From the Ashes (Mickey)

[Harmony Elizabeth Turner]

She'd read somewhere that you can connect with your innermost spiritual self if you were completely alone, or some other ridiculousness of that nature. Meditating, fasting, becoming a vegan. She'd tried it all and hadn't found her "inner self". She hadn't been using in what... four months now? Longer? She couldn't even remember. She'd stopped counting the days because doing that was going to make her sick. She'd been sober for about as long. It felt like ages, lifetimes. This was October already. It looked like it was going to rain soon. She should really head back to school, and stop wandering out here like some weird necrophiliac or creeper.

The day that Harmony found out she could unwind in the cemetery, she'd come there completely by accident. She'd just been wandering around the town, enjoying her new privileges when she ran into an old lady who was carrying what looked to be her weight in flowers. She'd offered to help with the load, and the lady had been so sweet and gracious, that Harmony ended up carrying all of the flowers. She didn't know where she was being lead, barely able to see over all of the flowers, until they were inside the Lionsgate Cemetery.

The woman had instructed her on where to put the flowers--- the red roses for one, the forget-me-nots for another. Harmony didn't ask any questions. But, then the woman had answered them without her needing to say a thing.

"I didn't know them all, you know. I'm not that old yet, though I'm getting there." She'd laughed tunefully. "Most of these people were dead long before even I was born, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate them. You see, I find that, now I am getting along in my years, I find myself drawn to the dead. So many people my age would rather forget that they are going to die some day, maybe soon. The thought of death frightens them. Does it frighten you, dear?

Harmony had shaken her head, but then said. "I don't know yet. I've never been dead." She realized that it probably sounded smart-alecky, and she began to apologize, but the old woman had waved her off.

"That is exactly right, dear. You haven't been dead yet. And, with any luck you wont be for many years. Not knowing what death is like is no reason to fear it... as so many people do." She'd smiled fondly at the graves. "I say, it is better to get close to it, maybe try to understand what you can of it in this life. Sort of like looking at pictures of a place you are going for your holiday before you go--- you can see what it might be, you can get a little glimpse, but you'll never really know what it's like until you've been there." She'd smiled. "These... people here. They've all got stories to tell. Their loved ones have put them here so that they don't have to think about them. So they can heal. But, I think that is a--- and pardon my language--- a damn shame. There is so much to be learned from the dead! Their lives, really. You can see their histories everywhere, and you might even feel to close to them if you look long enough. These grave stones are all that most people see, but I can see an old doctor, over there, old Doc Brown. I never knew the fellow. He would have been my age when I was younger than you, but I can tell you that he had a wife that used to give him fits, because the grass around his plot is thinning, so I always imagine he had thinning hair. I don't know it for certain, but I can tell myself these things to get to know him in a way. I hope that some day, some one will see my grave and say that I was a dancer. I never did learn to dance you know, but they'll say that I was a dancer, because I'll have it written on my tombstone that I was a dancer." The old woman smiled conspiratorially.

"Sometimes I pretend that they're having love affairs--- Mr. Williams's grave stone seems to be facing Mrs. Robinson's at a queer angle, now doesn't it? And, Mrs. Williams and Mr. Robinson look none too happy about the way Mrs. Robinson's grave is facing back, don't you think?"

The talk went on for a long time, and by the end of her stay, Harmony had fallen in love with the Cemetery. And, that's why she was here now, even after the old woman had made her daily rounds and gone back home, just taking in the stillness of the place.

[Micheal Austin Thompson]

No matter how many times you tell it not to, sometimes your body just doesn't listen. Mickey realized this when he looked up and realized that his feet were taking him down the unfortunately familiar path to the cemetery. He thought about turning back, but decided against it for some reason. Instead, Mickey turned into a small shop and bought a bouquet of flowers. It had six red and six white roses. Mickey gave the elderly woman inside the shop the money and walked out of the doors. The boy had mostly negative feelings toward cemeteries, but he decided that if he was going to go there he might as well take some flowers for Kathy. Mickey found Kathy's grave the first time he found his feet taking him to the cemetery. Kathy Thompson, a woman who he later found out was a distant relative to him. The two had never met in person and he never even heard about her, but he bought flowers for his unknown relative each time he went that way.

Mickey looked up when he neared the cemetery. The large gates slowly became closer and closer. He stopped in front of them and looked up at the metal sign reading 'Lionsgate Cemetery.' Suddenly an image appeared inside his head. There was a large group of people dressed completely in black facing a large box-thing. Some of the people were crying while others just looked sad or bored. A man stood at the front facing the group of people. He had a book in his hands that he was reading out of. The image focused on the box-thing that Micheal recognized as a coffin. The image moved slightly so that Micheal could see the figure inside the coffin- Mickey yelped and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and counted to ten until the image completely faded. He hated those thoughts with a passion. Who would like to constantly have thoughts of your brother, and one of the small handful of people that he actually cared for, dieing? His feelings for his intrusive thoughts worsened after the car accident, which was his fault despite what everyone else said.

Mickey looked down at the flowers and then back up at the gate. After taking a deep and steadying breath, the teen stepped through it into the cemetery. He walked down the rows of tombstones, counting them as he went. After Mickey got to the 24th tombstone, he turned and started walking in between them. 8 grave markers later, Mickey turned again and looked at the writing on the front of the rocks.

