Item Post

[fuck_it]

It feels like a long fuckin' time ago that Chris walked out of his hut on an island a long way away and found his brother's grave stone. He reckons it's still there, because unlike the stuff he had on him and Anwar the toad, it never turned up with him. At least, so far as he can tell. It's a big city and he still hasn't managed to see all of it.

It bothered him at first, that reminder of Peter still being stuck there while he'd moved on, but there's really fuck all that Chris can do about it anyway, so he mostly tries not to think about it. And he's been doing a pretty good job of that, at least until he cuts through the graveyard behind one of the churches on his way home and happens to look down at the right moment.

Or maybe it's the wrong moment, because he would've just kept on going if he hadn't seen the name on the stone there, the one he thought he left back on the island, or back in Bristol.

Peter Miles
Brother, Son and Angel

Where he goes, Peter goes too, it seems.

At least they're in the same place again, that is, if it's everything and not just the stone there. Chris never found out for sure on the island and he doesn't think he wants to know here either. He makes a note of the church he's walked behind and is about to go on his way— he'll be back to visit, he always comes back to visit— except the marker just next to Peter's catches his attention. It's just a wooden cross, nothing as fancy as what Peter's got, or as the ones with the giant statues of angels and all. But Chris's own name is engraved on the wood there: Christopher Miles in neat letters.

He doesn't know how long he just stares at it, but it's long enough that he loses track of time, that he forgets for a bit that he was headed home in the first place. Is he down there? Buried underneath the dirt, would he find himself if he dug into the dirt? It's fucked to think about and Chris doesn't want to know.

But there they are, both the Miles boys, just like they're 'sposed to be, Chris thinks. At least there's something dead set on keeping bits of his family together.

[Open to people who know Chris, set in August.]

Comments

[fuck_it]

Chris nods, for a second thinking it's enough of an answer before he realizes that she's asked him about ten of them all at once.

"We should go," he decides, and his fingers shake a bit the next time he takes a toke off of his joint. He doesn't want to keep looking at it, at his name carved there in the wood, but just then, he can't take his eyes off it.

[everyonetakes]

"Come on," she says gently, reaching out to take his arm. She has no idea what to do in a situation like this. Back home, Marshall always came to her for advice -- or maybe she just gave it to him whether he wanted it or not -- but that was for shit like how to break up with someone or how to get someone to like him. It wasn't like this.

She feels totally useless. And totally speechless, too.

[fuck_it]

He follows when Kate takes his arm, spliff hanging lazily between his lips. Part of him thinks that just as soon as he turns 'round that it'll disappear, both his own grave and Peter's. It's fuckin' mental, he knows, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't look back once more before they leave the small cemetery.

[everyonetakes]

"So that's... yours?" Kate asks as they get back out onto the street. She's not sure if she's supposed to ask something like that, but she doesn't feel right just pretending she didn't see anything. She definitely saw something and it definitely had Chris's name on it.

The thought makes her feel kind of sick. She can't imagine how it makes him feel.

[fuck_it]

"Think so, yeah," Chris says, because he doesn't see how it couldn't be. It was just next to his brother's and Cassie'd told him what happened back home. It can't be anyone else's, really.

"I... I don't think you're supposed to see your own."

[everyonetakes]

"Yeah, I don't think so either," she agrees, looking down at the sidewalk. She used to think about death a lot more, used to wonder what would happen if her mom just went totally off the rails one day and ended up killing herself. It's not like Kate ever wanted it to happen, but she's always known it's a possibility, but this is completely different. This is like knowing the future and escaping it somehow. All at the same time.

"Are you okay?" she asks. "Wait, totally dumb question. Obviously it's fucked up."

[fuck_it]

"No, it's cool," Chris lies, and he's looking down at his feet as well, trying to keep the image of the two grave markers from swirling round in his brain. He doesn't even think he's got any pills at home, and he really fuckin' wishes that he did.

[everyonetakes]

"Oh my god, it's not cool," Kate says. "I think it's the opposite of cool. Like, as far from cool as you can get on the spectrum."

She pauses, then asks, "Do you need a hug?"

[fuck_it]

"I don't think so," Chris says, but he sounds unsure. This is the kind of stuff people hug each other over, and at the same time, he thinks people don't hug over this sort of stuff, 'cause it's not like it really happens to anyone all that often. Or at all.

[everyonetakes]

Kate stops and hugs him anyway, slipping her arms around him and leaning her chest against his shoulder. He doesn't sound too sure about whether or not he needs a hug, but she figures hugs are good in pretty much any situation. And she doesn't know what else to do, her own mind still reeling from what she's seen, the idea that Chris is gone somewhere.

"You wanna get a drink or something?" she asks, still hugging him.

[fuck_it]

"Yeah, alright. Sounds good," Chris says, and as unsure as he was about whether or not he needed a hug just then, he feels better for having had one.

He's still not convinced that, having found out, Kate won't want to be friends with him much longer, but at least things are alright so far.