A birth, a wedding and a funeral— the only three occasions where families come together. The only kind of events that seeing all three is complicated, and if you did, the last one is not one you wanted to see in your lifetime.

Jessie met new members of the Dale family, and even more strangers from various periods in his dad's life. Jessie was convinced flyers had been handed out during the procession to the grave.

Wonder if they all truly knew dad.

Not that it mattered. He had done as his mother subconsciously requested, he stayed by her side for the first two hours of the wake. Making sure that everyone could see the new 'Head of the household' now that his father was six feet under.

He was only 17 hadn't even gotten the chance to have his father hand him the keys to the red pickup out front when he finally passed his test. Or have a drink with him when he was finally legal— not that it stopped him— but it was the small milestones to come that pained him the most.

It wasn't the loss of what was, but everything that was to come; he wished his father could be apart of that.

His bedroom door opened, and his closest friend walked in. She had changed out of her funeral attire despite the dress looking lovely on her, no doubt something her mum repeated to her when she came down the stairs that morning.

"I thought I'd find you in here." She outstretched her arms, giving Jessie the full view of her shirt. He attempted to smile, but the weight of his loss and pain suffocated it to the point where the corners of his mouth just twitched.

Realising that her shirt brought no sense of normalcy to him, Makayla lowered her arms in defeat. She sat on the edge of the bed beside him as his PS4 controller laid idly in his hands, the home screen displayed on the TV.

"Not even Fifa, my lord Jessie." She exaggerated a gasp, a hand on her mouth as she stared wide-eyed at him. Jessie, whose head had been hung low looked at her and finally, he could release.

Tears streamed down from his hazel eyes, and his face was scrunched up, lines in places she wished she hadn't seen. The change from emotionless to overwhelming emotion caused a tear in her, which almost made her want to vomit. All Makayla could do was match his tears with her own.

He pulled her into his arms, shoving his face into her chest like a child to its mother, hushing the sobs that racked his body as he buried further into her. Makayla sobbed onto his back, the pair trying to hide into each other, almost like a black hole collapsing into itself.

The friends sat there, coating each other in their tears perhaps hoping to expunge this sadness that had cast itself over the pair far longer than today's event.

They cried for the slow decline of their friendship, the distance that came from it and even worse, the false hope of expecting anything to be the same again. The cried for the death of their previous selves.

Jessie was the first to speak, in all honesty, he'd rather just sit there and cry in the arms of Makayla till the pain stopped, or he did. He didn't care, which came first.

"I don't know why I am crying." He smiled at her, trying to put some humour in the situation, rubbing his nose on the back of his sleeve. "Never cried like this in my life."

"I mean, you did quite a number in Endgame."

Jessie snorted, and in all the sadness and pain a laugh escaped from his mouth. He bumped his shoulder into Makayla's who was wiping away what she hoped was the last of her tears.

"I distinctively remember a howling cry from you when you saw Cap on the bench." He pressed a finger to his chin. "What was it you said, 'oh God, say it isn't so'." Jessie went down on his knees, throwing his hands in the air. "Say it isn't so!" he screamed. Makayla hid her face the red going to her cheeks.

"It was a sad scene who wouldn't cry? I paid for your lunch." The pair had made a bet that the one who cried would have to pay for lunch.

"And I am forever grateful." He laid back on his bed, undoing his tie, sighing heavily.

"I knew it was coming Mak; we all did. God, I just don't get why I was still unprepared."

Makayla laid next to him, leaning on her elbow. "I think your first mistake was thinking you could ever be."

"He was in a hospice for several months. I mean the only reason he came home was so he could go out in his bed." He sat up suddenly his jaw clenched. "It was selfish of him. Mum won't even touch the bed, let alone sleep in it. She can't bring herself to do it. Sleeping in there alone means that he's gone. Truly gone. And I don't blame her." He turned to look at Makayla his eyes beginning to water again. "I just about convinced her off the sofa and take my bed."

Makayla sat up. She hadn't realised it had gotten that bad Jessie refused to talk about this, or at least talk about it in this much depth.

"Where are you sleeping?"

"I'm on the sofa. I don't mind. I'll stay there as long as she needs." He arched his back, clearly sleeping on the sofa was beginning to take its toll.

When Makayla had first noticed it, she assumed it was because he wasn't sleeping not that the sleep he did have was extremely poor and uncomfortable.

"Stay with us; we have the spare room." Jessie was shaking his head before she could even finish her proposition.

"No, I can't do that, I can't do that to mum. It'd be like I'd died as well."

In Makayla's eyes, he already had. This Jessie in front of her was not the sunshine she was used to instead it was a blaring wind that blew everything away.

"I understand ju-"

There was a knock on the door. Jessie immediately arose, moving to the balcony doors of his room. His back was to Makayla's, hiding the fact that only a few minutes ago he was a ball of tears.

Makayla knew from the time that it was probably one of their parents coming to tell her it was time to go. She would see Jessie tomorrow but not this Jessie, the one who had begun crying again, the one who, when left alone fell into the deepest parts of his mind with no help to resurface.

Instead, she would see quiet Jessie, resigned Jessie, introverted Jessie who tried desperately to appear extroverted. Having to say goodbye and leave him in his room to her felt as though she was the reason he was in pain, to begin with.