I was alone in the silent house now.

A month of dust getting me to sneeze at a frenetic rhythm during these timeless days filled by the same music. One reflecting a yearning void.

Like the wind, music gave me the impression of inhaling life through my empty corpse. 

A black hole never stops to consume, therefore I would suck the life out of this melody until nothing would remain.

I had not planned to go to her yet, however my aunt needed me to save the white petals from the reaper, whom looked after this garden of stones.

Here she was, as grey as ever.

As expected, the flowers had succumbed to the cold. 

This was the unavoidable cycle of life that everyone seemed so afraid of.

I couldn't get it, the fear. As long as there was no pain, death was not so different than falling asleep.

"You would have found me weird for that, am I right ?"

For once I could talk my mind without her starting a fight, but that's all there was to it. I wasn't happy or devastated. I was just...there.

There with him. 

I hadn't forgot neither of them. Still, meeting here, the three of us, was truly unexpected.

A blond man dressed in black - At first, I believed this was just a drunkard based on the few green bottles laid on the ground, mimicking their owner.

The crunch of the snow mixed with the gravel's. It was undeniable that my curiosity was shameless at times.

I recognized the drunkard by a glance to the grave he tarnished. 

Yacinthe Dale had died the 13th October at the age of twenty, and was now haunted by his perhaps alcoholic boyfriend. 

I was a bit taken aback by the news.

"..."

The body made of CnH2n+1OH flinched with a sniff. His red face covered in melted snow turned towards my shoes, his overall following the movement.

A starfish or a fallen angel, not that he shared a single feature with any of those two.

Isaac starred at me without starring at me. 

His gaze floated with the reflecting dark clouds.

I wanted to know what had happened.

His expression slowly contorted uglily ; each lines engraving his skin. 

The sobs of a kid escaping a grown man who, as if it was his last hope, grabbed the hem of my trousers.

I couldn't pull out a meaning out of the suffocated noises. 

I think he was begging. The same way I had begged an empty room to make it stop back then.

This was the exact part where I was supposed to feel pity, empathy, or sadness, or both.

Isaac was vulnerable. 

We didn't really know each other.

I only liked the movie of him and Yacinthe that sometimes replayed in my mind to escape the city ; my overconsumption of music feeding made up delusions of their romance mixed with reality.

At my feet currently was a character from my favorite show, broken, weak...At my mercy.

While the character went through hell, I felt satisfaction. Rapture. Pleasure. 

I thought 'ah...what an interesting development'.

My palm slowly went to hide my sickest side, nevertheless, my filthy gaze was too honest.

The bawling mess was not realizing that he had become the subject of a dehumanising perversion.

I chased the smirk and crouched to him. "What happened ?"

Of course, Isaac was in no state to answer.

In small towns, rumors went around fast, therefore I only had to uproot the earphones from my brain.

Yacinthe had committed suicide without leaving any explanation ; it was an overdose caused by medication. Isaac found him already dead.

It was very vague, no one seemed to know the story in details which intrigued me even more. 

A morbid curiosity, this was what gave meaning to my life.

She would have called me heartless.

...She was right. I'm heartless and perverted.

Isaac was too drunk to question the fact that a monster with a cap visited him and his lover everyday, making it easier for me.

I generally came in the morning after my walk then stayed for an hour or so without gathering more information.

One Friday, I slept in and decided to only go in the afternoon, however when I was about to trespass the flesh sanctuary, I saw a girl pulling the dead weight with all her might.

In struggle, she cried with her brother a few times before finally getting him up. 

Our gaze met, but I doubt she recognized me. Lou.

I was expecting for Isaac to not be there the next day, yet he was, and by trying to fill my curiosity I came to understand that Lou had to pick up her brother everyday, during her break or later once her shift over.

What a bothersome task.

"Isaac"

Nothingness observed me and I was slowly questioning this oddity of mine. Was it really worth anything ?

As if he could feel me loosing interest, Isaac pathetically held onto my sleeve. Clarity finally striking his voice, but clearly not his mind. 

