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George leaned against the wall, his hands held together behind his back. He was quiet, like everyone else. His position was in the far back of the room, away from prying eyes. Everyone was in black, silent murmurs drifting over the Brit’s ears.
There was a casket at the front, draped in the softest looking blankets. His phone buzzed in his pocket for a second before going silent. His hand dropped to his pocket, barely pulling his phone out. There was a message, one from his boyfriend. When will you be home?
He sighed as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. His eyes trailed back up toward the front, where a mop of raven hair barely poked out from the open casket. Two men held each other as they wept off to the side. Their hands held matching rings, and he knew that the man that laid had one too.
The Brit wanted to tell them how sorry he was. He wanted to ask them if he was the same man he’d once known.
He wanted to know if they loved him as much as he did.
George sighed as he pushed himself off the wall, the shadows of the second floor keeping him hidden. His hands fell to his sides as his weight became dependent on his own two feet again. He stepped forward, his mind made up.
He wasn’t going to stay here longer than he had to, he had a boyfriend to get home to after all.
“Did you know him?” A voice asked, stopping George in his tracks.
He stood for a moment, not knowing what to say. He had known him, long ago. Once when the sky was still vibrant blue, and the clouds parted to shine down on their seventeen-year-old selves. When the raven shoved George almost off the sidewalk at two in the morning, being best friends. There was a time when George held the other man as he cried after he was rejected time and time again.
There was a time when George leaned forward and faced his own rejection instead.
“Once.” George settled on, his hands shoving themselves into his pockets. His voice was scratchy, like he’d been crying, although he’d barely shed a tear. The other man nodded, turning away, heading back up towards the aisle towards the late man’s fiance’s.
George watched him leave, his head spinning with unwanted memories; The heartbreak, the tears, the fallout… the leaving.
The world blurred around him as his eyes welled with unshed tears. He’d promised himself he’d never cry for him again. Yet, here he was, tears pooling in his eyes without his permission. His body moved on it’s own accord, and all at once he was standing in the middle of the aisle. Close enough to the front that he could see the man’s face who had his eyes closed forever.
He didn’t know what he wanted to do. He probably looked stupid standing in the middle of the room. Some people watched him, probably having nothing better to do at this sad church session, as he tried to will his body to move. His mind was reeling, yet it was blank at the same time. He was sure the tears were flowing down his face by now.
Tears for a man who used to be his best friend.
Tears for a man who never loved him back.
George cried, right there in the middle of the church, he cried. Quiet sobs rising in his throat, threatening to break loose. He willed himself to move, his feet feeling like bricks and his mind feeling like mush as he stepped forward. Once, twice, three times before he stopped again.
He didn’t know what he was doing, he didn’t even know why he was here. His thoughts were jumbled as he stumbled up to the casket, knowing that this was the last time he’d see the love of his life. The Brit leaned over, his tears dropping onto the late man’s face.
George wanted to scream, wanted to yell at the man to wake up. Yell at him that he was being stupid and he wasn’t going to fool George this time. But he didn’t, of course he didn’t. He was acutely aware of the man’s fiance’s watching him, and he didn’t want to cause a scene. So, the Brit leaned over the American and whispered a small goodbye. The goodbye that they never got to say, breathed into the air, falling on dead ears.
He pushed himself away after that, his body righting itself on his own two feet again. His mind was mush, and his heart felt like lead.
He turned, facing the front doors. He didn’t look at anyone as he strode back down the aisle. Dried tears were starting to make his face itch, and his throat hurt with the effort of closing off his sobs. Yet still he walked, not pausing to turn back as he walked right out of the church.
He didn’t look back as he walked home to his apartment he shared with his boyfriend, because that wasn’t the type of person he was.
Sapnap knew that.
George knew that.
They both knew that.
Sapnap was never the person to turn around either.
George knew that.
George knew him.
”Once.”