Sorry I took so long to post this. I just wanted to write more, and I've been busy. Here it is, and I'll post faster, promise.
DPOV
"We are here today, not to mourn the loss of a good friend, but to celebrate his life." The priest said, over J's coffin, I was sitting in the second row with Elena, Anna Vicki, the guys and Stefan. J's mom wasn't happy that they were all here, but she'd get over it, he would have wanted us here.
Anna had been crying pretty bad earlier, but she was trying to hold it all in now. Vicki looked like she was going to burst at any second. The guys had a little more control, but I knew they'd end up crying too. Elena sat next to me, holding my hand tight. I felt my eyes burning with unshed tears, but refused to let them fall. Salvatore's didn't cry. Not in public at least.
"Adam did not have a long time in this world, but what time he did have was well spent" The guy went on about the good stuff J had done and read his bible verses. I didn't have anything against church, but this was too much. J wouldn't have wanted all this. When he finished reading and praying, we went outside for the burial.
Elena gripped my hand tightly as the coffin was lowered. She'd come to like J in the little time they'd known each other. I looked up and saw Katherine a little ways away from everyone, meeting my eyes she waved sadly. Her and J had pretty good friends before the break up.
"Another life goes into the night..." I said softly, throwing dirt on his coffin and crossing myself. "Never forget me, man."
"How are you?" Elena asked on the drive home.
"Okay." I sighed, still in shock, I guess."
"Have...have you cried yet?" Any other time I would have laughed at her tone. But right now, I couldn't.
"I can't." I said. "I've tried, but whenever I'm ready for the tears to come, they won't."
"They won't come until you least expect it." She said. "Do you want stay at my house tonight? I'm sure my dad would let you use the couch if you told him..."
"No, thanks. I think I'm gonna go home tonight."
"But, Damon, your dad..."
"I have to learn to stand up to him sometime, Elena. Trust me." She sighed.
"Okay. But at least come over for dinner? Maybe we can convince my dad to let us go out tonight."
"Alright, when?"
"Around six." I pulled up to her house and stopped.
"I'll see you tonight." I said. She leaned over and kissed me.
"I love you."
"I love you, too." We kissed again and she got out of the car. I drove home, perfectly fine, until I saw my father's car. My throat closed up as I parked. I shut off the car and took a deep breath.
"Come on, Damon." I said to myself. "You're eighteen now, you can do this." I got out of the car and walked inside. I smelled dinner cooking and almost smiled. I started to go find Nana.
"Damon?" My father called from his office. Damn, he caught me. "Damon James, GET IN HERE!" I went into the office, trying not to show how scarred I was. I sat down and looked him in the eyes.
"Where have you been?"
"I was at my History teacher's place. I had to be near town, I had things to do."
"Like what?"
"I had to plan a funeral, sir." He frowned and actually looked a little concerned.
"What?"
"I had to plan-"
"I got that!" He cut me off. "Explain this to me." Since when did he care?
"Who died?"
"My best friend, Adam Johnson, sir." I said.
"Where were his parents?"
"His father works a lot and his mom...she's not around much. I knew him the best." He nodded.
"I see." He said, standing up. "And it didn't cross you mind to call and let us know you were alright?"
"I was busy." The back of his hand connected with my face and the slapping sound echoed in the small room.
"Don't get smart with me!" I stood up and looked him in the eye.
"Go ahead, hit me. Beat me until I'm unrecognizable, fucking kill me if you want. I could care less. All I have left is Elena, and she'll come to her senses sooner or later. So, go ahead." He only stared at me. "What's wrong, Dad? You scared now?" He shook his head.
"Get out. I don't care where you go, but get out of here." I shrugged.
"Okay, see you tonight." I walked out of the office, closed the door, then sank to the floor. That wasn't that hard. I could do this.
GPOV
After my son left I went back to my desk to finish my paperwork that I had been doing, but when I opened my desk drawer, something else caught my eye.
Who Inspires You. Damon's English essay that the teacher had given me and asked me to read. I looked at the clock and sighed. Nothing better to do.
I'm inspired by my father, Guiseppe Salvatore. Born in Italy in 1963 to a poor family, he came to America when he was nineteen with nothing but the shirt on his back, a hundred dollars in his pocket and a dream on his mind. Now, nineteen years later, he's made that dream into a multimillion dollar enterprise....
He went on to explain how my business ran and how, because of me, he wanted to start his own business. I didn't know he knew half of what he had written. didn't know he listened when I talked about work or where I came from, but apparently he did.
I felt tears in my eyes as I finished reading. His paper was excellent, all his fact were right and he stayed on topic. All those years of telling him he was worthless, that he was and always would be nothing, and this what proved me wrong.
I wiped my hand across my face and stood up from my desk.
I had to find him.