"Don't leave me again..." 

I let him reach for my collar, wondering about his intentions. 

Certainly, this came as a surprise - Isaac transferred his weight from the ground to me, my wooden shoulder hitting a tombstone's edge right where it hurt- followed by Isaac's lips violently crushing mine.

Being able to pick up on the events' order had been some sort of miracle considering the speed of things.

My cap slowly slipped off my forehead, the visor pushed by the hair reeking alcohol - Or maybe what reeked was this moving mouth ; shaped lips against shaped lips, there was nothing pleasant in it. 

"Yacinthe" He breathed into me a drop of ocean. Salty and bitter emotions translated in a bad taste making me nauseous.

I guess he was pretending not to know that I wasn't Yacinthe since when I went along the play and caressed his cheek, he immediately backed off. 

After all this time, Isaac sobered up.

He was looking at me. Shook. 

The rain suddenly shot the back of his head, projecting transparent blood on my marble face.

"You..."

So he remembered me.

Isaac's features wrinkled. "If it wasn't for you..."

What ?

I heard his nails scratch the frosted dirt around. "---"

The curiosity came back. 

My respects to you, Mr.Isaac. You succeeded in digging your own grave.

During this eternal minute I pondered. What should I do ? What is it that I wanted to see in him, torment ?

A grieving individual surely hated the idea of eternity, hence he moved away, sitting closer to his lover.

Personally, I didn't feel like moving. My opened arms welcomed the sky's sadness which got my eyes to shut, forming a pond in my tree hollow.

"..."

In movies, the weather often symbolized the characters' feelings or foreshadowed the story, or set the mood, or many other things. There were people who liked to break those 'rules' to create contradiction or realism, or for different reasons I ignored.

Now was my chance. I lifted my neck to see him through the branches. "What happened ?"

The sound of a bottle opener replied, thereupon a shower of hail began to tumble upon us. Its touch slapped Isaac's hand and the beer broke on the ground.

I used my cap as a face-shield, and by peeking through the ajar bit : reddish fingertips from a stiff hand went to caress Isaac's vibrant red cheek due to a flying debris.

The mark that had turned his face prettier in my eyes, was what we called a pretty ugly wound. 

Such a messy re-encounter.

There was high-risk that Lou would ran here to put her brother in a warmer place. I did not see myself experience a bothersome awkwardness, yet I was not as senseless as to leave an inebriated person alone in these conditions.

The concerned one did not seem concerned by his state...

What to do ?

I was tired of getting slapped by the hail, tired of standing up, tired of thinking.

Using my trunk as a umbrella for my phone and headphone, I clicked on the song I had been bleeding dry these days thereupon I blasted the speakers to regain some energy.

"Isaac, stand up"

I heard my own voice muffled by the music, hence unaware if he was ignoring me or if the volume of my words had been too low.

"Come on"

I stole Isaac's hand from his lover, and as if upset, the ghost forced thunder upon us.

The hand flinched within my grasp, scared of the loud sky.

To escape said loudness that barely broke through my musical perception, I pulled stronger for Isaac to follow, which he somehow did.

He was putting no effort in his footsteps. I was dragging a heavy yet fragile flower that would get crushed if handled the wrong way.

With the weather going even more downhill, I couldn't put him at the feet of this Weeping Saul as I had planned - although Isaac had probably been waiting for a similar chance to rejoin his lover.

Maybe because it was a small town, no one seemed to take care of the cemetery on a daily basis.

 There was an old man who would open and close the gate at due time, and come once a week or so to unroot weeds with a younger person, supposedly a daughter or grand-daughter.

"?"

Right when we were about to cross the gate, my hand numbed by the cold did not feel Isaac's anymore. I realized the music was gone too.

I couldn't help a sigh devoid of energy. What the hell was I doing ? All of this was pointless.

I was once again ready to give up on whatever this was, but...

"You..."

I came face to face with a distressed sister.