Author's Note: This is, basically, just a filler chapter. That's the reason it's short and kind of, but not really, pointless. I hope you don't mind the length and uneventful happenings. Please review and thanks for the reviews that I've gotten.

Justin

I'm not ready for this.

I'm not ready to walk out Brian's door and go to the funeral. Since no one was looking forward to going to the funeral at all Emmett had planned it as quickly as possible – he got the nearest day he could get to hold the funeral and everyone ran wild with it, getting ready, buying suits that the would shove into the backs of their closets – or duffle bags in my case – when this was all over so they wouldn't have to have the reminder of this fateful afternoon. Brian took me shopping just yesterday; buying me only the best even though I told him not to since I would never wear it again. He fought me and bought me something expensive.

Maybe this is his way of coping.

Spending large amounts of money on himself and other people.

When I tried it on he told me I looked fucking hot, I think he was trying hard, like I was, not to think of the reason he was buying this suit for me and trying to lighten up the shopping spree since I had maintained a silent cover all morning and day. I was so fucking depressed it hurt. It worked, I smiled and bushed like a little school girl and ducked back into the changing room so I wouldn't blush in front of him anymore. I heard him chuckling on the other side of the changing room door. It's been four days since the escapade on the couch, he hasn't touched me once since then and…I don't know what to think about it. I can't help but ask myself if he maybe regrets doing anything at all.

Despite my depression – I hope not.

When he touches me…

I'm a whole different person. And I'm happy despite all of…this.

This afternoon, though, as we get out of his jeep, dressed up all nice in our fucking suits that make it hard for me to breath, he reaches out and grabs my hand. I don't know if it's because he needs something to hold or if he can tell I'm about to breakdown and the funeral hasn't even started yet. Or maybe it's for both reasons. For whatever reason, though, I'm happy that he did because I think it helped. I think that him grabbing my hand is what helped me hold back my tears…that is…until we reach the three holes in the ground where their coffins are lowered. It's then that I can't hold back my tears and I'm bursting out into tears and there's no way I can stop them. I muffle them by thrusting my face in Brian's chest.

Everyone needs to hear the priest and not me crying.

I'm slightly comforted to hear others crying too. Debbie's in tears, she was when Brian and I had walked over, but she was doing her best to not get hysterical because she was holding Gus. Gus was in tears too and that didn't help my situation at all either. Seeing Gus cry was heart wrenching and it wrenched my heart roughly. Michael looked solemn, tears running down his face and, despite the fact that he hated me, I felt sorry for him too because he had lost people that meant a lot to him and I knew how he felt. There wasn't anyway that I couldn't feel sorry for him.

Emmett stands in between Michael and Ted with a tissue held in his hand. He's crying as hard as I am, his eyeliner is running down his face in thin black streaks and his eyes are red and puffy. Ted isn't crying but I can see the tears in his eyes, the tears that he's trying to hold back. I don't blame him. I hate crying. I don't bother to look at the people I don't know and I squeeze my eyes shut and listen the best I can as the priest begins his speech. Fucking depressing. That's what it is. The speech that was made to affirm all you worst fears. Worst fears the fact that you friends really are dead and this isn't just a dream.

Brian's arms around me don't even work to comfort me.

When it's over, part of me wishes it wasn't over because that means walking away and leaving the three deceased behind forever and I don't want to do that, I let Brian pull me away from the graves. I pull my head away from his chest so I can see where I'm going though it's not very affective since the tears in my eyes block my vision. I use one of my hands to wipe away the hot water and look up at Brian. For the second time in the time span that I've known him he's crying. Except this time he's crying a lot harder then he had been in his jeep. I don't say anything like last time except I do stand on my toes as we walk and kiss him lightly on the cheek not knowing if this would act as any comfort at all.

All I know is that I see Michael watching the whole thing.

On top of being at the bottom of the world right now he looks really pissed about it. I only nod at him trying to offer my condolences at his losses but he doesn't acknowledge that he even saw it and I'm not surprised. Without a word spoken between the two of us, I don't think I can speak and if I could it would come out all choked up and tears would spill out harder, we get into his jeep and speed off along with the others. The reception is going to be held at Brian's house. I don't know when it was decided. All I know is that Brian told me this morning. I didn't even want to have a fucking reception for their death and I know Brian doesn't want to either but I guess it seems like the right thing to do.

