Sky had never attended Kat's funeral.
By the time Kat had been buried, Sky had still been fighting for her life in the hospital. She had missed it all - the flowers, the reception, the crying classmates, the devastated family. Everyone else had got to say their goodbyes to Kat - even Dad, who had spent 24/7 in the hospital ever since the shooting but had now left Sky's bedside for two whole hours.
After they had released her from the hospital, Sky had gone to Kat's grave.
But Kat had been six feet under for weeks at that point, the flowers were rotting on the tomb under the bright sunlight, Kat's beautiful, strong body was rotting in the coffin under the dirt and the leaves, and Sky wasn't wearing a black dress like the people in the funeral had been wearing, she had hospital slippers and loose sweats and one of Kat's Slipknot hoodies when she fell on the dirt on her knees, on her face, crying, crying, crying, drowning in her tears as her fingers gripped the soil and the dying flowers, the cold, smooth stone that stood on Kat's grave.
Dad had carried her home that day, picked her up from the ground, her strengthless, broken, aching body which was filled with an ocean of sorrow, and as that ocean had kept flowing down her cheeks, Dad had gently washed her dirt-covered hands and her hair and her clothes, had told her that she would see Kat again, but not like this, not dead and gone, not in a coffin six feet under but someday, somewhere, in another lifetime she would see Kat again.
That's what Sky kept thinking when she stood next to Luke's open casket wearing a dull, ill-fitting black dress Dad had bought her the day before. That she would see Luke again one day, just like she had seen Kat. That there might be an ocean of time and space between them now, but one day, one day she would see Luke again. And that day she wouldn't be wearing this stupid dress that didn't feel like her at all, that was too big and baggy on her trembling body, that was too black and too sad, no, she would be wearing a pink dress, and high heels and golden earrings, and Luke would be wearing his black denim and a sleeveless shirt and his piercings, instead of this—
Was that really a white, collared shirt they had forced on him now, that he couldn't argue anymore?
Sky's heart was breaking, shattering into a thousand pieces as she looked at the boy in the casket. He would have hated every single thing about his funeral, starting from the flowers, ending to the sermon, to the reverend who'd been so full of shit, repeating God is good, God is forgiveness, God will accept Luke in the heavenly home and there he will know no sorrow, no pain, and it all hurt Sky like a dagger that was stuck between her ribs. Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord—
But what did Luke had to repent? What were his sins?
He was beautiful, even in death, beautiful and flawless and pure, even if they had changed his looks and made him a stranger, taking away the bubblegum pink of his hair, the piercings on his face, the black eyeliner, the paleness of his cheeks. The hazelnut hair of this dead boy in the casket was shiny, there was a faint fake blush on his cheeks and only small holes on his skin told of the removed rings on his eyebrows and his lips.
He looked peaceful, like he was just sleeping, and yet not - his stillness was absolute, he was Snow White in the glass coffin, he was Sleeping Beauty under the spell of the evil witch, but no kiss would wake him up, no amount of love could break the spell of death, because he was truly gone, gone, gone, and he was never coming back.
Nothing of him remained, but this empty shell that didn't even look like him.
"Luke would have fucking hated this. He was an atheist." Sky whispered to Dad silently, as they left the church.
"Funerals aren't for the dead, Sky. They are for the ones who are left behind." Dad replied, and he was right of course. But still, Sky couldn't help the feeling of wrongness. Shouldn't the funeral even look like the person who had passed? Who were these people even mourning - certainly not the boy Sky had known.
It made her think what her funeral would have looked like, had her suicide attempt been successful last summer. What flowers would Dad have picked, what kind of a coffin? Who would have even attended? Would anyone have mourned the girl she really was, this bad, broken, soulless girl who deserved to be dead and gone, who deserved to be the one rotting in the ground six feet under, the one on her way to Hell?
Her heart was a black hole in her chest by the time they arrived at Luke's home for the funeral reception. She barely got out of the car, overwhelmed by grief and guilt. She shouldn't be here, she shouldn't have come, wouldn't have, had Luke's sister Ruth not called her the day before and insisted that she did, saying Luke would have wanted that. You were his closest friend.
Sky had met Ruth in the rehab a couple of times, but before today she had never met his parents.
Based on the things Luke had told her, she had imagined them as some kind of monsters, thin-lipped and smileless cold-hearted creatures who hated Luke and were ashamed of him, whose actions had driven Luke to do drugs, to stop eating, to overdose.
They wish I was dead, Luke had said once. At least then they could mourn the son they lost. Now I'm just some embarrassing secret, a stain in their fucking perfect family.
Instead of heartless monsters, Sky met a quite ordinary-looking, middle-aged couple who were clearly grief-stricken, whose eyes were red-rimmed and faces pale, who welcomed Sky into their house with warm hugs, tears on their cheeks.
