𝗩𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗡𝗔 | the boys 3

iv. 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐎-𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐌

~𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗿𝘆, 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘁𝘆 𝗜 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗲, 𝘄𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝘁𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗶𝘀 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘆~

'I keep getting these flashbacks. Actually, it's really awkward. I don't even remember what happened last night - I just looked at him for too long and suddenly I was a seven-year-old again. And I could hear my dad saying, "it'll all be over soon, princess," for... hours. I mean, it was only a few minutes, but it felt like a fuckin hour.' Rowan ripped up fistfuls of grass from her place sat down. 'I'm sorry I didn't catch you at the funeral, by the way. I was watching, though. Right up there.' She pointed to a balcony across the street. 'Don't get me wrong, I know your grandparents or some shit were from the heartland of this damn country, right? Those cowboy hats were just too fuckin much, dude,' she chuckled. 'You know what my problem is? I'm just too tasteful.'

Haley Graham's gravestone had stood planted firmly into the ground for over a year now. Rowan had just shoved some awful stuff up her nose when she watched the precession of fat, old men wearing stained polo shirts lower her coffin into the mud. The poor girl wasn't even beneath her in the slightest - half of her ashes were scattered at the beach where her eating disorder developed and the other half were scattered outside her favourite Starbucks. That was not funny, Rowan. Haley would have laughed.

'Too soon?' she supposed. 'Anyway, next thing I knew, my ass was on the kitchen floor and Billy was holding my hands fast to his chest like he'd rather me hit him again. And I don't know if it was because of what I saw, or just because I was fucking terrified, but I almost called him something and... I just couldn't stand the thought of him letting go of me.' Rowan's voice wavered, 'He didn't for a while, at least. Shit, Graham, he's the coldest motherfucker you could lay eyes on but he's always so warm.'

Just as Rowan thought she might have reached a small conclusion, carved a handle out if the mountain she was climbing, she heard some heavy footsteps drag across the grass. There was a list of names these could belong to: Butcher - most likely. Frenchie - very possible. Kimiko - strange, but this wouldn't have been the first time. Hughie - not likely, but not completely against the odds.

She looked around the cemetery, the light of the morning stung in contrast to staring at the letters carved in grey and black. The kid would stand about a foot taller than her if she extended to full height. On his face was nothing but peaceful interest. He stared at her without a care in the world. After a few uncomfortable seconds, Rowan stuck her middle finger out in his direction, and he instantly started grinning. In sheer surprise, she let out a strange chortle, soon turning it back into that disapproving look of hers that drove people back into their own businesses.

____________________

'How's Ryan?' 

'You know. He's a fair lad,' Butcher whispered. 

'And where are we?' Rowan furrowed her eyebrows at the number nailed to the apartment door. 

'The thing is,' he turned to look at her, 'I got a lead that might be worth something, but we need more hands on the job.' Butcher knocked on the door politely.

'Is that where Frenchie and Kimiko went this morning?' she rushed through her words as heavy footsteps thudded throughout the apartment.

He clicked his tongue and winked at her in fondness. 'Well, I figured... you said you been missing him.'

The apartment door swung open. 'M.M.!' Rowan's face lit up.

'Alright, mate?'

A little girl hopped up to his side. Rowan recognised her instantly, grinning as Butcher pulled out a colourful toy from his trench coat pocket.