Mickey never noticed the other student in the cemetery, until he was too late. He was so focused on the tombstones and finding his unknown relative, Kathy. Their two bodies collided, causing Mickey to make a small oomph sound as he ran into Harmony. Taking a step back, Mickey looked up at the person and saw a girl that seemed about his age, if not a year or so younger. “Oh. I-I'm sorry,” he managed to mumble out as he turned to walk around the girl. Two tombstones later, the boy stopped and looked down at the grave in front of him. Kathy Thompson. There was a bouquet of flowers on the grave already, but Mickey bent down and sat his beside the gift from an unknown person.

Once he was on his feet again, Mickey turned around and looked back at the girl that he ran into. He faintly recognized her as another student from St. Helena's, but he didn't know her name or anything about her. Mickey swallowed nervously and thought back to his last counseling session. His counselor had told him that he had to be more social, he had to take his medicine, he had to stop blaming himself for his brother's car accident and suicide attempt, he had to admit that he had a problem with his OCD, he had to do a lot of things. Mickey knew that he was never going to do half of the things his counselor told him that he 'had to do'. But he could try the first one couldn't he?

Mickey opened his mouth to say something, he wasn't quite sure what, but looked at the girl again and closed it. If he was right and she was a student from St. Helena's she could be violent. She didn't look violent, but who knew for sure when it came to the people at that school? They could look like they would never hurt a fly and had been admitted to the school because they almost killed someone. Still, if he kept thinking like that, he would never have any other relationships besides the few that he had already. Mickey looked down at the ground in front of him. Looks like he couldn't try to do anything that his counselor told him to do.

((OOC: I wrote almost all of this last night before I went to bed, so sorry if some of it doesn't make that much sense.))

[Harmony Elizabeth Turner]

Harmony didn't usually run into anyone from school at the cemetery. But, today she did, quite literally. "Oh! Sorry!" She said, quickly, trying not to look any crazier than she already did-- standing out here alone in the cemetery with a vacant little smile on her face. She'd been zoning out and hadn't seen the boy coming. Now, on closer inspection, she recognized him from school. He was a sophomore or junior, and not in her immediate circle of friends. No one was in her immediate circle of friends, because she didn't have any friends. She had acquaintances, yes, but as of yet she'd pretty much kept to herself at school. The only real friendship she'd formed thus far since coming to St. Helena's was with these dead people and that old woman who seemed to be only half in the the world of the living and breathing.

It was awkward now. The peace was draining away and the graves were suddenly just slabs of stone marking the place where dead bodies were stashed. "Convening with the spirits", as Harmony's old friend called it, was a very personal thing. Not something that could be shared with anyone except actually the old woman.

Lila. What a lovely name for an old lady. She looked like a Lila, now that Harmony thought of it. She'd invited Harmony to attend some funerals with her a few weeks back, and she'd declined. She hadn't been ready to be that close to the newly dead yet, at the time. But, now she stood inches away from some of the fresh turned dirt from a funeral earlier in the week. When Lila had offered the second time to attend a funeral together, Harmony hadn't refused. And, she was glad she'd gone. There had been a number of towns folk at the funeral. The dead man had been an old mechanic who had fixed most of their cars at one time or another. He'd been married once and divorced once, but that wasn't such a scandal these days as it would have been in the days of the past which Lila remembered. The mechanic had died of a sudden heart attack, and was buried with the money he'd had saved up for such an occasion. It was funny--- Lila had noted, that the day he was dead in that casket was the first time she'd ever seen him without black grease on his face from his work. "Grease suited him." She'd said, and Harmony had pinched herself to keep from laughing.

She shook her head to clear it of thoughts. She realized that the boy who'd run into her was regarding her with hesitation and suspicion, like he wanted to talk to her but couldn't be sure of her. She knew what he was feeling. You never knew with kids from St. Helena's.

"Don't worry, I'm just an addict." She said, with a note of amusement. "I'm not going to bite... I can almost guarantee it."

Outfit

[Micheal Austin Thompson]

Maybe there was a way that he could just leave and not have to deal with the possibly-violent girl. She might not have noticed that he was about to try and talk to her, then she wouldn't pay any attention to the fact that he just walked away. He looked up from the patch of grass and noticed that the girl was looking at him. This is not good. What if she thought that he was weird for coming to the cemetery? Well, she was at the cemetery too so that probably wouldn't happen. He was just taking flowers to his relative's grave. That was normal enough, right? She didn't have to know that he had never spoken to, or heard of the aforementioned relative before he found her grave.

Mickey blinked when the girl spoke. He noticed that she sounded amused as she mentioned that she was just an addict. Mickey wondered what she was addicted to but kept his curiosity inside. He faked a small smile when the girl said that she could almost guarantee that she wouldn't bite. Mickey always found that saying weird, 'I'm not going to bite.' He wasn't afraid of being bitten by someone, he was afraid of being punched, kicked, pushed, and made fun of by people. Although, being bitten by someone would probably hurt, it didn't happen that often so it wasn't very high on the long list of things Mickey worried about.

