Realistic or Modern Exit Here. IC

[AshleyTheNarwhal]

Exit Here

​

Breaking News:
Ambulances and police cars surround a suburban house at 5am on a Sunday. A young man named Grayson Hart was found dead on the living room floor around 4;45am. Monday morning the autopsy report shows the young man died of overdose. He was only 21, Grayson attended the local college and was well liked among his peers.

The seven of you have been friends since elementary school, you guys always did everything together. All of you were always at each others houses, that didn't change after you all graduated High School. You all even went to the same college and had planned a road trip for the summer...that was until Grayson died.

​

 

[AshleyTheNarwhal]

2nd May 2018 | Pm


Wheeze wheeze wheeze





Skylar had a rough time getting up stairs, well doing anything really. She walked into her room still feeling a bit weak. She was in her pajamas, a pair of yoga pants with a mint wiastband and a black wife beater with a trippy alien on it. She sat down on her bed and sighed, she felt like she was just waiting to die. Waiting for her heart to decide to give out at any moment. She was supposedly near the top of this donors list, she would just have to make it until they found someone had a heart that compatible then boom, healthy and happy again. She felt light headed





Fuck





She muttered softly. She looked over to the beeper on her nightstand, she had to wait for that to go off in order to live, how funny was that? Skylar thought about running, it had been so long since she was able to just go jogging, her eyes teared up a little. Though she is usually optimistic her disease was getting to her that night. She sat back on her bed and opened her laptop browsed the internet for awhile, then watched a couple episodes of Workaholics. Anything to get her mind off of things. Her eyes started getting really heavy. She reached over and grabbed her beeper Come on you stupid thing....ring. and stared at it. After awhile she got frustrated and threw it across the room and rolled over and went to bed.


Bt Bzzzt BEEP BEEP BEEP Bzzzt Bzzzt BEEP BEEP BEEP


Skylar's eyes slowly opened, was this a dream? She sat up and stared at the corner of her room where the beeper was illuminated and ringing, a cool chill went down her spine. She was frozen and not quite sure what to do.





MOM!....MAMA!





Running footsteps came up the stairs her bedroom door few open her Mom standing there worried "Whats wr-" she stopped when she heard the buzzing. She looked at the beeper and back to Skylar and ran to her crying and hugging her. "Thank God! Oh thank you lord!" Her mother said caressing her hair, Skylar hugged her back.





I have a donor...





3rd May 2018 | AM


One rushed packing job and a plane ride across the country to New Jersey later Skylar and her mother was sitting in the Doctors office discussing the surgery. "There are some risks that come along with a heart transplant..there is a chance that the hart will reject..." Skylar tried to concentrate on what the doctors is saying but it all sounds muffled and distorted, she was nervous. After the meeting she was taken to be prepped for surgery. Her heart was beating fast, she wasn't sure how to feel. She just imagined running again. They put the mask over her face. "Breathe deep Skylar" She did. The last thing she thought about was her Parents.


"Skylar......Skylar...Honey wake up."


Hey eyes opened, the room was fuzzy and distorted. She couldn't move very well. She saw a face but couldn't make it out for a second, then it came into focus. Daddy? She said with a hoarse voice. "Yes Honey its me.....you made it. You're so strong." She was confused to what that meant, then she remembered why she was here. The the pain hit her. Her chest felt like it was broken. She was all wrapped up There were all sorts of monitors around her. She started to cry softly. She wasn't sure if it was tears of joy or if it was from the pain she was in.










9th July 2018 | AM


Skylar's recovery was a fast one, according to the x-ray her sternum was already completely healed, which means in a day or two she could go home. She sat in the cafeteria with Her mother and father. "Well I've got some news...we're gonna have to move." Skylar frowned Where to? Her Mother and Father looked at each other and smiled and said "Right here." Skylar sighed with relief that it was in the states and she didn't really have to go anywhere. So we're going to live locally? Her Father nodded. "I'm going to be working at a lcoal tattoo shop." Skylar took a bite of her salad.What made you guys wanna come here? "Well.." her mother began. "The person who's heart you have lived here...and he saved your life when he lost his." Skylar frowned. I guess I forgot about the fact this heart belonged to a living person....What was his name? "Grayson." Her father said. "He went to the College you'll be attending, Linden Community College"







12th August 2018 | AM


Skylar's new house was really nice, really big front and back yard, a porch, a tire swing, the works. The perfect suburban home. It was different than living in California. She was still getting used to her new heart, she would get tired sometimes and her chest would ache, but that came with the territory.The biggest thing was when she went up stairs she didn't wheeze anymore. The doctor said within a few months she should be able to do "normal" things..like run. She cried tears of joy hen the doctor told her that.


She got up and made her way into the house, this time her room was the entire basement, it was awesome, she even had her own bathroom and mini kitchen. She went down into her room, her closet doors were mirrored, she looked at herself. She had more color, probably from the better blood flow. With the v neck she was wearing she could see her scar peeking out. She took her shirt off and looked at herself in the mirror again. She traced the scar with her fingertip. She put her hand on her chest and felt the hear beat, it was strong...but it wasn't hers. Thank you Grayson.

 

[AshleyTheNarwhal]

Hello Everyone. You may flesh out your first posts! Please start with the day of Graysons funeral / burial
NexNight apolla wendy Wyosch seasonedcat Nefelibata726​

 

[Wyosch]

Tyler Harris // Tagged: -

Name: Tyler Harris
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Hetero
Birthday: April 10th, 1996
Height: 6'3''
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Red (Ginger)


Personality: Rather than talk about his feelings, Tyler will give a sarcastic comment or blow it off as nothing he couldn't handle, not to worry. He is a brash man who has a blunt way of speaking. Outwardly he shows himself almost at all times confident, inwardly while he may doubt, he is a man who does not give up. Tyler does what needs to be done. His past leaves him a little more dangerous than your average human. He can be a good person to talk to, he knows a lot about life but you have to get past that brash outer layer and maybe get lucky to find out that there is something a little deeper to him. Tyler is not a man who trusts easily. He can have a temper that sets off quick and explodes like a volcano, he will bellow and lash out any way he can.


Bio: Tyler was born into a drug-abusing family. His father was an alcoholic, and his mother a heroine-abuser. It was a miracle that Tyler was healthy and perfectly fine at birth, even with his mother having constantly used substances during her pregnancy.
Both of his parents abused him both mentally and physically, using their son as a punching bag whenever they had a bad day. Tyler was used to being called names at home, and so he couldn't have cared less when he started being bullied at school.
With the constant abuse at home and school, it was no surprise that the boy would turn to substantial abuse sooner or later.
At the young age of only 12, Tyler got drunk and high, all to escape his living nightmare called 'home'.
From the last few years of middle school all the way throughout high school, Tyler dealt drugs, got into trouble with criminal gangs and had his occasional police station visit.
He had been in a very low place, but thanks to Grayson, his best friend, he was slowly getting over his addiction and bettering his life - not knowing about Grayson's excessive drug abuse.
The news of his best friend's overdose hit Tyler extremely hard and blew him right off of the right tracks, back into a deep, black hole - the only way to escape being drugs.

Dead.

The words that hit harder than expected.
The words that still lingered in everybody's heads.

Overdose.

The words that had surprised many, even Grayson's closest friends and family. Nobody would have ever dared to think that something this tragic could've happened to someone this young.
Let alone could've happened to Grayson.
His friends had known about his substance abuse, but since when had he started using drugs on a daily basis, in an excessive amount?
Hadn't he wanted to stop using?
He'd always been the one to help addicts get out of those black holes they were in, he'd helped them get back on track.
How come he hadn't been able to help himself?


