*emerges from screen, pats reader's face* Death and grief ahead, just saying. *devours feels*

Note: Art drawn by Kiino-Kun on tumblr.

They say when you lose someone, it's a feeling you'll never forget.

Some would compare it to drowning, some would say it's alike to being set ablaze. It's an unwanted ache in your chest and churn in your gut that makes you want to puke. But you're not sick; you're sad. So you cry instead.

It's a difficult sensation to explain mentally, but many have their own physical descriptions. One example would be the agonizing pain of your ribcage being pried apart, and your heart being ripped from its web of veins. Another would run along the lines of something sharp being shoved your throat, holding you underwater as you struggled to breath. Cheesy and cliche, but viciously accurate.

People are supposed to cry. They're supposed to sob, and wheeze, and bawl their lungs out until all of that turmoil is released. Then maybe they'll cry some more. It's reaction the body enforces without permission; a natural physical response to control a devastation that your mentality can't process. It lightens the load just enough to collect yourself and carry on. Tears don't always represent happiness, but it can represent healing.

Jeremy didn't cry. He just went numb.

It's not cloudy enough to rain, but enough to block out the sun. A grey haze falls over the crowd as they gather around the podium, each person taking their respective seat and falling quiet. It's a small group, no more than a few close family members and a neighbor or two. The funeral is held outside, not exclusive, but certainly not open to the public.

Mike knows that no one aside from the deceased really wants him there, but he shows up anyway.

Thinning his lips into a line, he straightens his suit as he stands by the very last row, hidden from view. It's the middle of Fall; the air is cool and windy. Many attendants have their dresses or their hair gently ruffled by the breeze, but they all look much too distracted to make adjustments. The only thing anyone cares to notice is the bouquet sitting atop the casket. The flowers tilt in the slightest before the petals bend in the wind.

He watches as Jeremy stands from the front row, walking over to fix the flowers before sitting back in his seat. The neutral expression on his face never changes.

The whispers that fell over the crowd went silent as a man in grey stepped up to the podium. Mike is sure that he can't be more than around 50, but the stress lines in his face and red rimmed eyes make him seem much older.

The man coughs into his hand before speaking. "We gather here today to bask in the loving memory of my beautiful daughter, whom was a lovely wife and a caring mother. There are no words I can use to describe what a joy it has been as her father to see her grow up to be the wonderful woman she became. She was kind, she was grace, she is someone we will always remember fondly as a ray of sunshine..."

Mike tunes him out, focusing on the stilled figure sitting attentively in the first row. Jeremy doesn't look bothered, not even in the slightest. He's entirely blank, void of any expression or feeling. Family seating around him have stuffy noses and wet eyes, but there's no indication that Jeremy has even so much as shed a tear. He looks like a emotionless doll.

The man steps down from the podium and ushers Jeremy to take his place. Hesitating, the son stand, calmly stepping up and facing the crowd. As green gazes over the sorrowful faces, it misses Mike watching him carefully from the shadows.

With a deep breath, he begins to speak.

--

Jeremy's Aunt, Mike learns, is not a very agreeable woman.

"He'll be staying with me" She insists, "I know what my sister asked of you, but I can't agree with this. Jeremy just lost his mother, and I just lost my twin. The only thing the Fitzgeralds need right now is family..." She trails off, eyeing him up and down critically. "And you are not family"

Naturally, Mike wants to snark something back, but he keeps his temper. "I made a promise ma'am, and I intend to keep it. I'm sorry for your loss, I am, but..." He bites his lip, stuffing his hands into his suit pockets. "Do you really think moving him away from his hometown, away from his friends and school is going to be good for him at a time like this?"

The woman merely sneers. "He'll adjust. Who are you to decide what's best for him-?"

"Plucking him out of school in the middle of the year and cutting contact off with people he can confide in is only going to fuck him up" The guard retorts, returning a sneer of his own.

He spares a glance at the little girl holding the woman's hand, quietly eavesdropping on the conversation. "...Excuse my language"

"He can confide in his family, Mr. Schmidt." She shields the child from the man, though the blond kept a close eye from behind her mother's dress. "He seems to be doing just fine without you anyway. He's a brave boy, I know. Hasn't cried since the announcement" Posed uptight, she straightens her dress. "I'm sure in time he'll be perfectly fine"

"You're pretty fucking clueless, aren't you?"

The woman's lip curls back in offensive, putting both hands on her hips. "You are in no position to speak to me in such manner, much less make vital decisions on such a delicate topic"

Mike's fists ball up in his pockets. "With all due respect, you sound like you have no idea what it's like for someone his age to lose his mother so suddenly."

