Anderperry Oneshots Collection

I'll Kill Him

It was the type of cold that made you envy burn victims.

Todd forced himself not to cry, lest his tears freeze to his skin. Each exhale was pronounced by a cloud of condensation, hanging in the icy air. The crunch of each step he took sickened him.

With every stride, he was another step closer to the funeral.

Charlie, who had known Neil since childhood, drove there with his family. Todd was offered a ride, but decided to walk. The other poets weren't invited.

Todd was now regretting his decision.

But soon enough, he reached the church. Hand stinging on the cold metal handle, he swung open the door and let himself in.

It was a morose atmosphere, to say the least. It felt warm, but artificially. That sticky sort of warm that feels wrong inside. And at the very front of the chancel lay a slick black casket.

Todd heard a sigh, and was suddenly aware Charlie was standing beside him. Normally, he would've heard him approach, but lately Todd had been getting so little sleep he probably wouldn't've noticed if a steamroller came his way.

Todd turned to face him, almost accusatory. As if he was shocked by the audacity of Charlie. Couldn't he see the dark circles ringing Todd's eyes? The tear-induced blush of his nose? The wrinkle beginning to form as a line between his eyebrows? Couldn't Charlie see that Todd was in no state to get out of bed, let alone talk to him?

"It's closed," Charlie stated, as if dumbfounded. Apparently, no, he couldn't see. That or he chose to ignore it.

"Of course, it's closed, Nuwanda," Todd reiterated. "Did you expect an open casket after Neil..."

Todd trailed off, not wanting to admit the reality.

"After he put a bullet through his head? No, I guess not," Charlie, evidently, did not possess the same fears as Todd. "I just had this thought that I could see him one last time."

Todd made the choice not to respond to this. If he had, the quiver would start to show in his voice. Instead, he turned his head back to face the front.

The funeral party was extensive. At least fifty people were mingling about, and Todd couldn't recognize a single one. Except for Mr. Perry, who lingered at the front, making minute rounds so everyone knew just how sad he was.

Todd clenched his jaw.

Beside Mr. Perry stood a woman. She was well dressed but clearly just as broken as Todd. She had on nice makeup, but it was smeared, and she tended to face down as she shadowed Mr. Perry, never really talking but never leaving his side. Todd guessed this was Mrs. Perry.

Neil had told a few stories about her. Stories of nights sat by the fire while his father was away. A cup of hot chocolate and a lesson in crochet. Neil always smiled while he told the stories, those seemed to be his happiest memories of growing up.

Todd was grateful to Mrs. Perry, for giving Neil those memories when his father wouldn't.

Neil's father.

Todd remembered the night of December 15th. How they had all sat in the cave, kidding around while Neil wasted away.

Mostly, he remembered the words he'd said. To no one in particular, in a moment of dissatisfaction, Todd had blurted out, "If I ever see Neil's father again, I'm gonna kill him."

At the time, he'd been joking.

But now, Todd was thinking about how justified that felt. Again, he locked his gaze on Mr. Perry. He was grinning at one of the attendees. Todd felt an angry blush rise to his cheeks as his nails dug into his palms.

In an instant, Todd found himself walking toward the casket. Slow, even strides, but steady and deliberate, too.

He wove his way through the crowd. Somewhere, a million miles away, he heard Charlie.

"Todd, what are you doing?"

For once in his life, Todd didn't need to justify himself, nor explain himself. He was going to talk to Mr. Perry.

Eventually, he reached the clearing in front of Neil. Dauntlessly he approached the balding man, and paused a couple of feet behind him.

"Mr. Perry?"

He swung around, and Todd's fist instantly connected with his face. There was a crack, and Mr. Perry was on the floor.

"What the hell is the matter with you?!" Mr. Perry spat. Blood was pouring from his broken nose, pooling in his mouth. He spat it out and held a hand over his wound, wincing every time he accidentally touched his injury.

"Are you blind?" Todd asked, voice loud, commanding attention. He didn't stutter or hesitate. He just spoke. "This is your fault. You killed him, asshole!"

"How dare you speak to me that way! Barbara, help me up!"

To Mrs. Perry's eternal credit, she made no move toward him. She let Tom Perry sit sputtering in a pool of his own blood.

"He's dead by your gun because you couldn't love your son for who he was," Todd said in disgust. "Even I could do that. But you were his father. That was your job. And you couldn't even get that right."

Todd's blue eyes seemed dark with hatred. He leaned in, and spoke through his teeth. "And you will carry that guilt with you for the rest of your life, you piece of shit."

Todd shoved Mr. Perry once more, and he slipped, landing on his already broken face. Todd didn't look back, even as Mr. Perry screamed for his wife, whined like a toddler, even as his wife didn't move.

He walked out of the church, out into the cold.

"Where are you going?" asked a familiar voice. Charlie emerged from the church, jogging to catch up to Todd.

"Home." Todd let out a long overdue deep breath.

"I'll go with you," Charlie said, walking by his side. "And Todd?"

"Hmm?"

"That. Was. Awesome." Charlie smiled. "Seriously, I think you're my hero now."

Against all odds, Todd laughed. And, somewhere, Neil laughed, too.