#tlstarter

It was either very early or very late, Wesley wasn’t sure, but he was wandering the dark halls of the house in his pajama pants, clad of a shirt and trying to remember how to get to the kitchen. He wandered into what he thought was the kitchen, surprised to see someone else standing there. “Uh, I didn’t think anyone else was still here.” 

“Would anyone like a cupcake-- Emily and I spent the whole night baking.” He looked sheepishly down at the trays in his hand, trying his hardest not to make eye contact, slightly embarrassed over the reason why he baked, or actually, rebaked. 

It was late, probably close to one in the morning, but sleep had long since escaped Genevieve Clarke. She usually just stayed in her room at her grandma’s home until it was time to get up, but tonight, she just felt overwhelmed and suffocated. She needed to get out and be free, whatever that meant. So instead of laying in bed, tossing and turning all night, she grabbed her art folder and pencils and snuck out of the house. If her grandmother heard her, she didn’t try to stop her, and for that Gen was thankful. Unsure of wear to go now, she figured her first stop should be some liquid energy. She walked to the 24-hour diner she used to sneak to as a kid and ordered a coffee to go. After a moment’s hesitation, a sad habit ingrained in her by her parents obsession over her figure, Gen added a doughnut to her order. She paid in cash for them, and tucked the doughnut safely into the folder where it wouldn’t get squished. Then she headed for her favourite place in town. The pier. She set up camp at one of the picnic tables by the mouth of the boardwalk. Spread out around her were drawings of Josh, different styles and emotions and feelings in each. She was compiling them into one mosaic-style compilation, each square showing a different side of her friend. The piece she was working on was large, two feet wide and three and a half feet long. Her original intention was to give it to Sophia, but she wasn’t sure the girl would want it. She had never really given much thought to Josh’s face before he died, but ever since, she found that drawing him so much helped her cope with losing him. She found solace in her drawings, as if he was sitting across the table from her in the middle of the night. She didn’t hear the person approaching until they were upon her, and she jumped once she realized they were standing there. “I....uh...sorry. I was out of it.”

She didn’t feel comfortable being inside their house. She knew that Josh wished for all of them to be re united but she couldn’t pretend that she felt nothing going inside the house of the man she had an affair with. Not only did it make her uncomfortable but it made her feel as if she was trapped, like a mouse that had been thrown into a lion’s cage and she didn’t appreciate the feeling. Far from it. That’s why as soon as her phone rang she took the chance and escaped. Discretly she exited the house and answered the call in hopes of getting some fresh air. However instead of relief she was struck by annoyance and maternal worry. “Mom, you promised...I know bu― Just for a few more hours, please...What? No! Don’t leave him with her... I know she’s your friend but she can barely see!” Sighing in annoyance she finally conceded. “Fine. Yes, bring him here. Mhm see you soon then... Love you too, mom.” Letting out a deep breath she sat on the steps of the porch wondering how she’d explain Tim’s presence to her friends. Maybe some knew, maybe some didn’t, it didn’t matter anymore. At the end of the day they would all know about him. Taking out her phone to remind her mom to bring some toys, she heard the sound of someone clearing their throats. Fruncing her brow at the intrusion she turned around to face them, phone at hand. “What do you want?” She asked only taking off her eyes from the screen after the question had been asked.

It felt weird being back “home”, strangely enough he never considered this place home, rather a place he so desperately tried to escape from when he was eighteen. Not once in his three years since leaving did Alec ever think about returning, and yet here he was, sitting on a park bench watching his daughter run around in the grass, chasing whatever her imagination created for her. It was all too surreal, and not in a good way. The park, the smell of the air, the river that flowed by-- his parent’s house, everything brought back horrid memories of his past, things he once thought he could bury away. Maybe after this funeral, after this whole month, he can return back to America with the thought of Josh’s burial as his way of burying what he once tried to leave behind. Emily turned around to look back, a few wild flowers crushed in her palms, yet her eyes weren’t on Alec, rather on someone walking towards him. “If you’re here for a photo or som’thing can ya fuck off? I’m trying to enjoy a moment with my daughter.” He said, surprisingly calm, his eyes still fixed on Emily, not once looking up at whoever stood in front of the empty space on the bench. 

349 missed calls. Logan literally had 349 missed calls on his phone, and 348 of them were from Lisa. She had not stopped calling, and he was starting to wonder if she ever would. Since the day he had left, his phone had been going off constantly, and he didn’t have to look to know that it was her. Phone call after phone call. He hadn’t even counted the texts she had sent. If he had the heart to block her number, maybe he could get some peace, but he had already left her. He didn’t even tell her goodbye. He couldn’t bring himself to shut her out completely, not yet, especially since he didn’t know where he was going after this month was up. Not back to her. But didn’t he owe her an apology? He had no idea how he was ever going to actually talk to her, listening to even one voicemail had been a mistake, the hysterical crying and screaming on the other end nearly deafening, and he couldn’t shut it off fast enough, turning with a startled expression, not expecting to see anyone standing so close to him. “--- Oh, um,” he started, forcing a smile, unsure how much they had heard, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse to give a friend. He had made excuses for so long, lying should come much easier to him. “Hey, I was-- I didn't hear, uh--... hi.”

Andy stayed strong for as long as she was able until she absolutely had to step out. It was so much at once with everything hitting her like a steel train. Before when she’d get overwhelmed, she’d adapted a method in which she’d focus on only one thing at a time and forget the rest. But the method loses its appeal when the only things you can focus on make you feel sick. The door slammed a second time which she took to mean someone else had the same idea. “It’s all fucking shit, isn’t it”, she mumbled, fumbling with her lighter. “It’s all fucking shit and I need ice cream or something. Anything other than Sophia’s sadness cakes made with extra sadness. ” Finally catching the last bit of fluid, she lit her cigarette and took a single drag before letting her arm drop by her side. 

Though Wesley had arrived about an hour before, his feet rested in the sand before the water at the beach, his bags still beside him. He was being stubborn, not quite ready to go inside yet, not ready to face Sophia or any of the other kids that he’d grown up with who weren’t kids anymore. It had crossed his mind multiple times to jump back on a plane and head back home, but Josh had once been one of his very best friends, and denying his wishes felt like a miserable deed to do for the dead. So instead, he opted for sitting by himself on the beach, staring out at the water and watching the waves crash until he found the courage to go inside once more.