Grave Watching

Each tear that fell down my cheek felt like a waterfall all by itself. Even the air I breathed felt suffocating, like I was dying. Except I wasn’t.

That had been Klayton.

A fresh wave of sobs overtook me even as I thought his name. I was choking on each sob as it struggled to escape my lips, and my only wish was for my strangled cry to actually signal I was dying. My heart ached for him, a fresh wail slipping past my tongue and sliding wretchedly into the fog of the early morning.

“Why?” My cracking voice strained, barely managing to break free from my lungs. “Why?” I whimper pitifully again.

“Holy shit.” I hear a voice behind state, filled with shock and disbelief. “You’re a fucking ghost.” I turn, recognizing the voice from someone it couldn’t belong to. I spin quickly to face the stranger with the voice of an angel.

I gape, my vision having cleared with the decrease of tears. “Beautiful.” I croak in a tear-filled voice. The eyes of emerald are confused, but unable to take themselves away from my small frame. I can only stare back, my own grey eyes shining in excitement and hope. I was standing over his grave, yet here he was in front of me.

“Klayton?” I gasped breathlessly. His brow furrowed in confusion, his face scrunching into an expression that reflected his lovely eyes. “Uh. . . No.” He seems to fumble over his words, not knowing what to say. “He. . . He was my great uncle.”

His relative. Such joy filled my heart, and I took a small step towards him. He did the same backwards. “W-what. . . Who are you?”

“Klayton’s lover.” I whisper it so quietly that for a moment I think it is lost in the wind. Shock crosses his face, and this time he doesn’t back away as I approach him. “You look just like him. . . The night he died.” I mumble, caressing his cheek softly. The boy neither leans in or away, but stays silent.

“What happened?” His question surprises me, and my hand freezes along his pale collarbone.

Tears fill my eyes once again. “Murdered.” I whisper in his ear. A tear of mine falls onto his worn blue shirt. “I’m so sorry.” My own cheek brushes against his, and my nose trails slowly along his jaw line. I feel his breathing falter, and he licks his top lip.

“It’s okay.” He mumbled, and suddenly I’m being embraced by a pair of warm arms around my middle. In shock, for a moment I do not move. Then I slip my own arms around him, never wanting to let go.

“How can I touch you?” He asks in an almost inaudible voice. I smile slightly, reluctantly pulling back just enough to watch his reaction closely.

“I simply sold my soul to watch over his grave.”