Conflicted Eyes, Confusing Feelings | Complete

e i g h t y - o n e

Randall stood first, brushing away the crumbled morsels of dirt that clung to his jeans. He extended a hand to Sage. "We can go tomorrow if you want."

"N-no, it's fine. I want to go today," Sage insisted because he truly only needed a moment to cope. It'd been long enough.

Sage trailed his fingertips along the grave's rough concrete edge one last time before exhaling sharply. He retrieved the wreath off the ground and brought it to his nose, the roses tickling his skin as hit brushed his face, the sweet, calming smell of roses pooling into his lungs shortly after. Roses. He liked flowers, pink roses specifically.

Sage fixed the bunch of flowers against the headstone before accepting Randall's hand, standing tall despite the slight wobble in his knees. He rejected Randall's hug as he turned and looked at the grave one last time, his teary eyes rolling over the words inscribed into the headstone.

Here lies Gage Avery Tremaine

1976-2008

Faithful husband, badass dad and super rad dude with an overwhelming hero complex

Somehow, those words still brought a smile to Sage's face, even on the ninth anniversary of his father's death. Plucking another item from his backpack, Sage sniffled quietly as he knelt again. He planted a tiny pride flag next to the grave, a tiny, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips.

That was the only grave Sage would be visiting that day. The fresh plot of land nearby wasn't for anyone else he loved, and for that reason, it was enough for him to be submerged in the reality with just his father.

"Happy birthday, dad."

* * *

Xander probably should have died that day.

With all that blood loss teemed with the fact that his health hadn't been up to par from before, that would be the most likely route of action, how everything would go down.

Yet there he was, in a familiar setting, this time lying down under layers of white sheet tucked comfortably in his sides, light pelting on his eyelids from outside. The rhythmic sound of a beeping monitor registered in his mind, followed by the sounds of everything around him fitting into place, matching their source. The roar of cars on the road several feet below, the faint sound of chatter and footsteps trekking along the hallway in the distance, the lazy whirr of the rotating ceiling fan above, and even Xander's own breathing. His brows twitched together as his thick eyelashes fluttered open, his pupils narrowing into tiny slits amidst his pale blue iris as he adjusted to the intrusive light.

The IV strings burrowed beneath his skin rattled as he moved his left hand to cover his eyes from the piercing light, a small groan escaped his lips as he tried sitting up. A dull ache awakened from his subtle movements, bringing Xander's attention down to his abdomen, the sight of the bullet wound obscured by his blue hospital gown. His fingers tentatively brushed over the fabric above the stitched-together wound, his lips pulling down into a frown as everything from a few days ago relayed in his head; the brawl with Carlos, getting shot, thinking he would die right then and there.

And most of all, Sage.

Xander's eyes opened fully that time, flitting to the chair poised by his bedside where the blond boy sat a while ago. He'd been resting peacefully on Xander's legs, his eyelashes wet from tears, his blonde hair falling across his forehead and ruby cheeks, and his chest rising and dropping in a calm, steady rhythm. Besides his fingers twitching uselessly, he wasn't able to move, only watch the beautiful boy slumber without being able to brush his hair back or say anything. His legs shifted and Sage stirred, moaning quietly as his face scrunched up in annoyance, like the small, clingy kitten he was whenever woken from his slumber.