𝐀𝐳𝐫𝐚𝐞𝐥

𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛

"it's hard to turn the page when you know someone won't be in the next chapter"

☘︎

I found myself by the gate of Azrael's house based on the memory of the car ride with his friends and Verena. I paced around the side pavement, hesitating if I should ring the doorbell. I shouldn't be here. Azrael might get upset that I'm being reckless and impatient.

As I was about to turn back to where I came from, the soft hum of a maroon car pulling up beside me broke my thoughts. My heart quickened, and I instinctively stepped back, trying not to look too obvious.

Why am I acting suspicious?! I'm not going to break in or something. Okay, I should stop panicking.

The driver's door opened, and out came Mrs. Greyson, her arms full of grocery bags. She paused when she saw me, blinking in surprise before her face lit up with recognition.

"Oh Odelia my dear, what brings you here?" 

My brain fumbled for an excuse, but nothing came. The truth was, I wanted answers that Azrael refused to tell me in our dreams. But how could I say that to his mother? How could I tell her that I have been seeing her dead son in some magical way? I knew Azrael's death had made it hard for her and it would be bad of me to remind her of how he passed.

Somehow, she seemed to see through my troubled mind. Mrs. Greyson tilted her head, a tired but soft smile tugging at her lips as she balanced the grocery bags. "You must be here for Azrael, aren't you?"

"I... yes... I have some questions," I stammered.

She nodded. "Why don't you come in?"

"Thank you... Sorry for intruding... Let me help you with the bags," I offered, reaching out to take a few from her. Mrs. Greyson handed me a couple of lighter ones, still smiling that gentle, tired smile. Her eyes were warm, though I could see the weight of something deeper behind them—grief, perhaps, or a kind of knowing.

As we walked towards the house, the wind picked up slightly, brushing past us in a way that felt almost...familiar. Like the way Azrael would sometimes appear in the field, carried on the breeze. I felt slightly guilty since maybe he was here and it probably seemed like I didn't trust him as much as he wished I did.

"When the time is right, I'll tell you everything."

I stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of how to even begin. Mrs. Greyson glanced at me and waved me over to the kitchen table. "Sit, sit. I'll put the kettle on and make you some tea."

"It's okay Mrs. Greyson..."

"You're the guest dear... I'll be right back."

I sat down on the couch and fidgeted with the hem of my sweater. The room was warm and inviting, but I could hardly focus on the comfort. My mind kept drifting back to the dreams with Azrael and the pressing need for answers. 

Mrs. Greyson moved about the kitchen, the clinking of tea cups and the soft hiss of the kettle filling the silence. I watched her, wondering how she had been coping for the past 2 years. It must have been so hard, losing your precious son just so abruptly.

She came back with two cups of tea and I muttered a 'thank you'. She sat down across me, giving me a warm smile.

"How are you, Odelia?"

"I'm okay..." I have been meeting your son. 

Mrs. Greyson nodded. "So... how can I help you dear?"

"I'm sorry to ask but can I... know how Azrael passed?"

The room grew heavier with the silence. Mrs. Greyson shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her hands clasping the edge of her armchair, knuckles whitening. For a moment, no one spoke, and I could feel the tension thickening, threatening to snap. My mind raced with the uncertainty of her answer.

Mrs. Greyson finally sighed, her shoulders sinking slightly. "It was sudden," she began, her voice barely audible. "He... he didn't show any signs. No warnings."

She paused, and her eyes shimmered with the beginnings of tears. "I found him in his room and I thought he was just sleeping... but when he didn't wake up and I saw pills scattered all over the floor..."

My heart was pounding hard. It ached. I didn't need to hear the rest of the sentence.

How stupid can you get Azrael? How can you just... leave your family and your best friends?

"I'm so sorry..." I said quietly.

Mrs. Greyson wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and shook her head. "It's no one's fault, Odelia... But I just feel that I failed as his mother. I should have noticed when he was suddenly less cheerful. I should have been at home more often."

I realised that no words could ever truly mend what was lost. And no amount of time or comfort will truly change the fact that Azrael was gone. So I sat at my spot with my head hung low as Azrael's mother's sniffles rang through the living room.