Mickey cleared his throat, bringing his mind back to the girl standing in front of him. The things that he knew about her went through his head. She was addicted to an unknown substance, she could almost guarantee that she didn't bite(which means that she might bite?), and she stood around in the cemetery. There was no name or anything else to go with that information.

He decided that it was probably safe to give her his name. There wasn't really anything that she could use to make fun of him with it that he knew of, except compare him to Mickey Mouse. He thought that Mickey Mouse was pretty cool though so being compared to him wouldn't be that bad. Mickey swallowed slightly and looked up at the girl. “I-I'm M-mickey,” he said, silently cursing himself for stuttering.

Mickey blinked again as another image came into his mind. This time Ciel was sitting on the bed in his dorm with a knife in his hand. There was an empy bottle of sleeping pills laying on the bed beside him. Mickey watched as his brother moved the hand with the knife in it toward his other arm to slit his wrists. When the arm holding the knife was about halfway there, Mickey closed his eyes and shook his head, quickly counting to ten again under his breath until the image disappeared again. Mickey took out his phone and quickly sent a text asking if he was okay just to make sure. A part of him knew that all of this was completely ridiculous and probably annoying to everyone else, mostly his older brother, but the main part of him found it perfectly normal and necessary behavior. Mickey put his phone in his pocket and looked back up at the girl.

Mickey felt like he should say something else, but he didn't know what to say. Why did it have to be so hard to talk to new people? Running a hand through his hair, Mickey cleared his throat again. “So w-what are y-you doing out here?” he asked curiously.

[Harmony Elizabeth Turner]

“I-I'm M-mickey,”

Mickey? Like Mickey Mouse? That was cute. Harmony loved Mickey Mouse when she was a little girl. Heck, she still loved Mickey Mouse. The only thing was, now Mickey Mouse made her sad because it reminded her of the little girl she could have been... the little girl she had been a long time ago, before everything had gone to crap at home. It was depressing to think about anything childish, really, because every cartoon character, pair of little shoes, and play ground at the park served as a reminder of the childhood she never had.

"I like it." She said, smiling. "That's a sweet name."

“So w-what are y-you doing out here?”

Should she tell him? Or should she not tell him the real reason for being out there. Having a private séance sounded ten shades crazier than batshit insane. The boy was stuttering, obviously suspicious and ill at ease with her already. Telling him the truth would probably only confirm his fears. Well, lying wasn't going to do a whole lot of good either, would it? What could she say? Anything she said would sound crazy or dishonest, and at least if she was being honest about being crazy, laying her cards out there on the table, he could decide for himself whether or not she was sane enough to associate with.

"I'm communing with the dead." She did not mean for it to come out that way. She put up a hand defensively. "It's not as crazy as it sounds... I promise. I just kind of like it out here... it's quiet, you know. And, the dead people have stories and sometimes I feel close to them and... well... yeah. I'll do us both a favour and just be going now." She said, sighing in defeat. How did Lila explain it? She'd done it so elegantly that Harmony hadn't been afraid and didn't think she sounded too crazy. But, then again, Harmony had a different definition of crazy than the rest of the world, or so it seemed. Why else would she be out here?

She began the walk towards the wrought iron gates, before turning to face Mickey one last time. "I like your style by the way. It's very... understated dark." She realized that this little aside wasn't helping the case for her sanity. "All righty. See you around." Great. Just great. She was already making herself a reputation for being crazy at a school of crazies.

She realized that she'd forgotten her bag when she was half way out the gate, and went sprinting back. "Sorry, forgot my stuff... I do tend to do that." She stood there for a moment, fiddling awkwardly with the straining strap of her owl tote bag. She'd have to sew it up before the strap ripped off completely, and remind herself not to haul around so many books. She debated leaving and staying. She really didn't want to go yet. Her ritual of cleansing wasn't yet finished, but how could she go about doing that with this boy still here? He already looked spooked, and witnessing Harmony meditating over burial mounds probably wouldn't set his mind at ease.

[Micheal Austin Thompson]

"I like it. That's a sweet name."

Sweet? That was a first. The girl smiled as she said that, which caused Mickey to give her a small smile in return. Did she mean it though? Micheal was used to having people pay him empty complements so that he would trust them just to be hurt later. The girl seemed sincere enough. Maybe he was just over-thinking everything in this situation. Yeah that was probably it. Not everyone was out to get him and ruin him emotionally even more than he already was, right? Of course, or else he wouldn't even have the few people that were close to him. Looking up at the girl, he realized that he should probably thank her or something. That was the polite thing to do when someone complemented you. “Thanks. What's y-your name?” He asked, still silently cursing himself. He was so close to saying that whole thing without stuttering, but of course he had to mess up on one word.

The girl seemed to think a bit over his other question about why she was here. Was it too personal? He didn't think so, but it was really just a matter of perspective. See? This is why he didn't socialize with people, it was to complicated. You either had to think a lot about what you wanted to say and how the other person might react, or you say something without thinking and risk having them get upset at you. Plus, humans were so unpredictable at times that you never knew what would upset someone and what wouldn't.

”I'm communing with the dead.”

