Wicked Ones {bxb}

{Chapter 44 - Mourning Hour}

"Eat." Jahni set down a paper bag, the smell of warm soups wafting around the warehouse. No one felt much like indulging, but they obliged anyways, Gigi picking a warm cup and cradling it in her hands.

"Vincent," Jahni called his name, but he was long lost to the distance, watching shafts of light hit the rafters above as he bit away at the rough flesh of his thumb.

"Vinny, you need to eat." Gigi sighed, but her voice was quiet. She knew full well not to bother him. That doing so would create a tense atmosphere and make the situation all the worse. "It's been three days." Her words were only a croak; a quiet song that didn't resonate with him. Nothing really had over the past few days. He had hardly left the warehouse, tired of hearing "I'm sorry for your loss", tired being told that Kailan was dead. He still felt otherwise.

Vinny stood to his feet, mute to the world beyond his own head. He lifted Kailan's backpack over his shoulder—that of which he had filled with as much as Kai's belongings as he could manage before the rest was shipped off to his parents—and trudged out into the cold winter weather. It had been chilly lately, snowing since the break of dawn. It didn't snow all that often in Seattle, but if Vincent were capable of feeling grateful for anything right now, it would be the blanket that dressed the city clad in white.

He took a seat against the wall of the warehouse, in the very same spot where Kailan had told him he loved him just a few days prior. He didn't think it was possible to still ache past the thick callus he had built, but the numb he felt could only protect him so much. He unzipped the bag, taking out a thick spiraled notebook—the one Kailan was always sketching in. If he'd been there, he'd be most certainly livid that Vinny had snooped through his art; Kailan had never been one for sharing his sketches. But that was why Vinny felt at ease when he saw them—because if there was anything in his world left of Kailan, left of his sentiment and his personality, and his brilliance, it was here in this book.

He refused to believe Kailan was dead. With every ounce of his being, he refused. But it felt more like denial than anything, and he knew it. He had no evidence to prove otherwise, and small things he had never noticed about Kailan were starting to register with him. He feared hospitals so much. Maybe there was more he hadn't let Vinny in on. Maybe the reason he didn't "trust himself with sharp objects" was because he might try something like this. Maybe that was the sole reason he told Vinny he loved him. Maybe he was saying goodbye.

His fingers clutched the pages in his hands as the sound of rusted hinges groaned and the warehouse door was opened.

"Vinny," Gigi said quietly, as she stepped outside. The snow cracked beneath her feet.

He could hear the concern in her voice but Vinny didn't bother looking. He felt the indented charcoal carvings of Kailan's sketches beneath his fingertips, but his eyes were on the small snowbanks and the dime-sized flakes in the distance. He looked pained, and abandoned, and no matter how much Gigi pleaded for his attention, Vinny wouldn't give her the time of day. He only shoved her away as she reached for his face.

She wanted to help him, but he was stubborn and miserable, and she could do little to persuade him to at least come back inside—to be stubborn and miserable where it was at least warm and safe. She rubbed her arm, discouraged as she stepped back into the warehouse. Her eyes landed on April immediately and she frowned. "I don't know what to do."

April pursed her lips, and her voice sounded rough and ruined as she spoke, "I'll try." She stepped out into the cold, and leaning against the door, April brushed her long hair behind her ear. "We all miss him, you know." She studied Vinny, chewing anxiously on her lower lip. "You're not the only one grieving. And I don't think Kailan would want you wasting away because of this."