Post by nyx desirée labelle on Nov 11, 2009 23:49:33 GMT -5
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[/color]T he cemetery hadn't changed a bit. The same, moss-covered headstones, the little stone bench under the old tree, everything had stayed the same since the last time I'd been here. With the exception of the addition of some flowers here and there, and some new stones, the cemetery still looked as ageless and peaceful as it had before I left Rome two years ago. I still knew the same route towards where I needed to be, running my long, daint fingers along the smooth tops of the headstones. Delarosa, Fuegaro, Ruiz, all the names I had seen before still carved into the same headstones, which all had different things. And as I went through the names, I remembered the days I had spent here. And then I hit the name I was looking for. Labelle.
T yler had been twenty when he killed himself. Put a bullet through his head, as I recalled. It was a gruesome scene, I had been the one to find him. laying there, on the ground in the old stables. It was the worst thing I'd ever seen. I should've figured he was going to do it, though. The subtle hints, the odd questions about what I would do if he died, they were all to let me know what was going to happen. Unfortuneatley, I didn't get the hint soon enough. So there I found him, my best friend, my own brother, dead.
A s I sat down on the dry grass in front of the cold headstone, I placed the rose right in front of it. Black ribbon wrapped around, it was always our thing. I loved 'Phantom of the Opera', and whenever I accomplished something he'd get me a rose with a black ribbon around it. I remembered joking with him, saying he wasn't exactly Gerard Butler but he'd do as my Angel of Music. He'd just laugh that melodic laugh of his. And now, every time I came, I brought a rose with a ribbon for him. It was our thing, I wasn't going to stop it now that he was gone.
M y fingertips ran across the stone, through the indents of the letters and tracing them slowly. It was good to be back somewhere familiar, somewhere that hadn't changed. "It's good to be home," I whispered to myself. I sat there in silence, thinking about things, almost like I was having a conversation with my brother in my head. I let a tear slip down my cheek, knowing I'd come back just in time. "Happy birthday, Ty," I said sadly to the stone. He would've been twenty-two this year. His birthday was right after mine, only a few weeks. I sighed, wiping my eyes and continuing to sit there, humming 'Phantom of the Opera' music to myself while I thought about everything, and just enjoyed the peace, quiet, and familiarity that the cemetery had for me. I was home.
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Notes:[/font] Lalala depressing post, I know.
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