Wait, what? Did he hear that right? Mickey hoped that he didn't, that sounded creepy. He watched as the girl put a hand up defensively and then try to explain herself. He kind of understood what she was talking about even though he didn't understand how anyone could like it in a cemetery. There was too many dead people and sad memories. Everyone was entitled to their own opinion however, and if this girl liked cemeteries he wouldn't judge her for it. Not openly at least. Mickey's eyes wandered to his unknown relative's grave when the girl mentioned the dead people having stories. Did she have a story? Mickey made a mental note to ask the girl sometime, maybe.

Before Mickey could even process all that the girl said, she sighed in defeat and turned away. Mickey watched as she started walking away, leaving her bag on the ground. What was he supposed to do? Go after her? Stay there? Take her bag to her? Mickey was determined that he was never going to listen to his counselor again, her instructions were much to complicated. He stood there in confusion and watched as the girl turned around and complemented his style. “Thanks.” He said although he wasn't sure if the girl heard him or not.

Mickey looked down at the grass again and started playing with it with his shoe. Some people just weren't meant to have that many friends, and Mickey just seemed to be one of them. Before he knew it, the girl was in front of him again. She apologized, saying that she forgot her stuff. Mickey looked up at her and played with one of his lip rings. He didn't really want her to go, but if she stayed, he'd probably just mess things up again and she'd end up leaving anyway. The girl seemed like she didn't really want to leave since she was lingering there fiddling with the strap on her bag. He cleared his throat. “Y-you don't h-have to go.”

Mickey looked back at Kathy's grave and was reminded of what the girl had said about the dead having stories sometimes. He wanted to learn anything he could about the relative that he had never met, but he wasn't sure if he should ask her or not. Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, Mickey silently debated with himself on if he should just man up and ask or not. Looking back at the girl, he decided to go for it. “Umm...Does she have a story?” he asked slowly, pronouncing each word carefully so that he wouldn't stutter. Mickey pointed toward Kathy's grave so that the girl would know who he was talking about exactly.

[Harmony Elizabeth Turner]

“Y-you don't h-have to go.” The boy said, stuttering. It was kind of endearing really, the stutter, but she realized that it probably made him uncomfortable, so she didn't comment on it. He already looked stressed enough by the situation. She didn't want to make it any worse. And, plus--- he'd just said she could stay! That was great. Now, she could finish meditating... and maybe, just maybe make her first actual friend at the school.

It was terrible really. Harmony had told herself again and again that she'd go out and make some friends, but something always got in the way and she'd never made time just to be with people her age. It always made her feel a little bit out of place and uncomfortable, and a little sad too. Sad because they were her age and they had troubles of their own, but they still wouldn't be able to relate to her. Even the other addicts she'd met in the few extra group therapy sessions she'd attended had no idea what she was going through. Sure, she knew that alcohol addiction was terrible and everything. And, as much as she'd like to think of it otherwise, sex addiction was no laughing matter either. All addictions shared a sort of helplessness and shame that should have made her feel somehow connected, somehow closer to these people than she did the rest of the population. But, she still didn't feel like they were even living on the same planet.

Their addictions were all horrible, but they'd never been addicted to heroin. Heroin had changed her permanently. She'd done other drugs too, right alongside alcohol and cigarettes, stranger sex, and whatever. But, it had been heroin that had created the split in her life. There was a 'before' and 'after' Harmony that began and ended with heroin. Harmony before heroin was becoming a troubled young girl, she did use drugs, she was making the wrong choices in her life. But, Harmony after heroin didn't have choices and she most certainly didn't have a life. There was only heroin and the need for more. The high didn't even last that long. It became shorter and shorter, it seemed. It took more and more to get her high as she developed a tolerance to the drug. And, then she did crazier and crazier things to get her hands on it. Harmony 'before' had died and was replaced forever by Harmony 'after'. She still craved it. Sometimes the cravings were so bad she wanted to tear open her own skin.

How could she talk to someone whose vice was drinking the pain away when she was covered in track marks? Alcoholism could happen to anybody. It was terrible, really, it was really unfortunate, but it could have been anyone. Heroin took another kind of crazy, or maybe it created another kind of crazy. If you told someone you were an addict they looked at you differently, but they usually assumed that there was a chance you could overcome it, even here. They all had stories about relatives who had been alcoholics who'd sobered up when their children were born and stayed sober until the day they died. When you told people you were an addict, they always had an inspirational story for you.

If you told them you were addicted to heroin, that inspirational spark went right out of their eyes and their whole manner changed. You were at the mercy of god, then. No one could help you. Heroin addicts were shells of human beings. Those people who were so ready to tell you that you could overcome any adversity, that you could kick any addiction if you prayed hard and went to AA, they didn't have anything to say to you after that. They didn't have an uncle who died sober after being a heroin addict for years, no auntie who found that she could say 'no' at parties or whatever after she took up yoga and meditation. Heroin addicts were a different kind of screwed up than the rest of the addicts. It was a lonely way to live.

"Thanks." She said. "I'm Harmony, by the way." She made an abortive gesture to shake his hand, but then just gave him a little wave, because who knew if he was one of those kids that went berserk on you at the slightest touch. My friends would call me Nee if I had any left. That was another problem with being a heroin addict. All of your friends were dead, missing and might as well be presumed dead or, if they were very lucky, completely clean and not wanting to have a thing to do with you. She rubbed absently at the spot on her arm where most of the track marks were clustered.

