Click.

Click.

I look up from my camera at the scene in front of me. It’s a very dark and morbid scene, but I suppose funerals usually are. It’s what I was expecting; hoping for. The family was sitting in the front two rows, crying silently. Click. I take another picture and focus on where the coffin is sitting. It’s a beautiful mahogany wood; obviously they’re a wealthy family. There’s beautiful flowers everywhere, set around the closed coffin perfectly. Click.

As the coffin is lowered, I look across the graveyard. Wandering away from the group of people, I take a look at some of the headstones. A few have meaningful quotes on them, and I snap a few pictures as I go along. Seeing something move out of the corner of my eye, I look up and spot a man walking down the line of headstones, away from me.

Something catches me off guard about him as I watch. He’s dressed immaculately well, with a black dress shirt and red tie. His dark hair was cut oddly, short on one side and flipped to one side, hanging down his shoulder a bit.

Despite my protesting mind, my feet carry me forward as I follow the strange man. I notice a single red rose in his hand, and I feel the need to take a picture, but I resist the urge. As he stops, I follow suit and watch him quietly. His gaze is focused on the stone in front of him, and I notice his hand trembling a bit as he sits the flower on top of it. The air has become even more somber than at the funeral I’ve left behind. I catch a glimpse of his face and my breath catches in my throat. He’s beautiful. His thin face looks crestfallen; heartbroken, and tears sparkled on his cheeks as they fell from bold blue eyes.

I’m rooted to my spot as I watch his trembling fingers run through his dark hair. Suddenly, he falls to his knees his head bows as his shoulders heave. I hear sobs and my own heart aches. I come here so often and yet I’ve never seen such raw emotion from someone. It’s as if his entire life lay under his feet. I resist no longer and hold my camera up. Click. Before I can register what I’m doing, my feet lead me over to him, camera momentarily forgotten in my hands. He doesn’t seem to even hear me as I get closer, and I look down at him. What am I doing? People don’t come to graveyards to be bothered! And before I can help myself, my mouth gets the best of me.

“Are you alright?” What the hell kind of question is that? He’s in a graveyard and quite obviously upset! Of course he’s not alright! The stupidity of my question doesn’t seem to shake him as it does me. He looks up at me slowly, not even fazed by my sudden appearance. He must really be out of it.

His cold blue eyes are sullen as he looks up at me, and he sniffles a bit before looking down, effectively ignoring my question. Good, it was a stupid question to begin with. My face flushes a bit as I wonder why I’m here, but instead of turning away and leaving as I probably should, I kneel beside him and gently rub his back. I feel him jump slightly at my touch, but surprisingly he doesn’t argue. His whole body is trembling!

I spare at look at the gravestone and read what’s etched into the stone. Juliet Simms. February 26, 1986 – February 26, 2013. Beloved Daughter and Loving Girlfriend. I stare at the name for a moment. It seems so familiar, but I can’t place it. I feel the man beside me move, and I look over at him. His face had turned from somber to angry. My eyes widen slightly, caught off guard.

“Why can’t you people leave me alone for even one hour?” His voice is cold, and I’m confused by his words and sudden forcefulness. He’s so suddenly guarded; I wonder what must be going on in his mind. I feel a need to calm him. I want to help him, though I don’t know what’s possessing me to do so.

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir. I don’t know who you are…I was just concerned for you.” His face changes slightly, and I try to place my finger on the new emotion displayed. Confusion? Uncertainty? Distrust.

“You don’t know who I am?” His tone is accusatory. He thinks I’m lying. Why would I know him? “And I suppose you didn’t come all the way over here to get a signature or something else out of me either?” For what seems like the millionth time, I’m caught off guard by his words. He must be someone quite important to warrant those kinds of assumptions.

“I really didn’t. I just saw you over here, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone as upset as you are, and I’m here a lot,” I speak carefully, not sure what might set him off, “I just don't think you should be alone.” His face relaxes as he seems to accept the fact his anonymity is still intact. His eyes gaze back down at the stone, and a soft sigh escapes his lips. “Was she your girlfriend?”

He nods his head quietly and sits back down. I carefully sit down next to him, and watch him quietly. He seems so reluctant to talk, yet so in need of someone to console him. Hesitantly, I take his hand in my own and squeeze gently. He doesn’t argue, but instead just bows his head again and the tears are back.

We sit quietly in the shade of the oak trees surrounding us for quite some time before he seems ready to talk.

“So, do you just wander around graveyards looking for people to comfort?” His voice holds a slight humorous tone to it and I smile a bit. To him, it would probably seem that way. I came rather out of the blue, and I still don’t understand why I’m doing this. “You said you’re here a lot. That’s not exactly a promising thought.” I can’t help but to giggle a bit, and I see the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I’m doing a photography project on human emotions, focusing on grief. With families’ permissions, I take pictures at funerals.” He looks at me quietly, considering my words. He chuckles a bit, and looks into my eyes. I feel a shiver go down my spine as the icy blue eyes stare into my own.

“You sure are different. Not many people just go up to people in graveyards and ask if they’re okay,” his voice is soft as he looks at me, and I feel my face heat up. Still such a stupid question. He chuckles again, and I’m sure it must be because I’m blushing. “What’s your name?”