Ever since Tyler Harris had heard of his best friend's death, he'd been hiding in his room, just sitting in front of the window, rock music blasting through his headphones. He'd isolated himself completely.
He didn't want to eat, didn't feel the need to.
He'd skipped college classes ever since the news of Grayson's tragic death had spread around town.
He didn't know what to do, what to feel. He was numb.

He felt as if he himself were dead, not his best friend - no matter how dramatic that sounded.

All his life Tyler had hidden his emotions, never showing any feelings whatsoever. Many had believed Tyler didn't care about Grayson's death upon hearing the news, as he had been one of the few to not react at all.

The young man however couldn't help but let a tear slip as he saw himself standing in front of the mirror, his hair and beard taken care off, wearing a fancy suit - looking so much different than a couple of months ago when he'd still been using drugs. Grayson had been the one to help him get out of that black hole.
Why hadn't Grayson been able to help himself?!

Tyler was furious. Yes, he was. Pissed at the world, at every egoistic human being alive who had ever done wrong to others - and in his own opinion, everyone had. At least once in their lives.
What if the world, what if its people had treated Grayson differently?
What if he had been there to help his friend?
What if Grayson had never met him? Would that have changed a thing? After all, wasn't it his fault that Grayson had started dealing and using harder drugs?

There was so much guilt. So much guilt, and anger, and sadness - and Tyler had no idea how to deal with any of that on his own. Usually Grayson would've been there to help him deal with stuff... but now Grayson was gone.
Forever.​

 

[seasonedcat]

You know how in all those stories you read online or in those books you pull randomly off the library shelf they always talk about this numb feeling that takes over the character when their friend dies? How they spend hours just blankly staring at the wall thinking about nothing, because they feel nothing? Drew wished he had that. Wished he couldn't feel the burning pain in his chest whenever he breathed, wished he could just stop feeling as if he was drowning. Because that would be so much easier. So much easier to just forget, to not feel like if someone merely touched you you'd shatter into pieces. Because the guilt Drew felt now was suffocating him in his pressed black suit.

This wasn't dumb guilt like maybe if I had stayed with him all night instead of leaving to makeout in the bathroom, or if I hadn't mentioned that Max had the good stuff in the dining room. No, those were all indirect causes, they hadn't known this would happen. They hadn't known that Grayson might OD. No, not like Drew. This was his fault, he was the reason that the boy he once called friend still called friend was sitting ice cold in a casket. He was to blame for this whole incident.

Drew could still remember the thick smoke of the room, the taste of alcohol and nicotine in his mouth. The cigarette hanging loosely on his lips. He still remembered sitting on the worn purple couch. He still remembered surveying the room, his gaze falling on Grayson. He still remembered thinking how he looked like he was doing too much. Looked like maybe he should stop now before something bad happened. That maybe this could be the straw to break the camel's back. And by God does he remember brushing off the thought, they would know how to stop when it was too much. They always did, right? None of them were going to end up on the News as the next teen to OD, because that couldn't happen to them. They had been doing this for years, this lame party would not be the end of one of them. He then turned away, smoked the rest of his cigarette, then another. Grayson would be fine.

Except he wasn't fine. No, he was the opposite in fact. He was dead. He was never going to be fine again. He was never going to smile along with the rest of his friends again. He was never going to kiss Oliva again. He was never going to do anything again. Because he was gone. And it was all Drew's fault. If he had said something, did something, anything, then maybe he wouldn't be where he is right now, wearing an uncomfortable black suit. He wouldn't be applying makeup with shaky hands to hide the dark bags under his eyes, because Gods know how much he loathes makeup. He wouldn't be seeing the same seen as him brushing off saying something every time he closed his eyes. He wouldn't be drowning in guilt. Maybe he would be smoking with a friend, with Grayson even, but he'd never know. Because he didn't say something. And now look where he is.

This was not one of those mistakes he could undo. He would not be able to say the words he left unsaid. He would not be able to say the words needed at that time. No, the only one who would be hearing the words 'Grayson maybe you stop, you've had too much' would be himself. Because of all the times to have held back what he was going to say, that party had not been one of them. Did he even deserve to go to the funeral? After all murders don't go to their victims funerals do they? What are the others going to say when they find out? Will they hate him too?

Drew finally looked away from his under eyes and met his gaze in the reflection. He had to look away quickly after he did that. The guilt he saw, the pain, the sorrow, was suffocating. And if he looked again he knew he would fall into another breakdown just like the time his mother refused to call him by him, or the time he got called transgender freek in the hallways of sophomore year, or the time he found out that he killed Grayson. And he couldn't break down again just before his friends funeral, because he didn't deserve to let out his pain. No he deserved to slowly drown in it because it was his fault.

So he took a deep breath and left his room. He focused on not focusing on him soon seeing the crying faces of his friends, of Grayson's family. Because he knew he caused it. So as the guilt slowly tightened around his heart like a boa constrictor, he made is way to where the funeral was being held. Because on the way maybe he'd get hit by a car, and he'd slowly die in the hospital. And he'd get the punishment he deserved for what he did.

 

[wendy]

Aria

Dead. A single word that holds so much power, this word can change a persons life and it shows no mercy to anyone.

Grayson was dead. He was going to buried today. It felt so surreal. Aria was just waiting for Grayson to text the group chat saying “suprise! Bet you all fell for it. As if I’d leave you all” but that text never came and so Aria was left scrolling through their dumb conversations laughing but mostly silent tears fell onto her pillow.

Grayson was still dead with every minute that ticked by, that boy who’d comforted Aria through her identity crisis wasn’t there anymore, the one who’d helped her sober up a bit died of an overdose. How ironic, he could help others but he couldn’t help himself.

A soft knock at the door, Aria whipped her head around waiting for him to walk in but instead it was her mother holding the black dress she’d brought for the funeral. “Time to get ready.” Her mother says pulling her grieving daughter from her bed and dressing her as if she were a toddler again.

Soft piano music played throughout the car as more tears fell from her eyes. Her mother sat brushing her daughters hair gently humming along to the tune. The graveyard, a place no young person should be.

Soft strides up to the church, the thought of a sinner being buried near a church made her chuckle. It was just all so ironic to Aria but the burning pain in her chest brought her to the reality of the situation. Her heels softly clacked on the cold stone church floor as she took a seat on the final pew. Not many people had arrived and so Aria let it out, the feelings she’d buried deep inside came flooding out. Large cries echoed throughout the church as waves of tears fell onto the cool floor, snot accumulating in her nostrils as she just had to live through the pain.

“Why the fuck did you leave us?” Aria says her tone full of anger but mixed with a great sadness as she just wanted her dear friend back.​

 

[NexNight]

Spoiler: Randy's photo

Location: Funeral
Interaction: None​

Randy stared into the mirror and couldn’t help but think how different it was this time. When his father had died he didn’t feel much, okay so that was a lie, he had felt relief to be honest. He hated the fact that he did since it was a cold thing to do but then he would remember what the bastard had done so many times and felt like what he had been feeling back then had been fully justified. He couldn’t count all the times Randy had to go to the ER because the man had lost his temper or how his mother had to take on a job as a stripper just so they could pay the bills only for him to drink it all away.