“Umm...Does she have a story?” They were the first clear words he'd spoken.

"Her? Kathy?" Harmony was a little bit surprised by the question, but searched every inch of her brain for something she might have heard about Kathy Thompson when she'd been inquiring over at the historical society about the people out here with Lila's blessing. "I think she was a painter or something... yeah, I think she painted scenes from around Trinity." She remembered Kathy Thompson now. "My friend Lila knew her. She used to ask people what colour they thought the sky was, and if they just said 'blue' then she'd tell them that they weren't looking close enough." Harmony smiled, fondly, as if it were her own story, the story of an old friend. "She used to say that the sky was made up of so many different colours, shades of blue yes, but more than that, there was yellow and purple and green out there too, and colours we don't even have names for because we were never looking for them." She walked over to stand beside Mickey at the grave. "She was a really special lady."

[Micheal Austin Thompson]

"Thanks. I'm Harmony, by the way.” Harmony said. She looked like she was about to hold her hand out for him to shake it, but thought better of it and waved to him instead. He smiled slightly and gave her a small wave in return. He understood why she didn't offer to shake his hand, a lot of people at St. Helena's seemed to be terrified of other people touching them. Mickey didn't mind having other people touch him all that much though. “It's n-nice to meet you.” He said. It was true, the girl seemed nice even if she was a little strange. Who wasn't though? Especially at their school.

"Her? Kathy?"

Mickey nodded and waited while the girl seemed to think for a little bit. "I think she was a painter or something...” The boy found himself smiling at that. An actual smile instead of his normal fake one. So he wasn't the only artist in his family. The boy remained silent as Harmony continued telling him what she had found out about his relative. His eyes traveled over to her grave as she talked about Kathy's view on the sky. It almost made him feel like he had met the woman, at least once. He could imagine her now instead of just a mysterious name on his family tree that everyone seemed to have forgotten about. He wondered who Lila was, the friend that Harmony had mentioned. She had to be an elderly lady to have known Kathy. Maybe he would find out about whoever Lila was one day, and more about his relative. Mickey looked over at Harmony, who had walked over to stand beside him. Giving her a small smile, he decided to explain why he wanted to know about Kathy's story. “She was my great-aunt or something. I never knew her.” He said, determinedly enunciating each word so that he wouldn't stutter.

Mickey quickly studied the girl beside him. She looked a little younger than her, but he wasn't sure. The pair probably looked strange standing together. Harmony looked normal and pretty. A person that people actually wanted to be around and talk to. On the other hand, Mickey looked like an emo guy that most people either ignored or made fun of. Most people at the school probably just assumed that Mickey was suicidal like his brother. While he did think about it sometimes, he knew that it would be useless to try and he would never actually go through with it. Most of the time the boy was actually content with his life, or as content as he could be given the situations that he was put through. There was a lot of things that he would change in a heartbeat if he could but he would never be able to, so why should he worry about it?

((OOC: Sorry it's so short.))

[Harmony Elizabeth Turner]

“She was my great-aunt or something. I never knew her.” He didn't swallow or stutter a single word. Harmony was weirdly proud for him. It was like they'd been friends already. Friends in some weird previous life, maybe, but friends anyway. She could feel that he was a good kid, and there was a sort of familiarity to him. Maybe it was the fact that she could see that he was trying so hard. It was endearing.

"Oh." Should she say sorry? That's what you usually said when you found out that someone was dead, right? Sorry that you didn't know her? Instead, she ended up speaking before her mind could decide what to say. "Well, then you must have some pretty awesome blood in those veins. She had her paintings donated to a folk art museum." That didn't come out half as sympathetic as it was intended to be. "Are you an artist too?"

He looked the the artist type. He had those observant, watchful, haunted eyes. Haunted. That's what artists were. And, starved a lot of the time. Thank goodness it wasn't the case with this one, though he wasn't chubby. Where was her train of thought going? Her mind did seem to wander more these days than it used to. She wondered if that was a sign that she was becoming someone else. Becoming someone who thought hard about things and brooded about life and death. Not negative brooding though... just deep thought. It was freeing in a way as much as it seemed to weigh her down. Her thoughts were everywhere all the time now.

It probably had something to do with her unfinished meditation. She needed to centre herself again, she knew this, as much as she was enjoying herself. The random train of her thoughts. Lila would tell her to let go, and let herself explore up there a moment, but Lila didn't know what it was like to be an addict. When you were an addict, even clean, the moment you let your mind wander your thoughts invariably strayed back to the object of your obsession... heroin.

[Micheal Austin Thompson]

"Well, then you must have some pretty awesome blood in those veins. She had her paintings donated to a folk art museum." The boy chuckled lightly, a smile crossing his face again. He really wanted to see Kathy’s paintings at the museum, but that could be saved for another day. "Are you an artist too?"

Michael wondered how she guessed that he liked art so easily. Nodding, Mickey cleared his throat quietly before answering, “Yeah, I like to draw a lot” Mickey would probably never get any of his art put into a museum like his grandmother or anything, but if he liked to draw he could still be considered an artist, right? He wondered what the girl liked to do. Maybe she was an artist too, or a singer. There seemed to be a lot of singers at the school. He always figured that Ciel got all of the musical ability in their family and was just content with listening to his brother and other people sing.