She grits her teeth. "Oh, and I supposed you would know?"

"Yes, I do"

The answer takes her back a bit, blinking in surprise. There's a flash of sympathy on her features, but it's gone with the next moment. "Listen, I understand you want the best for Jeremy-we all do, but things are going to change whether either of us like it or not."

"Some things don't have to" He glances towards the thinning crowd, family and friends leaving now that the service was over. The sky is gradually darkening, blending with the warm orange-brown of the falling leaves. He takes a deep breath of cool air before continuing; "Trying to start new sounds like it's the right thing to do, but believe me: it's not"

"Why should I take advice from you?"

"Because I know from experience-"

He's interrupted when a tiny hand boldly tugs in his pants leg. Ice eyes blink before peering down, locking with green. The girl looks confused, maybe even a little scared. "...I-is Jeremy gonna be ok?"

There's a pang in Mike's chest that he can't identify. "...I don't know, kid. He's pretty upset right now..." She frowns, unsatisfied with the answer. "But you're gonna fix that, r-right?"

Mike grims. "I promised to take care of him"

There a moment of silence before she smiles, turning to the woman. "See? Mikey's gonna make everything all better! He's gonna-"

"I won't allow it"

The woman cuts him off sharply, pulling the child away from the man and giving a cold glare. The guard wants to return the favor, but there's an approaching figure in the corner of his eye that halts him.

He peeks back to the fuming woman and opens his mouth to speak, but finds himself interrupted. "You're just his coworker, and I doubt you're someone Jeremy would like to have as a friend, much less a roommate. I don't know what exactly my sister asked of you, but you can forget whatever 'promise' you made, because he's coming with us." Her grip tightened around the child, finalizing. "You don't even deserve him"

"...Auntie,"

Shock flies across the woman as she whips around. Jeremy stands before them, quiet and void. There's no telling as of how much conversation he's heard, but with absence of reaction, it wouldn't have mattered. His Aunt simply turns to him, ignoring the guard tensed behind her. "Hey, sweetheart..." She trails off, sparing Mike a glance. "I was just telling Mr. Schmidt here that-"

"I want to stay with Mike"

His little cousin giggles as the two adults stare wide eyed at the brunette, equally shocked with the demand. "Are you sure that's the best decision, sweetheart?" The woman urges, smiling nervously. "Maybe you need a day or two to think it through-"

"No, Auntie" Jeremy's tone is flat and unfeeling. "I'm staying here"

Lost for words, lipstick clad lips open to protest, but close again when she see just how broken the brunette looked. His expression is neutral, but there's absolutely no light in his eyes. His skin is paled and lack of life, like all of the color had been slowly ripped away from him. The black of his suit only washed him out more so, painting a picture of a hollowed, empty boy.

Mike swallows down the dryness in his throat. At times like these, he'd have cigarette, or even a drink if he was desperate enough. But this was Jeremy were talking about here, someone who relied solely on hugs and head pats to cheer him up. Only; Mike was afraid that if he tried, Jeremy would shatter into pieces.

He looked so unbelievably fragile that it was sickening.

Neither adults have registered the small child moving forward, reaching out to the brunette. When her small hand slips into Jeremy's palm, he doesn't even so much as blink. "...Mikey says he's going to take care you now, ok?" The grip around his hand tightens. "Your mommy made him promise!"

The air went tense as the three of them stiffened. Painted nails come to rest on the child's shoulder as the woman gently pulled the child away from the teen, keeping her distance. "Are you sure this is what you want, Jeremy?" She eased, eyeing him carefully. "We can still talk about this."

"I don't want to" The nightwatch gives a sharp reply. "I'm legally old enough to determine where I want to live, and I want to live here..." He press his lips together before continuing. "...with Mike"

Defeat washes over the woman's demeanor, but she leans forward to persist anyway. "You know that if you change your mind, you can alway call me, right?" She smiles softly, fidgeting when the teen remains void of emotion. "We can take care of you..."

"I don't want to live with you." Jeremy's tone sounded final

The woman is frozen by the brutal bluntness, standing awkwardly in between the pair. "I see..." Sensing her unease, Mike rubs the back of his neck, looking away from the two. In reality, he's just as surprised as Jeremy's aunt. "Listen, Jere..." He trails off. "We can run by your house and grab your stuff, just...let me know when you're ready to leave, ok-?"

