Lea

One of River's hands is intertwined with mine as he drives. My thumb strokes along his skin in an attempt to allay the look of unease he portrays. After receiving the voicemail from Nick around a week ago, I tried convincing River to call him back. Obviously he refused, but I can tell that the message bothers him as much as it bothers me.

Not only because he finally realised that Nick isn't exactly the bad person in this situation. Although it was his fault, he's probably hurting just as bad as River is. However, the main reason why I tried to get River to call him was due to the context of that message.

It frightens me to say it, but it sounded so much like the last message that Nick would ever give.

Maybe it's just me making a big deal of things, and River assured me that Nick wasn't the type of person to...kill himself. Though in situations like these, I worried to think of what he is capable of. And as much as he wants to deny it, I think River shares the same concern as me.

I continue stroking at one of his hands while the other one is clutching onto the steering wheel, the knuckles turning a yellowy-white colour as he strengthens his tight grasp on it.

Today isn't going to be easy at all. It's the day of the burial.

For some odd reason, my father allowed me to come with River while he and my mother are travelling in Malcolm's car. I think he realises that all River needs at the moment is a friend, and since nothing disastrous happened at Graceland, maybe he's starting to trust him a little more.

I hear River sigh quietly beside me, but loud enough to hear over the car engine. Slowly turning my head towards him, I take a moment to study him. His eyes are blotchy, with redness replacing the white of his eyeballs; it's blatant that he's been crying for the past week, non-stop.

The thing about his cry is that he keeps most of it inside, not that many tears come out. His face is usually stone hard, not showing much emotion. And when a tear does eventually escape him, it falls without a blink.

I think that's the worst type of cry.

The car comes to a halt at a traffic light, and he returns my gaze, tugging at the corner of his lip to force a fake smile. He looks handsome, in his black suit with his hair gently slicked back and an almost-clean shaven face with only a bit of stubble showing itself. The only thing he wears that isn't handsome is the fatigue, showing in the way he carries himself. He's being dragged through hell, and I wish it would stop. 

"You alright?" He asks, voice a little weak.

No.

"Yeah," I force a smile back. "Are you?"

"Nah," he shakes his head, pulling a smile that holds no happiness nor humour whatsoever.

I hold his hand a little tighter as my heart shivers in my chest.

"I called him, Nick," River speaks, capturing my undivided attention. He pressed down on the gas when the traffic light turns green, and the car pulls us forward.

"And?" I ask, curious.

Another sigh escapes his lips. "His phone was switched off, so I called his home phone, and his mum said she hasn't seen him for a few days."

That's what I was afraid of. I should've urged River to call him straight after he sent the message.

"Do you..." I bite my lip, not actually wanting to ask the question.

"No, Lea. He wouldn't do it. I know him, he wouldn't." River attempts to convince me, and maybe himself too. Nonetheless, his voice sounds so tired and vulnerable that there's no confidence in his words. But I don't push it. Today isn't going to be about Nick; it's about Emily.

***

River takes a turn into Colston Cemetery, slowing the car down as it takes us deeper into the trail that is surrounded by tall, dark trees. Between the gaps of their trunks, I can see the bright sunlight seeping through, and if you look close enough, you can make out the gravestones. They're of different heights, in an aligned order, stood at various shapes and sizes, sprouting out of the ground at varying angles. The dark grey of the stone reflects the atmosphere I feel right now.

I've never been in a cemetery before, but I've never been a big fan of them either. Shivers start to crawl up my legs, giving me goosebumps that press against my black tights.

"Hold my hand," he says softly, his eyes land on mine for a moment before facing what's left of the trail.

I do as he says, winding my fingers through his free hand again, I don't know why I let go in the first place. The warmth of his skin mingles with mine, and it comforts me; I only hope it does the same for him.

"Thanks for coming, it means a lot," he speaks again.

"Of course," I reply back, giving a small smile, "dickhead."

You shouldn't have said that you stupid idiot, this isn't the time and place to joke. You're so stupid why would you say that? Airhead.

To my surprise, I witness his straight tight lips ease a little, and curve slightly upwards as he glances back at me for a moment. A small chuckle escapes them, relieving me from that pathetic voice in my head, even though it had a point.

"How did you come up with that name again?" He questions, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't have to, it just suits you perfectly," I smirk back, my eyes locking with his

Twelve o'clock. That's what it said on the funeral invites.

We cordially invite you to attend the funeral and celebrate the memory of our beloved Emily Nora Collins.

After staring back at me for a few more moments, he turns back to the road ahead. We're slowly approaching a curve that introduces us to the main graveyard. Yet unexpectedly, River slows the car to the edge of the road and it comes to a complete halt.

I immediately turn to him, "everything okay?"

He squeezes my fingers with one hand and the other drops from the steering wheel to his lap. His eyes fixated on the trees ahead which crowd our view of the graveyard hidden behind them. They aren't fooling him though; he knows exactly what's there, I think that's why he's stopped.

"River?"

He shuts his eyes, "gimme a minute," he whispers after several seconds of loud silence.

Turning my body to face his, I lean forward and slowly press my lips against his cheek. Before I'm able to pull away, he turns his head to face mine so that our noses brush together. The chocolate colour of his eyes darkens, reflecting the grey of the clouds above us. One of his hands rises to gently stroke my cheek.

"You know," he says, quietly.

I wait for him to continue speaking, but for a moment he doesn't.

"What?" I encourage.

"After all this, we should go somewhere,"

At this mention, my heart skips a beat. The idea of heading out of this town and going on some sort of adventure to get away from reality for a while seems to sweep me off my feet. A small smile tugs at both of our lips.

"I like the sound of that." I say, and for the first time in weeks I see his genuine smile shining at me.

This is what being in love with someone feels like, it makes crap times in life like this seem a little more bearable. What he must be going through isn't easy, but he'll get through it, I know he will. And he'll come out stronger from it.

"You know, if she met you, she would love you." He says quietly, making my smile brighten.

I wish I could've met her.

We stay put in the car for another twenty minutes with my head resting on his shoulder and our bodies linked at the hands, satisfied in each others company.

***

I watch him glance at Brenda again, and she gives him a supportive smile, never-minding her glossy tear-filled eyes. He still can't look down at the coffin placed on the ground beside him. Nevertheless, he starts to pour everything out, and that's when I try to hold it together, and almost (almost) fail.

"Thank you all for being here today, I really appreciate it. You see, Emily and I were quite polar opposites, even though we were twins. She was always the nicer one." A small smile pulls at his lips at the words. "Although I never got to spend that much time with her, she was the best sister I could ever imagine having. And me, being the protective brother I am, couldn't imagine anything bad happening to her without me being there to help her through it." He pauses.

"Unfortunately, I couldn't save her, and her life was cut too short. But the more I think of it, the more I realise that no matter how much of a short life she had, she'd made the most of it by being the most kind, considerate, helpful and generous person I know. I think we can all agree that her heart was pure and kind. She was a great friend, and a brilliant daughter, a loving sister, and above all an amazing human being. She was just too good, so she couldn't stay."

You know that pain in the back of your throat that you get when you're about to cry but you're holding it in. Yeah, I have that right now.

"I will always remember her as my annoying, but wonderful sister." He smiles a little wider, and I can tell that everyone else has a small smile on their face too.

"And I hope as a brother, I can make her proud." 

***