“Yeah,” Arty all but growled, her eyes shooting off sparks. Nathan had always been weird about his emotions, burying them as best he could and deflecting any questions about how he really felt. This wasn’t the time or the place for his bullshit, and Arty was in a brawling sort of mood. If he pushed her, she wouldn’t be too grief-stricken to haul off and bust his nose. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d squabbled. 

Luckily, Audrey all but dove between them to diffuse the tension. She was a petite as ever (although, to be truthful, everyone was petite compared to Arty) and her smile still somehow worked itself into Arty and made her want to return it. “This is the first time I’ve been back since Christmas,” Arty ventured, letting Audrey steer the conversation away from the minefield between Nathan and herself. “I haven’t gone home to see my parents yet, but I knew they were coming here anyway.” The first time she’d seen her folks in months, and it was at a funeral. She couldn’t excuse it, even when she’d gotten off the plane choked with tears and had run to the nearest bathroom to cry her eyes out. 

Nathan’s quiet comment flung them back into depths too painful to delve. Audrey visibly shrank, and her voice was tiny when she whispered a response. "You really think I don't know that?"

Arty’s fists clenched and her shoulder went tight, ready to unleash a right hook that would knock him straight out of his seat when he broke down too. All the tension went out of him and he just crumbled. "I'm sorry. Arty, Audrey, it really is good to see you again, I mean it."

Her own shoulders curled into themselves; Arty felt so very tired and drained. She felt weak, and she never felt that way. When Nathan asked about Matt, Arty leaned over the back of the pew Audrey and Nathan were sitting in. “A’s right—he took it real hard. Ross found him half-dead under a bridge somewhere a couple days after it happened.” She cast her eyes up the aisle; Matt was slumped in the otherwise unoccupied Logan family pew. Noah’s mother and father were still talking to guests. Ross wasn’t in sight. 

After a long beat of silence, Arty wrapped an arm around Audrey’s shoulders and dragged her into a hug. “I don’t know. If I did, I’d… I’d have killed it for him.” She gave Audrey a squeeze and sank her teeth savagely into her lower lip to prevent the building tears from falling. “Hmm? Eighth grade?” She held Audrey off her shoulder to look at her. “Ooooh, that trip. Pah, I thought Nate was gonna die, he screeched so loud.” Arty turned to analyze Nathan’s reaction to the old story, but nothing doing. He was shut down. 

"Those were good times." He finally said. Then, up at the front of the cathedral, someone tapped a microphone and cleared their throat. Arty looked up and saw a priest in flowing vestments opening a prayer book. He began to read, a pair of golden reading glasses perched upon his nose.

Arty’s throat slammed shut. She couldn’t breathe. Her face heated up. The ceremony was starting. After this, it was the burial at the cemetery.

[i]No, no, no nononono. Too much, too real, make it stop[/i].

“Welcome, brothers and sisters. We gather here to honor the beloved memory of Noah—“ 

The words weren’t making sense, suddenly. The priest was mumbling gibberish that sounded obscene. Arty tried to suck in a gulp of air but it just wasn’t working. Her chest hollowed and ached and burned. [i]No, no, stop, you can’t do this, THIS ISN’T HAPPENING no no no NO NO NONONONONO[/i]! 

Arty stumbled sideways out of the pew, tripping on the end of the kneeler and almost falling. Ross, who was coming up the side aisle behind her, caught her elbow to steady her; as he looked into her face he grew alarmed and tried to hold her still but she shoved him and someone gasped and the priest spoke stern words into the microphone that boomed all throughout the cathedral and Arty was striding up the side aisle and her chest was too tight and she couldn’t breathe and she was looking at the casket and tearing the ceremonial sheet away and ripping the top open. Were there nails? Had there been nails holding it shut? Didn’t matter, Noah’s face, Noah’s sleeping face—they were going to put him in the ground, no, no, they couldn’t do that, anything but that—PLEASE GOD NO ANYTHING BUT THAT—

“[i]How could you do this to us?![/i]” A voice screamed and the stained glass windows rattled and sang from the force of it. Arty’s throat hurt and she banged on Noah’s still chest and kept screaming. “[i]You selfish son of a bitch how dare you do this to everyone who loves you—[/i]” Strong arms wrapped around her shoulders—definitely Ross—but she swung her head back and connected with his nose and she managed to slam her arm one last time into Noah’s chest. “[i]DON’T YOU DARE DIE LIKE THIS! DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE![/i]” 

Noah’s eyelids fluttered. His throat twitched. A soft breath fanned from his lips. He breathed. His chest rose and fell at slow, irregular intervals.