"Luke talked about you all the time," His mother said, holding Sky's hands. "We're happy he found a friend like you, who was there for him during these last months."
Sky couldn't even answer. Those kind words felt like a punch in the face. Had these people known the depth of her betrayal, the darkness of her soul, they would have kicked her out instead of embracing her. Had they known how profoundly she had failed Luke the last day of his life, how she had begged him to give her drugs, how she had just watched as he snorted the pill up his nose, how she had just left him – I left him, I left him, I left him - how she had just left him alone to die while she was having sex with Cody—
Oh God, oh God, oh God, she shouldn't have come, she couldn't breathe, she could barely stay on her feet. These people shouldn't be welcoming her into their house. Their son was dead, a son they had clearly loved no matter their differences, no matter what Luke had believed - they had loved him and now he was gone, and it was her fault, her fault, her fault—
The guilt was overwhelming. It forced Sky to excuse her from the company of Luke's parents and flee to the bathroom to throw up into the toilet, even if her stomach was empty already and all that came out was bitter bile that burned her throat and her lips.
Her legs were shaky when she walked out of the bathroom and found Cody who had been waiting for her, a nervous look on his pale, sharp face.
"You were sick?" he asked as soon as he saw her face. "Again?"
Sky avoided his gaze and brushed her hair behind her ear with a trembling hand, as she passed him and started walking towards the living room. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."
"Of course, I worry," Cody replied, following her. "Sky, we can leave if you're feeling sick. It's okay. You don't have to be here."
She shook her head. "No, we can't. I have to do this. For Luke."
She didn't say what was in her mind, though, because it would have made Cody worry even more. That she wasn't here for Luke, not even for Luke's family. She was here because this was the aftermath of her bad decisions, of her sins, and she had to face it all, this was her punishment for failing Luke and leaving him to die, and she had to endure every second of this misery, this suffering, because that was what she deserved, that, and nothing less.
Cody didn't argue, but his eyes were dark, his lips a tight line across his face as he followed her silently into the living room.
There was coffee and tea, sandwiches, pies, and other food and drinks laid on a couple of large tables. Just the sight was enough to turn Sky's stomach again, and swallowing bitter bile, Sky walked past them and the groups of people dressed in black, finding a quiet corner next to an opened window. She leaned against the wall and inhaled some fresh air, trying to repel the heavy scent of coffee, of food, of the flowers that were too sweet, suffocating, sticking into the roof of her mouth.
There was a hole in her stomach, a black pit of grief and despair, and it wouldn't be soothed or filled by any food or drink. The waves of nausea kept running through her body, and even if she knew the dizziness of her head and the weakness of her legs were consequences of not eating, there was little she could do to help it.
She felt like she could never eat again. Dad had tried to force her to have eggs and toast this morning, but she had puked them out too, into the bushes next to their front door before stepping into the car. That had happened every time she had tried to eat or drink something during the past two days.
"Take some coffee, at least—" Cody said silently, offering her a cup. "I put cream and sugar in it. It'll make you feel better."
Sky accepted the cup but didn't drink. The cup was trembling in her strengthless fingers. Luke had loved coffee, had asked his sister to smuggle Nescafe into the rehab and Sky had drank it together with him at breakfast, they had been joined by their delight in this small mischief. Luke had laughed as he had held the cup in his bony hands, breathing in the rich, heavy scent. His smile had been wide, his hair that fell to his eyes shockingly yellow, his humor dark and dry and irresistible, and Sky had loved him, loved him like a lost brother, and now—
"I can't," she breathed and placed the cup on a nearby table. "I'm sorry. I can't—"
Cody's eyes grew dark with worry. He looked down and swallowed hard, and even if sad and worried, he looked incredibly good in his black suit and a gray Valentino tie, unlike Sky who knew she looked like shit with her ill-fitting dress, her uncombed hair. But Cody always looked handsome, he was always kind, always gentle and loving and so fucking perfect it made Sky feel like the most miserable piece of shit ever to walk this Earth.
How Cody hadn't dumped her after that night—
Sky couldn't understand it. She didn't deserve this - his kindness, his forgiveness, his support. She had ruined his birthday. She had drunk-texted her ex behind Cody's back, had lied about it and about getting high, had stupidly said I love you, knowing what it would mean to him, not giving a shit that it would break his heart.
And— she had cried in Hawk's arms yesterday.
Yet another thing she hadn't told Cody.
Yet another lie.
But how could she tell him about that? About the way she had thrown herself into Hawk's welcoming arms, had let him hold her so tightly against his chest, his hands running up and down her spine. She had no words for what had happened, for how she felt about Hawk, how even a memory of him was enough to make her heart twist painfully, to fill her chest with longing, and yet—
He broke my heart. He hurt me so badly that I wanted to die. Am I really just going to forgive all that because he's suddenly being nice to me? I'm a fool to even think about it. A stupid, worthless idiot.
