Ali had attended church multiple times in her life, despite not being religious in the slightest. The orphanage had forced it upon the children every now and then, as had her sister. But Ali herself never felt a connection with the prayers that were sung, and all in all found it boring. She found it hard to believe in something you'd never seen, or touched, or heard, or felt.

Though she'd almost decided to take Mark with her, at the last moment Ali decided against it. She left him at home with Marissa, and Ali went by herself. Ali quite enjoyed the rain. She was wearing a jacket with a hoodie, but no umbrella or anything of the sort. A light blue scarf was wrapped around her neck, accompanying a dark green long sleeve under the jacket and dark blue jeans, as well as bright orange rain boots. Occasionally she would look up at the sky and stick out her tongue like a child, trying to catch the raindrops in her mouth. In truth, the fiery haired woman had hardly changed.

With her hands stuffed in her pockets, Alice reached the cemetery. Two figures standing over a grave. One she instantly recognized as Eli, and the other.. upon closer inspection, she realized was Liam. She stepped up close to them without saying a word, just in time to see Liam offering a cigarette to Eli. Hmn. She hadn't smoked a cigarette in ten years. She was suddenly thankful she hadn't brought Mark.

Ali let out a small sigh before focusing her gaze on Liam. It had been a long time, and in lots of ways, he looked different. Some part of her missed the relationship they'd had, and she wondered where they would both be now if he hadn't made out with Emma Green that night. The thought brought another smile to her lips.

Though Alice was still smiling, it wasn't her usual bright and care-free smile. It was a sad one. The corners of her lips just ever so slightly pointed upwards as she gazed at the grave of Paul. She couldn't imagine how Eli felt. Ali had never truly felt the pain of loss. Sure, her parents were dead, but she remembered nothing of them. It was simply an empty space within her. But if it had been Marissa lying in that grave.. she couldn't even begin to imagine it.

God.. this sucked. She wished he hadn't died. She wished he was still here, so none of them had to feel shitty today.

James and Thomas were sitting in one of the front pews of the church with their father. They had been doing this for as long as they could remember, ever since they were brought to church as babies. As the priest walked out of the church with his altar boys in tow, James and Philip were singing along with the hymns with all their might, and Thomas was singing too, but with not quite so much passion. As the mass came to a close and people started making their way out, James, Thomas, and Philip began to pick up their coats, and walked out. When they passed the priest, Father Matthew, the three boys stopped to shake his hand and thank him for the mass. As they continued to walk away from the church, James and Thomas said goodbye to their father in unison, and began to walk to the graveyard.

"I can't believe that it's-" James started saying before he was cut off by Thomas

"Already been ten years," Thomas finished James's sentence for him, "I wonder how-"

"Eli's coping," This time, James finished Thomas's sentence.

"Probably alright," James suggested, "He's a-"

"Strong kid" Thomas said as him and James turned around a corner, where they could see Eli, Liam, and Alice. They walked over to them, saying, "Hey, how are you doing?" in unison. Thomas saw that Liam had some cigarettes, "Mind if I have one?" he asked. He hadn't had any cocaine since the previous afternoon, and whilst nobody knew that, it was stressing him out. Meanwhile, James walked over to Eli, "Everything all right, buddy?" he asked.

"¿Qué demonios fresco es esto?" Valerie Aiomé recoiled from the smokey mug of freshly prepared coffee that had been set before her-- a scrunched up expression quickly turned to mild anger. That's not a proper way to describe it-- it was certainly mild, and while how she felt may have lived in the same choleric family tree as anger, she wasn't angry. Val had been working in government since high school-- she was far beyond feeling angry when an intern fucked up something as simple as a cup of coffee. The expression on her face, as it relaxed after tasting something both scalding hot and unpleasant, was annoyance. The annoyance a mother would feel toward a child-- she tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her lips quivered ever so slightly downward, as if only to imply a slight disappointment. She wanted to expect better-- but the twitch in her shoulders as they drooped said she knew it was silly to expect him to do better.

Him.

Him.

Who is him?




<sub>"So..." A teenage girl Val used to be friends with in high school asked.

"So, what?" Jose answered.

"So what?" The teenage girl girl parroted, her smile conveyed annoyance and frustration. It reminded Jose of the smiles his mother had given him. He didn't like it.

He responded with a blank stare, and continued to apply some more of her eyeliner.

She laughed. "Wow, Josie! You really weren't listening? Christ, you're such a space cadet!" The girl patted his cheek. "I was asking you what you thought of that guy over there?"

Jose lazily followed her finger to a crowd boys-- talking about what sounded like music-- Jose pointed at one of the tall, dark, handsome devils at random, "Him?"

