death!fic

[arualms]

Although I complained about the fact that all the death!fic for Brandy´s table of death was depressing me, I wrote one myself. And because I´m a fan of killing two birds with one stone (that is how the saying goes in English, right?), I also did Brandy´s first experimental fic promt, The reluctant I.

disclaimer: we all know I don´t own them, or I would have put some of the flist members in charge of writing.

AN: At least I didn´t kill Ryan ;)

 

Impressions

 

Looking at the people standing in line, waiting to express their condolences, I can’t help but think that they shouldn’t be here at all. Sandy hated the Newpsies, he wouldn’t want his funeral to be turned into an opportunity for them to flaunt their top of the line, only expensive brands, black clothes. He would have hated this, the fakeness of it all. None of these people really knew him, how could they ever understand what loosing him means.

 

Kirsten seems close to breaking down; the line of her mouth continues to get thinner. Getting her out of here would probably be better. Screw appearance. Sandy is dead, who cares what those people think. She shouldn’t have to deal with them, and neither should Seth. Seeing him standing there, holding her hand tightly as if letting go of it would cause him to lose his mother as well is like looking at a stranger. Since the news of the helicopter crash came, he has hardly spoken at all. Seth can never shut up, so whoever this person is, it’s not Seth, not Sandy’s son. Maybe Seth died with his father.

 

Summer is by his side, but she seems afraid to touch him. Maybe she thinks he needs this, needs to be with his mother, alone with her despite all the people surrounding them, to keep from falling apart. Maybe she doesn’t know how to deal with this stranger in Seth’s body. Her helplessness is visible on her face, as is her need to do something. But Sandy is dead, and there is nothing she can do to change that.

 

The Newpsies are talking among themselves, stating how much of a tragedy it is. It would be more believable if their voices didn’t have the same tone they do when discussing the latest rumours. As long as they have something to whisper about, they don’t seem to care who or what they are talking about. It’s sickening, but it’s as much a part of Newport as big mansions and ridiculous fundraisers.

 

Julie isn’t taking part in the gossip today, instead stepping behind Kirsten, resting a hand on her arm. Funny, how people surprise you sometimes. Kirsten doesn’t seem to be aware of the gesture, but she has been in a daze ever since she answered the phone. Has it really been three days already? Has it only been three days?

 

The Nana is standing a little way off, face set in stone, but the trembling of her hands gives her away. Her other son and her daughter may be standing behind her, but right now she probably doesn’t even remember they exist, let alone realize they are there. What is she thinking about? Does she regret the distance between them? Is she mad at him for getting involved with the Newport Group, for going on that stupid helicopter flight with the potential investors? Somehow, the Nana seems to be someone who would fight tooth and nail to stay in the anger phase. The death of your oldest son probably isn’t something one ever wants to accept. Parents aren’t supposed to burry their children.

 

I turn my back to all off them, looking down again. The sun, shining inappropriately bright today, floods light into the hole, onto the coffin that is still visible beneath the flowers. The smell of the ground, broken open and ready to swallow what remains of Sandy, is nauseating. When it closes, nothing will be left of him. This man took a chance on a boy he didn’t know at all and gave him a live and a future. The idea of him not being a part of that future is unfathomable.