All I Wanted: A Joshayley Fanfic

Chapter 2 - In The Mourning

*JOSH'S POV*

Mom, Dad, Nate, Jonathan and Isabelle had left a few hours ago, leaving a cloying silence in the house that stuck in my throat. All I could hear was the slow thumping of my heart in my ears and my soft breathing - in, out, in, out - as I sat there at the dinner table, laid for the meal we hadn't had, and watched my coffee slowly turn cold.

This grief was uncontrollable and all-consuming. Sharpened by its freshness and my shock, I felt like little needles were being jabbed into my chest; my eyes ached with the tears I refused to let flow. My hands were clenched, the knuckles white and hard.

Jenna came into the room and stood by the doorway, watching me. She was distressed as well - Zac had visited almost every week and she had grown to love him, too - but she was incapable of feeling the same anguish I did for my lost brother.

It had been four days since the accident, though it could have been five minutes ago; the pain was that unceasingly raw. My family came round here so we could talk about practical matters like arranging the funeral and clearing out Zac's flat; we'd already had the emotional meeting where we'd all just held onto each other and sobbed. Now everyone was acting business-like, almost as if they wanted to put this episode behind them. I didn't understand it. This was all moving too fast.

Nobody, I thought, was mourning for Zac like I was. I had been the closest of all my siblings to my brother; I had been the closest person to him in the world.

I picked up the teaspoon which was resting on the saucer, feeling Jenna's eyes boring a hole in my back, and stirred the coffee, breaking up the congealed skin that had formed on the surface. Holding the cup in my hands, I watched the liquid bounce as I shook. Jenna crossed the room and put her hands on my shoulders, rubbing soothing circles into my muscles. I closed my eyes.

*HAYLEY'S POV*

"We're here."

I looked out the passenger window into the sheeting rain outside, pelting the stained-glass windows of Franklin's little church. The building looked bowed, leaning slightly as if moved by the wind. Its one tower was short and squat, like someone had abandoned it half-way through the process of building.

I sighed and reached for my umbrella as I climbed out of Jeremy's car. He'd offered to give us a lift to the funeral, for which I was grateful - I don't think I was up to driving yet.

Smoothing out the creases in the only black dress I owned (short, with frills around the neckline), I took Kat's hand and approached the disproportionally huge wooden door of the church. It was held open by the pastor, who had a kind, lined face and thinning silver hair.

The service seemed impersonal to me. The priest had prepared a conventional speech about how many people had looked up to Zac; about how many people would miss him. He didn't really know what Zac had been like. The sweet, hilarious, easy-going Zac from my memory - at least that was who he was when he had been happy - couldn't be described in a funeral service like this on a Wednesday morning.

When he had finished, the congregation was lead out into the graveyard. A Radiohead track had been chosen in the place of the traditional march. Zac would have laughed.

The rain had subsided into a half-hearted drizzle by the time we gathered on the raised patch of earth by the grave and watched the coffin being lowered into the ground. A wreath of flowers adorned the casket in the shape of Zac's name. Most of the women began to weep as the men stood with their shoulders braced against the gale, faces hard. I didn't cry. I brushed the lock of flame-coloured hair that had fallen over my face behind my ear and said my own inexpressible goodbyes to Zac.

Glancing across the crowd I caught sight of a tall, muscular man in a dark suit with a short crop of chocolate hair. He was staring in my direction, his lips pursed in a thin, straight line. A pretty blonde woman held onto his arm, unaware.

As our eyes locked, I recognised him as Josh Farro.

Startled, it took me longer than it should have done to look away again. I turned my head but could still feel his gaze, making the hairs on the back of my neck raise. It was the first time I had seen Josh in years; he hadn't changed in the slightest. For some reason, I felt confused.

The funeral ended, and we trudged back towards Jeremy's car.

*JOSH'S POV*

My eyes followed her as she walked away from the church. She was still short - petite next to Jeremy and Taylor - and her hair was curled into orange and pink ringlets that fell around her face. She was talking, and my eyes focused on the little gap between her front teeth that reminded me of Spongebob. Her dress was a few inches above knee-length; I observed how she looked more feminine than she used to be, with the exception of the pair of clompy white Dr. Martens on her feet.

I took a deep breath and refocused my attention on Jenna, who was conversing with some family friends. I tried not to let my mind wander into the past, concentrating on this moment only, but it was hard. It was like they had brought a whole raft of flashbacks with them, and I was forced to relive them.

"Dreadful, just dreadful," someone was saying.

"So young. So much potential, all gone."

"Such a waste."

"He was so thoughtful. I'm going to miss him."

I put my arm around Jenna and gently pulled her away, leading her to the parking lot. "I want to go home." I said simply, unable to convey what I was really feeling. I needed a task, like driving, to take my mind off it.

Jenna smiled, understanding. "Okay. Whatever you want, Josh."

That was the problem. Right then, what I wanted alarmed me. I couldn't have what I wanted. I'd given that up years ago. Hadn't I?

And it takes all my strength not to dig you up
From the ground in which you lay
The biggest part of me
You were the greatest thing
And now you're just a memory
To let go of

In the mourning I'll rise
In the mourning I'll let you die
In the mourning all my sorries