But this time was different. Grayson had been his close friend and as he got ready for the funeral he was on the verge of losing it. The damn tears just wouldn’t stop running down his cheeks and his hands kept shaking as he tried to fix his shirt without success. It seemed like the thing was put into the world to choke him to death. “Here, let me get that for you little bro” said his brother Travis Jay -or TJ to most people- as he stepped into the bathroom and started fixing Randy's shirt the way it was supposed to be. Despite their past his brother TJ actually didn’t turn out bad. He was nowhere near as damaged as Randy and his mother were, which was probably also why TJ took on a father like role whenever he got back from college to visit them.

“Thanks TJ” he said as he was finally done getting ready “no worries bro. I know today has to be hard for you so...” his brother trailed off, Randy took his things with shaky hands as another set of tears made their way down his cheeks. He couldn't listen to it anymore, in the last few days he had heard it so many times and he so didn’t want to talk about it, he couldn't “Ty leave it. I don’t wanna talk” he said as he stormed off to get into the car. His brother tried to follow him with a worried expression but Randy was already inside the car by the time he caught up to him. Randy looked at his brother before driving away so his brother wouldn’t have a chance to pry. He knew he probably shouldn’t drive but there was no way he could sit in the same car as his brother and ‘talk about it’ one more time, why did everyone want to ‘talk about it’ with him? Maybe driving would give him an opportunity to calm down a bit even if just for a little while.

​

* * *​

​

Once he arrived and parked Randy sat in his car for a few moments to collect himself by taking deep breaths and wiping his cheeks before finally stepping out of the vehicle and making sure he locked it. While he really just wanted to get high to forget and to stop feeling this horrible feeling Randy also wanted to show his friend the respect he deserved and was entirely sober as he walked to join the rest of his friends. The others didn’t know that he had a secret crush on Grayson for a short while when they first met, but it didn’t last long as he came to see the other male as a good friend instead. Some good friend you were, you didn’t even see he was in it deeper then you thought he accused himself as he reached the Church and took a seat close to his friends.

 

[AshleyTheNarwhal]

"You look great, honey"
Skylar's Mother said as she stood leaning against the basement door frame with her arms crossed. Her Mom smiled at her. I think it's the better blood flow...I don't look like a zombie anymore... She was wearing a knee length black dress with long black sleeves and a pair of red flats. She gathered up her purse and coat and headed upstairs. She walked into the kitchen to see her Dad making breakfast, he stooped for a moment when she came upstairs and gave her a thumbs up. She chuckled. To hr parents credit she hadn't gotten dressed up since High School, plus her Dad actually picked out the dress for her. Also, she could be dead right now too so they were probably just stoked she was still around. Skylar sighed softly and poured herself a cup of coffee...the sweet sweet drink she hadn't been able to have for so long...it tasted like heaven every time she had some since her surgery. She couldn't stay for breakfast, but she grabbed a to go cup of coffee for her drive.

She also hadn't driven in awhile..probably about a year the last time she drove was when she was determined to go to RedBox by herself and get a pint of ice cream. She grabbed her Dad's keys to his hearse and then thought about what she was about to do. Maybe I shouldn't drive a hearse to a funeral...Why do you have to be so weird Dad? She sarcastically shook her head at him. In all honesty she wanted her own hearse one day. Her Mom handed her the keys to her Jeep. "Take my car honey." Thanks Mom

When Skylar got there she was a bit early, there weren't too many people there yet. She parked across the street from the church and cautiously walked over. She knew she had to pay her respects to the boy that saved her life. She awkwardly made her way past people she didn't know...which was everyone. This feeling would return again when college started again in a week or so when she wouldn't know any of her classmates. Skylar sat in a pew in the back across from two other younger looking people. Maybe those are his friends... She sighed and turned her attention forward. The church was gorgeous , a big catholic church. Skylar felt a tear rolling down her cheek, why was she crying? She didn't know him.

 

[Wyosch]

Tyler Harris // Tagged: -

Name: Tyler Harris
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Hetero
Birthday: April 10th, 1996
Height: 6'3''
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Red (Ginger)


Personality: Rather than talk about his feelings, Tyler will give a sarcastic comment or blow it off as nothing he couldn't handle, not to worry. He is a brash man who has a blunt way of speaking. Outwardly he shows himself almost at all times confident, inwardly while he may doubt, he is a man who does not give up. Tyler does what needs to be done. His past leaves him a little more dangerous than your average human. He can be a good person to talk to, he knows a lot about life but you have to get past that brash outer layer and maybe get lucky to find out that there is something a little deeper to him. Tyler is not a man who trusts easily. He can have a temper that sets off quick and explodes like a volcano, he will bellow and lash out any way he can.


Bio: Tyler was born into a drug-abusing family. His father was an alcoholic, and his mother a heroine-abuser. It was a miracle that Tyler was healthy and perfectly fine at birth, even with his mother having constantly used substances during her pregnancy.
Both of his parents abused him both mentally and physically, using their son as a punching bag whenever they had a bad day. Tyler was used to being called names at home, and so he couldn't have cared less when he started being bullied at school.
With the constant abuse at home and school, it was no surprise that the boy would turn to substantial abuse sooner or later.
At the young age of only 12, Tyler got drunk and high, all to escape his living nightmare called 'home'.
From the last few years of middle school all the way throughout high school, Tyler dealt drugs, got into trouble with criminal gangs and had his occasional police station visit.
He had been in a very low place, but thanks to Grayson, his best friend, he was slowly getting over his addiction and bettering his life - not knowing about Grayson's excessive drug abuse.
The news of his best friend's overdose hit Tyler extremely hard and blew him right off of the right tracks, back into a deep, black hole - the only way to escape being drugs.

Tyler had tried to drive as slowly as possible, had even taken a longer road and circled around for a while just to arrive later at the funeral.
He however hadn't been able to bear the thought of disappointing both his friends and Grayson by turning up late, and had thus decided to drive to the funeral after all - and to his surprise, he'd still been quite early as there weren't that many people present yet.

After he had parked his Camaro, he'd slowly made his way over to the church, still contemplating if he should go or not.
However, once again, he decided to behave like a normal grownup and would pay his respect to Grayson and his family.

The thought of Grayson's family being there made him shiver. Especially of seeing Olivia, Grayson's girlfriend.
Would she blame Tyler? Any of Grayson's friends?
Would she blame Grayson, and only Grayson alone?
What about everyone at school? Would they blame anyone for letting it get this far? Would they even care about it?

There were questions Tyler was asking himself, questions he'd never even thought of before.
It weren't those cliché-"what if I die"-questions, but others. Ones that nobody really seemed to ask themselves.
Was there anyone to blame for Grayson's tragic death?
Would the police investigate his friends? Find out about Grayson being a dealer? What if anyone would find out about Tyler having been one too?
What if anyone would find out about the other's drug abuse?

That was the big question that nobody really seemed able to answer.
What happens next?

The young man hesitantly made his way into the church, sitting down next to the few of the clique that were already present, just greeting them with a nod.
Tyler felt quite stupid that he was the only one who hadn't spoken out about losing Grayson, about being the only one not to move a single muscle while others were crying rivers. Did people think he didn't care? Did they think he'd been some fake friend to Grayson, only to become well-liked and popular amongst the latter's friends?
Not that it mattered much what others thought about him, it were just random questions floating through his mind, not leaving him some peace and quiet, at all.

