on the shoulder. "Hello, uh—sorry to bother you, but is it okay if we have some time to ourselves over here?"

He looks up at the two of them. "If you can't tell, we're a bit busy at the moment," he responds, a sharp edge of annoyance in his voice. He looks back down and continues shoveling the earth.

Brett catches Eddy's eye. No one should ever witness someone digging their grave. The hell do we do?

"Actually," Brett clears his throat and steps forward. "Maybe don't dig my grave when I'm standing right here?"

"Oh-Brett Yang, is it?" The gravedigger glances back up in surprise. "My condolences all around, mate—of course you can have some time." He stands up and motions to the caretaker to pick up his tools and head someplace else in the cemetery.

"Thank you!" Brett calls after them as they saunter off.

"It's too early in the morning for them, hey?" Eddy remarks.

"Probably. I honestly can't blame them, though." Brett stares down at his incompletely-dug grave and temporary headstone, engraved messily with his name, the quote he'd chosen, and his birth and death dates.

Brett's not even dead yet.

"Here lies Brett Yang..." Eddy squints at his headstone. "Beloved to none." He looks to him, something inexplicably wilting in his eyes. "Really?"