“And may God show the way for this young man. God bless you.”

The three young men that were sitting on the front pew stood up as the service was pronounced over. Ben cried even harder and Mark enveloped him in a hug, trying to soothe his friend. Paul sagged back down on the pew and rubbed his eyes. Vicky and Tim were there too. Tim patted Paul on the shoulder and went over to Mark to talk to him about something. Vicky stayed behind and tried to talk some sense into Paul and tried to tell him that crying was of no use. It definitely won’t bring Christian back.

And the thing was, Paul ignored her. He pretended that Vicky wasn’t there and wiped his eyes dry before standing up and mumbling something about getting some fresh air and with those words, he walked out of that church.

That church itself was a part of Christian’s younger life. He was the pianist for Sunday service and even though he’d grown up and was in a1, he’d still returned to that church to pray and to look around. There were far too many times when Christian had gone to that church for confessions. That was when he was in his university life and he’d had far too many flings and one-night-stands. He’d felt uncomfortable and after all those sins, he had only one place to go – the church.

However, Paul was in time for the burial. He couldn’t help himself when tears came falling down, seeping into the grass-covered soil. He threw a white rose onto the lid of the coffin as they lowered it down into the ground, ready to be covered by the soil. He’s sure to miss that blond guy. He’d missed him so much already and this is not even the first or the second day after Christian’s death. He wondered how he could go on and carry on with his life after this before going insane.

Mark and Ben threw roses onto the freshly dug ground. Some of Christian’s friends threw red roses while others threw white and pink. There had been a couple in that funeral service that the three of them were sure they’re Lyeana’s parents. They’d been crying during the whole time and Mark had thought that they had told Christian’s parents that their daughter couldn’t make it here because she was in another place, working. Inger had told them that Christian and Lyeana would finally be reunited, after nearly a decade of separation.

Mark and Paul put on their sunglasses and straightened their black suits. Ben had already removed himself from the place to a tree nearby, sitting back on his heels and rocking himself slightly as he cried his eyes dry under the shade of that tree.

 

 

~*~*~ Two months later ~*~*~

 

Someone was shaking his shoulder. But there’s no point. He couldn’t escape from that dream. He knew he was a dream – it felt like a dream. So, why couldn’t he wake? He felt a strong wave of emotion washing over him as he relived that day, that moment when he knew he’d lost everything.

“Mark!” Ben shouted, shaking his friend’s shoulders but his efforts seemed to be in vain.

Mark was twisting and turning on his bed, mumbling many things at a time – things that Ben couldn’t understand. Mark had been screaming earlier and that’s what brought him to his friend’s room. Sweat broke out on Mark’s forehead as he battled his nightmare, struggling to wake from its demonic surroundings.

“MARK!!!”

He woke up with a jolt and sat up straight in bed. He looked around, gaining his bearings before his eyes fell on a figure standing beside his bed, clad in nothing but a pair of white boxers, his hands on his shoulders.

“Mark, you okay now?” Ben asked worriedly.

Mark nodded numbly. This wasn’t the first time he’d had this nightmare and to Ben, this wasn’t his first trip to Mark’s room in the unearthly hours of the morning to wake his friend. It seemed that Mark had been having so many nightmares ever since Christian’s death that Paul and Ben had been considering telling Tim or Vicky and probably getting Mark professional help. Their worries for Mark begun to take on life as they came true.

The songs that Mark had written for the past few weeks were gothic-like; amongst them were sad songs – songs so sad that they’d decided to save some for a tribute album. He’d even completed a song that Christian had left off but that song was no better. Something was eating him and he wasn’t telling. Sometimes, he spent hours shutting himself in the music room in that house, playing the piano.

Ben and Paul were curious about Mark’s behaviour. He even acted as if they were invisible. He ate breakfast; lunch and dinner with them sometimes but there were times when he skipped those meals. Even though he ate with the other two, he never spoke to them. Mark was never happy ever since he’d returned from the funeral two months ago. He’d never even smile. To Ben and Paul, Mark was like a zombie. He never got out of the house – since the remaining of a1 were taking a break after that “incident”.

After ensuring that Mark was back in bed, Ben closed the door to his bedroom gently and went down to the kitchen to get himself a drink; to figure out what he had to do to help Mark. 

“Ben?” Paul asked groggily as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Yeah, it’s still me. Same old me.”

“I realised that,” Paul deadpanned. “Seriously, what are you doing here? I mean, at this kind of time.”

