Starr

Tombstones and Trees

The Autumn leaves slowly fall from the trees, swaying back and forth in the air. Leaves were scattered as far as the cemetery went. 

Kieran sits on a broken stone next to a very, very old mausoleum, in desperate need of repair.  His back is hunched with a sketchpad over his crossed lap. His graphite pencil grazed the ivory paper, giving his drawing more texture, not that it needed any texture.

What lies on the sketchbook was a dark, yet beautiful drawing; it's a recreation of one of his family's family photos, and Kieran's parents, his brother and his sister all look happy, just as they do in the original photo. Kieran himself is not in the picture. Rather, it is his headstone-to-be. 

He observes the happy faces he has drawn.

They'll be okay if I'm not there, right? But will that mean they will forget me? Would forgetting me be the best option? If I have to think about it this much, does it mean I  shouldn't go through with it?

As thoughts churn in his mind, his eyes furrow. He starts to wonder if any of this is worth it. He thinks it is, but there are just so many things about it that are problematic. Kieran wants to see the reaction. The faces of everyone he loves, everyone he wanted to love, and everyone who has hurt him; but he can't just rise from the grave. He isn't Jesus. 

Kieran's train of thought is broken as an orange leaf lands on the paper. He doesn't bother to brush it off. He's done, anyways. Now, he just wants to sit. 

Among the tombstones and trees, Kieran hears music. Coming from a guitar. He raises his hooded head and looks around. Walking the path that leads to the entrance is a boy with sunny-blonde hair with long, textured waves. He strums his black acoustic guitar with beautiful chords. 

The boy shoots Kieran a kind smile. Kieran manages to bare a half-smile and then looks back at his sketchbook.

"Hey." The boy says, approaching Kieran.

"Hi." Kieran responds, looking back up at the boy. 

"You look real familiar," The boy begins. "Have we met before?" He asks, tilting his head. 

"Do you go to Westridge?" Kieran asks, not looking away from his paper as he makes a few markings. 

"Yes."

"Then we probably go to highschool together." 

The boy looks in through the bars of the mausoleum, seeing the destructed tomb. He sets his guitar leaning on the cracked stone exterior. "That's cool. I'm Drake. Drake Daniels."

"Kieran Starr." He states, looking up at Drake.

"Oh, you're Maxene's brother."

"Yup." Keiran says, looking back down at his sketchbook. Drake also leans forward and takes a little peek at the dark drawing, as well.

"Woah, that's amazing" Drake charms, kneeling next to Kieran to marvel at his artwork. "I wish I could draw like that."

"This isn't my best work," Kieran mutters, looking into Drake's icey blue eyes. "But you could draw like that if you practiced." Kieran chuckles.

"I've tried practicing, but, i don't know, maybe it's just too late for me. I'm more into music." Drake explains as he runs a hand through his blonde hair (with his other arm rested on the stone Kieran was sitting on).

Kieran's leans on his hand, which supports his body on the stone. His hand is very close to Drake's arm. Kieran's eyes cast down to the stretch of Drake's grey skinny jeans against his legs. 

"I love music." Kieran mumbles, redirecting his eyes to meet Drake's. 

Drake lays his elbow on the stone and leans his head on his knuckles, marveling at Kieran's eyes. His mouth curves upwards, and it's thoroughly alluring. His smile is unique; it isn't perfect, but it's cute. Granted, his teeth were perfectly white, so if he happened to be smiling with teeth, it may be more or less of an attractive smile.