"Sky, I'm worried," Cody's soft voice brought her back to the moment. "You don't eat, you don't drink, you don't sleep— You can't go on like that. Please, tell me what I can do. Let me help you."
"You can't help me," Sky breathed, her voice raspy and thick with tears, her throat still sore after vomiting. "Luke is dead. And I wish I was too."
Cody's throat bobbed with emotion and he brought a hand to his lips. "Sky— please don't say that. God— if you died—"
But that sentence was cut in half, as they noticed Luke's sister Ruth approaching them. Cody mastered his sudden emotion and let the trembling hand fall as the mask of polite calm overtook his features.
Ruth was just a year older than Luke had been. There were six kids in this family, and Luke had been the youngest one - but Ruth was the only one he'd been close to, the only one who had visited him in the rehab. We grew up like twins, Luke had said. Ruth is like 11 months older than me, imagine that. We did everything together.
Despite their small age gap, Ruth and Luke looked nothing alike.
Where Luke had been tall and impossibly thin, Ruth was short and her body was soft, round, beautifully plump. Luke's hair had been neon yellow or shock pink, the brighter the better, but Ruth had thick, natural hazelnut-colored braids that reached her waist. Luke's face had glimmered with rings and spikes and studs, but Ruth didn't even have her ears pierced. Luke had worn black denim, skin-tight crop tops, bright pink sweats, leather pants - a mix of heavy metal and anime fashion, but Ruth—
Well, Sky had seen her before in floral dresses and modest jeans and blouses, but today she wore black like all of them did, and it sucked all the natural blush of her round cheeks making her look pale as a ghost.
"Sky," said Ruth, and laid a soft hand on her arm. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Of course," Sky replied, swallowing down the burning tears and the bile at the back of her throat. "What— what is it?"
"I wanted to show you something— it's upstairs. If it's okay—?"
She spoke hesitantly as if the words were hard to form, and Sky's heart was breaking for her. Ruth had lost a little brother, almost like a twin. Sky knew better than most how that felt, to suddenly be alone in the world that you have always shared with someone.
She wouldn't have wished that kind of grief on anyone. She wished she was the one who had died that night, would have given anything to trade places with Luke.
At least Luke hadn't been a liar and a cheat like she was.
"I'll be right back," she said to Cody, barely getting the words out. "Just— wait for me here, okay?"
"Okay," Cody said, his eyes suddenly so sad it pierced Sky's chest, but she turned her back on him anyway, leaving him behind, and followed Ruth through this crowded room, across the hall, and up the stairs. Sky had never been to Luke's home before today, but she guessed where they were heading as soon as Ruth pushed open a bedroom door on the second floor and they stepped in.
Luke's room.
Sky stopped in the doorway. The tears started to flow without her even noticing them.
The room was so— so Luke.
The walls were painted black, and were covered with posters of bands and anime shows Sky had never even heard of. The couple of shelves on one wall were filled with manga books, figurines of anime characters, and some random sci-fi novels and comics. Luke's clothes lay in messy piles on the floor and the chairs, black and black and black, some shock pink hoodies or sweats providing splashes of color in the ocean of darkness. There were pictures of pretty anime boys with wild hair and striking abs pinned to the wall next to Luke's bed, the cup on his nightstand still had coffee in it. His bed was unmade as if he had just gotten up and walked out of the room.
But the worst thing - the thing that really pierced Sky's heart, was the scent. The air smelled like Luke - like citrus and cedarwood, and now that smell wasn't mixed with the scent of burning sugar and plastic, it was still pure, sharp and honest, unspoiled, it made Sky's chest ache.
She couldn't remember Kat's scent anymore.
Had it been warm and spicy, or cool and sporty? Kat had loved cinnamon, she had been addicted to cinnamon rolls and coffee, so she had smelled like them, right? Right? Suddenly it killed Sky that she couldn't remember, that what once had been the most important and familiar scent in the world to her, was now gone, scattered in the wind, lost forever, and she would never breathe it in again. Even Kat's clothes didn't smell like her anymore. They were just clothes, nothing more, and none of her essence lingered in them.
And the same would happen with Luke.
Death takes away everything, and in the end, even the memories fade, they grow weak and turn wrong, they turn into dreams instead of facts, until they disappear, just like Kat's scent in her clothes. Gone, gone, gone forever.
Suddenly that thought was overwhelming. Sky started crying, bringing her hand to her mouth, trying to stop the violent ragged sobs that felt like her chest was breaking.