The girl shook her head, "No! Him!"

Him? Really? Jose hadn't even seen him looking before. There was a shorter, chubbier kid standing a little behind one of the more attractive boys of the cafeteria huddle.

Jose pointed him out, "Him?"

The girl scoffed, "No not him! That's his little brother! I'm talking about the guy in front of him! Paul!"
"Oh, okay." Jose finished applying his cateye, "What about him?"

She gave him that look again, "What do you think, genius? Is he fuckable? He's cute, right?"

"Dude, I'm not gay."

"Yeah..." Her ever-present smile waned, "But like... you like..."

Makeup. Yeah. "Want me to introduce you?"

"You know him?"

Jose got up from the table, "Not yet."</sub>



Val swiveled in her chair to face one of her interns. A cog in her army of post-pubescent fuck-ups and brown-nosers. She only made silent eye contact with him for a second before bemoaning him, "God damnit, Matt." That was him. The kid's name was Matt, no more of a fuck-up than any of her other interns. But poor little bleach blonde Matt was the unfortunate victim of circumstance-- today happened to be the first person to truly interact with her, after Nick had made his way back into town, and after Eli had reminded her of the anniversary of Paul's...

"What is it, Ms. Aiomé?" The boy went wide-eyed. He knew what it was.

"Don't give me that shit Matt--" Val handed the burning mug to the boy, "I don't do whole milk. Either 2% or black with a few sugars." She pinched the ridge between her eyebrows, "Jesus, I feel like I have to explain this to you every day."

"I mean-- um, I don't-- I didn't..." He fidgeted, playing with his fingers.

Val sighed.

"Matt..." Around the two, the day was already well underway, the cramped city building was a mess of public servants making calls and bringing documents from one place to another-- the frantic business casual men and women formed a hurricane, in which Val and her intern were the calm eye. Val glanced down at her phone, noting she had already missed a call from Eli. Sucking in air through her teeth, she dismissed Matt, handing off her coffee. "It's fine. Just make another, don't screw this one up, okay? Otherwise I'll replace you with Luana." He smiled and left. And suddenly... it was just Val in the eye of the office storm.

For a moment, she glanced toward the camera.

She had never been particularly close to Paul-- but Eli was a good friend, she owed him her sympathy. She hesitated for a moment, before picking up the phone, and dialing his number.

There wasnt a single word spoken on the entire 14 hour plane ride, like her parent's constant indifference was nothing far from unusual. She's used to the silence, mostly engaging in a conversation or two about school and hospitals, only this time there was an overwhelming tension involved. It was because the whole overseas business venture was a bad idea in the first place, forcing the family to leave Philadelphia immediately. But the core of it was their daughter's involvement with a shabby group of delinquents. And like the obedient daughter she is, there wasnt a single objection from her when they decided to leave.

And now what of her friends? How would they feel about her immediate leaving? Sad, furious, uninterested, as much as she wanted to say goodbye she has never been really good with it, fearing that she'd probably make the whole situation worse. Or maybe, she hated the hurt it brings after, the thought of never seeing them again, and to ignore and forget was her way of avoiding that. It made her anxious, the connection she developed with these people that it came to the point where goodbyes would leave her devastated. She never really want to leave. And if there were any other way for her to stay, she would take it.

---

The wooden turntable record player, a gift from a friend, was the only piece of furniture distinctly fancy (and pricey) than the rest. Nico has always had a fascination for worn out records, more so the vintage tune that drives her to a sweet nostalgic trip. This dingy little apartment studio is comfy and extremely organized, with very little furniture to save what little space it has. Everything in the room was pristinely white with the exception of the vibrant paintings piled on the sides, and a bunch of random sketches uniformly pinned on the huge cork board. In the middle of the room is a peculiar human sized sculpture of a human figure, unseemly in some angles, with it's morphed head forcefully detached on the table, sculpting tools and the molds of bronze colored clay lied bedraggled next to it.

Nico casually sits by the window seat, looking out the small wood framed window at nothing in particular but the gloomy Philadelphia weather. She took a roll from her leather cig case, taking a deep breath of the aromatic cannabis, as she does so regularly to give her ease from the frequent creative block, w/c doesnt entirely help that much as pot is just making her sleepy most of the time. It has been going on for days and evident to the recent opus she just recently neglected in the middle of the room, she was slowly losing patience.

It's not right.

I'm not feeling this piece.

Must start over.