“Mark was up.”

“Really? Is he okay?” Paul got himself a shot of whisky before sitting on the surface of the breakfast bar.

“Yeah, gone back to sleep now, I supposed.” Ben eyed the tumbler in Paul’s hands. “Are you sure whisky is good for you early in the morning?”

Paul shrugged. “I dunno… just felt like it. What are you? My mother?” Paul asked sarcastically.

“No, but I think I can pass as a concern friend, can’t I?” Ben paused. “But I still think whisky at two in the morning isn’t very healthy.”

Paul hesitated and then, reluctantly got off the work-surface and poured himself a glass of orange instead. He poured the whisky down the sink before rinsing the tumbler. “You know Ben, you’re beginning to sound like Chris.”

“Chris…” Ben said softly. “I miss him.”

“Me too,” Paul admitted, taking a sip of his orange. “It’s just that the house is pretty quiet without him now, ain’t it?”

“Yea, no more waking up at four in the morning to wander into the kitchen and finding Chris out here all alone for the whole night, writing his best ideas.” Ben looked at the crystal clear water in his glass. “And now, whenever I walk into the kitchen, there’s no one sleeping in here… it’s… it’s…”

“Quite unnatural. I mean, yeah, I know what you mean. When you’re used to that person being at a place where you think you’d always find him, and suddenly, you didn’t see him anymore. You would always feel as if you’re sleepwalking, especially when you think you’re going to bump into him; you can feel him right there at that corner over there – but he wasn’t there. You didn’t bump into him. He’s like an empty space in your life that you can never get anyone else to fill it up anymore.” Paul took a deep breath. “If that’s what you’re feeling right now, Ben, then we’re on the same boat, mate.”

“Some boat we’re on, Paul,” Ben said. “I just can’t get over it. It’s been six months, you know.”

“I’m very much aware of that. Chris can never be replaced.”

 

A figure clad in white long-sleeves t-shirt and pants stood on the other side of the sliding glass door that led into the kitchen; a white cap pulled down low, casting a shadow over his face. No one could ever see him anymore.

It was disturbing knowing that fact. When he was alive, all the fans were always throwing themselves at him – he was so famous! But now, all he felt was this cold emptiness in him, something that couldn’t be warmed anymore. Despite that, he was at peace. He was with God now, there was nothing to worry about anymore – just his three friends.

He’d been looking down from heaven’s gates countless times. He’d been there when Ben and Paul were discussing about Mark’s problems. He was there when Mark was thrashing on his bed. He could feel Mark’s fear. He could see Mark’s nightmares.

But there was nothing he could do to help Mark. He was on the other side now. He was no longer mortal. Besides, he didn’t even have the power to do anything anymore. There was no denying, Heaven was actually a nice place – beautiful music flows through Heaven everyday; beautiful people in Heaven clad in white; everything was beautiful in Heaven, right down to every single miniscule detail. He wouldn’t trade anything in exchange for his place in Heaven. It’s his Home now.

Then again, it struck him deep inside that there was something that he was willing to do, just to get out of Heaven. His friends. His three friends worry him the most.

Mark – he was so scared that there were times when he didn’t dare to go to bed. He wouldn’t allow himself to sleep, not even for a minute. But there was nothing to be done. It’s nature that all mortals need to sleep. Eventually, the nightmares came when he went to bed. Those nightmares fed on Mark’s fears. Those very same emotions drove them to life; fuelled them well enough to haunt him every night.

Paul had been drowning his sorrows in alcohol. He’d been drinking so much that he sometimes slept off his booze for a day. Ben wasn’t much help to Paul – he drank with Paul. Mark couldn’t’ do anything though.

Although Ben looked as if he was fine… he actually wasn’t. There were nights when he cried himself to sleep. Christian knew he missed him very much but there was absolutely nothing he could do to go back to his friends – no matter how much he’d begged to the higher powers of Heaven. He’d had wanted to be down there on Earth so that his friends could see him and so that he could tell him not to do all those things that had made them suffer.

Christian sighed and turned from the window. He couldn’t bear to look at his friends any longer. He hoped that tomorrow would be a better and brighter day for the three of them and he’d wished them good luck. They had his blessings. That’s what dead people are good for. They could bless mortals good luck.

