cemetery ☞ n.m

vi

nate sighs; driving off into the road before him.

it has been a while since he took drives like those, the ones with no destination. he and johnson always did them together. and he's been avoiding them lately for that reason.

he's been avoiding smoking, also. he's been trying to acknowledge what they can do to a person. he never cared about it, and he still doesn't. he just wants to take a break from them, for at least a day.

he rests his hand on his temple, trying his best to pay as much attention as he can to the road and nothing else. he found that difficult, though. and he knew why.

he turns on the radio, turning up the volume to the most comfortable setting. he exhales as the song plays lightly, along with the monotonous sound of the road he drove on.

"who do you think you are? running around leaving scars, collecting you jar of hearts. tearing love apart."

he was never a fan of love songs or whatever the hell he was listening to, but he also didn't mind hearing it as less as he used to.

johnson adored love songs, for some odd reason. so did gilinsky. cam and nate never understood that, though. and they didn't even plan on figuring it out.

he chuckled to himself; rain began to pour.

nate loved when it rained, and felt as if he could connect to the moist weather somehow. he just thought that maybe the sky kept all its emotions bottled up, and just let them all out at once. and that maybe some of the emotions came out harder than the others; you had drizzle. you had hurricane.

he hummed along to the songs that played on the dreadful radio station, even though he didn't know a majority of the songs that played. this was what most of his drives consisted of, and yet, he's never been less amused.

he doesn't think that he'll ever find anyone who found these types of drives as appealing as he and johnson did. thinking that maybe it would just make him look pathetic. that's how he felt, anyways. he felt pathetic, and unwanted. he felt that after johnson the only people that would ever look out for him was gilinsky and cameron. no one would ever love him the way they do, he knows that for sure.

-

he drives into the parking lot of the cemetery, him being the only car parked in the drive way.

there was never anyone there at that time, or at least he felt. he tried not to go there as much as he wanted to. johnson never loved that much attention.

he stuck his hands into his pockets, walking towards the grave he wished didn't exist there. finding it; kneeling down and sighing again.

he sat down, facing the grave and thinking of something to say. even though no one was there, he thought that maybe what those people do in the movies could make him feel better. maybe sitting and talking to a charcoal-colored tombstone would make him feel like he'd given himself some sort of closure.

"what the fuck." he groaned, pulling out his packet of cigarettes and pulling one out- lighting it. he took in a long drag, feeling that maybe if he did that long enough his lungs would burn and he'd have a place in the cemetery of his own. with his name engraved on a tombstone, of his own.

"this is all my fault, jack." he said lowly, dipping his head down. his index finger twitches as he holds the lighten cigarette between his fingers, allowing for the smoke to fade off into the air.

he ran his fingers through his hair, not caring about how it looked. he hasn't even been himself ever since the incident. and frankly, he doesn't even think he ever will be.

"you don't deserve to be here." he took another drag, then made his lips form into an 'o' shape and blew it out. watching the grey smoke blend in with the dewy fog. "i do."

he sat there in silence, finishing the rest of his cigarette in a short amount of time. he flicked it away, using the dirt as an ash tray. he knew that it was wrong, but he didn't even care. he doesn't care about anything anymore.

it didn't take long for him to feel as if he were hallucinating when he began to hear what sounded like the strumming of a guitar playing faintly. he furrowed his brows, and got up. trying to get closer to whoever was making the noise at one in the morning. perhaps they were there for the same reason he was.

he squints his eyes and focus his vision on what seemed like a female figure sitting on the dirt, playing a heavenly tune on the acoustic guitar whilst singing words that he couldn't quite make out. he walked closer, trying his best not to be heard. but she heard him.

she looked back, staring at him blankly.

he didn't want that to go on for much time, and it wasn't really easy to think of something to say to a girl playing a guitar in the middle of a cemetery at one in the morning besides what he did say;

"what are you doing here? in a cemetery, in the middle of the night?" he asks, taking steps closer to her. through she made it quite difficult, she kept crawling backwards. clutching her guitar in her small hands tightly.

"i could ask you the same thing." she says. her voice was shaky, as if she were scared of something.

and they just stood there staring at each other. he'd mostly be staring at what seemed like her head. mostly because one, he wasn't close enough to see her face and two she'd always back up when he tried to walk closer to her. so he stood still. and she stood still. and they just stayed like that for a while.