"I'm ready to go now"

Mike raises a brow and inwardly questions the action before sparing the fresh grave a glance, going silent. "Alright..." Fingers shift in his pockets, double checking the inventory. The metal of his keys run under his fingertips and he sighs. "I can pull the truck around front. You should say goodbye to your family."

"I'm walking with you"

His sentences are short but precise, like a scissor blades cutting paper. With the body language of a still doll and monotone voice, Jeremy seemed almost robotic. There's no stutter, Mike notes. No familiar repetition of vowels or slight mispronunciation of certain syllables that he adored. This definitely isn't normal for him, causing the security guard to wonder just how much of a front the nightwatch was putting up.

He straightens his tie by habit as he grits his teeth. It wasn't showing, but Jeremy was thin glass right now, and there was no telling as to when he'd crack.

"Right..." He looks down to his watch; the time ticking slowly towards 7PM. Luckily enough, the night hasn't arrived yet, but it was approaching steadily fast. "....We should get going then"

Jeremy's only response is a blink, so Mike nods his head back to the teen's Aunt. "I understand where you're coming from, and I'm really sorry for your loss..." Blue eyes dart to the unmoving brunette before returning. "But you're gonna have to trust me on this, Ma'am. I swear that if I fuck up, you can yell at me all you want."

She frowns at the language, crossing her arms. "I'll keep that in mind."

The older man takes a breathe of relief, eyes dropping half lidded. "So we're done here?" The woman merely nods. "Finally..."

He misses her cold glare as he turns back to the nightwatch, still as emotionless as ever. "Truck's just down the path. You sure you wanna leave right now?" Once again, the air is quiet. The only sound breaking the silence is a little whine coming from the little girl, to which the woman promptly shushes her for it.

Mike's fingers tap against his pants leg before he speaks again. "...Alright, let's go"

Jeremy passes the remaining family and security guard, paying them no mind as he calmly walks towards the direction of the vehicle. Mike bits his lip at the teen's retreated back before following after, trying his best to ignore the sad whimper coming from behind him.

The little girl is half bent on following as well before she's hushed once more. The woman glares at her, gripping her tightly as the males moved out of hearing range. "Behave like that again and I'll put you up for adoption." She threatened.

"So?" The child sticks her tongue out. "I'd make Mikey take care of me too, then I'd be with Jeremy!"

--

The ride is quiet and uneventful. There's absolutely no conversation, not a sound from the both of them. It's so quiet, Mike finds himself glancing sideways every red light or turn and so just to see if the nightwatch was really still there.

Jeremy has his head tilted downwards, staring blankly towards the floor. He doesn't gaze out the window, peer around the truck or even blink for the matter. He's completely immobile, frozen and captive by his thoughts. Mike grimmly notes the nightwatch putting his face into his hands just as they pull into the Fitzgerald's driveway.

It's just as they left it: white picket fence, three-stair porch, decorated with a multitude of flowers. Though, from the looks of it those flowers wouldn't last much longer. What used to be pretty scarlet poppies and violet tulips already wilted to a ugly, deathly grey. Even the pink pot they grew in didn't seem to contain any color.

Refreashing his lungs, Mike switches the engine off and unbuckles his seatbelt, stepping out of his truck. Making sure to grab the duffle bag situated in the back seat, he shuts the driver's door behind him, moving around the front to open the passenger's. Jeremy is still behind the tinted glass, making no sudden movements when the car door is swung out for him.

It's not supposed to be this cold, Mike thinks. But for some reason, the lack of Jeremy's reaction to anything is sending chills down his spine. "I'll help you get your things if you want me to." He eases. A moment passes and his grip on the door handle tightens. "....when you're ready."

Ten seconds pass and no response has him itching under the skin, but then Jeremy blinks, unclasping the seat belt and stepping out of the vehicle. Even as he moves there's a sense of stiffness in his motion; so keen on keeping himself from showing expression that one little mistake, just a little slip of the thought, would make him come crashing down.

Half of Mike is urging him to reach out the brunette and try to offer any comfort that he could, just as long as Jeremy was breathing in his hold. The other half is screaming for him not too, afraid that any contact would snap the night watch's mentality to pieces. So instead, he watches helplessly as Jeremy pulls out a set of keys, walks up the front porch and unlocks the door.

As he hurries to catch up to him, Mike enters the living room and freezes. Everything's nearly gone.

The sofa, the bookshelf, the television, most tables; even the pictures that used to dot across the walls were missing, leaving dusty imprints in the wallpaper. Hardly anything is in the living room and kitchen, so it was safe to assume that most of the house was cleared out, aside from Jeremy's room. All that's left now is skid marks from heavy moving and boxes full of little littered memories.