"It's pretty.", the man mumbled after a while, not lifting his face off of the coffin that was lying on some altar-like table, surrounded by candles and pictures of the deceased.
"Y'all think Gray would've liked it?", Tyler whispered, obviously addressing his friends that were sitting next to him on the bench - not even sure if they were listening, or if there were even sounds coming out of his mouth.
​

 

[Nefelibata726]

Russell Bowman

The news had hit Russell hard. "Grayson Hart Dead of Overdose" was written across the front of the newspaper, the same newspaper that Russell had been looking at for days. This wasn't supposed to happen, none of it was supposed to happen to any of them. They were supposed to be careful. Not carelessly use the drugs and forget what you're doing until it's too late. Why didn't Grayson stop? Why didn't he come find one of them? Russell would have been there in a split second if Grayson had asked. That's for damn sure.

Russell sighed deeply to himself, picking up the paper and tossing it in the trash. Ever since Sunday, Russell had been locked up in his apartment, not answering his texts or phone calls. He couldn't speak to anyone, not right now. Especially not about Grayson. Russell wanted more than anything to stay in his apartment for another week, but he knew he had to attend Grayson's funeral. Russell would be the worth person on the planet if he didn't go. The young man shook his head and looked at himself in the mirror, adjusting the black tie. He smoothed back his red hair, turning on his heel and putting his hand on the doorknob of the apartment door. Back to the real world...

_____________

Russell stepped out of the taxi, shutting the door softly behind him as he looked toward the funeral home. He wasn't ready for this...how could he face the others? How could he face Grayson's family? What would they say? Would his family be pissed at Russell and the others? He hoped not... Swallowing hard, Russell blocked out his thoughts and entered the funeral home.

Looking toward the others, Russell's hands slipped into his pants pockets as he walked to one of the chairs in the front row. He took a seat, staying as quiet as he could in the already silent room. He looked toward the small group of friends, shifting slightly before he looked down at his lap. It was weird. Seeing all of them... He hadn't seen any of them, nor spoke to any of them ever since the incident. He'd rather deal with his pain on his own.

Looking up as he heard the whisper, a frown painted Russell's face as he looked at the other redhead in the room. He nodded slightly, clearing his throat quietly, "of course he would have." Russell looked away, crossing his arms over his chest as he blew out a soft sigh. Don't. Cry.

Interactions: Tyler Harris- Wyosch​

 

[Wyosch]

Tyler Harris // Tagged: Russell Bowman

Name: Tyler Harris
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Hetero
Birthday: April 10th, 1996
Height: 6'3''
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Red (Ginger)


Personality: Rather than talk about his feelings, Tyler will give a sarcastic comment or blow it off as nothing he couldn't handle, not to worry. He is a brash man who has a blunt way of speaking. Outwardly he shows himself almost at all times confident, inwardly while he may doubt, he is a man who does not give up. Tyler does what needs to be done. His past leaves him a little more dangerous than your average human. He can be a good person to talk to, he knows a lot about life but you have to get past that brash outer layer and maybe get lucky to find out that there is something a little deeper to him. Tyler is not a man who trusts easily. He can have a temper that sets off quick and explodes like a volcano, he will bellow and lash out any way he can.


Bio: Tyler was born into a drug-abusing family. His father was an alcoholic, and his mother a heroine-abuser. It was a miracle that Tyler was healthy and perfectly fine at birth, even with his mother having constantly used substances during her pregnancy.
Both of his parents abused him both mentally and physically, using their son as a punching bag whenever they had a bad day. Tyler was used to being called names at home, and so he couldn't have cared less when he started being bullied at school.
With the constant abuse at home and school, it was no surprise that the boy would turn to substantial abuse sooner or later.
At the young age of only 12, Tyler got drunk and high, all to escape his living nightmare called 'home'.
From the last few years of middle school all the way throughout high school, Tyler dealt drugs, got into trouble with criminal gangs and had his occasional police station visit.
He had been in a very low place, but thanks to Grayson, his best friend, he was slowly getting over his addiction and bettering his life - not knowing about Grayson's excessive drug abuse.
The news of his best friend's overdose hit Tyler extremely hard and blew him right off of the right tracks, back into a deep, black hole - the only way to escape being drugs.

"He would've loved all the attention.", Tyler mumbled back as a reply, quickly looking away from the altar to face his friend, just letting out a silent sigh before turning away again.

It was weird seeing his friends in church, all dressed in depressingly black attire, crying - or fighting their tears.
They'd all probably been very busy trying to cope with Grayson's death during the past few days.
None of them had texted each other or written a message in their group chat - though Tyler hadn't either.

He wondered what everyone was thinking, feeling.
Did they feel guilt as well? Shame perhaps too?
Were they angry with themselves? With Grayson? Perhaps one of their friends?

The awkward silence between them all was unbearable. It made Tyler feel as if they'd had a fall out and weren't talking to each other anymore because of it.
Grayson would've just cracked a joke and would've made everyone smile, perhaps even laugh...
but Grayson wasn't there anymore to crack jokes and make his friends feel good.

Tyler hesitated for a quick second, lastly deciding to just go for it and address his redheaded friend.
"How are you holding up?"

Nefelibata726
(P.S: sorry this is a little short!)
​

 

[wendy]

Aria

Aria head turned at the sound of Tyler’s voice as she walked over too her two other friends sliding into the church pew to side beside them. “I don’t think Grayson would of liked it. He would of much preferred us all to sit around coffin getting wasted while we poured one last drink out for him. But then this is the more socially acceptable way of doing things.” Aria says her voice strained as she held back tears. “And we wouldn’t be singing hymns. We’d have his favourite playlist blasting out of some ridiculously large speaker so that the whole town could hear.” Aria says as the tears fall from her eyes cascading down her cheeks.

She reached inside her pocket pulling out a white handkerchief drying her eyes like some Portuguese widow. She sat listening to the two men feeling comfortable in the presence of them both as it was better for them to grieve together rather for each of them to isolate themselves. “I’m not doing great.” Aria says her eyes never leaving the coffin but Aria glances at a girl who walked into the church, she’d never seen her before but here she was crying over Grayson. ‘What’s she crying about? Grayson didn’t even know her.’ Aria thought as the grief had made her thoughts turn ugly. The young women glared at the stranger with disgust in her eyes, it was the anger she felt trying to escape in anyway possible even if it meant snapping at some random girl mourning her friends death.

Mentions: Wyosch Nefelibata726 AshleyTheNarwhal ​

 

[apolla]

Olivia

Olivia could barely talk. Her voice was hoarse and her throat was raw, but not from coughing or some other illness side effect. No, the girl had been through hell and back; a cold wasn't going to get her now. But nightmares would. Ever since Grayson had OD'd, she'd been having night terrors so awful that she'd wake up screaming. Her parents could only do so much for her, but her mother would comfort her after every single one.

Liv could see the disappointment in her father's eyes, and the sadness in her mother's. Neither one of them understood-- her father hadn't even liked Grayson after he found out about the marijuana. He'd been so disappointed in his perfect daughter, too, but none of them could have prepared for Grayson's death. He'd been her everything, her entire future, and now he was gone. What was she supposed to do? Just move on? She could tell that's what her father wanted to say, but he hadn't yet.

Her entire life had changed within the blink of an eye. She could still picture the scene. She was the one to take the needle out of his arm before the paramedics got there, high herself and thinking that they could hide it. But with all the other paraphernalia, and the testing the hospital would do, there was no hiding it.

The entire town should hate her. She was Grayson's girlfriend. How could she not know what he did? How could she not stop him? But she had known. And no, she hadn't tried to stop him. Nobody could stop Grayson, he was going to be around for a long time. He could stop on his own. She hadn't told a soul that she knew, at least, not before the investigation. Now it should be common knowledge, and she wasn't sure how she could face anyone in that church.

