Code Red >> l.h. au

december 27th ; luke

one month later

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Black. Black skies, black clothes, black caskets. Black. Everywhere. Even their pictures are in black and white. The one things that seem to be white are the snow that seems to cover everything and the roses everyone has to throw on their coffins. Which are in the ground. you know, the customary 6 feet underground.

That's another thing that's black. The dirt. The dirt we have to throw on their coffins. That's a stupid thing to me. You're basically forcing families to realize "oh hey. My loved one is dead. They're in the ground, and I'm burying them." That sucks. Burying people you love is fucked up. School shootings are fucked up. It's just a fucked up world I guess.

"We will now hear a few words from Ian's best friend, Luke." I heard and my head snapped up. I stumbled out of my chair in the front row and made my way to the podium. When I got up there, I realized that this was the first of many funerals I would have to be attending. This one was even a joint funeral. I cleared my throat and looked out at the sea of faces. It wasn't like I didn't know anyone. I knew practically everyone that was there. Ashton was sitting in the front row, silent sobs racking through his body. To his left was Michael, who wasn't even going to come until five minutes before the funeral started. Mr. Evans had to force him to come. He said she would want it. Like he knows where she would want her best friend to be. Next to Mikey was Cal, who was still hopped up on pain meds. His crutches were under his seat and the rap made his dress paints especially dificult to put on. I would know, Miss Joy called me to help. Cal was bouncing his leg up and down, and I knew he needed to get out of there. He can't handle stuff like this very well. Aaron and the rest of Chelsea's family sat there with grim expressions on their faces. Aaron hadn't been kidding about coming in to try to save Chels and... her. Because of that, he'll have a nice scar on his shoulder. From a bullet wound of course.

"Ian- Ian Thompson was the kind of guy everyone loved. Ian was the guy who everyone could always go to for help. You could poll all of Castle Rock- not just our high school, but the whole city- and no one would be able to say a sinlge negative thing about Ian. He was my co-captain. my weight lifting partner, my tp-ing side kick- sorry Ms, Brasier-" That comment earned a chuckle from the crowd. "And ... and he was my best friend. People used to say Ian and I were brothers in another life, but we were brothers in this life too. Ian was going to go on to do amazing things. Ian and I were about to kick ass at the University of Florida. Ian was going to play his way through college, become a physical therapist, and then move back home. Now, I hope, God I really hope, he's up there in heaven playing with the greats. Ian deserved- still deserves- only the best." I took a deep, ragged breath and wiped my eyes before continuing on. "He didn't deserve to die the way he did. None of them did. No one deserves to die in the way that some of my best friends did. I'm sorry that I didn't think to go get him. I'm sorry it's me standing up here instead of Ian. But, life sucks, so it is. And since it's me who's still standing up here, I can promise you one thing." I paused and looked directly at Ian's mom and dad, no matter how hard it was for me to do. "I'm sorry you're having to bury your son two days after Christmas. And to show you how sorry I am, I'm going to try harder in school. I'm going to go to Florida, and every single touch, every single goal, every single game will be played for Ian. Soccer and school were pretty much the biggest things in Ian's life, and I can't think of a better way but try and make him proud by attempting to do as well as he did at both of those things." I looked up at the sky, pulling the matching dog tags we used to wear out of my coat pocket. "I love you, man. Everyone does. We miss you so much bud." I whispered and place Ian's set of tags on his casket. As I started back to my seat, the pastor started to talk again.

"Our next speaker will be Quinn Evans, Chelsea's best friend." I stopped dead in my tracks and turned towards the pastor. He had just said that she would be talking. But that's impossible. Because she's... she's... I looked around for her, hoping, wishing that what I knew to be true was a mistake, and that she would show up and make everything better. But that was impossible.