Nothing seems right at the moment though.

Brian

I told myself that I wouldn't cry but I did anyway.

I guess I shouldn't be so surprised. Everyone cried, even Ted cried at the end of the funeral. Justin crying into me made me cry quicker then I had wanted to. Gus crying at all made me cry period. I hated seeing him cry and I hated the fact that he had to go through this at such a young age. That he had to go through this at all even. No child deserved this, their parents dying. By the end of the funeral my throat hurt like hell at my attempts of trying not to cry and my eyes were puffy as hell and probably red too. Justin kissing me on the cheek made me feel slightly, just very slightly, better but Michael acting like he had seen the most disgusting thing ever made me worst again.

I'd have to deal with him later. I look over at the blonde in my passenger seat. I watch him for a second since we're sitting at a stop light. I watch at how he swallows and tries his damned hardest not to cry and stop the tears that are threatening to spill out onto his face. I reach a hand over and place it on his knee. I know it's not enough to comfort him, to comfort anybody, but I do what I can. It's not like I can raise them from the dead and If I could, believe me, I would be. But this was the best I could do at the moment. He doesn't meet my eyes; he only places a hand on top of mine and grips it hard. I don't mind the slight pain, I welcome it and drive on and keep my hand there the entire time.

I think.

I don't think about the deceased.

I don't, can't, want to think about that. I need to be able to see so I can drive. I think about Justin. About how bad I feel for leading him on that one afternoon on the couch and then not touching him, not even a pat on the shoulder, for four days afterwards. I don't know why. Well, I do know why but I'm not sure if the reason is completely accurate. Part of me screams out that I'm taking advantage of the state of mind he's in but the other part of me tells me that, that's ridiculous and that if Justin had really wanted me to stop then he would've made me stop. So, I was confused as to what to do. My dick knew what it wanted to do but me, as a person, had no fucking idea what to do.

Soon we're back to my loft, storm clouds billowing in. Perfect weather.

"We better hurry. Looks like rain."

Justin doesn't say a thing but I can tell he has a hard time letting go of my hand but he does anyway. When we're walking inside the building his hand is latched onto mine again and I welcome it. It's obvious he needs something right now and it's obvious that I do too. Soon after we're in my loft I get out all the food that I had ordered out of the fridge and set it out. I also get the drinks. By the time I'm done everyone's here. Daphne even showed up. I invited her because God knew someone was going to need to comfort Justin. Someone that he was extremely close to and that he could cry his heart out to without getting the person's, or his own, dick hard. God knew, despite the depressing day, mine would.

"I'm really sorry about your loss."

Daphne looks up at me, glass of soda in her hand, with a sad expression on her face. I smile down at her. I like her a lot even though I hardly knew her. The last time I saw her was on the day she had eaten breakfast with me, Gus and Justin. I was glad she was here. Suddenly she hugs me and I'm slightly surprised by the gesture since she hardly knows me but I hug her back. When she pulls away Michael's standing there and an uncomfortable look on his face under his tears. I can't be mad at him right now. It would be impossible so, instead of being mad at him, I hug him instead and he falls apart in my arms.

"I'm really sorry, Brian."

"Shut the fuck up."

I don't need his sorry's. Justin does but I don't tell him that. He already knows. He listens and doesn't say a word and just hugs me. By the time he pulls away his tears are dried and he's probably run out of anymore to cry. "Where's Justin?" I'm guessing he's going to say he's sorry or at least tell him sorry for his loss since Mel, Linds, and JR were his friends too. Whatever he's going to do I'm happy he's going to do it and I look around the crowded room. Then I see him sitting in the very corner of the room with only Daphne for company. She's hugging him like she did me except she's keeping him there and not pulling away and he's practically in her lap since they're sitting and I can tell he's crying his little heart out even though I can't see his face.

I point.

"He's over there."

Michael starts to walk away but I grab his arm before he can get away.

"Michael don't…don't hurt him. He's…important to me."

He seems shocked at my confession but nods.