Graveyard
Drip. Snore. Drip. Snore. Drip. Snore.
The water dripped incessantly from its faucet. Along with the snore, it created a repetitive pattern of sound that echoed throughout the dark apartment. Every now and then, a sigh interrupted the pattern of sound, followed by a ruffle of sheets and another sigh. The breaking of the pattern was from the other, insomniac occupant of the apartment, who was partially collapsed on the couch with a patched up sheet covering him and eyes firmly shut in determination to sleep. But alas, sleep refused to come to the poor man as the events of the day haunted him, refusing to leave and nagging at him to remember what he had forgotten. The undead man sighed once more and turned, careful not to fall off the edge of the couch. Trying to clear his mind, he focused on the repetitive sound that was echoing throughout the apartment once more; this time with more success than the last…few hundred times. The man was just about to finally fall asleep when another sound was suddenly thrust into the formula: the rumble of thunder, which was soon followed by the sound of rain thumping softly on the windows.
Sighing angrily, the undead occupant of the apartment finally opened his glowing eyes and glared half-heartedly at the roof above him. Life hated him. Undeath hated him. He hated him. Apparently, his mind (which is apparently an entity of its own for the time being) hated him as well, as it decided to replay the last few hours once again in his head.
He did not know how it happened really, or when he had agreed to it, but apparently, he agreed to take Hanna (and Conrad and Toni…and Doc Worth) to visit his grave. He had felt it was pointless, and told Hanna as such, but the over-hyperactive young man retaliated with how it might help the undead man recall something or the other, and, after relentless begging and pleading on Hanna's part, he relented. And thus, they made a trip to Doc Worth's office and Hanna used his "awesome" pleading techniques to convince the doctor to get his car out from who-knows-where and drive them to the graveyard, which, somehow, Hanna already knew its location. The nameless undead had wondered how Hanna knew and opted to ask him, but decided against it since Hanna was Hanna and he was good at dodging any topic he did not like talking about.
Either way, thirty minutes later found him, an excited Hanna, Toni, an angry Conrad, a confused Veser, and a grumpy Worth in a white, very beat up and very old car putt-putting it out on the road. During the whole ride, the nameless undead stared blearily out the window, very bothered about the whole ordeal. Outside the overly dirty window, the sky was gray and it was drizzling, which apparently was not going to be a problem because Veser found that the doctor had box of umbrellas in the trunk. Why they were there, however, no one knew. Not even the doctor.
Either way, the dull grays in the sky gave the whole world underneath the clouds a grim and moody atmosphere, which was tiring to simply look at. But he kept his eyes fixated outside the window as Hanna, sitting in the front seat, excitedly gave Worth directions, whose only reply was to grumble and steer. Toni and Conrad were having a quite conversation next to the golden-eyed undead, while Veser was singing some punk song off-key from his place in the trunk (he was voted into it by Toni and Conrad because of the fact the car was tiny and it amused the mad doctor).
It was not long before the light drizzle evolved into a heavy and relentless downpour, which thrust the world beneath the clouds into a deeper darkness. This development did not change the atmosphere within the tiny car however, except that it muffled Veser's singing some more and made the zombie's eyes glow brighter than usual. The brighter glow of his eyes caused Conrad to give him an offhand "Jeesh, your eyes are bright" to which Hanna had replied, "They're like that at night too. I make him sleep on the couch now!" After that, Hanna returned his full attention to the cranky doctor and to giving him annoying-yet-precise directions.
Heedless to everything but the cascading rain, he did not know how far they had traveled or how long it took them to do so. Yet from his memories of before meeting Hanna, he knew it was a distance that was covered much more quickly by driving than walking. When they did arrive there, however, Hanna declared it very loudly to everyone, and the undead man reasoned it was also for Veser to hear (who had replied with a muffled "Finally! My leg was cramping up!"). After that, Doc Worth hit the switch that opened the trunk, and Veser jumped out with enough umbrellas for everyone. After everyone was out of the car and had received an umbrella, the hike through the graveyard began.
