April 2023 - Side Story (Pt. 2) (Patreon)

Hey guys 👋 I'm so sorry for the wait, but here's the second part of the Side Story for April 2023, which is basically the 4th and final part of the Dead Man Walking series.

This part is 3.2K words long and I hope you guys enjoy it! 🥰

[Part 1]  |  [Part 2]  |  [Part 3] 

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Pushing the double doors open, you walk down the middle aisle, your legs carrying you to the open casket at the front even as your heart sinks lower and lower as you get closer. But before you can reach it, your mother stands up from her seat and steps in your way, stopping you in your tracks.

“Mama?” you ask shakily, voice nothing more than a whisper.

She reaches up and cups your cheek with that familiar and strangely comforting cold hand. “Vitya… You look… tired. Are you okay? Have you eaten anything today?” she asks worriedly, reverting back to Russian.

You shake your head softly. “No,” you answer simply to both her questions. You notice that she also looks just as tired as you feel, in fact, this might be the “messiest” you’ve seen her ever. It might not be apparent to those who don’t really know her, but you notice the weary bags under her eyes, which are clearly still fresh from shedding tears recently, and the little strands of platinum hair that have escaped from the elegant hair bun. Those won’t fly with your mom on most days. Everything about her, from her day-to-day appearance to the things she does, is meticulous.

So, you quickly try to reassure some of her concerns. “But I will be okay once this whole thing is done,” you lie.

Her thin lips tighten but whatever she’s about to say next is cut off when your father steps up beside her. He also looks tired and he greets you warily as if he’s afraid of saying something wrong. “Viktor…”

“Papa,” you greet back, just as wary. He looks as if he’s contemplating saying something, so you quickly cut him off, “If you don’t mind, I—” you choke a bit, “have to go see Sasha.” You’re too emotionally exhausted for some heartfelt talk right now, especially with your father.

Muttering an excuse, you shoulder your way to the front. Your parents step aside quietly, your mother taking your father’s arm and dragging him back to their seats.

You step up to the open casket and gingerly look down, trepidation crawling up your spine. But you quickly exhale in relief, letting out the breath that you didn’t even realize you were holding.

Sasha looks… peaceful as if he’s only sleeping and you are about to wake him up for school. The mortician who prepared the body must’ve been good… and expensive. But money has never been a problem for your family.

He might be a little paler, but the faint blush on his cheeks and forehead makes him look almost alive. You have to restrain the urge to reach out and run your hand through his hair like you often did. Instead, you set your hands on the edge of the casket.

The coldness of the material seeps through your thin gloves. You inspect the casket; it’s made out of bronze and the elegant engravings are highlighted with platings of gold. The inside is lined with plush red velvet and there, Sasha’s little body lies comfortably.

Sasha had often whined about being shorter than a lot of their peers, saying that he wanted to be as tall as you and Luka are. You always chuckled and reassured them that he would have his growth spurt later on, patting his head fondly.

Your heart twinges painfully as you realize that both you and he would never know whether your hypothesis will be proven right or not. In fact, a whole life, a whole bright future is just extinguished like that in one night.

That monster… you grit your teeth and your knuckles whiten as you grip the casket tighter. You’ll find them, even if it will be the last thing you’ll ever do. And even then, no matter what you do to the killer, the pain would not be the same as the one tearing through you right now—and probably till the rest of your life.

A little bit of commotion brings your attention away. You turn and freeze in place as you see a familiar figure striding fast toward you: Yvette, your ex, more commonly known as ‘Mirage’ by the entire city. Some guards are hounding behind her and your parents immediately shoot up from their seats, your mother’s face twisted in a scowl.

But before either you or they can move to intercept her, Luka pops up in front of her and stops her. Cara stands nearby, arm still wrapped around Ash protectively, but you can see that she’s ready to help Luka if necessary. Ash, in the meantime, glares at Yvette with such vitriol, the same look that…

Wait, Takashi is here? And Rin? You didn’t really notice, but to be fair, you didn’t really take the time to look around. You had only one thing on your mind. And you suppose he didn’t approach you earlier because he didn’t want to bother you. You honestly appreciate that.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Luka growls, crossing his arms. “Don’t you know that you’re not invited?”

“Please,” she pleads pitifully and you reflexively take a step toward her. Luka glances at you with a frown before stepping back and letting you handle her. Yvette looks relieved as she looks up at you.

“What are you even doing here?” you ask her wearily.

She fidgets in place. “I… I’m here to attend the funeral.”

“No shit,” you say before snarling, “But why? Why do you care? Especially after what you pulled in the comic store that day.” She flinches.

“I—” she stammers but you cut her off.

“I couldn’t care less if you made fun of me in front of your fans, but our son?” you seethe, stepping closer to her and she instinctively leans back. “You humiliated him like that. Someone who he thought was supposed to be his mother. I know you told me that you don’t want to be one, but couldn’t you have had some sympathy for your own kid, or are your fame and image the only thing you’ll ever truly care about?”

Fuck, now you feel a headache forming. You reach up to massage the bridge of your nose in an attempt to soothe it.

“I’m sorry…” she says. “I was panicking and I didn’t think it through…” Her pretty brown eyes are watering as she shrinks under your gaze.

You blink as you realize that you’ve been towering over her. Feeling guilty, you take a step back. “I’m not the one who you should be apologizing to,” you mutter. “Tell it to Sasha. He died still thinking that you saw him as an embarrassment.” You step to the side to let her pass.

You watch as she looks into the casket and probably sees her son’s face clearly for the second and last time ever, letting her etch Sasha’s face in memory. She brings her dainty hands up to her face as she starts sobbing. You look away. You don’t like seeing her cry.

