Dealing with Death

He was laughing, and he couldn't stop.
She was crying, and she couldn't stop.
It wasn't funny, but if he didn't laugh, he would cry. His father always told him men weren't supposed to cry. It showed that you were weak.
But how were you supposed to be strong when your best friend was dead?
It had been like this for days: him laughing, her crying.
"C'mon, baby. Your dad said to have you home by ten." He said, his voice flat.
She looked up at him.
"C'mon."
Her best friend had been in the car too.
"I wanna stay here." She said quietly, sniffling.
"Your dad wants you home. Let's go." He kissed her head.
"Jason...."
"I know, baby. You have to go, though."
"Do you have something to wear?"
(To the funeral.)
"Yeah."
"Jason."
"Yeah?"
"I love you." She gripped at his hands and looked up into his taut face.
"I love you too." He brought her hands up and pressed his lips to them before leading her out to the car.
He took her to her house, and her mother invited him in for tea, but he declined. He was tired of smiling. He wanted to go home, and to go to bed, and to sleep for the next hundred years.
He said his goodbyes. He didn't leave anywhere without saying proper goodbyes to anyone who meant anything to him anymore.
He got back in his car, and turned up the music, and laughed.
LeeAnn and James were dead.
He called Jillian when he got home, because she was insistent he did.
"Jason?" His mother knocked on the door as she came in his bedroom that evening.
He looked up at her.
"You and Jillian sat here in silence all day."
"Yeah. I'm gonna go to bed, Mom. Goodnight, I love you." He stood and kissed her cheek.
"I love you too, honey."
Jillian sat at the desk in her bedroom, looking at the framed picture of her and LeeAnn when they were in pre-school. Beside it was a picture of them, Jason and James, from just three days ago. She got up and turned both of them over; she couldn't look at them anymore.
"Momma!" She called.
Her mother opened the bedroom door almost before she'd finished. "What is it, baby?"
Jillian ran across the room to her mother's arms, sobbing.

She didn't sleep at all that night. She'd called Jason, and he'd answered. They'd sat on the phone all night, not saying a word, not sleeping.
The funerals were that day.
LeeAnn's was first. Her mother had asked Jason to give a eulogy, and he didn't want to. He would have preferred to do anything short of watching them die again. But he did it anyways. He watched Jillian cry, and he watched LeeAnn's mother cry, and he watched Jillian's mother cry. He looked around and counted four men crying.
James's was that afternoon. His mother had asked Jason to speak at his, and he hated that even more. But he did that too. This time, he didn't look at Jillian, and he most definitely did not look at James's mother. He looked at James' father, but he was crying too, and then Jason wrapped it up and hurried back to his seat. Jillian reached over and slipped her hand into his.
He had a feeling that all those times his father had told him that men didn't cry, he wasn't thinking about the possibilities of untimely deaths.
He sat through the funeral. He tuned the preacher out, and stared at the picture of James on the table beside the casket. He watched with the emotionless face of a man about to lose it as they lowered James's casket into the ground.
"I have to get out of here." He told his mother.
His mother put a hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes closed, letting out the squeak of trying not to cry. James's mother started sobbing, putting her face into her hands, and he reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. She turned around and hugged him, putting her face into his shirt. He put on the stoic face again.
James's church had made a nice lunch for the funeral goers, but Jason didn't stay. He started to walk home. His father had offered to drive him, but he'd refused adamantly. He wanted to be alone. Alone, he could cry, and nobody would know.
"Jason!"
He turned around to see Jillian running towards him.
"Hey. I'm going home, so--"
"I'm coming with you."
They walked in silence.
She had stopped crying, but her eyes were still puffy. She slipped her hand into his and walked in silence, aside from the occasional sniffle.
"You did really good." She said quietly as his driveway came into sight.
"That was the hardest thing I've ever done."
She started crying again, and he laughed.
He fumbled putting the key in the lock. His hands were shaking.
"Jason."
He started crying.
She took the key from his hand and unlocked the door, pushing it open and nudging him inside.
They sat on the stairs, her crying and him laughing in short, sharp clips, and that's how they were when his parents got home. His father clapped his shoulder as he walked by.
Jillian looked up at him. "Do you ever wonder if--"
"No, Jilly. Don't do that to yourself."
She kissed his cheek. "I know. I have to get home. I'll see you later, okay?"
"Yeah. I'll walk you."
"I'll drive you." His mother said. "Come out to the car when you're ready, sweetie."
"Thank you."
She left, and Jason stood. "Jillian, you know that you couldn't have done anything, right?" He asked quietly.
She nodded. "Do you?"
He nodded, but that wouldn't stop him from asking himself if he could have every time he was alone, and seeing the car plow right into James's every time he closed his eyes.
"Jason."
He jerked his gaze back to look at her.
"Are you... Are you going to be okay?" She asked quietly. It had scared her when he'd broken down, but she didn't want to come out and say that.
"Yeah. You?"
She nodded.
"LeeAnn wouldn't want this."
"You think James would?"
"I love you."
"Do you remember that time I was crying because I got a C, and James went to get me flowers and chocolate because he wanted me to feel better?"
"You were crying because you got a B, and he got you flowers and chocolate because your crying made him uncomfortable."
She laughed, and he started to cry, and neither of them could stop.