But she was here now, staring at the beautiful building with watery eyes. Swallowing heavily, she got out of her little Toyota and started into the church, shivering as the cool air touched her bare shoulders. She'd left her wrap in the car, but it was alright. She barely noticed the cold. She was a few minutes late, but she didn't think they'd started the service yet. She'd been asked to sit with his family, and she'd said yes. Her parents were already here.

Pushing open the door, she entered the building and located his parents. She saw her friends, too, but didn't acknowledge them. They should hate her. She made her way down the center of the aisle to where his family sat, seating herself on the edge of the pew, just trying to hold it together.

Location: in the church, with the family

Mood: struggling

Tags: wendy ; Wyosch ; NexNight ; AshleyTheNarwhal ; Nefelibata726 ; seasonedcat

Code by apolla

 

[NexNight]

Spoiler: Randy's photo

Location: Funeral
Interaction: Wyosch Nefelibata726 wendy​

He didn’t like it here. The cold benches, the constant looks people pretended they didn’t give the group of friends and the questions, as well as morbid thoughts running through his head were starting to get to him. But then to his relief, his friends started talking silently to each other and he welcomed the distraction. He needed it at that moment, so he listened and let their voices drown out his thoughts.

It was obvious to him -even if they all would never admit it out loud or to themselves- that they needed each other. The fact that each of them had been grieving by themselves wasn’t good, at least in his case. He didn’t know about the others but lately, Randy's drug and alcohol habits have gotten worse. He just couldn't keep the guilt and sadness at bay otherwise.

This isn't the place to think like that Randy. Its Grayson's funeral, this is about him and saying goodbye to him. He scolded himself and sighed. Great now he stooped to having self-conversations in his head more often then with real people. Maybe he should talk to his friends while he had the chance? He had no idea when they would see each other and talk again since he barely remembered the time they hang out last time.

Randy scooted a bit closer to the others and tried to open his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He took a deep breath before trying again “I hate how everyone keeps asking if I’m okay, of course I’m not okay. But I do agree he probably would have preferred something less serious” he said and looked in the direction of the coffin.

 

[seasonedcat]

Drew's journey to the spot where the funeral was held came to an end, and sadly for him he had not been hit by a car. As he moved his hand to the door to open it he could feel a huge lump in his throat, slowly suffocating him. He swallowed it back and let out a shaky breath, finally mustering up the strength to push open the door. His shoes made soft noises on the marble floor as he approached the room where the funeral was being held.

One of the doors to the room had been held open by a wooden peg filled with dents, the other closed as to give the mourning some sort of privacy. A bright bouquet of flowers was attached to the open door, it seemed out of place with all the sadness that filled the air. Drew wished that he could have spent the whole funeral just taking in every detail of the place rather than having to face his friends. How could he look at them again after what he did? But he couldn't do that, he had to face them at some point. So he removed his gaze from the bouquet and focused it on the inside of the room.

Others had made it here before him not to his surprise, after all he left later than he was ready so that he could avoid being left in a room alone with one of the others. However even after spending the whole way here preparing himself to face everyone(and silently hoping to get hit by a car), he was not ready. He was hit with another agonizing wave of guilt as he saw the crying faces of some and the pain filled look of his friends. But that's not what hit him the hardest. No the thing that hit him the hardest was the open coffin that held Grayson in it.

Drew could barely breathe, look at what he had done. This was all his fault, he was the reason that his friend was in that coffin. He was the reason he was dead. His breathing was ragged like it was before he broke down, he needed to ground himself before he fell into pieces in front of everyone. He gripped his wrists tightly and focused his breathing, the pain from his nails forcing him to focus on something other than the coffin. He quickly grounded himself like he had been doing often as of recently, and shakely began to walk towards his friends.

He was a few steps behind them before he stopped, he didn't know if he could face them yet. But he was already there so it was too late. He had most likely caught the gaze of Aria due to her being turned around glaring at one of the guests, so he couldn't possibly turn around now. With a shaky voice he spoke, "H-hey guys." His voice was small, forced even to be at its current level. After all screaming into a pillow at 3am while your home alone, tends to affect you voice a bit. After his pathetic introduction he carefully sat down next to Randy, making sure to be a little ways away from him. He held his shaky hands together as if to stop him from silently drowning as he looked at his friends guiltily.
Interactions: NexNight wendy Wyosch Nefelibata726

 

[im jess saying]

Kit Elison​

Kit had gotten the news in the middle of one of her mother's charity events she was forced to go to. Dead. He was dead. The word sounded to cliche on her tongue. It's everything they warned us about in Mrs. Anderson's 8th grade health class. Something you saw on a teen sitcom. Dead because of drugs. Dead of an overdose. Dead.

She hasn't been able to stop crying since she got the news. She didn't even know Grayson was using to this extent. I mean, they all used but they were always so careful. They weren't stupid when it came to drugs, Grayson especially. How had he gotten this bad? How had she not seen it? How had nobody seen it?

Grayson was her best friend. Grayson was everyone's best friend. They grew up together. He protected her. He was always there for her. He knew how to have fun and let loose. He knew how to include everyone so that no one felt left out. Life was fun and free and real. He always had an adventure in mind which made being his friend so invigorating. He was the life of the party. Now that he was gone, it felt like the party was over.

Kit sat in a towel fresh out of the shower starring at her neatly pressed black dress the maid had laid out on her bed. Tears started to roll. She's never dealt with death before. Not like this, anyways. People were always dying in her family but her family was so big she never got the chance to know any of these dead relatives.
She touched the fabric of her black dress remembering the last time the wore it. It was to a graduation party Grayson held for all their friends. He said she looked like a "poor little rich girl" in the black dress. He was always making fun of her lifestyle. Sometimes it got on Kit's nerves but now she would do anything to be called "daddy's girl" by Grayson one last time. She smiled at the dress, remembering what it was like to joke around with Grayson. To get on each other's nerves and have a screaming match in front of everyone (which happened at least once a month.) To play and banter with each other. She would never have any of this again. Grayson was dead.

Kit looked at her watch and noticed that she was running out of time and needed to bite the bullet and get ready for the service. Today, Kit would have to watch her best friend--her brother be buried 10 feet down in the ground never to return.

. . .

Kit's driver dropped her off right in front of the church. She was late, as per usual. It was in Kit's nature to be late. This time it wasn't so much the time getting away from her but the anxiety surrounding the events to come. She sat in the car slowly putting her black gloves on to procrastinate the inevitable. She thought it would be funny to dress as white Anglo-Saxon protestant as she possibly could for his funeral. She knows that Grayson loved to tease her about it and he was probably laughing at her outfit right at this moment telling her she's "too white for her own good." This put a smile on her face as she was getting dressed.

"Miss Elison, do you want me to park and go with you?" Her driver offered. They were good friends. Or at least, as good of a friend a driver could be with his employer. Kit blotted her tears with a tissue, looked at the church, and finally opening the door to get out. "No thank you, Timothy. I can do this." She said with a sweet smile. He nodded his head and she stepped out. The parking lot was devoid of life. Everyone who was supposed to be at the service was already inside. She took a deep breath and walked toward the church her heels clicking on the ground as she walked.