Looking down at his aunt’s grave again, his gaze focused on the other bouquet of flowers resting against the tombstone. He didn’t know all that much about flowers so he couldn’t place what type they were. They’re pretty though, he thought. Mickey wondered if Harmony knew anything about the person who put the flowers on everyone’s grave. She seemed to spend a lot of time at the cemetery, so she might have seen the person once or something. “Hey, do you know who leaves the flowers on everyone’s graves?” He asked. It probably seemed like a really random question, but Mickey was a random guy most of the time.

He felt like he needed to figure out who left the flowers on his relative’s grave so he could thank her or something. Maybe Harmony actually knew the person and could thank her for him.

Mickey rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet as he looked around the cemetery. They were the only two living people there, surrounded by hundreds of the dead. He thought about suggesting that they head back to the school, but Harmony seemed completely at ease among all of these people and he could tell that she really didn’t want to leave earlier when she said that she would. Mickey could man up and deal with it, it’s not like they were going to come out of their graves as zombies or something. However, if they did, they probably wouldn’t have any problem eating him at all. He would literally have a heart attack and just drop dead on the spot the minute he saw a hand come out of the ground. Either that or he would take off running and hope that by some miracle he wouldn’t trip on the way to the gate.

(I'm really sorry that it took so long.)

[Harmony Elizabeth Turner]

“Yeah, I like to draw a lot.”

It made sense. He looked like an artist. It was all in the hands, or maybe it was all in the eyes. Artists had a way of looking at things that was different from other people. She'd have to talk to Lila about that. She examined the boy as he spoke. He was aesthetically, quite pleasing. His presence was unobtrusive to the point of being nearly feminine. He was what normal girls would call 'cute', Harmony supposed. Maybe that's what she would have called him too, in another life where she wasn't a heroin addict, and she wasn't a creepy girl sitting around in a cemetery to find her inner peace. All things considered, it was probably saying a lot that she still had any opinion of him at all. It was a wonder that she wasn't too brain addled... or to dead as a door nail and six feet under--- to judge on appearances like a regular, shallow, beautifully uncomplicated person.

No, that wasn't right. There was no such thing as an uncomplicated person. People were all complex. That was what made them people. To think otherwise was silly, really. If anything, drugs hadn't added to her complexity. If anything, they'd made her less of a person and taken away from what should have been her complex personality and left her with... a complex? Could she call it that? She didn't know. She didn't know anything any more. She never did, really, and admitting that was more refreshing than she could have imagined. She was like a new born baby... a drug addicted, somewhat world weary baby, but a baby none the less. Everything was new. She was rediscovering herself as a person. She was rediscovering people. It should have been exhilarating, but this new person she was was turning out to be pretty mellow. Maybe mellow wasn't such a bad thing. She hadn't gotten a face tattoo yet, had she? That was always a good sign that you were on the road to making better life decisions.

“Hey, do you know who leaves the flowers on everyone’s graves?”

She realized that she must have been staring off into space, or worse staring off into space directly at him for a few moments, so his voice brought her back with a little jolt of long forgotten embarrassment. It was hard to feel embarrassment when you had no self respect to begin with. Rebuilding some respect for herself was going to be a large part of her journey, she suspected. Getting to know this new person who was inhabiting her drug free body was going to be another. "Oh, her? That'd be my friend Lila." Harmony smiled, just thinking about her. It was hard not to. The old woman was so full of... what was it? Spice? Quirkiness? What did you call that? She'd have to look it up. Lila was a trip, that was one thing she knew for certain. "She visits all of the graves."

He still looked a bit uneasy, but it was strangely enough, a good look on him. Not being uneasy... but being innocent. Sort of like being untouched by life. It was refreshing after all of the cock sure bully types she'd known in school before heroin. One thing that being an addict taught you was that nothing was permanent. People disappeared all the time, and if you liked someone, you had better tell them before it was too late. If you thought something was beautiful, you had better enjoy it while you could, because there were going to be a good many ugly things to come. And, maybe she'd never get a chance to speak to this sweet boy again. "You're kind of adorable." She said. She wasn't being blunt, but honest. Who knew what would happen to this boy before the end of the year? He could be one of the suicidal ones, for all she knew. He was a sensitive artist--- he fit the bill. "And, you know... maybe some day you'll have some of your art up in a gallery. Maybe you'll even donate some of it to the folk art museum."


(No problem! I've not been replying to a lot of my threads... :/ Life does have a habit of getting in the way.)

[Micheal Austin Thompson]

Mickey looked up and noticed the girl looking at him. Did she say something and he just missed it? No, he would have noticed if she had said something. He didn’t have anything on his face or clothes did he? Mickey looked down at his clothes, a simple tee-shirt and pair of black skinny jeans. He didn’t see anything on them and didn’t know of any time that he could have gotten anything on his face. It was still a possibility however. Mickey hoped that he didn’t have anything on his face, which probably would have been embarrassing. It seemed like something that would happen with his luck however.