Mike watches as Jeremy crouches down next to one in particular, eyeing the picture frame sticking out of it's panels. Biting his lip, the guard closes the front door with his foot and lets the bag hang from his shoulder, pausing. "...You need a moment?"

To his surprise, Jeremy nods his head. Damn him if he didn't believe that such a little response would give him even just a little bit of relief. "Alright...." He's reduced to standing awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hands and clutching the bag tightly with his other. Glancing around the room, he notices chipped paint where one of their family photos would have been. Shame.

"Mike"

Said security guard pipes to attention, shocked to hear the faint voice so suddenly. Jeremy has his fingers wrapped around a picture frame, gently pulling it from the stack. "...Could you go into my room and pack my clothes for me?" He rotates the picture in his hands, a familiar one he's taken himself. "...I'll be there in a moment"

As much as the guard doesn't want to leave him alone, there's a possibility that solitude might just be what the nightwatch needed. "Yeah, take your time." The older man sigh, swinging the bag over his shoulder and turning on his heel to walk down the hallway.

Mike is not a soft hearted man; he doesn't feel upset when he spots a dead pet on the highway, he doesn't feel remorse when he slams his knuckles aside someone's face, and he didn't even scream when his own mother passed away leaving him with a nameless father as the only family he has left.

Yet, as his fingers tap mindlessly on the bedroom door knob, there's a strong concern and worry he can't deny burning deep in his chest for the brunette in the next room.

Taking a deep breath, Mike turns the knob and opens the door. The bedroom looks untouched.

The lighting is dim, but it's not hard to spot the dresser on the other side of the wall. He saunters up to it, pulling out the drawers and begins to semi-neatly toss articles of clothing into the duffle bag. It's best to do this quickly. Since Jeremy's Aunt repossessed the furniture and such, there's no telling as to how many memories she sold away. This room was probably the only safe point in the entire house.

He's halfway through the second drawer when something plastic runs over his fingertips. Blinking, Mike moves away the remain clothing, staring at the simple binder hidden underneath them. So this is where he kept his scrapbook? Not a very original hiding place, but effective nonetheless.

There's a few photographs sticking out at the ends as MIke takes it in his hands. Was peeking through it the right thing to do? No, it wasn't, especially since he knows the nightwatch is sensitive to having people look through his work. Even so, the guard can't withhold his interest when he spots the corner of a specific picture sticking out of it's flap.

He flips it open, skimming over the collection before resting his view on the photo. Mike swallows; it's an old photograph, a little faded and rough around the edges, but the figures in color were clear.

Jeremy didn't look more than six years old in the picture, laughing and smiling as his mother held him in her arms, a proud smile on her face. The only physical difference between then and what was now being her haircut, much alike her son, to say that Jeremy still looked exactly as he did when he was a child, if not a bit bigger. With their arms wrapped around each other, posing in front of some cheesy vacation sign, it seemed as if they were a truly happy family.

He flips it over momentarily to the writing on the back. There's a short, faded signature, too neatly written in cursive to belong to Jeremy near the end of the paper. Interesting.

Mike neatly tucks the photo back into it's respective flap and shuts the binder, setting it back into it's place. Pausing, he glances out the bedroom window. It's getting really close to night; he needed to check on Jeremy.

The duffel bag is left on the ground as he stands, promptly walking out of the room and back down the hallway. The walls he passes have lightened imprints on where he would have guessed their proudest moments would have been framed, now bare and empty.

He barely has one foot in the living room when he stops dead. "...What the fuck are you doing?!"

Jeremy turns to face him, pieces of ripped photos in his hands. At his feet, more destroyed pictures dotted around him. "What?" The nightwatch answers, grinding his teeth. "They're all worthless, now...I-I'm just getting rid of the trash..."

Mike watches in horror as he tears another photo in half, overlapping them and tearing it again. The pieces are thrown to the ground, Jeremy reaching out to snatch another. "See? This one has h-her in it..." There's a awful ripping noise as it's destroyed. "Useless!"

His voice is returning back to his usual stutter and tone, but it's cracking and uneven, as if all that emotion he's been hounding down is forcing it's way up his throat, just making sure to infect his vocal cords as it crawls up the night watch's spine. Mike want to feel relief that Jeremy's not an unfeeling being anymore, but he zeros in on the teen's trembling hands and feels nothing but anxiousness.