When she got inside she was happy to see the service hadn't started yet. She could hear quiet whimpers and hushed voices as she walked into the church. Everyone was in their seat so she quickly hurried down the aisle to find her friends, trying to keep it together as much as she could. Once she spotted her friends she walked right up to where they were sitting quickly and quietly. When she saw their faces, she started crying. She couldn't help it. She saw Grayson in every single one of them. Grayson was the reason they were friends, after all. She looked at each of them in the eyes and sat down quietly trying to keep it together.​

 

[AshleyTheNarwhal]

Skylar wondered when the ceremony was going to start. She couldn't help but occasionally glance over at the group of young people across from her, they all seemed besides themselves. She wondered if they could tell her about Grayson...but then again she didn't feel right going up to them and telling them who she was. She kind of gave up on that idea. She sighed softly to herself...she couldn't help but feel a need to learn more about this person...after all a piece of him was inside her. She hadn't seen what the boy looked like until the funeral, there were nice framed pictures everywhere of him. He was handsome and had kind eyes. Seeing him made things more real and make her cry more. She took a tissue out of her bag and wiped her eyes.

The doors behind them closed as the priest took the to alter. He spoke about many things including how God forgives all and that he would be covered in the veil of salvation and carried up to heaven by angels. Skylar wasn't very religious at all, she figured once you died that was it...eternal blackness. Which made death harder to process for her. The ceremony itself was beautiful but she thought this young man probably would have preferred something different...like a happy party-like environment filled with the young people across form her...they seemed pretty close considering how distraught the friends were. Once the ceremony was over and the pole bearers took the casket to the hearse she went back to her jeep and leaned against it trying to gather herself a bit. She almost felt guilty having his heart, there were so many people that cared about him.

 

[Wyosch]

Tyler Harris // Talking To: Open

Name: Tyler Harris
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Hetero
Birthday: April 10th, 1996
Height: 6'3''
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Red (Ginger)


Personality: Rather than talk about his feelings, Tyler will give a sarcastic comment or blow it off as nothing he couldn't handle, not to worry. He is a brash man who has a blunt way of speaking. Outwardly he shows himself almost at all times confident, inwardly while he may doubt, he is a man who does not give up. Tyler does what needs to be done. His past leaves him a little more dangerous than your average human. He can be a good person to talk to, he knows a lot about life but you have to get past that brash outer layer and maybe get lucky to find out that there is something a little deeper to him. Tyler is not a man who trusts easily. He can have a temper that sets off quick and explodes like a volcano, he will bellow and lash out any way he can.


Bio: Tyler was born into a drug-abusing family. His father was an alcoholic, and his mother a heroine-abuser. It was a miracle that Tyler was healthy and perfectly fine at birth, even with his mother having constantly used substances during her pregnancy.
Both of his parents abused him both mentally and physically, using their son as a punching bag whenever they had a bad day. Tyler was used to being called names at home, and so he couldn't have cared less when he started being bullied at school.
With the constant abuse at home and school, it was no surprise that the boy would turn to substantial abuse sooner or later.
At the young age of only 12, Tyler got drunk and high, all to escape his living nightmare called 'home'.
From the last few years of middle school all the way throughout high school, Tyler dealt drugs, got into trouble with criminal gangs and had his occasional police station visit.
He had been in a very low place, but thanks to Grayson, his best friend, he was slowly getting over his addiction and bettering his life - not knowing about Grayson's excessive drug abuse.
The news of his best friend's overdose hit Tyler extremely hard and blew him right off of the right tracks, back into a deep, black hole - the only way to escape being drugs.

Tyler had wanted to reply to each one of his friends, but he just hadn't been able to get another word out of his mouth after he'd seen Olivia, Grayson's girlfriend, walk into the church and join the deceased's family.

None of the friends had talked to each other since their friend's death, and thus nobody knew how Olivia was holding up - though knowing how hard it was for them, Tyler could only imagine how it must feel for Liv.
Hadn't she been there, the day Grayson had overdosed?

The young man hadn't been able to ask himself some more questions since the priest had just arrived as well and was about to start the ceremony.

Grayson would've preferred to go out with a boom - have a party canon shoot his ashes into the sky, have everyone arrive either drunk or high, or both, and have the biggest party ever.
He definitely wouldn't have wanted all his friends and family to sit around with depressing frowns on their faces, crying because of him.
He wouldn't have wanted it.

Apart from all the religious stuff the priest had rambled about, the ceremony had been extremely emotional.
Family members had come up to the altar and had read some funny stories about Grayson, wanting everyone to remember him as the guy who had been able to make everyone laugh - and not as the guy who overdosed.

Some students from college had composed a song for Grayson. It was just a soft melody played on an acoustic guitar - but it'd been beautiful.
The moment where pictures were shown, pictures of Grayson laughing, with his friends - that was the moment Tyler hadn't been able to hold his tears in anymore.
That'd been the moment where he had broken down and had just let the tears stream down his cheeks, for once in his life not caring about others thinking he'd be weak for crying.

Once the ceremony was done and people were requested to leave so that the family would be able to say their last goodbye, Tyler had made his way out of the church and just sat down on one of the few walls surrounding the graveyard, having to steady himself so he wouldn't collapse.

Six months clean, thanks to Grayson.
Pain and tears because of Grayson.
The solution that'd make Tyler forget about his feelings was obvious, and he didn't care wether he'd smoke a joint, sniff some cocaine or inject some heroine - he only wanted to leave the shitty place he was in and have the best trip of his life.

"I need drugs.", he whispered brokenly, as if his subconsciousness was still trying to change Tyler's mind and stop him from falling back.
"Now."


Interactions: Open​

 

[Nefelibata726]

Russell Bowman

Russell glanced at Tyer when he sat beside him, shifting slightly as he swallowed hard. "Not good," he responded in a soft tone, glancing down as he sighed. Leaning forward, putting his elbows on his knees, Russell held his face in his hands. "It...h-he didn't deserve it...." Russell said, his voice breaking as he clenched his eyes shut. Russell glanced at Aria, listening to her speak before he looked over at the coffin. "I don't know... I don't think he would want us to celebrate his death like that, Aria..." he muttered, casting glanced at the two. Hearing Aria's remark, Russell looked toward the girl beside the coffin, wiping at her eyes. "Maybe she's a cousin....or something," he pointed out, glancing back down at his hands.

Hearing Randy, the redhead glanced at him before back toward the coffin. "I haven't even spoken to anybody...not until now anyway..." Russell said, his tongue gliding across his lips to wet them. "Its always the same damn thing anyway. Are you okay? Did you know this was going to happen? Were you close? I....don't want to be asked those questions, its pointless anyway," the man said, raking his fingers through his hair as he sat back. "Hey Drew..." he replied softly, glancing at the man and nodding to the seat beside them.

Being here with his friends...it gave Russell a sense of...comfort. They were here for him, just as he was here for them. They were all part of the same group... they had to have each others backs. "Its going to be alright guys...it has to..." Russell said, as much as he didn't want to. They had to face the facts. This was going to happen. To at least one of them. They were all doing drugs, they were all a part of that lifestyle. It was an accident waiting to happen. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, they were going to get over this. It was all going to pass. The grief, the sorrow, the guilt... it was all going to fade away, just like Grayson's memories. He was gone. He wasn't coming back. Russell imagined Grayson walking through those doors...

"You should have seen your faces!" Grayson would say, breaking into a fit of laughter as he falls to the ground, barely able to breathe in his chuckling and laughter. "It was just a joke! I'm not really dead, you know I couldn't leave you guys!" Grayson would say after collecting himself, catching his breath. Grayson and the others would then leave, heading down to the local bar where they would drink and spend the night wrestling, flirting, laughing...

Thats what should happen, not what will happen... Grayson was gone. He was right there in the coffin, lifeless...pale... He was really gone. And by the time the funeral was over, Russell had finally broke. Tears rushed down his cheeks, his throat tight as he tried to stop himself from crying. He hated crying in front of the others, it made him feel weak, ashamed. Should he really be ashamed of crying over one of his best friends though...? No.

