FicWad

-I read about the afterlife but I never really lived.-



**



(Juliet’s POV)



My hair seemed much more tangled than usual as I spent an odd amount of time brushing it out. I didn’t even bother looking in to the mirror. Since I’d gotten the news I hadn’t lifted a finger as far as beauty went. It just didn’t seem worth it. It didn’t seem to matter. I’d never been much in to ‘looking fantastic at all times of the day and night’ anyway. It seemed like too much work.

Eventually I’d find some guy that liked me for me, right? I still tried to fool myself in to thinking that fairytale shit like that could still happen.

Knocking on the guest bedroom that I was now taking shelter in broke me from my unwelcome thoughts. I held on to the brush, not bothering to get up. It could only be one of two people, and I wasn’t interested in talking to either of them. Eventually the knocking stopped and the door opened.

“Welcome back.” It was Alex.

“You know, it’s funny, I don’t feel very welcome.” I admitted.

Alex smiled. It was cruel and evil, and so wonderfully suitable upon his face. “Doesn’t that bring back memories?”

“Too many.” I answered, turning away from the desk to face him. The chair twirled around easily, not making a sound.

“I’ve missed you Juliet. You don’t call. You don’t visit. What’s a boy to think?” Alex moved closer. I could smell his cologne.

“You do know that I am here for my father’s funeral, right?” I eyed him with undisguised disgust.

“He’s my father too.” Alex responded, reaching forward. I tensed as he brushed my hair behind my ear. Strands of hair still fell forward, and I remained in place as he toyed with me. It was just like old times. Times I’d suppressed for a very good reason.

“Please do remember that.” I hissed, as his fingertips brushed against my cheek. It was a tender move, one that I did not appreciate.

“Step father.” Alex chuckled. “And I do remember. I especially remember the part where that doesn’t really make us related /sis/.” I pushed his fingers away as they dipped lower, down to my neck. I knew where he was going with this, and I’d really rather not.

“Get out.” The words were forced. I wasn’t easily rude, but Alex was on the top of my most hated list. “The funeral is in thirty minutes. I have better things to do than sit around and get bullied by you.”

“What, gotta finish doing your hair sweety? You’ve looked better.”

“Goodbye Alex.” I stood, causing my hairbrush to clatter on to the desk and then off, on to the floor. “I’m not here to see you.” With that said I left, closing the bedroom door behind me.



**

(Ryan’s POV)

“What?” I hissed, leaning my aching head back against the headrest in the car I’d rented. The night before was a blur of motion, with a lingering scent of alcohol and the aftertaste of vomit. I was a little more than hung over.

It was Brendon. I could tell from the obnoxiously cuddly breathing on the other end of the line. He hadn’t even spoken yet and I could hear the mush. “You were gone all night.”

“I was.” Point out the obvious much?

“Did you get drunk?” Brendon asked.

“Yes.” Straight to the point. I didn’t see the point of playing with him. “And I don’t feel like a lecture right now. I’ve got a bitchin’ hangover.”

“Where are you?” Brendon had his customary fake cheer in place, completely ignoring the fact that he was supposed to be mad at me. I loved that about him. Hell, everyone loved that about him. He rarely made people feel like shit. He seemed to take all of the anger and guilt that everyone else pushed out and pulled it in.

“I’m sitting in a parking lot.”

“I hope that’s not the same parking lot the party took place in.” Brendon commented.

“You know, the scenery is a little more exciting than the party was.” I answered, watching as another small group of people joined the already somewhat large group of people.

“Want to meet somewhere? We should talk.” Brendon pressed, still trying to sound exciting.

“I’m a little busy.” There she was.

“Doing what?”

“Well, I partied the night away.” I yawned, watching as she joined the crowd. “Now it’s time for a funeral.”

“Um.” Brendon sounded so innocent. I couldn’t remember ever being as innocent as Brendon was. “I don’t really think that’s how it’s supposed to go.”

“Well, friends aren’t really supposed to turn on friends either.” Low blow.

Brendon breathed in sharply. “We didn’t mean to hurt you last night but what was said… it needed to be said.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I didn’t really care at this point.

“So, where are you, really?” Brendon asked.

I glanced down at the small pamphlet a friendly partygoer had given me. It seemed they knew a few of the family members intimately. I didn’t know funerals were such celebrations, but these people had sounded excited.

Oh well. Who was I to judge?

Plus for all I knew when I died my friends would celebrate my death this way too.

I read off the address, smiling slightly at the idea of what Brendon’s reaction would be when he arrived.