He couldn't hope but wish that this was all just a bad dream. He wasn't supposed to be here yet, he was supposed to be at the pad in Malibu anticipating his trip next week.
But Davy wasn't in sunny California, instead he and the other Monkees were in rainy, old Manchester, England on a cold overcast day. The wind blew with the echoes of mournful cries and unshed tears. You wouldn't believe that normally, on this day, the four men would be getting ready for their individual dates for Valentine's Day, but instead Micky, Peter and Mike were worrying about their friend as they watched him from a distance.
Davy sat in front of a line of tombstones, his legs close to his chest and head down, as he finally let his silent tears fall. Although three of the stones looked much older compared to the fourth, they all held something in common. Each had the name Jones engraved into them. His grandfather's death had come as a great surprise to everybody, Davy had even talked to him over the phone just a week ago about his visit that would be coming up a week after Valentine's Day.
He could compare how he felt when his sister, Hazel, called a few days later to a really bad trip, something all four musicians had experienced either literally or rhetorically. A good trip, or how he felt when he thought about his visit back home, could make you feel euphoric, free an invincible, while a bad trip, close to how he was feeling right now, made you feel scared, lost and helpless.
Mike walked over and sat next to the, much shorter, man. He noticed how much younger Davy looked at that moment. It would always confuse him when some people who met him for the first time would confuse him for a child, but for that one second Davy Jones looked like a scared, helpless little boy. "Ya'll are a close knit family, must be nice." When he didn't receive any acknowledgement the Texan felt horribly guilty. He was supposed to be their leader, help all of them during times of sorrow or need. Yet he was useless at helping his youngest friend during his weakest moment. Leader, yeah right, some leader he was.
The bare branches on the trees rustled as the hard, bitter cold winter wind blew harder. As the cold gust of wind went through his curls, Micky wished that he would've borrowed one of Mike's woolhats. He walked over to two of his bandmates and likely joked "This patch of dirt taken?" This caused Mike to chuckle while Davy didn't even move. Sitting down, the drummer remembered when he had been in Davy's place when his dad had died a few years back. Micky knew that his friend hadn't even so much as cracked a smile ever since that ominous phone call and no matter how hard he tried, there was no way to lighten his mood.
Not even when he, accidentally, almost feel down that open grave. Seriously, even the priest and grave diggers laughed at that! Maybe he just couldn't help his friend.
Closed eyes look skyward as Peter's dark-blond hair moved with the wind. A raindrop fell onto his forehead before more fell at a quicker pace. The bassist pulled out his umbrella, which Mike had tried to convince him not to bring, and walked towards his bandmates, wanting to shield them from the rain as well. He wasn't sure how this event would affect Davy, most of the time when the Englishman would enter a state of depression, he would distance himself and bounce back a couple of days later. But this was different, Davy wasn't bouncing back. Sitting next to them, he handed the umbrella to Mike and placed a hand on Davy's shoulder "You felling any better?"
Davy lifted his head and looked at the three with tired brown eyes "Yeah, I just still can't believe 'e's gone."
Micky gave a small smile "I know almost exactly how you feel. When my dad died it still felt like he was there, like as if he would just walk into the room and everything would stay the same." He stopped and looked at two of the tombstones "But maybe your situation is a bit different."
Davy gave a small nod "Aftah me parents died he took me in. We supported each other, 'e 'ad lost 'is son and I 'ad lost me da'. My sistah's all 'ave families of their own and most of the family members that came to the funeral I 'aven't seen in years. I guess it just feels like I'm alone now."
Peter wrapped his arm around the Brit's shoulders "You're not alone Davy…" he gave on of his genuine smiles. "You have us."
Micky beamed as well "Yeah, we're more than just bandmates or friends."
Mike smiled over as well, while moving the umbrella to his other hand "We're not even just best friends, we're brothers and we'll always have that connection."
Even though the rain continued to pour the four continued to sit there. They knew that even though this Valentine's Day was tragic and far from what they would wish it to be, it was still a day they would always hold close. Because Valentine's Day is more then just a day for lovers, it's also a day for friendship.
…Okay…I'm gonna go puke up rainbows and cute things now. Happy Valentine's Day everyone!
That dear readers...is what I feel to be one of the crappiest things I have ever written. You know the drill check my devART version for more notes. My God, Goddess, kami and Buddah I'm lazy.