CHAPTER ZERO
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i. something more !

— LIONEL HAD NEVER GIVEN MUCH THOUGHT AS TO HOW HIS FUNERAL WOULD BE, but when he looked back on his life, he'd at least pictured a few guests. His family, at the very least. Perhaps even a reporter or two, clawing at one another in an attempt to get the big scoop on the death of Queens' golden boy.

He was not, however, expecting to stand entirely alone, staring down at his own freshly engraved headstone, tuning out the minister a few paces away as the man did his job and spoke about life, unliving, and God's unearthly plan.

The smallest parts of him wanted to laugh. A few weeks ago, he had everything. The perfect life, the reputation of an eldritch beast, and all the riches one could imagine.

How could all of that have disappeared so quickly?

Lionel scoffed, crossing his arms and glaring angrily at the pale sun peeking through the clouds above as tiny, glistening raindrops splattered against his cheeks, cascading down his chin to marry with the earth beneath him.

He knew exactly how he'd lost everything. He really shouldn't be so surprised that this is how it ends- his body being buried- nothing more to his existence than the clothes on his back.

Pulling at his own shirt collar uncomfortably, his skin began to burn with an uncomfortable heat- yet still, he continued to stare into the icy rays of sunlight basking the world in a grey glow.

Was this that light? The one that everyone talked about in life- that brilliant, friendly, divine light that would take his hand and guide him into the unknown? Into whatever happened next? Was there something next? These questions raced around Lionel's mind, and it was difficult to catch any one of them in his shaken grasp when his very presence felt- like nothingness. Like it was non-existent.

He supposed it was because of the rain. When he'd been alive, he remembered loving the rain; the life that it fed, the misty smell and warm, dewy feeling that filled his lungs with every smiling breath.

Now, it just feels cold. Cold, sad, and unforgivingly lonely.

Is this death? This miserable state of being? Is this what he deserved?

Lionel's head hurt- and he realized his eyes began to sting with tears the more he stared into the silver clouds, so he averted his gaze back to the ground beneath his feet.

It didn't change anything. The dam had broken, and a river of grief flowed within, his anger becoming the most brutal sort of unending despair.

The boy curled in on himself, his knees hitting the freshly mown grass as his hand flew up to suppress a broken sob. Not that it mattered. No one could hear him anyway.

This couldn't be all there is. It just couldn't. Was he now expected to purposelessly wander this cruel and unjust earth? Was this his eternity? Was there no hope for the spirit of a child?

Lionel was sixteen when he died. He'd had his whole life ahead of him. This couldn't be it. There had to be more- a better plane of life, one where he didn't carry this heavy burden upon his shoulders wrought by his death.

Yet- all that he had to combat the friendless atmosphere was the quiet symphony of rainfall along the lonely granite headstones, and a mind-splitting headache that now pained more than the blade that had killed him.

Of all the thoughts fighting for dominance in his head, only one took prominence over all the rest.

Where the hell was that ringing coming from?

It only seemed to get louder- more intense- as he acknowledged it, and Lionel's hands fled to cover his ears as he rocked back and forth, tears now flowing freely and mixing with those of the crying heavens.

If this was death- he wished beyond all things that he had seen that knife coming. That he'd have known what would happen that fateful night he'd chosen to go to bed early, and that he wasn't going to be there to greet the morning. He wished he'd had another chance, he wished-...

No. There was a voiceless whisper that built in his senses, increasing the pressure in his brain, lighting his nose with a familiar, aching bite. He used to get nosebleeds often as a child, just a common byproduct of being a reckless youth- but this was different- it was numb, yet fizzing. You wouldn't have changed a thing, Lionel.

He groaned and gritted his teeth uncomfortably, barely able to open his eyes long enough to observe the black substance spotting the dull grass near his knees- a thick, sticky matter that also stained his fingers as he reluctantly pulled them away from his head. His nose and ears were bleeding- enough to be concerning- especially considering he was already dead.

"Who are you?" Lionel muttered, squeezing his eyes shut once more so as to focus fully on the words appearing in his mind.

All will be answered when you are ready. For now, you must await your assignment.

"My what?" He whimpered, the pressure becoming nearly unbearable. He knew covering his ears was doing nothing to help the situation, but he couldn't help it at that moment- he could hardly hear himself think long enough to come up with any other plan.

So every dip and line in his hands continued to gather shallow pools of the black substance flowing from his very being- even when his subconscious wanted to pull away at the uncomfortable unknown texture.

You are a guardian, Lionel. That is your purpose.

"A guardian?" Lionel could hardly form words, but he was desperate for answers. There had to be more. More to this lonely plane of existence- he had to do more- and this thing that now infected his mind seemed to have that for him. Answers. Something more.

Your path has been carved out for you, boy, and you may find it soon. When that time comes, everything shall make sense. Await your charge. You will know when it happens.

"How?" He asked weakly, finally beginning to collapse, an arm racing to prop himself up as he nearly fell over. Yet the pressure finally ceased, leaving a pounding, gnawing sensation in its wake.

He swiped at his upper lip, removing the runny black liquid and relieving the itch it had started to cause, his eyes opening and darting to search for the thing that had somehow spoken to him in such a curiously speechless way.

"How?" Lionel begged once again, wishing for an answer- a meaning- a purpose.

No more words appeared in his head. There was only silence, save for the screaming nature of his thoughts. It was just him, the sky, and the headstone before him.

He was alone again.

author's note

ahh hello loves, welcome to die trying! cant wait to see what you all think of it, I've started to really love the characters and plot of this story and I hope you enjoy reading about them as much as I enjoy writing them (:

big thank you again to GlassofNotes I truly have no idea where this story would be if not for my incredibly brilliant editor & friend— and another thank you to saturnsepiphany and -JIMINSFAVBLACKIE who have been nothing but supportive of all my best, and arguably worst ideas- you three put up with me more than you should have to and you've no idea how much I appreciate that

Love you all so much! See ya in the next chapter (: <3