The yellow light surrounding the young man faded slowly as Christian reluctantly tore himself away from the glass door. It’s time to he returned to Heaven. But he could be down on Earth again the next day, and the following day, and the following day. He could do that everyday for eternity… there was nothing left to do anymore besides going down to Earth and look at the antics that humans could do. Besides, no one could ever see him, or touch him – they just pass right through him – or feel him. He was nothing, not even like a speck of dust. He was just a spectrum or something – he couldn’t figure it out himself.

He sighed again. “Goodbye, Paul. Goodbye Mark and to you too, Ben.” With those words, Christian left as he orbed himself to Heaven.

 

Paul thought he’d heard someone calling his name.

“Did you hear that?” Paul asked Ben.

“Hear what?”

“Someone called us.”

“No one called us.”

“It sounded like someone was saying goodbyes to us.”

“Paul, you’re tired. Not to mention that you’re probably delirious. Go back to bed.”

“But I was positive!”

“Paul…”

 

The next morning, the three of them ate breakfast solemnly; silence so thick in the air that it might take only a butcher knife to slice through. Paul and Ben were both aware that after breakfast, Mark would run away and shut himself in the music room again. Even Ben couldn’t gain access to the room anymore, even though he’d had the duplicate door key. Mark had bolted the door from the other side.

Just as Paul was getting ready to call Tim to discuss Mark’s matter, the doorbell rang and Inger let herself into the house.

“Hi, Inger,” Paul and Ben said simultaneously.

“Hi Paul, hi Ben.” Inger plopped down on the settee nearest to the door and rummaged through her briefcase. “In case you’re wondering, it’s just coincidence that I’m here. The Bretts’ had invited me and Stein to stay over for a few days. So, I thought why should I not drop by? Besides, I have something to give to the three of you.” She stopped talking and stared at the two faces in front of her. “What’s wrong? Where’s Mark?”

“Mark… um… Mark… he’s upstairs. Song-writing.” Paul stumbled.

“Oh,” said Inger but it was one of those “ohs” that was used when someone knew that something was hidden from them. But still, she didn’t press on and she didn’t ask further questions.

A few moments later, Inger took several strides to the opposite side of the room and gave Ben and Paul each a white envelope.

“Give this to Mark, would you?” Inger asked, an affectionate smile playing on her lips. She pressed another envelope into Paul’s left hand. “Read this with him, would you?”

Ben and Paul nodded.

Inger shouldered her handbag and made a move to leave to house. “See you around, I hope?”

“Definitely,” Paul said, nodding. “Thanks, Inger.”

“It’s alright!” Inger said as she left.

Paul closed the front door and sat down on the settee next to Ben. “What’s in it?”

“Keys.”

“What?!”

“Keys.”

“What! Why?”

“That’s what it is – keys.”

“I know it’s keys, dummy. I opened the envelope. But why?”

“Do you think we should call Mark?”

Paul nodded at Ben’s abrupt change of subject. “Sure. I don’t see why not.”

Mark’s eyes were glazed. It was as if he’d been crying but there were no tearstain. His eyes seemed lifeless; his face grim and emotionless. He didn’t say anything when he saw the key, which shocked Paul and Ben a lot. Usually, Mark was the one to ask twenty questions when he saw something unusual. Ben and Paul glanced at each other before Paul picked up the envelope and opened it.

Paul paled for a moment but quickly recovered. “Ben, read it.” He handed the paper to Ben who then read the contents of the letter out loud.

The letter was written by Stein himself – telling them that Christian’s house in Norway was the property that they had wanted the three of them to have. The keys were duplicates to the house. The reason why they’d given the house to Ben, Paul and Mark was because the house itself held many memories of a1. Apart from that, there were many trophies and platinum discs in that house. There were just too many memories…

Mark turned his attention from Ben and Paul. He didn’t want to be here. He’s had his job in the music room. He wasn’t done with his freestyle song writing. He was sure that the next thing the others do was put him on a plane and they would all be on their way to Norway.

 

 

“If only you could see the tears

And the world you left behind

If only you could hear my song

Just one more time

 

Even when I closed my eyes

There’s an image of your face

Once again I came to realised

You’re a lose I can’t replace.

 

But it’s easier to run

Replacing this pain with something numb

It’s so much easier to go

Than face all this pain here all alone.

 

Just washing it aside

All of the helplessness inside

Pretending that I don’t feel misplaced

Is so much simpler than change.

 

Taken from Easier To Run (Meteora) by Linkin Park. Last two stanzas from “Soledad” by Westlife. Altered a little to fit into the mood.