Her weary breath let out a thick puff of smoke, decided to ditch the whole piece (again after three or so tries) and start over from scratch, but good thing Mowgli, who was now bored of watching the pigeons dally by the window decided to bother his master by playfully nipping her leg, giving her a word of advice. The tiny creature was light enough to be carried with a single hand over his master's face, his eyes playfully focused on the dangling strand of her hair w/c the tabby proceeds to paw.

"What do you think, Mowgli?" The kitten curiously stared at the woman's intelligent eyes. "I greatly need your professional advice right now."

"Meow."

"What would Bellmer and Giacometti do if they were in my shoes? Do they finish up a bag in one go too?"

"Meow."

"I dont know if I'd want to. The weather's pretty wet. And cold. Mostly cold."

"Meow."

"Change my art style to Genre? Are you sure?"

"Meow."

"It's far from what I usually do. Although it'd be nice to try. And you're right, cooping up for days in this apartment is getting pretty unhealthy. I guess I should check out around town. See which would catch my inspiration."

"Meow."

"I suppose you'd like to come with?"

Mowgli switched his attention to the fascinating piece of candy wrapper by the night stand, jumping away from Nico's lap to rush over it.

"Suit yourself."

---

Thornhill hasnt changed that much since the last time she was here. The very same street where her parents used to drop her to the studio, which is now, coincidentally is just right next to the apartment building she's renting. There are a few changes here and there, but overall it's the same old Thornhill street. Taking a few steps out of the complex, she opened a black umbrella, her black trench coat catching a few droplets from the regressing rain. The first thing on her mind was to get some milk, always a number one priority above anything else, and maybe a walk at a couple of significant places around town. She got a glimpse of a towering silhouette over the grey sky, which is the church.

I should start there.

Diante was currently doing the last bit of inventory of the fiction section of the Thornwood library, an annoyed furrowing of his brow having slowly formed after he recounted how many of the books that should be here were missing, and for how long. God, this is ridiculous. How hard is it for people to turn in a book? You don't even have to walk into the building, just put it in the slot and be done with it. Diante let out a long sigh as he began massaging the bridge of his nose, turning around to head back to the front desk where his colleague, Michael, was currently playing some mobile game on his phone. Given previous experience, it was probably Angry birds, as the young 20 year old seemed to have an almost disturbing fixation on it as of late.

"Michael, I'm done with inventory and heading out, can you hold down the fort while I'm gone."

Diante was met with only silence as Michael drew his finger across the screen, his brow furrowed intensely as his eyes tried to figure the perfect angle to slaughter the green pig menence with as little casualties as possible. However, before he could accomplish the task,he'd find the phone being yanked out of his hand, but not before he saw his shot go wild with his small feathered blue friend flying straight up into the sky.

"Hey, what the fuck, Dian?!?! I almost had it!"

"Yes, and you can start over with no drawbacks, so I can't say I'm too sorry." Diante said bluntly, not truly in the mood to hear Michael's whining today after doing a rather depressing stint of inventory. "And please don't spend your entire day with your eye's on this think, it'll burn them out. Now, did you hear me the first time, or do I have to repeat myself?" Diante unconsciously crossed his arms and slipped into tone that he used when he had to say these exact words to Sara(or was it Michonne today?), something which brought a sigh and an eye roll from the young man as he responded in an annoyed tone.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll make sure that the people who steal the books have the courtesy to check them out first, now can I have my phone back?"

Diante returned the man's phone without another as he made his way back, chuckling a bit at the man's dry humor due to the truth behind the words, even if it was somewhat exaggerated. He'd make his way to the car, bringing up his own device in preparation to call up the babysitter he'd called for Sara today, only to have it beep as he received a text.

Before you call me again for your hourly check up, I'm giving you an update that Sara's doing fine, just upstairs reading the last time I checked on her. Will be awaiting for your next call within the hour.

The tone of the message brought a bit of a frown to Diante's face as he pocketed his device. Samantha was an old friend he'd met during his short stint in college and one of the very few people he'd trust to watch Sara for him when he had to got unexpectedly called out to work or meet with someone for something. She was also one who was quick to let you know when something was annoying her, which apparently his constant check-ins seemed to have done.

"Sorry for wanting to make sure everything was going well." He'd mutter to himself as he'd get into his car, starting up on his way towards the cemetery today, the somberness of today's date sinking into him as he let out a soft sigh.

---

Diante would walk down the neatly trimmed and well-kept lawns of the deceased, his eyes spotting the small group standing around one of the more recent ones, and another sigh would escape his lips as he made his way up to the others. He was dressed in a thick-looking brown woolen overcoat, the front open to show a rather plain red and white plaid shirt, his lower half dressed in regular boot-cut jeans and some black shoes to finish out the ensemble. His hair was drawn back into a ponytail that reached down to just a bit past his shoulders, giving him a rather mature appearance.

