“You… you don’t have to come with me, if you don’t want to see it,” Adrien said in a hush, and there was such a small vulnerability in his voice that Blake immediately shucked off his reservations.
“Of course I’m coming with you,” he said, before adding: “As long as you want me there.”
Adrien looked over at him, expression adopting some small amount of relief.
“Thanks,” he returned.
As a rule, Blake didn’t like visiting the graves of people he knew.There was a stark divide between the impersonality of visiting a cemetery foreign to him, the ease with which he could detach from its purpose, and the weight of reality when he was familiar with who was under the ground.
The columbarium where Matt’s mom’s ashes were interred was always a little bit too cold and sterile, especially in the hot months of summer where the air conditioning made the fine hairs on the nape of his neck stick straight up.
Splashes and patches of a memory buried close in Blake’s heart played out in his mind’s eye: the wall where his grandparents’ bodies were interred, leaking a dark drip ofsomethingthat made Blake squirm like he was covered in little bugs.
But the moment that he entered the mausoleum beside Adrien and was enveloped by the glowing halls, dread released from Blake’s body.
High above them, daylight filtered in through stained glass the most sublime shade of emerald, bathing the marble walls in jade light.The patterns in the skylights made it feel like they were stepping into the umbrella of an antique Tiffany lamp.It was warm and delicate, a far cry from the gravesites of Blake’s past.
It wasn’t long before they found the place where Adrien’s original body was interred: it was right at eye level, nestled in amongst a row of five cubbies—a tiny white niche amongst a checkerboard of glass-and-marble-faced nooks.The marmoreal grave glowed a light shade of gold below the illumination of a palm frond skylight, the inscription a bold, dark font:
ADRIEN KAITO PORTER-MARIN
MARCH 2, 1978 - OCTOBER 12, 2002
BROTHER ? ARTIST ? HERO
Blake didn’t say anything.It felt inappropriate to try.The two stood under the otherworldly radiance of the stained-glass roof, hands joined at their sides as they watched the pale face of Adrien’s grave.
By the time Blake opened his mouth to speak, he was interrupted by the click of shoes on tile.Another person was coming down the mausoleum hallway, a bouquet of flowers held in the crook of his elbow.He paused a few steps away from Adrien and Blake.
“Sorry.”He smiled, apologetic.
“No, you’re fine,” Adrien replied, tugging Blake along as he stepped aside for the mourner.To their surprise, the man reached into the bouquet and removed a single green carnation, setting it in the permanent vase bolted beside Adrien’s niche.
Blake stared in stunned silence, at a complete loss for words.
“Looks like we’re visiting the same person,” Adrien commented, tone casual.The stranger turned to him, eyebrows raised.
“No way?”he shuffled the bouquet in his arms, extending a hand towards Adrien.“I’m Jaime Flores, my dad was a friend of…” He gestured towards the niche with his head in lieu of anything more.Adrien gripped Blake’s hand a little harder.
“Ever since I was a kid, we’ve always brought flowers here,” Jaime explained.“I thought I’d drop one off on the way to see my dad’s grave.What about you, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I’m family,” Adrien lied.There was a tremor to his voice, something Blake had only ever heard when Adrien talked about his past.“Was your dad’s name Marcos, by any chance?”
The realization of whose grave Jamie was visiting fell into Blake’s gut, heavy as a stone.
Jaime nodded.“Yeah, did you know him?”
“Yes,” Adrien said, voice thick.“We—we met.Years ago.I didn’t know Marcos had passed.”
Jaime smiled, but it was a grim, tired thing with no humor.
“Yeah, a little more than a year ago.Cancer,” he said with a mournful frown.“Lung cancer, actually.They didn’t catch it until it was too late for treatment.”
“God, I’m so sorry,” Blake told him, shaking his head.
“I know.He was such a healthy guy.Went out for a run every morning.Never even smoked—nothing like that.It…” He sighed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.“It sneaks up on you, ya know?If it’s not too weird, I can show you where he is.”
“I’d like that.”Adrien nodded, squeezing Blake’s hand with trembling fingers as they followed Jaime deeper into the mausoleum.