"They're not worthless..." The guard advances on him, slowly and steady. "They have your mother in it; something to remember her by, right?"

Scrunching up his nose in disgust, Jeremy takes a step back and tears another, letting it drift to the ground. "I don't want to." He spits. "All of these are happy, Mike. They're not us, n-not now-" He's cut off as a shudder climbs his spine. "-I c-can't look at them anymore"

Mike grims as another picture is destroyed. "You're never going to get those back-"

"That's the point!"

All of the unframed pictures are shredded; now, only the framed ones remain in the cardboard box. His breath hitches as the nightwatch grabs the first one in line, the same one he left the brunette to bask in as he packed his things. Now, raised high above the flooring about to drop.

"Jeremy, stop this..." Though it came out harsher than he intended, Mike firm order is still the best comfort he can offer at the moment. "We don't have to be here right now. We can come back whenever you feel better enough to-"

"It's never going to get better!"

The object is raised higher, gripped tightly in the coil of the brunette's fingers as Mike stills. Biting his lip, he reaches out to him. "Don't say that..." He inches closer, "I used to think that too, Jere. Believe me, everything's going to be ok-"

His sentence cuts short when he stumbles backwards, the frame hurling past him and to crash into the opposite wall, shattering on impact.

It's this moment when he hears the sound of glass shattering does Mike realize that Jeremy has cracked.

"Don't come near me" The boy stiffens, "And don't you d-dare lie to me again..."

"It's not a lie-"

"Yes, i-it is!" He makes move to smash another, shaking fingers wrapping around another victim. "You don't know anything!"

Mike gulps as his gaze trails down to the brunette's finger tips, spotting a bit of red peeking out from the skin. "Jeremy, please..." He wants to sound comforting, but his tone comes out interrogating instead. "I know it's hard, and that you're feeling like complete shit right now, but do you really think breaking all your stuff is going to bring her back?"

He runs a tongue over his teeth as he watches the teen stiffen, gaping wide at the accusation. "...I-I know s-she not coming b-back..." Jeremy hiccuped, "But I have to g-get rid of these...t-they're d-dead to me, just like her..."

The security guard takes a sharp inhale as the second frame is dropped, smashing into the ground. Instinctively, he takes a step forward to the nightwatch, only to freeze when he spots a dribble of crimson trailing down his small palm, dripping to the floor.

"Jeremy-"

"Don't" There's a strain in the teen's voice he can't identify. "Don't talk to me l-like you're obligated to make me feel better..."

"Yeah, I'm not obligated, but you're wrong if you think I won't at least try."

The nightwatch simply grinds his teeth in response, paled cheeks flaring. "It doesn't matter...nothing you say can make a-anything right again. These stupid pictures are worthless and I never want to see them again and you're not going to change my mind, ok?!" He slings the frame to the left, already reaching for another as it smashes against the wall. "You just can't!"

Mike makes a split decision to move forward as the teen momentarily has his back turned, pausing again when wet green irises whip back to glare at him. "Ok, ok, I get it. I'm an asshole who doesn't understand what you're going through and blah blah all the other typical shit." He inwardly flinches as Jeremy breaks another, this time splintering the wood with it. "But for fuck's sake, you need to stop-!"

"Why should I? Why do you even care w-what I do? These are my stupid p-pictures with my stupid mom and my s-stupid face together. Mine, not yours!" His grip winds around another frame, the pile of them slowly and painfully diminishing. "It's my choice that I don't want to remember..."

The sentence ends with a cough and before Jeremy can stop it, there are fresh, hot tear trails running along down the sides of his face. They're long overdue, a comfort notion owed to him that he denied; now he has no choice but to endure the lurches in his lungs as he struggles to catch his breath.

He tries to interrupt his wheezing partly by speaking again, only to fall back into the pattern of sobs. A few feet away, Mike stood helplessly observant. "You don't mean that" While his voice was firm, it was laced with consistency. "You know she loved you, just as much as you still love her-"

"S-she loved me? She loved me?!" Glass cracked as Jeremy's grasp tightened around the picture, tears pouring into his mouth as he breathed. "If she loved me, w-why didn't she t-tell me she was dying? Why d-did she lie to me and t-tell me everything w-was ok? Why did s-she leave me by m-myself?..."

His throat went dry as he stared at the guard, lip quivering. "Why did she tell you, and not me?"

Mike's hands twitch as he glances down at the other's, blinking at the blood before speaking. "I'm not gonna sugar shit you, ok?" He falters for a moment, "Just...put down the glass, please."

