take me to church.

i.

blood falls from her nose like a leaking faucet drips water. slowly, yet with the unmentioned knowledge that it needs to be stopped, before bigger problems occur.

her white shirt is tainted with droplets of her blood now. her lips are scarlet with the color staining them. her face is pale and her eyes are dilated.

and the boy can't tell if she's dying, or coming back to life.

-

six months previous

-

the way the air felt silent as it floated around the cemetery was what made the boy nervous in the first place. with everyone adorned in black and the grey of the tombstones and the white of the snow, it was a colorless palette.

silence was the only sound. unless you count the beating of the boys heart. he felt the others around him were as dead as the ones below.

the priest was murdered. a knife was slid across his throat by an unknown perpetrator. the boy could imagine the sound of the cold metal slicing through the father's withered skin. the way the opening would turn crimson as blood fell from it. the way the priest would drop to his knees, right under the cross above him, then fall to the floor. just him, the murderer, and jesus.

god was an idea too abstract for the boy to fathom. however, he rather liked church. he liked to think of it as a sanctuary. he liked listening to the words of the father. he liked the way the light shone through the stained glass. he liked the way the wine looked like blood. he liked the way that after they drank the wine it looked as those each patrons lips were blood-stained.

it would be different now that the priest was dead. it would be different when he walked up towards the alter, and saw a fading blood stain below the jesus' statued body nailed to the cross. everything was different, for him, and the town.

the silence was creating a thick anxiety deep in the boy's stomach. it rose to his throat, and it felt as though it was choking him.

finally the priest, dressed in layers of black coats, stepped across the snow. the silence was interrupted by the sound of the fresh frost crunching under his soles.

the whole town was there. the graveyard was littered with solemn people dressed in black. some mourned silently, others stood with a stoic expression.

the boy stood on the inner most circle of people. he felt as though the layers of people circled around each other, so ironically represented the circles of hell. and this boy was in the center.

although only seconds had passed, it felt like hours. the priest had stopped walking, and now stood over the tomb of the dead father. the silence returned. it was snowing, but the snow didn't make a sound.

the anxiety was building uncontrollably. the boy needed the priest to proceed. to read a passage. to say a prayer. anything.

a girl, directly across from the boy. broke into a dry chuckle.

immediately the crowd erupted into a quiet fit of clearing throats and shushes. the boys anxiety dissolved. the girl received rather unfriendly stares.

the boy looked at her, this girl. she was young. he'd seen her at church before. she was dressed in all black like the rest, with her cheeks pink. her eyes met his, they were an unnaturally dark shade. the boy looked away.

she's the giggle at a funeral.

-

(a/n: this is a 5sos fanfiction but it'll be different, trust me on that.)