Archer told Chase he needed to go outside for some air. The latter didn't follow, as though knowing that what Archer really meant was that he wanted to be alone for a bit before the service started.
Archer now stood on the church steps, leaning against one of the towering marble pillars that flanked the huge oak doors.
As dusk began to fall, the sun disappeared into the horizon, painting the sky in all sorts of shades of orange and pink. He thought it was beautiful, and he wished that his best friend could be here to share the moment with him.
He knew about Trevor's feelings for Morgan—he's always known.
Sure, the two have had misunderstandings—it was inevitable as they loved the same girl—but Archer knew that no matter what, Trevor would always have his back.
These thoughts troubled Archer because on some level, he knew that deep down, there was a part of him that was pissed at Trevor for falling for the girl he once had but lost. There was just so much history there, and he had always assumed that it was a sort of unspoken agreement that she was off limits to his closest friends.
In fact, he had always assumed that Morgan would never love again. He had somehow gotten it through his narcissistic skull that Morgan would always just love him.
Under the dusk sky, he fiddled with the flask in his hand before taking a sip from the container and feeling the bitter liquid slide down his throat. He swallowed hard, feeling tears pool in his gray eyes.
The longer he stayed out, the more cars pulled up at the empty lot next to the church, no doubt here for the service which'll start at six. Tears blurring his vision, he turned his head away from all the strangers entering the church.
He still remembered the day Trevor had met up with him, saying he had something important to tell him.
It was on New Year's Eve, and the sun was setting quick. They were at their usual spot at The Brew, the two sitting across from each other, then, apropos of nothing, Trevor had dropped the bomb—
"I'm in love with Morgan."
Archer felt like he could skin the boy alive then and there. He clenched his fists in anger, ready to unleash any pent-up anger at him, but then, Trevor reached over the table, and in his hand was his half of the keychain he and Morgan possessed. He had given it to Trevor for safe keeping, thinking that it would help him let the girl go—but obviously, it hadn't worked.
The moment he spotted the shiny trinket, his heart softened, and he unclenched his fists.
Trevor was giving it back, as if to say that he's way out of his league and that he'd back off.
Archer suddenly felt awful because he knew that Trevor had never been in love before—Morgan was his first and last love. Pushing aside any feelings of resentment, he smiled through the tears welling up in his eyes and shook his head. "Keep it," he had said to the lost boy in love.
"Hey."
The familiar voice of his other best friend snapped him back to reality, pulling him away from the labyrinth of his thoughts. He quickly wiped his tears away and turned to look at Chase.
"You coming in?" he asked Archer, who noted the former's tear-stained cheeks that matched his own.
"Yeah," replied Archer, and they both made their way back inside to the benches, taking a seat next to a grieving Addie.
"The service'll be starting soon. Where is she?"
Addie turned to the right to look at Chase who was seated next to her on the wooden bench in the chapel. "I have no idea," she whispered. "Do we look for her or leave her alone to heal or—?"
Chase frowned. "Perhaps we should leave her be. Today's an emotional day for her."
"But she'll regret not coming to the service at least," Addie sighed. She brought out her phone. "I'm going to leave her a text, tell her the service is starting."
Chase nodded, and silence fell over the three.
At that very moment, the pastor showed up and walked down the alter. Everyone seated in the benches seemed to be tense, some crying, some silently mourning; with the pastor's new presence, everyone seemed to be sobbing harder as the sounds of people sniffling, of people blowing heavily into tissues and napkins echoed around the chapel.
Trevor's family was seated in the frontmost row to the right, his brother, tight-lipped and looking a lot like a younger version of the boy in the casket, seated next to an equally depressed-looking mother.
Chase looked away from Addie and muttered under his breath, "I can't believe it—they're actually going to bury my friend."
The mutter was really soft, as though not intended for anyone to hear, but it was loud enough for it to be heard by Addie.
She put her hand over Chase's cold one and gave him a small smile. She squeezed his hand in a comforting manner and remained silent because honestly, what could she say? It's not like there was anything she could say to make it all better, to make things seem like they were okay even though they were not.
So, instead, the two sat there in the front row to the left, hand in hand, listening intently to the pastor. Addie bit her bottom lip to hold back tears, and Chase sat there recalling all the bittersweet memories he had shared with his best friend whose funeral they were now at.
A different, strange aura was present in the church now, the only sound that could be heard the pastor's soft words and dozens of hearts breaking across the room.
|
"I thought I'd find you here."
Morgan whirled around to see Archer leaning against the big wooden doors of the church, and her eyes widened because if anything, she had expected Addie to come looking for her, not the boy she's been so confused about.
"I like your haircut," he remarked, noticing how the blonde's hair that once cascaded down her back now stopped short at her shoulders.
His words seemed to strike something within her but not in a good way. She winced then shut her eyes tightly.