As he walked up, he nod to everyone else, but he'd keep his silence, not wanting to disturb the moment. he'd not been as well acquainted with Paul or Eli, and while he found the elder brother's death to be dramatic and had done all he fleet he could do to give Eli any support he could manage, he'd thought it best to let those closer to him do the talking. He was hear to show his support to a friend, and maybe listen to a little about what they had to say, if that was needed. He stopped his walk next to Ali, giving her a short wave of hello, though in this somber atmosphere, he couldn't manage even manage the ghost of a smile that she was currently wearing.

As Diante looked down at the grave of Paul, he felt within him a cold emptiness tugging at his heart, his mind flashing back to his mother's own death. His breath caught in his throat a bite as his hands clenched into fists, but as quickly as the thoughts had come over him, he'd shut them down, burying the emotions deep into his subconscious. This was a time to allow Eli to mourn, no reason to ruin the moment by bringing up his own issues. Still, he couldn't help but the single tear that he felt inch it's way down his face, though he was quick to wipe it away, hoping that none of the others had noticed.

Eli felt a firm hand on his shoulder. It felt eerily reminiscent of something that had occurred ten years prior at Paul’s funeral. Turning to greet Liam’s a familiar face, the young man managed a smile as best he could.

“I’m sorry” Liam spoke before offering a cigarette. Eli politely nodded in decline. He hadn’t smoked since he was kid.

Liam had been a good friend to Eli after Paul’s tragedy….at least for a little while. He had taken care of him and watched over him, it was almost like having Paul back, Eli had a big brother again. Then he left and Eli was alone again. Always alone. The day that Liam left was the day that the young Elias Gerard gave up on people. That was the day he realised a very tough life lesson. “Every man for himself” it became his mantra, his code and his creed. All Eli had was his self and his self was composed of a million different faults. He would spend the next ten years of his life trying to eradicate those faults. When Liam had returned, Eli wasn’t quick to forgive but he did not hold anything against the once upon a time party boy. Elias understood people had their different ways of coping. Running away was Liam’s.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s good to see you” Eli offered a sad kind of smile in return.

From the corner of his eye, Elias saw the familiar fiery red hair of Ali moving closer towards them. Still a beauty even now, Pretty Ali. She had always been someone felt a connection with. Their shared interests managed to bond them. Eli has tried to help Ali with her career by getting her some small gigs. He would never allow himself to push her into any kind of limelight until she was definitely ready and with a young child to care for, Ali definitely wasn’t ready.

“Hi Ali” Eli’s sad smile brightened somewhat.

The twins emerged from the nearby church after the day’s usual service and began making their way over. Eli thought it a nice gesture, albeit an unneeded one that most of them had remembered Paul’s anniversary and had come to say a prayer for him. One of Eli’s major fears was that his big brother would be forgotten in the annals of time.

“James. Thomas. Good to see you” Diante appeared from the growing mist and joined with the little group of mourners.

This was getting ridiculous; Eli thought to himself. Next Jenna would turn up drunk off of her face and straddle the grave. Eli made a cross across his chest and kissed two fingers before placing them on Paul’s headstone. “I’ll talk to you soon, brother” He raised his head and looked up at the group and sighed with a smile. “So…bar?” As he said so, Eli’s cell soon rang. He quickly picked it up and saw the caller ID was Val.

“Hi Val”

While Eli declined his offer, Liam nodded. "Makes sense. You know, your brother's the one who got me into this. Reminds me of him." He spoke, softly. His voice was tender, he wasn't sure exactly how Eli felt about him. When he looked at Eli and their eyes met, he felt like Eli thought of him like a traitor - he had betrayed him. And in way, maybe the younger man was right. Maybe Liam running away had hurt the boy. But maybe, it had made him stronger, strong enough to be the man that stood in front of Liam today. A man burdened by loss, tragedy and pain, whom still managed to push through.

As Eli turned to face the group, Liam stayed looking at the headstone, blocking out the sounds he heard behind him. He wasn't really ready to face everyone else. With a heavy sigh, exhaling the last bit of smoke before flicking the bud of the cigarette away, he looked at the headstone and whispered a silent prayer. "Better start making good on my promise." As he turned towards the others, as Eli spoke about getting to a bar. "Hi, guys." Liam said, walking behind Eli, taller than the younger man. He had a sheepish expression on his face, averting anyone's direct gaze - an odd look for him, the one over-confident extrovert had now become so reserved.

"A drink would be nice." Liam spoke, nodding for the others to move ahead - he still didn't know what bars were good or not here in Thornhill.