"I'm sorry— I just wanted to talk to you in private," Ruth started talking but paused to wipe a couple of big, clear teardrops off her cheeks. "I'm— I'm just so glad you could come. It would have meant the world to Luke. He— he loved you, you know? All of his old friends— when he got sick, stopped eating, started doing drugs… they disappeared. He was so lonely. And the new friends, they didn't really know him. He never had them over, I never even met them. They just— they were just people he did drugs with. I don't think Luke even liked them that much. But he— he liked you. I think that maybe… in the past months, you were his only real friend."
"A great friend I was," Sky breathed, her voice breaking, her heart breaking. The pain and the shame almost shattered her where she stood. "I failed him. He needed me, and I— I left him alone. I— It's my fault that he— that he died."
"It's not your fault," Ruth shook her head. "He didn't want to be saved. I knew for a long time that he was going to die, but—"
The end of that sentence drifted off, as Ruth brought a hand to her lips to suppress the sobs that wanted to break through. It took a moment for her to get a grip on that emotion and to continue talking. "I thought he'd want you to have his things. So— if there's anything you want, just take it."
"Seriously?" Sky glanced around the room. "Won't— won't your parents mind?"
The other girl let out a soft sigh. "My parents— They loved Luke, but— you saw what they did. Coloring his hair and stuff. They didn't approve of his… lifestyle. They hated all this—" she glanced at the anime boys on the wall, the provocative clothes. "They're going to throw all this away, I think. And I can't keep all his things— So, I don't know - just take what you want."
Sky swallowed hard but managed a nod. Her head was light and dizzy with grief, her chest so heavy she could barely draw in a breath as she walked closer to a pile of clothes. She went through them, and picked one long-sleeved T-shirt with a rainbow-colored text Absolutely Fabulous, and pressed her face against the soft fabric, breathing in Luke's scent that was still there, the scent of citrus and cedarwood, salt and boy.
She also picked the Death Note Manga volumes from the shelf. Luke had been going on and on about them in rehab, and at the time Sky had barely been listening - she wasn't that into manga - but now that Luke was gone—
She was going to start reading those thick volumes today. Wearing Luke's shirt. Crying her eyes out.
"There's one more thing—" Ruth said, and Sky turned around to face her. "I found this in Luke's things. It has your name on it, and I thought— that maybe it was a message to you, something he wanted you to know in case something happened to him—"
Sky's heart had stopped beating. She couldn't stop staring at the thing Ruth was holding in her hands. An envelope, a simple, white unopened envelope—
"Oh—" she gasped and pulled the manga books and the shirt tight against her aching chest. "Oh, no— it's not— it's not from Luke."
The tears had started to flow again. They ran down her cheeks like rivers, taking her voice away.
"What do you mean?"
"Burn it, rip it, flush it down the toilet– I don't care. Just take it away from me, please." She had said when shoving that letter to Luke with trembling hands. And Luke had taken it, folded it in two and pushed it into the pocket of his pants, saying "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."
And yet, here that letter was, the letter that had Sky's name written on top with Hawk's handwriting that Sky would have recognized anywhere. Luke hadn't destroyed it, he had kept it for what, for what, for what—?
She could never ask him now.
"It's mine," she breathed. "I asked Luke to— to keep it for me."
"Oh— okay. Well, do you want it back?"
Sky hesitated only for a heartbeat.
"Yes, yes I do. Please— I thought I'd never see that again."
Her heart was in her throat, ticking fast, uneven, when she took the letter from Ruth's hands. Her name was written on the envelope with blue pen, the handwriting was hasty and sharp, so familiar to her that her chest ached as she followed the lines and arcs with her gaze.
She remembered the day Dad had brought the pile of letters to her in the rehab. Cody's letter had been thick and heavy, Moon's decorated by sparkly stickers, Miguel's postcard had had an Eagle Fang logo— and under all of them had been Hawk's letter, this simple little thing that couldn't possibly hold more than one sheet of paper. She remembered the silence of the garden, the fast wings of the hummingbirds, the warmth of sunshine on her face, Dad's hand in hers. She had been so broken, and just learning how to live instead of wanting nothing but death.
She hadn't read Hawk's letter that day, knowing it would only cause her more pain, but now—
Whether she wanted to admit it or not, things were different between them now.
Yesterday he had held her in his arms, keeping her safe when she cried, telling her he was still here, that she hadn't lost him, that he was always going to be there for her, and by God, she wanted to believe it so badly, wanted to know it was true, but she was still broken and she still wanted to die, and her trust in Hawk was still fragile, it barely existed at all.
She pressed the letter against her chest, holding it over her heart. "Thank you—" she breathed, meeting Ruth's pale blue eyes. "This means a lot."
Later that night, after Cody had gone home and Dad had given up trying to force her to eat something, Sky sat alone in her room, in her bed, wearing a pair of sweats and Luke's shirt, the pile of Death Note books scattered on the sheets in front of her. But the thing she opened first, wasn't a manga volume.
With trembling fingers, she ripped open the envelope, unfolded the sheet of paper, and started to read.