The JereMike Collection

Promise Me Sunshine

*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.