This one is rather short, sort of. I didn't want to write much because writing about funerals is really depressing... I think this one says enough though. Hope you enjoy. Review?
PS: This is one of my favorite songs, and I've heard some great covers of this. You should check out the original, or the cover by Verseemerge, or Siobhan Magnus. They're great :)
"I see a red door and I want it painted black; no colors anymore I want them to turn black. I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes; I have to turn my head until my darkness goes. I see a line of cars and they're all painted black, with flowers and my love both never to come back. I see people turn their heads and quickly look away, like a new born baby it just happens every day. I look inside myself and see my heart is black, I see my red door and must have it painted black. Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts; it's not easy facin' up when your whole world is black."
Hyde stood outside of the church he never attended, in a black suit and sunglasses to hide his eyes. He stared at the hearse parked right by the church, and the line of people walking into the building.
Such anger was held in him. Anger at the man upstairs who he now no longer believed in, for taking his brother away, if there was some reason for this, give him a good reason, not just to hurt him even more. Anger at his mother who couldn't stand to look at him and hadn't seen for two days, she was so disgusted with him; she made him stay at the Forman's, not that he minded much. Anger at the world for all that it had done to him; the abuse and neglect and now taking away the only person he felt he ever loved in any way. The only person he wanted to make a difference for. But mostly anger at himself, for letting this happen, when he could have found a way to. It was all blocked off by his permanent guard, the sunglasses that he would never part with. They shielded himself from the world, from letting the people see how he really felt; he was detached and he wanted it that way.
As he stood outside, ignoring the sad smiles and sympathy he had received from the attendees, he thought up a plan. A promise to himself that he had to keep; for his sake. Never to love, or to admit it, and not to show any sign of affection towards anyone, don't get too close to people. The ability to show and express all of those had died with Chris, and like his brother, he couldn't bring them back. He had already lost his dad and brother; he couldn't lose anyone else that meant a damn to him. If he kept his distance from people, his guard up, and stayed detached, zen, he called it, he wouldn't allow himself to be hurt again; it would be impossible. He owed that to himself.
Hyde didn't want to go inside; he despised churches and he didn't want to watch his brother's funeral procession. This wasn't how it worked; he should have died, this wasn't the order of things! His vision blurred, and he let out a shaky sigh, closing his eyes to concentrate; lose himself. His soul was disconnected from his body, or it felt that way, barricaded by layer upon layer of numb and apathy, and he wasn't about to let that shell break. Not again.
He was stubborn, and in denial, shocked by what had happened just two nights ago. There was this stabbing in his chest that would never go away, a permanent knife stuck in his heart, someone kept twisting it and ripping it out, so he would feel the grief for his brother all over again. They didn't understand, his mother blamed him for it all; it was the truth, but she had left them, maybe a part of it was on her too. Maybe.
Hyde felt a hand press against his shoulder, and he jumped, scared. The last person to touch him on that shoulder was Joe, and before that, his father. Two people who had caused him so much pain. Yet, as he looked up, he calmed, but felt nervous; Red Forman. The man knelt down to be eye level with Hyde and the boy gulped.
"Steven," Mr. Forman began, Hyde just stared at him. "I know this is tough, but you have to come inside now."
"I don't want to!" He whimpered, voice breaking with the emotion he tried so hard to hide away. Red sighed and shook his head.
"There is no use to dwell on what happened, it was an accident. You tried your best, Steven. Now you have to do one last thing for him, the thing he'd want you to do, and go in there. Be his big brother, show him you still care."
Hyde's eyes widened as he heard the man speak. He stiffened and all thoughts, all feelings stopped just then, as he listened to his best friend's father give him advice. He was… right. He had to do this for Chris, the baby who never spoke, never walked, only smiled and cooed when he saw his big brother. His shoulders shook, yet he wouldn't cry, not now, not again.
As Hyde and Mr. Forman walked into the church, the doors creaked shut behind them. People turned their heads and stared as they walked down the aisle, Hyde's breathing became erratic as he stared at the small casket up at the altar, with the pastor standing on the top stair. What made him better than Chris? His brother was in that box, the casket was open, so how could he do this? Hyde's mind kept playing the images of that night over and over in his brain. He never checked on his brother; he was a horrible big brother. Chris was his first damn priority, yet he didn't even make sure he was all right! He felt sick, lightheaded as he sat in the pew with the Formans, first row.
Eric smiled feebly at him, and Mrs. Forman dabbed at her eyes. Hyde just leaned back against the bench and closed his eyes, trying to stabilize his breathing. He couldn't come to terms with this, he'd never forgive anyone for taking away Chris, wouldn't listen to anyone that told him it happened for a reason. He'd yell and scream at them, tell them, "You try losing your brother or sister! Then you tell me there's a god damn reason!" he knew that they weren't going back up to heaven to be God's angels, there was no God. There was no heaven, and there sure as hell weren't any angels. Death was nothing, your own solitude, you're alone forever. His brother was alone, trapped. Hyde's chest heaved and he trembled, allowing a few tears to fall down his face.
