Watercolour Eyes

Johnny's last goodbye

A/N: Well this is the last chapter sadly. I am in tears as i write this because my goodness it means the world to me. Please let me know what you think about this and if you've enjoyed this emotional roller-coaster that has been Sid and Vanity.

The graveyard was peaceful that morning, the kind of peace that only a cold, sunny day could bring. The sky was clear, a pale blue stretching endlessly above, and the air was crisp, filled with the scent of wet grass and damp morning dew. Thin rays of sunlight pierced through the skeletal trees, casting long shadows across the rows of gravestones. The ground beneath Johnny's boots was soft, damp from the early morning moisture, and each step he took was accompanied by the faint squelch of mud beneath his feet.

Johnny stood alone, his breath visible in the chill of the air, staring down at the weathered headstone that marked Vanity's final resting place. The letters etched into the stone were stark and simple, but their meaning weighed heavy on him.

Vanity Howard

Beloved daughter, friend, and partner. Gone too soon but forever in our hearts.

Johnny chuckled under his breath, the sound rough in the stillness. "Forever in our hearts, eh?" he muttered to himself. He crouched down, squinting at the stone as if the words would change if he stared hard enough. "That's real poetic, you know? Don't think you were the poetic type, Van."

"God, Van, what the hell happened?" he whispered, his voice cracking, though he tried to steady it. "I keep... I keep thinkin' that maybe one day I'll wake up and you'll just be there again. Pissing me off with that big smile of yours. Like none of this ever happened."

He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his jacket, looking away from the grave for a moment, his eyes focusing on nothing in particular, just trying to steady his thoughts. "I know you would've had something to say about this, though. About me coming here like some sap. You'd probably laugh at me, wouldn't you? Tell me to stop being such a dramatic prick. Maybe you'd slap me on the back and tell me to 'cheer up, mate.'"

Johnny swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing tighter with every word. He forced a chuckle, though it came out more as a soft, broken sound. "Yeah, you'd love this. Me talkin' to a rock. It's a bit shit, though, y'know? You not being around to hear it. You never could just stay quiet, could ya? Always had somethin' to say, some mouthy comment to throw back at me."

He ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the fresh bouquet of lilies resting against the stone. "Lilies? Christ, who picked these out for you? You'd have hated 'em. Too fancy. Should've gone with something wild, yeah? Like daisies or..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Not that it matters now, right? You're six feet under, can't exactly tell me off for getting it wrong."

A soft wind blew through the trees, making the branches above him creak, but Johnny didn't move. He just stood there, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, looking down at Vanity's grave. His breath hitched a little, and he cleared his throat before continuing, trying to maintain the teasing tone, though it was wavering now.

"You always thought you were so damn funny, didn't you?" he muttered. "Always had some smart remark, always giving me a hard time. Remember that time you poured beer all over my new jacket? Said it looked better that way." He let out a soft laugh, but it was strained. "I was so mad at you, but you didn't care. You never cared what anyone thought, not really. You just... you just did your thing, didn't you? Lived your life the way you wanted."