Mickey turned his attention onto his converse. They were getting really old and were already worn out. The fabric was a blue color that had faded three or four shades from its original dark blue color. Mickey had drawn on them with a black sharpie a few years ago, but the drawings were now faded so much that you could barely tell what they were supposed to be. Mickey ran a hand through his hair as he looked back up. The girl seemed to have come back from whatever train of thought she was lost on before and, thankfully, wasn’t staring at her anymore.

"Oh, her? That'd be my friend Lila." The girl smiled as she answered his question. Mickey recognized the name as the lady that had known Kathy. He bit his lip slightly as he thought of what to say next. “Umm…can you tell her that I said thank you? For putting the flowers on Kathy’s grave.” He wondered why the lady decided to put the flower’s on everyone’s graves. It was impossible for someone to know everyone in the cemetery, so she was giving flowers to strangers. Mickey decided to just write it off as a rare act of extreme kindness. It wasn’t like he was one to be able to say anything about weird behavior anyway. He was made fun of most of his life for being weird after all.

"You're kind of adorable."

Mickey blinked at the random complement and felt his cheeks heat up slightly. Mickey wasn’t adorable, at least not in his eyes. He was a weird, clumsy, awkward, stuttering idiot. Did this girl seriously think that he was adorable though? She seemed sincere enough, but he wasn’t sure. After being put down constantly for so much of his life all of these compliments were completely new to him. His self-confidence level had dropped so low over the years that you had to dig to find it. Just the thought that someone could view him as adorable or anything else that was positive was strange to the boy. He cleared his throat and looked at the girl again. “Thanks.”

"And, you know... maybe some day you'll have some of your art up in a gallery. Maybe you'll even donate some of it to the folk art museum."

That was easy for her to say, she had never seen any of his art. He wondered why she was saying this stuff. It seemed really random to him, but he probably shouldn’t object. How often did he get complemented anyway? He should probably just stop questioning it and be grateful for them. Mickey felt like he should complement her back, but he didn’t really know what to say. The boy still didn’t know that much about the girl. Mickey felt bad. How many times had she complemented him, and he couldn’t even think of one complement to give her? He officially failed at being a normal human being.

[Harmony Elizabeth Turner]

“Umm…can you tell her that I said thank you? For putting the flowers on Kathy’s grave.”

Harmony smiled. He really was a sweet heart, wasn't he? "Of course." She said. "Lila will be glad just to know that there are still people around who care about the past. We're pretty much the only regulars this cemetery gets... sorry, that's really weird isn't it?" She found herself laughing lightly at the realization just how bat shit insane that all sounded. Too bad, too. She was really hoping that she wouldn't scare this skittish boy off. He seemed like a really neat person. She could use a friend at school. But, how did one become friends with another kid at school? Harmony hadn't been in a normal school setting in so long that she honestly couldn't remember.

When her life was run by her addiction, fellow addicts who kept you from dying in your sleep, or who shared a crummy mattress with you, were your friends. From the school experiences that she could still remember, whoever had the most free booze and cigarettes was her friend by default. Before that, friends were a blank in her mind. Then, there was Lila who came into her life and extended her beautiful spiritual hand to Harmony without much prompting, and just like that became Harmony's first friend since she'd been back in the 'real' world, as well as her spiritual advisor. But, even a wonderful friend like Lila could only fill so many roles in Harmony's life. She needed a school mate for a friend... someone who was about her age, who knew of her struggles at St. Helena's because they'd been there... even if not in any of the same classes, they'd have experienced some part of the same life she lived just by virtue of being a student there.

Lila had been encouraging her to try talking to some people for weeks. Harmony had come up with a million excuses for why she couldn't make friends at school, and Lila hadn't attempted to argue with her. She'd just said, so wisely, "When you're ready, just talk to someone." She made it sound so simple, it made Harmony feel a bit ridiculous about fighting so hard against the idea. Who was she fighting against anyway? Just herself. She was the one holding herself back from meeting new people. And, maybe they wouldn't like her. There was always a possibility that you were going to be rejected when you put yourself out there, but that was life. And, maybe she would scare this boy away, but she was just glad to be alive and a little rejection didn't scare her. At least, that's what she told herself as she prepared herself for the next question.

"So... this is going to sound kind of odd, but humour me a minute. I know that I don't come off as the most... how should I put it... sane person, but I want you to know that I'm not violent or anything, so there's nothing to be afraid of. I don't know a lot of people at school... or actually any, except for my room mate. And, you seem really nice, so I was wondering if maybe you wanted to be friends? It's okay if you don't want to be. It's entirely up to you, but yeah, just something to think about?"

All of the beautiful thoughts she'd been having came out in the form of pure verbal awkwardness. It was a new thing for Harmony. She was usually pretty comfortable with talking to people, or at least she had been of late... on the rare occasions that she'd actually allowed herself some human interaction. So, maybe her social skills were a bit rusty, but really, what a giant verbal turd that entire speech was. It made her cringe internally to hear herself speaking, but it wasn't unbearable. Hopefully he wouldn't be too put off by the whole crazy girl in the cemetery aspect of everything and might be able to focus on... her lovely tote bag? Something other than the scary crazy lady aura she was pretty sure she was giving off.