The intensity in Jeremy's expression softens into confusion, blinking as he looks town to his hands. Between his fingers, shards of glass pricked and jabbed at his palm, secured tightly in his clutched grip. Not a pretty sight, especially with his mother's casket color still fresh in his mind. Though, there was no pain; just a numbing feeling, he can still feel the tremors running up and down his arms.

Reflexively, he bites his lip, only to find his teeth are chattering too. "Go away"

"I'm not going anywhere"

"I said go away!" Jeremy backs up a few paces, glass crunching underneath his dress shoes. "Get out of my house! I mean it!...J-just get in your s-stupid truck and drive off, ok?" Mike cringes at the demand, eyeing as to how the nightwatch had yet to drop the shard. "Just leave me alone."

"I already told you; I'm not fucking leaving"

A silent scream escapes the teen before he flinches a sob down, raising his arm to hurl the remains of the frame at the guard. Needless to say, the water has blurred his vision and in turn; his aim. Mike doesn't even have to move to avoid the projectile, it just sails right past him.

Though, as Jeremy grits his teeth and reaches for another, he misses how quickly the older man can advance. Before he knows it, there's a firm grip on his shoulders, ready to shake some sense into him. Shocked by the sudden contact, adrenaline rushing through his system with it's high dosage of grief only fueled his reflex.

So naturally, Jeremy swings the broken picture frame, glass and all, upwards and along the security guards direction. Emerald eyes go wide as the realization of his actions hit him.

On the side of Mike's neck down to his collarbone was a long, thin gash. No telling as to how deep it was or if it'd leave a scar, but the expected blood flow seeping from the damaged flesh was enough to make his stomach churn, mimicking the little cuts in his own palm.

Mike didn't seem to notice. Or even care.

Without so much as of pause, Jeremy yelps as his right wrist is harshly gripped, the sudden constriction around his limb twitched his hand to release the shard. It dropped to the floor with a clink, the two males reflection glowering up from the ground as the rest of it's pieces were.

Mike held dug his fingers in the younger male's shoulder, nails sinking into his suit's fabric as his other hand wrung around his sleeve. "This way"

The brunette gives a choked sob as he's yanked across the living room, practically dragged like a doll by a seething man. "W-what are you doing?!" He makes an effort to tug himself away, but it's to no avail. "L-let me go! S-stop-"

"I need to show you something"

His fidgets and escape attempts don't decrease even as Mike shift him down the hallway, bumping open the cracked bedroom door with his foot open, shutting it behind him again.

Jeremy pales as he's harshly thrown to the bed, watching the guard grimly lock the door and stalk towards the dresser. "Sit there. Don't move"

He gives a sob of protest when the man harshly swings his top drawer open, carelessly moving some clothing aside before picking something out from the mess. It's a binder, worn and a little lopsided, but something Jeremy's recognizes instantly. "N-no..."

Mike flips open to the first slip, taking the picture between his fingers and slipping it out of the flap. Binder left forgotten, he shakes the smallest shimmer of dust off the picture before giving it a solid-look-over. Satisfied, he turns to the nightwatch, holding the photo up for him to see.

"Look at this"

Jeremy's heart stops for a second. "I d-don't want to"

He yelps when Mike stalks towards him, inching away to the bed's headboard. "H-How did you e-even know that was there? That was supposed to b-be a secret-!"

"Look at it, Jeremy"

Said nightwatch can feel his lip quiver at the demand, turning his head away from the photograph. "What the h-hell is wrong with you? You t-think this is h-helping me?" Smaller hands clutch the comforter, Jeremy shutting his eyes tight in hope that when he opens them again, the picture will disappear.

It only allows the tears to flow much easier, sliding down his face as he sniffled. "Just leave me alone..."

He hears Mike give an audible grunt of frustration, something heavy plopping down beside him and fingers coil around his jaw. He whimpered as Mike jerked his face towards him, using his other hand to thrust the picture directly in his view. "Look at this and tell me she didn't love you" The guard sneered. "Tell me that she's not wearing the proudest fucking smile on the goddamn planet"

Green eyes are wide and darting from the picture to the thin drips lining Mike's neck, blood seeping into his suit collar. "T-that was years ago! That was before d-dad died..." A sputter violently erupted from his throat, cutting him off. Voice raspy from crying, he could feel his mouth go dry.

Mike's furiousity softens for a moment before shaking the reaction action, gritting his teeth. "She loved you-"

"Then why d-didn't she tell me? Why d-did she wait until it was already t-too late?" Smaller hands rise to protest the grip around his face, but they only hover the security guard's wrist. "She told you! She told you everything and not me! I'm her son. Me! Not you..."