Hyde watched Eric look behind him, and Hyde turned as well, seeing Donna Pinciotti, Eric's next door neighbor and first friend whisper something in his ear. Hyde knew her, she was a sweet girl, and they were all friends and hung out whenever they were at Forman's. Donna kept on whispering, and glanced at Hyde, before turning her attention back to Eric, who nodded and whispered back. She giggled softly and bit her lip, smiling as she faced the front of the church. How could they laugh and smile?
Hyde couldn't listen as the pastor talked about his brother's short life. The guy didn't know a damn thing about his brother; he was only two months old, and talked about how he lived a life well. Well, he didn't! He died before he could even crawl! And he wasn't going to heaven to be a cherub at the golden gates with St. Peter as the rest of the dead arrived, that's for sure. Because, there was no heaven! There were no golden gates, or a paradise on a fucking cloud, there was no God!
He looked to his right, and saw his mother, dressed in a black dress, and rage passed through him; she wasn't crying. How could she not be crying at her own son's funeral? Hyde knew she never really cared, she was probably over there, either drunk, high, or hung over. And next to her he saw a man he had never seen before, which killed him inside even more. How could she bring a stranger here? All of his relatives were over there, his two aunts and his uncle, their children, his grandma and grandpa; he just wanted to avoid them. They would blame him for killing their cousin, their nephew, their grandchild, like his mother blamed him; like he blamed himself. The one person he didn't see was his father, which he didn't mind much.
"Please allow a moment of silence to remember this child," The pastor said, and everyone bowed their heads. All except Hyde; he had more than a moment to remember, he'd been living everything over and over in his mind since the baby died in his arms. He wasn't about to listen to some nut job pastor who didn't give two shits about Chris.
But there never really was a moment of silence. Hyde watched with wide eyes as his mother stood up, and stomped towards him; at first no one noticed, not until she spoke.
"How dare you Steven!" She yelled, the occupants in the church all looked up, Hyde just froze, staring up at his mom who smelled of alcohol, her favorite perfume. "How could you do this to me and kill my son? How could you let this happen? You were supposed to watch him and take care of him, you ran away! And you let him die, and then you show up here, like you're wanted! You disgust me!"
Everyone was silent. Everyone stared at both mother and son as they glared at one another. Hyde was silent, eyes fixed on his mom who was clearly intoxicated, how could she do this at her son's funeral?
"This isn't what Chris would want, ma." He mumbled flatly, staring straight at the casket.
"How do you know what he would want? You killed him!"
"Edna!" Mrs. Forman gasped.
"Ma, please… would you want this? Just let this get over with… please…?" He whispered, biting his lip as she clenched her fist. Yet, instead of hitting him, she took a deep breath, and decided to go back to her seat.
Hyde wondered if she had any shame for doing that. If she even knew what she was doing when she walked over here, interrupting her youngest child's funeral. He wondered if she'd yell at anyone if it was him who was in that casket. And he wished he was the one lying in there, looking like a wax model rather than the real person.
"You did the right thing, Steven," Mr. Forman whispered to Steven as the pastor conducted the ceremony once again. Hyde just looked at him, confused on what he meant exactly. Did he mean by telling his mom to calm down, or the whole accidentally letting Chris die? He only stared ahead, nodding slightly at Mr. Forman's words.
When it was time to leave and say the final goodbyes, his mom just left the church, without looking at her son one last time. Was it of grief, or relief? The right side went first, he watched as his family spoke quickly and quietly to the immobile child, or kissed his forehead, or just cried. His heart pounded as he watched his cousin John, the last person in the first row finally walk by, he had to go now….
"Red, why don't you go with Hyde?" Kitty asked her husband quietly, Red nodded and Hyde smiled weakly. As he stood up and walked out into the aisle, with eyes on him, he felt Mr. Forman place his hand on his shoulders, and he wasn't so scared. He walked up with the older man and felt secure, how could his best friend's family be so different from his? Hyde took a deep breath and closed his eyes before reaching the top step before the casket. He opened his eyes, noticed there were flowers all around, things he hadn't noticed before, he gazed at the image of a baby Jesus on the back wall behind the altar, then hesitantly gazed down. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at his baby brother, who looked like he was sleeping; yet he looked fake. It looked like a model doll had been put in his place, he looked sunken, unreal, it wasn't Chris. His… soul wasn't in there anymore. Nothing was, he was just skin. Hyde swore he saw his brother's stomach rise and fall, yet it was all his imagination. He was gone.
"I'm so sorry, Chris." He whispered, placing his hand on the baby's head on more time, 'fixing' the boy's hair to how he always wore it, his bangs in his eyes. Hyde smiled at his masterpiece, and looked up at Mr. Forman who chuckled sadly. "I love you, I'll see you someday…" But he knew he wouldn't, heaven didn't exist.