You don't have to do this.

Yes, I do, I snap at my conscience, decisively pulling the knot of my black tie up to my throat.

I don't have to feel obligated to go, so why do I?

The mirror mocks me, sneering over the fact that I'm still attached to faded memories.

I am not. I am not.

Then why am I going?

Though it's still a question, my feet pull me toward my car up front. They seem to know the answer, but I don't. They are connected to things my conscious brain can't seem to.

It is all an aching haze as I pull up in front of lawn crowded by people. Yet the more people there are, the more hushed it seems.

A cemetery.

Yet not all of them are here for her. Some who pass by choke on the name Miles. I do not know him.

It's funny, the inevitability of death. It happens everywhere, every second. You can count them on your fingers; one, two, three, four. Every second someone dies and someone is born. It is a scary thought.

"Brax." I hear Harley walking towards me, camera balancing on his palm. He doesn't seem as bright as I know him to be.

But who remembers how to be bright anymore? We aren't the careless teenagers we used to be.

He pulls me into a hug, slapping my back, and I'm grateful he does.

But I'm sure it's mostly for himself.

"Didn't think you'd show up." He frowns.

"Me neither." I say.

Harley nods. He looks saggy, like he is packed with sand. His eyes are bloodshot. I don't blame him. After all, he isn't me. He cried for her.

"Mr. Roberts is going to be happy to see you. It's been a while." I believe him. "He is a little unstable right now."

"Rightfully." I reply, shoving my hands into my pockets as we make our way over to the crowd gathered for Christina. Harley keeps pace beside me, brushing his suit with his free hand, camera in other. I'm not sure I've ever seen him without it.

Christina's parents are standing a little further from the crowd, closest to her. They are talking to a young woman, whom I recognize as Taylor. I didn't think I would've seen her again.

"Braxton!" her father, Jeffrey calls out. He seems genuinely happy, but it drowns in the sea of grief set in them.

I don't say anything as he wraps his arms around me, and he doesn't either. There's no need to. I hug her mother and Taylor in turn, but they are barely there.

The embraces seem heavy, like we are falling onto each other, holding the other up. Everyone seems to have aged in decades.

That's what death does to you. It makes you more than you are, expecting more of you, when you're really at your weakest. That's what makes you strong.

"Thank you." He says simply, and I nod, understanding what he means.

***

A/N: Yup... that's the beginning. What do you guys think of the new style? Personally I love it! And what do you think about Braxton?? Was I able to pull off a male PoV?

If you liked this chapter, vote and comment! I'd really appreciate it!

Cheerio,
InBlack