Rosie's Thorns 🥀|18+|🥀

14 | Tattoos

(⚠️ Mention of self-harm. Plus some tension.⚠️)

《¤Rosie¤》

There's a lump in my throat as I lay a single red rose on the coffin. Beads of water ran over the dom top and dampened my fingers as I brushed my fingers across the glossy finish. It didn't feel real. I guess it never does. One second you could be chatting with someone, then the next your lowering their coffin six feet into the ground.

Was Hayden a good man? I wouldn't know. I didn't really know him. I shouldn't pity myself for mourning the brother I wish I could have. I didn't deserve to mourn for a man I barely knew. These people did. These people deserved to shed tears and feel the pinch in their hearts as one by one men and women place flowers on his coffin.

Even the weather could feel the sorrow of my people as it pours above us. The ground causes our boots to sink into the soft soil, uprooting grass around the large hole in the earth. It always rains at funerals, at least in the movies I've seen it does. This seems to be no different. Black umbrellas, black suits, black dresses, and black sweats. Not a drop of color coats my people as they stare pale faced towards the coffin of their late Don- my brother. I didn't see a single tear, only solemn faces as they bowed their heads or stared unseeingly towards the gaping hole.

Two deaths. Both Dons. It was a hard blow to the foundation of the Costa Mafia. Never has it seen such a death toll until now. You can see the hint of fear within their eyes as it intertwines with their sorrow. They fear for their future. They fear the monster plucking them off one by one. None of them deserved it. None of them deserved to lose as much as they've lost in a year alone.

I cast a glance to the late Dons body guard. He stands in the pouring rain, his hand flat against the top of the coffin where Hayden's head would lie. He had no umbrella. He stood drenched, his golden hair now flattened to his skull as water drips from his nose and disguises his tears. His black t-shirt clings to his muscular back and his black trousers a hue darker from being wet.

His shoulders are hunched forward, his pale lips quivering as he mumbles words to his dead lover. No one dared to separate him from the coffin. No one dared to break the silence that wrapped around Chuck and Hayden. They knew he needed this.

A priest, possibly a friend of my fathers, began reading scriptures from his little black book. I had seen him at my fathers funeral, now he was here once more for my brothers. He said such lovely words. Words that I wish weren't just words. I wish I knew the Hayden he described. The Hayden with a big bleeding heart that took on more than he could bear. The Hayden that loved endlessly. The Hayden everyone trusted with their darkest secrets.

He sounded so pour hearted. He sounded so fragile.

He didn't deserve this.

As the priest spoke, Chucks eyes slowly lifted from the coffin and turned towards him. The Adam apple in his throat bobbed as he swallowed around his emotions. Then, as if it pained him to listen, he turned towards us and shouldered through the crowd. Hana, who had stood at my side, gave my forearm a light squeeze before breaking away from our huddled group to follow after him.

Chuck didn't deserve this. Hayden didn't deserve to die. None of them deserved this pain.

I wanted to break away too. I wanted to find Chuck and pull him into my arms. I wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault. Everyone knew he blamed himself. Everyone knew he's been a drunk mess since the night he'd found his lovers body. I don't know if he'll ever recover from this.