Don't Fear The Reaper

{xi. something that i can't reach}

Were Veronica and I destined to have one final fallout like that, or would we be friends again if Will were here to unite us? Would Macy and Trevor be happy again if Trevor didn't feel such a pressure to avenge his teammate? Would I actually, maybe, be thinking about the future, spurred by the knowledge that Will would always be at my side no matter what failure I trudged through?

I can't tell if my friend group was meant to fall apart or only died that way without Will, and I also can't tell if it'll ever build itself up again. The only silver lining to this whole situation is my born-again friendship with Kat, but even that's not enough to sustain any real contentment.

Without thinking, I force myself to turn away from Will's grave, holding in any final tears, and quickly leave the graveyard. I have to bend my head down against the wind and keep my arms against my sides, but that does nothing to stop the cold air from crawling up into my boyfriend's football jacket and making it bloom around me.

Soon, I'm back on the sidewalk, facing the brick Greek Revival facade of Ashdown City Hall almost directly across the street. It's around 3:10, and despite the cold, some people are out walking around, going in and out of the various buildings around me. This is what pulls me fully back to the real world, although I can't say I like seeing the world move on so fluidly around me.

As if fate - or perhaps the Fates themselves - is tired of my complaining, my thoughts are interrupted with the arrival of a cold wind and a heavy breath. Within an instant, Mor is sitting a few feet down on the garden wall, his cape rustling like the leaves in the breeze. My heart skips a beat, but I quickly steady myself and go to face him.

"Hello, Mor."

"Hello, Lila," he says strangely, like he's carefully watching what he says. "Feeling all right?"

"Not exactly." I cross my arms. "It's, uh, kind of a rough day for me, y'know?" I put more sadness in those phrases than I intended to, but Mor is unmoved.

Not wanting to show any human sign of empathy, he simply pulls out my list, scans over it, and says, "Are you, by any chance, feeling up to going to a lantern festival with your most awkward relations?"

I frown. Awkward relations? Well, Veronica takes the cake for that, followed most likely by Trevor, and perhaps Macy after him, despite our rekindled peace.

I remember when I wrote the thing about the lantern festival - I was 13, and that day our Thai exchange student, Anurak, told us all about Loi Krathong, a Siamese festival of lights and lanterns. I was fascinated by the concept of the night sky being so bright, and to an extent some part of me still is.

"Who does that include?" I ask hesitantly.

"Let's see. Macy, Veronica, and - does that say Twor?" He squints to decipher my horrible handwriting, and with an amused hum, says, "No, that says Trevor. You just had terrible prose at the time you wrote this."

Ah, yes, the Holy Trinity of Ex-Friends, the people who Will and I spent almost our entire childhoods around. The thought of going anywhere with Veronica and Trevor, especially together, makes me sick, even with the reminder that Will would want me to make up with them. I know I was just complaining about how lonely and sullen I would be tonight, but when I said I wanted something to do, I didn't mean this. What I want, I can't quite get - not yet, at least.

"I'd rather not," I mutter, "But I know you won't take no for an answer."

"You know me well, then."

"How would we even get to this lantern festival? I really don't want to have to introduce them to you and tell them that whole lie," as soon as I say this, I quickly add, "No offense, or anything. I just know that the minute you start talking about angels and heaven, Trevor will walk away and Veronica will call us both crazy."