Jeremy wrapped around Mike's sleeve, his eyes wide and blank. "How am I supposed feel when my mother loved my best friend more than me?"

Mike felt something in his chest give way, whether it was his ribcage bursting from guilt or his lung's lack of air, it was a ache no matter. "It wasn't like that..." He pauses, "She was scared to tell you, and yeah, waiting to say goodbye at the last second isn't how someone should go about these things..but I swear it's because she was scared to see you-"

"How would y-you know? You're mom is dead, and you hated her! Y-you don't even have a dad! You didn't have what my mother and I did! How can you tell if she really loved me, huh?" The teen's accusation was so outwards, it shook him to the bone. "Well? What if my mom was like y-yours? I'm just a stupid kid she had to take care of! She didn't care, she never cared..."

A wheeze interrupts him, rendering him a bystander as he watches the full extent of his words crash down onto the security guard. Mike's fingers twitch, tightening around the brunette's face before letting go, ice eyes flashing hurt and betrayal. Yet, even as his blood boiled and his lungs constricted, any sign of lost faith isn't' there.

Taking a deep breath, Mike rotates the picture between his fingers. "Read"

Tears in Jeremy's eyes have blurred his view beyond salvation, even as he tries to blink the haze away. The hand that held him in place rose, Mike gliding his thumb over the nightwatch's eyelids. One blink, two blinks, a half-hearted sob later and he could see, and with his sight, he reads.

There's writing on the back of the picture, written in graceful cursive with black ink, dotted i's and a heart swirl towards the end. The faded handwriting was familiar, the name signed at the bottom was unmistakable:

Happy sixth birthday, Jeremy! Be sure to take lots of picture with your new camera, alright? Me and your father are so proud of you. We can't wait to see what you'll do when you grow up! But remember: no matter how big or how old you get, you'll always be my little sunshine~

-Mom

Breathing had become near impossible. Slowly, red tainted fingers shook at Jeremy reached for the photograph, lost for both words and air. Mike let him slide it out of his grasp, watching carefully as the nightwatch's brought it closer, tears running off his face and dropping to the glossed paper.

Mike has seen this denial before. Jeremy's rejection of his mother's memory is just a stage of grief he knows has many more phases to come. Although he can learn to accept the loss, the empty hole left behind still lingers with that agreement. So Jeremy does what everyone else would have done; denies that his mother ever loved him in hopes that it would soften the lack of love in her absence.

It sounds perfectly reasonable to the griever, but Mike knows better. He's seen this mental trauma before, and he knows first hand that it would only make things worse.

It's almost like an open wound; leave it be and you'll eventually bleed out from whatever infection you let torment your mentality. Stitching it up doesn't guarantee you won't have a scar, but with time the sting will ease and the pain will fade, and you'll find yourself able to laugh again.

The difference between the two was that Mike never had his wound patched. It burned, stung, and made him angry and completely furious with the world until someone came along and showed him that he could still heal. It wouldn't be easy, but they're smile was like a band-aid each time they laughed.

You're wrong if you think Mike was going to let that someone end up just like him.

Jeremy give the photo another moment of wide stare observation before clutching it close to his chest. It crinkled against his suit as he shook, lungs heaving with long overdue release of breath. He doesn't know how long he's been holding it in, since the hospital, since the announcement, since the funeral or even before all of that. He was numb then, and now he's desperate enough to do anything to have that again.

He felt himself break when he first saw the pictures piled in that little cardboard box in the living room, now he's feeling something else, though he can't stop himself from crying, he can't give it a grievous name either.

Emotion floods him as he gives a soft, mournful smile. "I'm l-loved..."

Mike slumps, letting out a breath of relief. "You have no idea"

Jeremy gives a little hiccup as arms pull him against the guard, lulling him to calm. There's no pretext or move to escape, just the nightwatch burying his nose into the older man's shoulder. His cheek brushes up against damaged skin and he hears Mike give a little hiss, now aware of the clotting slice running along side his neck.

He's halfway through a choked apology when Mike speaks for him. "It's just a scratch," He assures, "I'm fine"

Despite the reassuring answer, Jeremy still nudges closer to the guard, wrapping his limbs around him as he sniffled. "I'm s-sorry..." He wheezes, "I d-don't understand....why would she t-tell you and...and..." The sentence is never finished, and Jeremy finds himself resting his lips over the security guards neck, just over the gash to apologize once more. "I'm sorry..."