Archer, who seemed to have noticed he hit a nerve, shoved his hands into the pockets of his jet-black blazer, and he turned his gaze skyward to the big, black sky over town. It was about after nine, and stars were sprinkled across the dark, shining brightly through the night.
Morgan sat cross-legged on the floor, where Archer was standing earlier today as he downed his sorrows with alcohol, but as Archer strode across to stand next to the girl, she folded her legs and brought them to her chest.
Archer surveyed the scene: Morgan's stilettos were lying limply next to her small form, and when his eyes flickered over to her, she winced again and hugged herself tighter, as though afraid that if she let go, she'd fall apart by the seams.
She avoided eye contact with the boy, her stare fixated on the ground. She sniffled, "How—how was the service?"
He shrugged. "You didn't miss out, that's for sure," he said softly, staring up at the starry sky. "Everyone cried, of course—even Chase. Trevor's mom was in worse shape, mascara running down her face and all that. I guess... I guess it was kind of nice, though, in some weird way, because it was like an official goodbye... and every tear shed just proved how much of an impact Trevor had in all our lives," he added very quietly.
When Morgan didn't reply, Archer went to sit beside her. He stretched his lean legs out and crossed his arms. "Funerals are hard, I know," he whispered next to her.
The girl still didn't respond, and the two sat beside each other on the ground outside the church in silence. Meanwhile, friends and family were still inside, eating finger foods and sharing warm anecdotes about the deceased.
After a good minute or two, Archer began to get up. "Alright, I'll leave you be—"
But Morgan's hand abruptly grabbing Archer's wrist cut him off, dusting both of their cheeks pink.
"S-stay a little longer."
Archer was clearly taken aback by Morgan's bold words, but a light smile tugged at his lips, and he sat back down next to the girl. He suddenly had to fight an unexpected urge to brush the hair away from Morgan's dainty face—anything to let her know that she wasn't as alone as she felt.
"You know, he left this for you," Archer said, handing her a black leather jacket and wrapping it carefully around her shoulders. "It was in the will-reading."
Morgan glanced at the jacket draped around her, and her heart raced when she realized that this was the jacket Trevor wore everyday to school, to outings—everywhere, really. Sometimes, she wondered to herself if he had multiple look-alike jackets, otherwise how could he possibly have gotten it washed in time for him to wear it the following day...
Morgan sniffled, in complete disbelief that he left his jacket to her. This was as much a part of his life as it will be a part of hers now.
Heart swelling in her chest, she pulled the jacket closer to her cold body, and she realized it still smelled like him. Burying her nose into the jacket, inhaling the sweet scent that lingered in the material, she looked up at Archer and thanked him, a small, sad smile on her face.
The blonde released a sigh, finally meeting Archer's gaze; he tried to read her mind, her complex thoughts, but he thought her eyes were simply too unfathomable.
Usually, he could drown in those beautiful, brown eyes of hers, but tonight, her hooded eyes were puffy despite her efforts to hold back tears, and they looked bloodshot. Her cheeks were stained with what he could only assume were fresh tears, and he desperately wanted to wipe them away with his thumb.
"I just..." she began softly. "I don't want to remember him like this. I-I saw him awhile ago... He just looked so... lifeless—and i-it hurts because, well, he used to be so full of life."
Archer smiled. "Funny, because I'll always remember him as the bad boy with a heart so big."
This time, it was Morgan's turn to smile. It was a wan smile, but Archer was thrilled nonetheless. "As the boy who appeared to think so highly of himself but deep down, was as shy as anyone," she said.
"As the boy who thought about others—"
"—and put the needs of others before his own," Morgan finished his sentence for him.
Morgan smiled up at Archer and added in an undertone, "H-he was always w-working to improve himself... so that he'd be the best version of himself—but I'll always like this version—this version was perfect, and I wish he knew that."
To his surprise, Archer didn't feel any jealousy at all at Morgan's sentiment; his heart didn't clench at how fond of Trevor Morgan is but rather at how much he just now realized he'd truly miss the boy. Their conversation right now was so genuine, so honest, and they held nothing back as they talked about the boy who had played such a big part in both their lives.
"Go inside and say goodbye, Morgan. You'll regret it if you don't."
Morgan's eyes quickly filled with tears again, and it hurt Archer to see the girl like this, like every word he spoke would pierce the other's heart. This time, though, she let the tears flow, and they streamed down her rosy cheeks. She got up, and Archer followed suit.
The pair silently stood by the entrance of the church, the cold night breeze passing them by. The glistening moonlight illuminated Morgan's tired face, highlighting the dark circles underneath her eyes and the fat tears rolling down her cheeks, and then and there, Archer could see just how broken the girl he loved was—and it broke him.
"I think—I think I'm going to head inside," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, earning a proud smile from the boy who had comforted her.