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]

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Chris replies, "Someone thinks they saw one little thing on CCTV, and next think you know, you're being chucked out 'cos your grades are gonna bring everyone else's down. Fuckin wankers."

Okay, so maybe he's more talking about himself here, but Chris still thinks he gets what Olive's on about.

[floozyfacade]

"Yeah, and it doesn't matter to anyone else what's really happening," Olive says, "just that people are pissed off about one totally dumb thing. Ugh." Sure, what he's describing sounds like something really different, but the general point is the same, and she knows he totally gets it. "Like, people think your life is somehow their business."

[fuck_it]

"Wankers," Chris repeats, and while he couldn't really give a toss about what anyone says about him, he knows it's different for other people. And that it's fucked for anyone to talk about his mates.

"There's nobody like that here though, right?"

[floozyfacade]

"No, not here," Olive says, shaking her head. "I mean, you know, there are assholes anywhere you go, that's a given, but for me, specifically? No." People talked a little when she started senior year here, mostly because she was new, and then they gave up, and that's how she likes it. This time around, anonymity seems like a blessing. "It's cool, I could totally kick their asses now."

[fuck_it]

"Nah, mate, I'd do it first," Chris says, though he's not entirely sure that's true. He's never been much of a fighter, even back in Bristol. He'd definitely think about it though, which he's sure has got to be worth something, at least.

"Just let me know if anyone ever does, yeah?"