The excited Hanna ran in front of everyone, with Veser jogging next to him, relishing in the fact that he was out of the trunk and could finally use his legs again. Conrad and Toni follow after, Toni speaking somewhat excitedly and Conrad answering with slight disinterest—he had not wanted to come, after all. Doc Worth followed after, cursing under his breath at everything negative in the situation—the rain, the darkness, the wetness, the fact his cigarette would not light, the fact he was out here to start with…the list went on. The somber undead trailed behind, suddenly feeling very uneasy about the whole ordeal. As much as he wanted to recall something of his past, he could not help but feel nervous about doing so. What if he recalled something nightmarish? What if he recalled something completely useless? And how much fun would Hanna have fun brainstorming different meanings for those memories? Not to mention that the grave was most likely an unrecognizable mess; and the rain was not helping any.
With these thoughts in mind, the worried undead did not notice that he had behind everyone. He also did not notice the woman he bumped into until it was too late. The lady had stumbled, falling backward and dropping her umbrella. Mumbling his apologies, he moved to help her up, and instead stepped on her umbrella. With a powerful snap, the umbrella broke easily underneath his weight—he noticed this; she did not. She accepted his apology and his offer of help. This helped him get a clear look at her through the rain, and then—and then his thoughts started nagging at him, I know her.
She did not look up as she politely and nervously asked him to get out of the way so that she may leave. Only when she passed him did he notice the sad aura that seemed to envelop her and the strangely obvious tears that poured down her face. They were the reason she did not look up; she was grieving. For you, his nagging thoughts told him, She's grieving for you.
He watched her blearily as she attempted to salvage her umbrella before giving up and continuing her departure. As he watched her leave, something…something in him stirred. He did not know what it was, but caused him to follow her, to catch up with her, and to clumsily and quietly hand her his umbrella. She accepted it hesitantly, hastening her departure after she did so. This time, the undead, orange eyed man did not follow. He simply stood there, letting the downpour soak his clothes and flatten his hair as he fought a losing battle with his mind, where the prize was the memories that he so ached to remember.
The battle would not draw to a close until Hanna, who was heading the return party, hesitantly tapped on his shoulder. After gaining the undead man's attention, Hanna admonished him for falling behind. The undead man quietly mumbled an apology, which Hanna barely heard over the crashing rain. Suddenly conscious of the fact that the orange-eyed man lacked an umbrella, Hanna tried to share his umbrella, only to hit his partner's head and almost take an eye out. The taller male gently pushed the umbrella away from him, stating that the damage was already done and thus Hanna should worry about keeping himself dry. As to stop asking Hanna from asking about where the umbrella had gone, he instead asked Hanna if he had found the grave.
Hanna went quiet before tensely replying that yes, they found the grave, and while they found no clues on it—not even a name—the grave seemed very clean for being left alone for so long. Hanna then tentatively asked the glowing-eyed undead if he had seen anyone, to which the undead man quickly declined. Hanna seemed to want to press the matter, but the others had finally caught up with Hanna and were royally upset with him for moving so quickly. After a mess of yelling and apologies and general disturbance of the dead, the group headed back towards the extremely unreliable mode of transportation and headed home.
Everything that happened after that was unimportant. Everything that happened after that is unimportant to the undead man: it all lead to him attempting and failing to fall asleep on the couch. He sighed as the rain continued its renewed onslaught upon the world, the feelings of guilt and frustration filling up within him at himself. He had refused to tell Hanna of this, knowing that the hyperactive man would have too much fun with this little bit of information and go to all ends to find out more. Yet this did not ease the nagging of his thoughts nor help him win battles against himself. The undead man sighed once more and turned, trying to focus on sleep once more.
And, as he finally succumbed to the powers of sleep, he realized—if there was one thing that was proven today, it was that he is correct—it was easier to forget than to be forgotten.