"In junior high, there was a kid who would always run home as soon as the bus dropped him off. We would laugh at him every day. We didn't know that he ran because he wanted to make sure his sister hadn't killed herself while he was gone at school.
One day, he missed school. A week later, he was back. He stopped running."

Through sky-blue eyes, after.


Gray is the colour of the sky on January 9th, 2014.

A man with honey blond hair stands in front of a cemetery plot, eyes resting on a newly placed headstone; its epitaph reads only, "It's alright, you have to start moving on," under the engraved name. To him, though he will never say it aloud or think of it again, the smooth stone looks aged and worn already. Comparing it to the woman resting far beneath it comes next, naturally. A deep sigh follows after.

"Kinda stupid of me to be talking to a grave, but, um..." the man, more of a boy, begins slowly. "You can start moving on now. Oh, man, that was cheesy." An awkward cough punctuates his speech as he places a gentle hand on the headstone. "What I mean to say is, your brother will be okay, so don't worry! Well, like after a while at least. I don't mean to suck so bad at this thing, I hardly ever can't do something." For once, the blond feels uneasy at speaking so much - speaking so loudly. It doesn't feel right in the place he is in. So, with another long exhale, he gives a second attempt.

"Sorry I didn't come a couple days ago. I didn't really know if I should or not, you know? But then I realized that I kind of knew you well enough, in my own way, that I should say bye," he continues in a more delicate voice. The tone is so rare for him that the quiet around the area is almost stunning. The peace allows for a moment of contemplation that ends in a tiny smile. "I never really knew until a few days ago, but your brother really is special; great. Maybe he's even more of a hero than I am. So, rest easy, N... Natasha."

All feels complete as silence covers the graveyard once again. Sky-blue eyes finally tear away from the headstone, looking down at the grass around it. The blond male enjoys the pure absence of noise for once, figuring that some god must be trying to honour the dead with it. It lasts just long enough for the man's liking.

"Alfred! Come on, we need to get going to Francis's. That git will never let it go if we're late to his party, or whatever it is," an English voice calls, its owner standing near the cemetery gates. Subconsciously, the man now known as Alfred is relieved that his silent reverie is broken - he's not much of an existentialist, and being left to his thoughts for too long could have been overwhelming. With a mumbled replied, he turns away from the grave site and walks to the friend who had called him.

"Yeah yeah, whatever dude! He'll find something else to get angry at you for," Alfred replies with a grin, punching the other's shoulder playfully when he reaches him. The offended man, Arthur, scowls at his offender. With that, the two of them walk away from the graveyard, rambling the entire time. Behind them, though it will never be noticed, a small white hare wanders over to Natasha's grave. It sits in front of the newly placed, yet worn-looking, headstone and watches the two blonds walk away, large eyes attentive. As the men fade into the distance, the hare hops behind the polished stone, and never reappears.