“Delilah,” I blush, having completely forgotten to introduce myself. Wow, you’re so polite! Interrupting him in his mourning and not even giving him your name until he has to ask! He smiles at me, and I can’t help it as my cheeks go even redder with embarrassment.

“Andy.” I look up at him as he gives me his name and smile a bit. Such a nice guy shouldn’t be here, with his heartbroken. My heart goes to him as I think it over. “Delilah, I have to say, I’m glad I met you today. You calm me somehow.” His smile is dazzling and I can’t get enough of it as I listen to him.

I’ve all but forgotten about taking pictures now, and we sit next to each other comfortably. The even May air starts to get cooler as the sun sinks in the sky. I check my phone and realize with a heavy heart that I have to get home soon before my parents start to worry.

“I’m sorry, Andy. I have to get going. It’s getting late.” I’m surprised when I see a bit of disappointment on his face. I’m even more surprised that I feel the same. Who would have thought you’d have a good time in a graveyard? You’re such a depressing girl. I shake the idea out of my mind, and realize I missed something Andy had said to me. “I’m sorry, what was that?” He laughs and the sound is wonderful. He should really do it more often.

“I asked if I could get your number,” he repeated, and I notice his cheeks were a bit pink. It’s adorable, I decide. “You know, so we can talk more. I feel really comfortable around you, despite our less than positive meeting place.”

He wants my number? My cheeks were flaming hot now as I blush. Stop that, silly girl! He doesn’t like you! He just wants your number so he can have someone to talk to! I smile and nod, programming my number into his phone before saying our goodbyes. I give him a final hug and feel a bit of electricity race through me as we touch. What the hell was that?

I get home just in time for dinner, and take my seat at the table. My dad gives me a disapproving look, and I respond with an apologetic one. I’m supposed to be home a lot earlier, but I couldn’t help but get lost in time around that beautiful man. Andy. He had such deep scars, and while I know I had no right, I wanted to help heal him.

“How did your photos turn out, dear?” My mother’s ever formal voice brought me out of my thoughts and back to the table. I look at the food in front of me and sigh before placing on my best smile and reply.

“Just fine, mother.” I bite my lip a bit as my voice comes out a bit sharp. Surely, I’ll be paying for that. I see her lips twitch into a second long frown before she recovers, but I still catch it. Oh yes, they’re furious. I bow my head and eat my food quietly, hoping not to draw any more attention to myself.

You would think I’d get a longer leash now that I’m in college, but apparently not with my parents. They’ve been like this my whole life. They keep such strict tabs on everything I do. Where I go, what I wear, what music I listen to; it’s all under their control. I try to reason with myself and say they’re just worried about me, but there are times when I wish I could escape their grasp. I want to live my own life. Good luck with that. Positive as always, I resist the urge to roll my eyes at myself.

After I clean up, I make my way up to my room, taking out the pictures I’d taken from the day. The small Polaroid pictures are spread across my bed in no time as I arrange them. There were so many beautiful pictures today, but one stuck out to me and I pick it up, staring at it quietly.

Andy was on his knees in the picture and his face held all the sorrow in the world. I stare at it sadly, and wonder what such a wonderful person could have done to earn such heartache.

Ding. I look up at my phone and grab it. The screen is lit up showing I have a text, but I don’t recognize the number. I open the message and smile.

*Hey there, Delilah! It’s Andy…you know, tall, morbid kid? Haha :P*

I grin and quickly type back a response.

*Andy, huh? Not ringing a bell here….*

I grin at my joke. It takes a minute before another reply comes.

*Oh…I must have been given the wrong number….sorry*

I pout. That’s not what’s supposed to happen! I quickly respond.

*Unless you mean Mr. Bright Eyes I met in the graveyard today?...though I wouldn’t describe him as morbid ;) *

I sigh in relief when he replies almost instantly.

*You sneaky girl! Not nice :P let’s not argue over adjectives for Andy, shall we?*

Smiling, I laid back on my bed and blushed. Why are you blushing? He did say he wanted your number. Pretty sure it’s not for such trivial things! Get your head out of the clouds, girl! Pouting at myself, I sigh. Ding. Looking back at the phone, I have another message from Andy.

*Just wanted to say Goodnight…and thank you*

I send a reply right back before shutting my light off to go to sleep, lest my parents realize I’m still up.

Andy’s POV

I’m waiting for a response like a fucking five year old. She has more important things to do than talk to you all day, idiot! I’ve all but given up when I hear the familiar buzz of my phone. I quickly grab my phone off the end table and open the message quickly.

*Goodnight, Bright Eyes…Remember to keep smiling*

I stare at it quietly and sigh. Wow, this girl is something. I push back to guilt in the back of my head and crawl into bed, ready for another sleepless night.

Notes

First of all, I have to say: yes, I killed off Juliet....I'm sorry! I'm all for Andy and Juliet, I think they're absolutely adorable together, but for this story, it needed to happen. I don't wish anything bad on Juliet, this is purely fictional writing..

Now that that's out of the way, this story idea came to me rather quickly, but I'm quickly falling in love with this story. I have a hard time staying in present tense, so if you notice any spot where I might have switched to past tense, please let me know. I'm really trying to work on that....

I hope you enjoyed it!!! Please comment and subscribe!!!!