[Micheal Austin Thompson]

A slightly nervous smile crossed the boy's lips just because he wasn't sure what to do. She came here regularly? Mickey couldn't imagine anyone making regular visits to a place as morbid as a cemetery. The thought of coming here more than whenever his feet felt like torturing him while he was wandering around town was horrifying. Of course, not everyone had the misfortune of having images of their brother dieing haunting them like he did. Death wasn't as scary to others as it was to him.

Still, did he really want to talk to a person who enjoyed spending her spare time in a cemetery? Not really, but he didn't like talking to anyone other than the few people he was close to. The girl seemed nice enough though, even if she was a little strange. Strange should actually be expected considering the school he went to. At least she hadn't made fun of him yet. Really she did the opposite, she complemented him quite a few times. As much as he wanted to make up an excuse to leave, he decided against it. Should he really be judging people after he had been judged and hurt so many times by others?

Mickey looked up when the girl started talking again. A confused look slowly came across his features as he listened to her. She really wanted to be his friend? Why? All he had been was a stuttering idiot so far. He didn't get what would make her want to spend any more time with him. Plus, could you even make friends that easily? Was that even possible? He didn't know. It wasn't like he had all that much experience or anything. The boy could probably count the number of friends he had ever had on one hand. The main one would be his brother, and they were basically born into that friendship. He did want more friends though. If this girl actually wanted to be his friend, why would he turn her down? This might be his only chance to make another friend.

He cleared his throat. “Umm...sure.” He paused, debating over actually asking the question that he wanted to ask or not. The boy chewed on his lip nervously while he thought. “Can I um...ask you a question?” he asked. Mickey waited a little bit for her to answer before asking the question that he wanted to. “Why do you want to be my friend?”

(Sorry it's so short. I can't think today.)

[Harmony Elizabeth Turner]

“Why do you want to be my friend?”

Harmony smiled over at the boy, feeling a little more relaxed now that they were officially friends. "Well, I dunno. You seem really nice... and you haven't run screaming in the opposite direction of me yet, so that's always good."

She pulled a tube of lip-gloss out of her tote-bag. It was lightly tinted and cherry scented. She could have practically eaten the stuff if she could, it smelled so nice. She hoped she didn't look too weird practically making out with her tube of lip-gloss--- it was the sort of tube that required that sort of manipulation. When her lips were sufficiently moistened she capped the tube and then pocketed it, rather than placing it back in her bag. It was cold out, and her lips became easily chapped, especially when she was constantly licking them to taste the lip-gloss. She didn't want to have to search around in her bag every time she needed a touch up.

"And, you've got fantastic hair, I'd love to play with it some time." She said, with a half-joking tone and an impish glint in her eye. "Why do you ask? I'm sure lots of people want to be your friends." She said, making her way over to a grave whose daisy bouquet had been disturbed. She straightened out the flowers with encouraging grace. At least she could do something useful while she was here. She liked the daisies. She'd have to ask Lila which shop was carrying them. Then again, they could well have come from Lila's own garden, or one of the neighbour's gardens for that matter. When the selection at the local flower shop didn't satisfy her, Lila had a habit of either clipping her own roses or 'borrowing' some of her neighbour's better flowers. Harmony had been slightly alarmed when she'd first seen Lila in the act.

They'd been walking down to the cemetery from Lila's house, where Harmony had joined her for lunch one weekend. And, right there in broad daylight, Lila had stopped at someone's front garden, pulled out a pair of garden shears from her purse, and clipped yellow rose. Harmony had been certain the owner of the house would come out or call the cops or something, but nobody seemed to notice when Lila clipped their roses, even if they were standing right there. She'd been living in Trinity before they were even concepts in their parent's minds, and she had earned the right to clip whatever roses she pleased. Harmony couldn't help but admire her audacity. Lila was one heck of a character.

Harmony was partially turned away from Mickey now. "How did you end up at St. Hell's anyway? That is what they call it now, right?" She hoped the question wasn't too insensitive. "If you don't want to answer me, that's okay too. Sorry, that was a really personal question, wasn't it? I forget sometimes that most people are very private. And, they have every right to be... I used to be pretty private too." She realized that it sounded like she was about to convert him to some crack-pot religious cult or something, so she backtracked. "I still am in some ways I guess, but recently I've just not seen any point in hiding things from people... I mean, I'm at a psycho school, aren't I? Doesn't leave much to the imagination. It's a little bit freeing, if you ask me... to be labelled from the start. If people think you're crazy you can do anything and it wont surprise them... you don't need any of those silly pretences that sane people keep up in public." She glanced back at Mickey, wondering if he was still following.

"Lila taught me that, I guess. Oh, she's not insane or anything... well, not in the clinical sense anyway. She's just old, and old people are given extra allowances like psychos and young children... they're expected to be a bit batty. Do you know, she hasn't paid for milk in the past ten years? She just goes up to the register and the grocery store and 'forgets' to give the cashier all of the money she owes him, and nine times out of ten they wont even mention it, and when they do they tell her not to worry about it. She can be as blunt, rude, open and honest with anyone as she wants to be, and people wont judge her. She's beyond judgement... and if you think about it, so are we." She picked up a red carnation and inhaled its frosty scent. "I feel more sane, now that I'm crazy, than I have in my entire life."