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Wilted flowers sat in the palm of Will’s hand, his grip tightening. Tears blurred his vision as he sobbed, gazing at the slabs, wet blobs occasionally appearing on the stone from the damp trees above. It was so dark and his eyes were so squinted with tears that he couldn’t read the text on the footstones, but he knew what they said. His fingers reached to trace engravings on instinct. Lee. Michael.
Will knew better than to come to a graveyard at 1 am, but he couldn’t hold himself back after Lee’s summer camp necklace broke, scattering across his bathroom floor. It felt like Will was slowly forgetting, losing them for good. The necklace was the last straw, Will’s childhood breaking with it.
That’s what led him here, lying between the gravestones in Michael’s old blue Converse and gazing up at the rising moon. There were so many constellations – Mikey would have loved to make up silly names for each to make Will laugh. He chuckled at the memory, and for a few moments, everything was calm again.
A yelp came from Will’s far right, and he jolted, sitting up and gazing in that direction. He saw a mop of black hair, face down in the dirt near a tree root, before hazel eyes met his blue. The boy was around his age, pale, and clearly malnourished. Lee’s voice chided him for seeing everything from a medical standpoint before even questioning why someone else was at a gravesite at 1 am, but that’s what sleep deprivation does to you, he supposed.
The figure rose to a stand, dusting off his face as he waltzed towards Will, a scowl evident on his soft features.
“What possessed you to come here this late in the night?” The boy monotoned as he heaved Will to a stand. “Go home.”
“Well, I’m sorry I lost two brothers in six months! Grief! Grief possessed me.” Will spat, surprised by his own sass to this random boy. The boy’s eyes sparkled as he folded in on himself a bit. “Sorry.” A pang of guilt settled in Will’s gut as he looked down at this poor guy.
“It’s okay, I get it.” And he really seemed like he did. Will forgot why he was even there, staring into those doe eyes.
“Thank you.”
They were silent for a bit until the boy spoke. “Still, you gotta go. I’ll walk you out.” The dark stranger reached out a palm, and for some reason, Will took it. “The dead don’t like to be disturbed during a full moon.”
The two paused in front of another grave to look at the big, bright moon, hand in hand. It was much brighter than it was a few moments before, to the point that Will could see every crevice on this guy’s porcelain face. Damn, he was pretty – suddenly Will was insecure about his definitely puffy eyes.
“I’m– I’m Will, by the way.” Will, ever the poet spoke.
“I’m Nico.” He held up an ID – something about graveyard security. “Oh, and Will?” Nico met his gaze. “Don’t do that ever again. Thought you were a ghost.” He didn’t let Will finish his stammering, ‘What?’ before he tugged on his hand. “We’d best be off.”
“Oka–”
Will tried to follow him – he really did, but something by his feet stopped him, their hands breaking apart. Will assumed he’d just tripped on a root like Nico did, but there were no trees nearby.
Nico turned, watching in horror as they both saw the gnarled, decaying hand gripped onto Will’s ankle like it was a lifeline, which it probably was. Will made definitely manly noises as he tried to wrench his foot out of its grasp to no avail. His eyes begged Nico to do something as more worm-eaten hands, feet, and even decomposed heads surfaced from the ground, surrounding them.
“Holy shit.”
Even Nico looked panicked, but he skillfully grabbed a machete off his belt and sliced the radius and ulna bones of the hand holding Will down. “Follow me!” He grabbed at Will’s wrist, weaving through the many emerging zombie-things.
Will’s eyes were wider than ever, and he was more than gagging at the purple, deoxygenated blood that spurted from the hand still holding his foot. The freakishly close faces and arms grappling for his soul didn’t help, either. Will even had to stomp on an elbow or two.
Nico continued to hack at the creatures, spinning the machete in his palm as he did so. Will gripped his hand tighter.
They ran, and ran, and ran towards the exit, the few proficient zombies still staggering slowly but surely after them.
They seemed to run forever before Nico got to the gate, doing a final glance behind them and slowing to a stop. “They’re gone.”
Will’s wide eyes met his surprisingly calm ones. “What the fuck just happened?”
Nico laughed, somehow nonchalantly in their situation. “I told you they don’t like to be disturbed.”
“They don’t like it enough to do this?” Will motioned exaggeratedly towards the still-moving hand on his ankle.
“You should see me after I get woken up early.” Nico shrugged like it was a normal thing to do. “Here, I’ll help.” He batted at the zombie hand, cursing it as he threw it back into the graveyard.
Will shuddered. “Thanks, I’ve never had a detached hand on me before.”
“We all have our first times.” Nico shrugged, chuckling creepily as if it was normal.
Will let the silence drag on for a bit before he waved awkwardly goodbye. “It’s probably best I sleep this off. Still convinced I’m dreaming.”
“Wait!” Nico called out when Will was about to turn away. “Take this.” He blushed shamefully as he held out a business card, looking anywhere but the person in front of him.
“The ghost king?” Will read out. “Seriously?”
Nico rolled his eyes. “Had nothing else with my number on it, just take it, dingus. Call me if you ever get grabbed by zombies again.” The blush spread down to his neck. “...Or if you just want to hang out.”
Will giggled like a schoolgirl, “Okay then. I’ll see you, Nico.”
Maybe it wasn’t so bad wandering into a graveyard at 1 am. Hell, Will would probably do it again, his shoulders feeling lighter despite the business card in his chest pocket.
Who knew his two dead brothers would wingman him in the end?