Russell followed the others outside, wiping at his tears before stuffing his hands into his pockets. He turned his attention on Tyler, frowning when he heard those three words. Four words. No. Tyler was sober. "No. Tyler. You can't..." Russell said timidly, placing his hand on the other man's shoulder. "Please...you know you don't need it...None of us do. Havn't we learned?" Russell snapped, looking at the others. "This is exactly what could happen to us! Grayson died because of drugs! He was made an example, don't you see that!?" Russell said, fear tearing its way into the man's mind. He didn't want to lose his friends, they already lost one!
​

Wyosch wendy NexNight seasonedcat AshleyTheNarwhal

 

[Wyosch]

Tyler Harris // Talking To: Russell

Name: Tyler Harris
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Hetero
Birthday: April 10th, 1996
Height: 6'3''
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Red (Ginger)


Personality: Rather than talk about his feelings, Tyler will give a sarcastic comment or blow it off as nothing he couldn't handle, not to worry. He is a brash man who has a blunt way of speaking. Outwardly he shows himself almost at all times confident, inwardly while he may doubt, he is a man who does not give up. Tyler does what needs to be done. His past leaves him a little more dangerous than your average human. He can be a good person to talk to, he knows a lot about life but you have to get past that brash outer layer and maybe get lucky to find out that there is something a little deeper to him. Tyler is not a man who trusts easily. He can have a temper that sets off quick and explodes like a volcano, he will bellow and lash out any way he can.


Bio: Tyler was born into a drug-abusing family. His father was an alcoholic, and his mother a heroine-abuser. It was a miracle that Tyler was healthy and perfectly fine at birth, even with his mother having constantly used substances during her pregnancy.
Both of his parents abused him both mentally and physically, using their son as a punching bag whenever they had a bad day. Tyler was used to being called names at home, and so he couldn't have cared less when he started being bullied at school.
With the constant abuse at home and school, it was no surprise that the boy would turn to substantial abuse sooner or later.
At the young age of only 12, Tyler got drunk and high, all to escape his living nightmare called 'home'.
From the last few years of middle school all the way throughout high school, Tyler dealt drugs, got into trouble with criminal gangs and had his occasional police station visit.
He had been in a very low place, but thanks to Grayson, his best friend, he was slowly getting over his addiction and bettering his life - not knowing about Grayson's excessive drug abuse.
The news of his best friend's overdose hit Tyler extremely hard and blew him right off of the right tracks, back into a deep, black hole - the only way to escape being drugs.

Tyler let out an irritated groan at Russell's words, just shaking his head - not knowing if he should be crying or shouting, mourning or forgetting.

"Who says I don't need it?", he snapped back, lifting his shoulders whilst letting out another frustrated groan-like sound.
"There are millions of people who take drugs, every single day! And of course people overdose, people die - that's what they do! Shit happens!"

Tyler wasn't even sure anymore if it was really him talking, or if it was the drug-addicted ghost resurrecting after having been buried for six months.
Grayson had helped him sober up.
How could he stay clean without his best friend being there to support him through it?

"Grayson didn't stop, so why should I? Why should we? I don't know if it's me talking or the booze I drank just before getting here - but I honestly couldn't care less if I'd die now or not.", the Ginger mumbled, a struggling expression on his face as he held back some tears, instead just throwing on a deep frown, a smirk on his face as if wanting to show that he didn't care - but his tearing eyes said more than a hundred words.

"What's so wrong with getting high? Grayson would've wanted it. If he'd be here he... he would've wanted it- okay? Okay! Grayson would've wanted it..."

Interactions: Nefelibata726 ​

 

[NexNight]

Spoiler: Randy's photo

Location: Outside
Interaction: Wyosch Nefelibata726 seasonedcat​

Randy Just greeted Drew »hey, hadn't seen you in a long time« when the ceremony started. It brought up so many memories he barely resisted the urge of running out to get away from the pain that came with all of it. Why was all this necessary? Showing all the good memories they had just to make them realize it would never be that way again, that it was all over? And then Randy had thought his father had been cruel. This felt like emotional torture to him and once the ceremony was finally over his hands were shaking again, it wasn't just the nerves either.

When Randy’s friends walked out he slowly followed, his feet felt like they weighed too much for his body to carry but he still somehow walked out of the church. When he arrived outside Randy managed to hear part of what Tyler said. It made him furious to hear what he assumed was his friends fighting since he didn't hear the whole conversation. This wasn't the place to fight and if Grayson would have wanted something that would have been it, for them not to fight.

So he did what he thought was right and walked up to them »well if he ever wanted anything it would be for us to get along, so please stop fighting okay? Not here.« he said as his tears started flowing again. Damn, he just wanted to go home, lock himself into his room and take something to make his chaotic mind stop messing with him. Randy put his hands into his pockets to hide the shaking and looked at the ground while trying to fight his emotions.

Randy knew his friends had to be in just as much pain as him if not more. Some of them were even closer to Grayson then he had been. But that wasn't a good enough reason to fight with each other. Grayson would have wanted them to be there for each other, or so he guessed since it seemed like Randy didn't know his friends as well as he thought.

 

[im jess saying]

Kit Elison

Kit sat in the pew silently with her friends. This was the first time they've seen each other after they got the news. The dynamic felt...different. She knew they would be walking out of this church different people. For better or for worse, she didn't know. His death was taking a toll on all of them. Kit looked around the room at the people who had come to the service. She saw kids they grew up with, old friends from their graduating class, even teachers from middle and high school. It was beautiful that one young man could bring everyone together like this. Grayson was so loved. Kit knew that, but it was nice to see it right in front of her. She then looked over towards Grayson's family and saw Olivia. She could't imagine what Olivia was going through. She was on a completely different path of grief then the rest of them. Olivia was with him the night he overdosed. Kit couldn't imagine the guilt running through Olivia's head. Although, it wasn't her fault, no matter what she thought.

Kit took a deep breath as the service started and grabbed Russell's hand, in need of support. Almost at an instant, she went numb. There were no tears left. She didn't feel anything. She wasn't paying attention to the stories or the prayer. She wasn’t looking at the pictures of her and her friends and Grayson. She just stared at Grayson in his casket. He looked different. His skin looked like putty. Like it was just a wax figure of Grayson and he was going to burst through the doors any second saying "Ha! You should see the look on your face! It was all a joke, now lets go get a beer." She knew this was all in her imagination though. That was really Grayson, laying in a casket in his favorite leather jacket that he wore even in the warm weather. She wasn't going to wake up from this nightmare because it was all real. She was going to wake up tomorrow with her best friend 10 feet under.

Before she knew it, the service had ended. She blacked out for the entirety of it. She was surprised to see that Russell hadn't let go of her hand through the service. Their hands were sweaty and fused together as if the world would collapse around them if they let go. Kit was lucky to have friends like Russell. She couldn't imagine going through this alone. Her friends started to get up and walk outside but she had one last thing she needed to do. "I'll meet you outside." She announced to her and slowly, hesitantly walked up toward the casket.

