A Criminal's Kiss

Epilogue

Slow soft music began to play and I listened as people began to sing along to the hymn, their heads bowed as they sang together in unison.

Minutes later the music died away and the priest welcomed Jake onto the stage to say a few words. I watched him make his way onto the stage, thanking the priest.

To any other person, Jake might have looked like the strongest out of all the Moreno's. He was smiling as he went and stood at the podium. His head was raised and his appearance was neat and tidy, unlike Marcus' and Aaron's, who hadn't shaved in days. Their stubble was growing into a beard, their uncut hair, wrinkled shirts and bloodshot eyes made them look like they had just gotten up. Compared to them, Jake looked so fresh and calm that it was almost hard to believe his brother had died. But that was the thing; it was almost hard to believe it, because after years of watching him, living with him and learning everything about him, I could see the strain in his face as he made his way up there. The sadness in his eyes as his gaze slid over to the coffin and the pain he hid behind his perfect posture and polite smile.

Jake cleared his throat and looked out into the sea of people that were watching him intently. "Well," he began. "First, I would like to thank you all for coming. I'm sure Elliot would have been happy to know that there were so many people out there that cared for him and loved him. This is a sad day for all of us, for his family, for his friends, for anyone that ever got the pleasure of being part of my wonderful brother's life. We've lost a great person, a person that will never be forgotten.

I'm sure my brother meant something to each and every one of you, something important enough for you to be here today, but for me, he wasn't just my brother, he was my everything, my best friend, my teacher, my boss and even my worst enemy at times," Jake laughed weakly. "But mostly importantly, he was and always will be, one of the greatest brothers a guy could ever wish for; and I was lucky enough for him to be mine."

I watched Jake walk back to his seat, tears in my eyes as I bit back a sob.

I heard someone call out Marcus' name and then I watched as he walked up to the microphone, his posture stiff and his shoulders slumped.

Marcus ran a hand through his hair and looked out into the audience. "I'll be honest with you, I haven't prepared anything. I mean, it's kind of hard to sit down and write a speech about your brother knowing that he's dead. But if I had sat down and written that speech, then I would have talked about how much of an amazing person Elliot was. There is so much I can say, so much I can apologize for, so much I wish I had said to him when he was alive." Marcus stopped talking, a ragged breath escaping his lips and reaching the microphone, echoing around the church. "My brother was an incredible guy; if he was here today he'd be calling me a wimp for crying over him, for not supporting my family like I should be doing right now," Marcus smiled sadly as he wiped a tear from his eyes. "He was always so strong and I wish that I could be as strong as he was, but I can't. And nobody will ever be, because he's gone, and he won't ever come back."

I stared at my hands, blinking back tears. I knew that Elliot wasn't ever going to come back, I knew that I shouldn't be crying, that I should be strong, but I couldn't, not even for him.

But I knew that no matter how hard I cried, or how hard I tried not to, he wasn't coming back. Ever.

"He was such a unique person. He knew how to live, to love, to laugh, and to joke, but he also knew how to be serious at times. He knew how to support us when we needed him the most and how to look after us. He could be a complete idiot sometimes but that's what made him Elliot; my amazing brother Elliot." Marcus stood silent for a minute before turning and returning back to his seat.

Aaron went up next, he too looked dishevelled and tired like Marcus as he stumbled up the steps. But unlike Marcus, he didn't look like that because of sleepless nights and lack of hygiene; he looked that way because he had spent the last month washing his sorrows away with a bottle of any alcoholic substance he could find. It was obvious from his unsteadiness and constant mumbles that he had prepared himself for the funeral service with a bottle of whiskey rather than a pack of tissues.