Mike bites the inside of his cheek, recognizing the notion. He remembers Jeremy once telling him that his mother would alway kiss his 'booboos' when he was little, and laughed saying he planned to always do the same. The thought of a young Jeremy and his caring mother together brought a chill to his nerves, twitching his fingers to calm it.

The nightwatch feels a hand rest on the back of his head, the other on the small of his back. "Don't be" Mike mummbles, craning his head down to the brunette's. "Listen; you feel pretty shitty and really fucking confused right now, but that's ok. Because I'm going to take care of you now, alright?"

Jeremy's lip quivers as Mike shifts, bringing the cut hand to his mouth. Lip press against the tiny slits, a notion much alike to what Jeremy's mother had done for him, and to what he's done for Mike. "Not gonna lie, Floofy. I'm not the best roommate in the world but at least I don't snore" He pauses for a moment. "Mostly."

He feels the holding hand go slack as Jeremy sniffles. "I-I won't mind..." Mike feels the nightwatch's fingers fidget from around his neck. "...I-I don't think I'm ready to leave yet"

Acknowledging the statement, ice eyes trail to the window. He can see the darkened sky through the window, still painted a purplish hue near the horizon. The streets were probably loaded with evening traffic now, and the thought of the dark and his truck's busted headlight brought an idea to the security guard's mind. "Why don't you stay here tonight, then?

Jeremy leans away, shedding the last of his cry before staring in confusion. "S-stay?" He repeats, "But there's nothing here? W-why would I want to...?" The sentence trails off as he ponders for a moment, taking a chance to breath in the home's familiar demeanor. "...I'd l-like that, actually"

Mike nods, standing from the bed. "Alright then, shouldn't be a problem, since all your bedroom crap is still here" He chuckles, lightheartedly prodding a pillow for emphasis. "You still have your phone, right?" The nightwatch nods, "Good, just uh, let me know when you're ready to go..."

He stands unmoving for a minute, unsure of how to continue before giving a sigh. Spinning on his heel, he moves to shuffle back over to the dufflebag; Jeremy had a lot of shit to pack for a teenager, and it wasn't just clothes we were talking here. Like, he had shelves and shelves of books and probably a basket full of used sketchpads. Maybe if Mike was stealthy enough, he'd be able to manage a peek at them later.

But before he makes it a foot away, a hand reaches out, tugging on the back of his shirt. Blinking, Mike swivels back to stare dumbfounded at a nervous Jeremy, firmly attached to the ends of his dress shirt. "Please don't leave"

It takes a few seconds for the security guard to register the request before a warm grin splits his face. "Already told you: I'm not going anywhere" He returns to the bed, plopping down roughly next to the younger male. Jeremy frowns as the bed shakes a little from the force, the springs underneath creaking from the weight. "My room isn't y-your apartment!" He nags, "I never s-said you could make yourself at home..."

Mike only shrugs, leaning up to ruffle the brunette's hair. "Home is wherever you are, so get used to it"

Jeremy hiccups, scrunching up his nose and allowing a soft laugh to ease his raw throat. "Your apartment's a wreck, d-does that mean I should be s-scared?" The guard smirks at the response, watching as the nightwatch fixed his hair to the best of his skill. "Not unless you plan on cleaning it for me. Let's face it, hell's gonna freeze over before I do it myself."

"I-I'm not a housewife..."

"Not yet"

He laughs as defeat flashes across the younger male's features. He's still in a fit of low chuckles once the defeat morphs into a gentle frown, then a playful pout before escalating into a full on giggle. There's a warm feeling in his chest that wasn't there earlier, and for some reason, his eyes were wet again, but there was no agony or sorrow to cry about. Rather, it was a much more welcoming emotion, something he couldn't put his finger on.

Jeremy shuts his eyes momentarily to wipe the relief tears away, a smile on his face. When he opens them again, he finds a concerned Mike sitting thoughtfully in front of him. Blue eyes narrow as the nightwatch tilts his head. "I'm alright, Mike" Jeremy mummers, color returning to his cheeks. "T-things are going to get b-better, right? I'm going to be okay..."

Despite the reassurance, Mike frowns. It's to this statement does he think back to the newly carved coffin buried under a fresh headstone. To this, he thinks of the broken frames lying scattered across the living room floor. To this, he thinks of the picture still crumpled tightly in the flushed teen's grasp.

But then Jeremy giggles again, even when the air is cold and the night is dark, Mike finds himself thinking of sunshine.

--

anyway im not dead...yet