She smiled politely at all the people around the casket, took something out of her purse, and held it for a second. It was a first edition Charzard Pokemon trading card she's had since she was little. Her father had somehow acquired it when she was going through her Pokemon craze. Grayson was so jealous the day she got it. He bartered everything in his name to try and get his hands on her Charzard trading card. "I will do your homework every single day for the rest of the year." He would say, almost drooling over the rare Pokemon card. To this day, he would still ask if he could have it. Kit didn't care about Pokemon anymore, but she swore that she would never give it to him. She wanted to keep this banter running for as long as she could and she thought it was hilarious how passionate Grayson was about getting the card. Kit would always joke that if she died, she would write in her will that he could have it. "Well then, sleep with one eye open tonight, Kit Elison." She smiled at the memories surrounding the laminated piece of paper in her hand. She kissed it, leaving a mark from her red lipstick, and tucked it away in his casket. "You can have it now, Gray. I love you." She said to Grayson's lifeless body, tears starting to roll.

Kit turned on her heel and started walking away from the casket trying not to blubber too much. She headed outside of the church, searching for her friends who were seemed to be causing a scene right outside on the wall. She walked over to hear Tyler go on and on saying how bad he wanted to use and why should he stop if Grayson didn't. Kit’s stomach dropped. She had used this morning. She can't deal with her emotions like the rest of them could. She needed something to dull the pain so right before she started getting ready, she shot up. But she would never tell her friends that. Especially because of the circumstances they were faced with today. Kit walked over to Tyler and took his hand. "Please, Tyler. We can't lose you too." She said to him, tears still rolling down her face. "Please don't wish death upon yourself. You have to stay clean. Stay clean for Grayson."
​

Tags: Wyosch Nefelibata726 apolla

 

[seasonedcat]

During the whole ceremony the feeling of being in too deep came back stronger. Speeches given by some of his close family, the pictures shown, all of it brought back the painful memory of that night. Many times through the ceremony Drew had to grip his wrists painfully to stop himself from breaking down, to the point that he had actually punctured the skin. The feeling of guilt was so powerful that it was slowly crushing him, and he didn't think there was going to be a way to stop it before it did.

He managed to make it through the whole ceremony without shedding a single tear, however there had been many close calls. Drew for some reason felt as if he didn't deserve to let out his pain like the others, after all he was the one responsible for Grayson's death. So he didn't let it out, he just suffered in silence, deep down hoping for someone to notice, to tell him that it wasn't his fault. But he knew that that would never happen. Because if his friends knew that he hadn't stopped Grayson even though he knew it was too much, they would hate him. So he kept it to himself, he always would.

Drew was glad to finally leave the church, not having to keep looking at the crying faces of the people Grayson knew. He carefully walked with his friends until they reached outside, quietly looking back and forth between their faces. However the words that followed from Tyler's mouth hurt Drew deeply. 'Grayson didn't stop, so why should I...' 'Grayson didn't stop...' 'Grayson...' Drew painfully gripped his wrists again, bringing him back from his swarming thoughts. Tyler couldn't die, he couldn't lose another one of his friends. Drew opened his mouth to say against it, but the words never left his head. No sound came from his mouth.

He still couldn't say the words. How could he not? After all this? Shouldn't he be like other characters who use the death of friends to prevent others from making the same mistake as some sort of way to get over his guilt? Why could he still not say the words needed to be said? Drew closed his mouth slowly, his breathing halted. A light pain filled his chest as his lungs screamed for air, Drew gave it it's wish and took a quiet gulp of air. His breathing was short not only from holding his breath, but from the smothering feeling of guilt.

He was glad his other friends said the words he couldn't, they should have been there instead of him. They would have stopped Grayson. They could say the words Drew still could not. This wasn't the right thing to keep thinking if he wanted to avoid a full on break down out here. His normal tactic of pain wasn't working anymore, he needed to get out of here. "I-I need to g-go!" Drew said with a weak voice before turning and walking briskly away. He didn't know where he was going, he just couldn't anymore.

He managed to make it to another side of the church that was secluded from other people before collapsing against a tree. He gripped himself as if to keep him from falling to pieces as he broke down. His thoughts were wild. He couldn't stop seeing himself turning away from Grayson, brushing off him having too much. The constant replaying of his memories made his break down worse. Normally if his break down was this bad he would smoke a blunt, take some pills, and just chill. But he couldn't do that anymore. Last time he tried to smoke after Grayson died he ended up freaking out. All he could think of was the smell of smoke in the air at that party, the high feeling from the drugs at that party. He couldn't use his normal source of self medication, so he just broke down alone against a tree outside a church.
Interactions: im jess saying NexNight Wyosch Nefelibata726

 

[apolla]

Olivia

Before the service, Olivia had thought she had no more tears left to cry. No more sobs left to sob. She held it together during the priest's speech. He spoke lovely words, but she couldn't get past the fact that they were just that: pretty words. Grayson was gone, and he wasn't coming back. She could have saved him, maybe. Been truthful with the paramedics instead of crying and saying she didn't know what he'd taken. But it was too late to change any of that, and he was gone.

Well, mostly. His body was still there, laying in the casket that she was trying so hard to not look at. But as the priest spoke, her eyes slid towards his body, and she chomped down on her lower lip. Her hands moved to her thighs, and she gripped them tightly, drawing in a sharp breath. The marks underneath of her dress weren't for anyone else to see, but she knew they were there. She could feel them, throbbing and aching. She'd never done that before, but it had felt good. A release.

When the photos started showing on the big screen, she felt Grayson's mom reach for her hand. Olivia took it for show, but in reality, she just wanted to run away. Out of the church, down the road, and never look back. She'd been crying for a few moments before she even realized it. The song was one that she had chosen, with his family, and it suited him well.

The last pictures were of Grayson and Olivia, and then the very last one was Grayson himself, smiling into the camera. She felt eyes on her, but she couldn't meet anyone's gaze. With the ceremony over, she stood by the casket with his family, giving the hugs and 'thank you's as people came by. She saw her friends getting up and leaving, and Kit coming up to place a card into the casket with him. She recognized it immediately, but said nothing.

After a little time had passed, Liv had to excuse herself from the family. His mother almost didn't want to let her go, but she finally did, and Olivia found herself outside. There were still so many people out here, and she needed some space. Making her way to the other side of the church, she spotted Drew. Her heart nearly stopped as she saw him, collapsed against a tree.

"Drew..." She whispered, making her way to his side and kneeling beside him. "He's not hurting anymore." She told him. Always the caregiver, she was. Except when it mattered.

Location: opposite side of the church

Mood: struggling

Tags: seasonedcat ; im jess saying

Code by apolla

 

[seasonedcat]

Drew was drawn away from he sea of thoughts by a soothing, familiar voice. This voice made his heart nearly break, Oliva. God, in this state and after what he did, he wasn't near ready to face her. How could he face her after what he did? The sudden appearance of his friend made his sobbing grow worse, his thoughts going crazy. In his broken state all he could manage out was 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry' as he gasped for breaths. He kept repeating those words over and over again to Oliva, even though she wouldn't know what he meant.

Even after all these years of knowing each other, Drew had never broken down in front of any of his friends. He has ran away and locked himself in a room during more than one of their outings, but he had never let himself break down in front of them. He didn't know why he did that though, maybe because real men don't cry and he wanted to be what social acceptable for men these days. Or maybe just because he was used to it, used to dealing with it alone so he never asked for the help he needed. So now, with someone comforting him in this time, it was completely foreign to him.

Drew was shaking as he gripped himself tightly, still muttering out apologizes as he gasped for breath. He couldn't bring himself to look up at her so he was staring at the ground, trying desperately to calm down and play off the fact that he was breaking down. But if Oliva knew why he was breaking down, then she wouldn't be comforting him. SHe would probably be glad that the murder of her lover was suffering alone. Drew didn't deserve this. He killed Grayson.
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