Luka and Takashi appear beside you. “So, you’re just letting the bitch attend the funeral?” Luka asks. You glare at him. “Alright, I’m sorry about the coarse language. But you know I’m right though,” he mumbles the last part under his breath as if you can’t hear it. But you choose to ignore it.

“Yes,” you sigh. “It just doesn’t feel right not letting her have this.”

Takashi frowns, “But she was not even interested in becoming a mother and she made it clear just a few days ago. So, why now?”

“I asked her that too,” you admit. “But I don’t know, she might be regretting what she did. Either way, she’s still the woman who gave birth to Sasha and she has the right to be here, at the very least.”

“You’ve always been a better man than I am,” Takashi says quietly before focusing his attention on you. “If you need any help in… finding the one who did this, let me know. I’ll always be ready to assist you.”

You turn to look at him. “Thank you, Takashi,” you say your gratitude genuinely.

A hint of blush spreads on his cheeks. “N—No problem at all. We’re friends, after all,” he flusters before coughing in an attempt to cover it. “Well, I’ll better go check up on Rin. I have never seen them so down like this before.”

Before either you or Luka can respond to that, he’s already gone.

After another minute, Yvette steps away, still sobbing quietly, and goes to sit in the farthest seat from everyone else. Cara takes Ash’s hand and together, they walk over to the casket to get their last glimpse of Sasha. Ash is reluctant to take a look but with quiet encouragement from their mom, they brave themself.

Ash cries harder and they keep babbling Sasha’s name over and over as if he can still hear them. Cara bends down and brings Ash into a hug. Ash buries their face into their mom’s shoulder. She carries them in her arms and walks back to their seats beside Takashi and Rin.

Rin pats Ash’s back comfortingly, and Ash turns slightly to glance at Rin, tears still dripping from their green eyes. Rin starts talking to Ash in a low voice; you can’t really make out what the words are, not like you want to. Ash’s sobs start to quiet down and they respond with a few words as well.

The last person to go to the front is Luka. He looks down somberly, grey eyes a mixture of sadness and cold anger. You know he’s thinking of vengeance, like you, and you’re sure he’ll help you. He has always been caring and is really close with both Sasha and Ash, and they clearly love him too.

Instead of going back to his seat, however, he steps up to the podium. You are the one who’s supposed to give a eulogy speech, but you don’t mind Luka telling one of his own first. Tapping the mic to make sure it’s on, he starts to talk, telling stories about the mischievous shenanigans that MC and Ash were always up to whenever he babysat them. Hearing those stories makes you smile wistfully and even chuckle at some. After he’s done, he walks back to his seat beside you, nodding at you in a show of support.

Well, it’s your turn. As you saunter over to the podium, you reach into the inner pocket of your overcoat, pulling out a sheet of paper containing the eulogy speech you’ve just finished writing last night. You spent a lot of time trying to come up with what to write. Usually, people tell stories about the deceased’s achievements and various important milestones and memories. But Sasha died so… young. All you have is ten years' worth of memory of the time you spent with him.

So brief, it hurts.

Clearing your throat, you flatten the paper on the podium’s surface and start reading from it. You don’t really trust yourself to try reading from memory in this state. Your mouth moves, pronouncing the words written on the paper, but your mind is foggy from the pain and sorrow, while your heart feels like it has been hollowed out.

Somewhere along the way, you begin to deviate. It starts with you sharing more memories that come up in your mind on the spot before slowly the anger, hatred, and spite begin to seep through until you finally end up raving about how Sasha’s—and yours, by extent—future was unjustly robbed. How you’ll never be able to see Sasha going to prom, introducing you to their first date, attending his wedding, holding your very first grandchild, and so many other stuff.

All gone just like that in one night… It’s not fair. If only fate was willing, he would have gladly died in place of Sasha.

You don’t even realize that you’re having a mental breakdown in front of everyone until your father grabs your shoulder and ushers you off the stage and toward a more secluded alcove. You ignore the eyes that follow you in concern.

He pulls out his handkerchief and hands it to you, rubbing your shoulder in comfort. “It’s okay, Vitya…” he says quietly and you just crumple. Leaning forward, you hug him—something you have not done in what is probably a decade and a half.

Without hesitation, he returns the hug and lets you spill your tears on his expensive suit, his hand patting your back. Suddenly, you feel like you’re a little boy again, back in those days when you had a better and closer relationship with your dad.

“I failed, Papa,” you sob. “I tried. I tried so hard and he still died. It should’ve been me instead. Sasha had his whole life ahead of him. I’m sorry, but I’m a failure…”

He shushes you gently. “You’re not a failure at all. You and Luka will always be both my and your mother’s pride. So, don’t keep beating yourself up like this. We will rain our wrath and vengeance on whoever it is that did this instead.”

You raise your head, your sob dying down. “About you wanting me to become the new head…” you start. You’ll do it if it means that you’ll have full access to the Morozovs’ resources and connections to help you find the killer faster.

“We can talk more about that later, Vitya,” he cuts you off, bringing one of his hands up to your cheek and giving it a few fond pats. “I actually have something for you too, but I’ll hand them to you after the whole funeral procession is done. For now, we have to join the others for the burial.”

You nod quietly, standing up straighter and trailing after your father as the two of you make your way to the double door.

Half an hour later…

You stare down at the little casket, sitting inside the concrete burial vault, four feet deep in the ground. Your eyes are dry; no more tears are left to shed despite the constant pain in your chest.

As Sasha’s dad, you have the privilege to be the first one to throw in the flower in your hand, and as you do so, you promise Sasha vengeance and that you’ll be seeing him again soon—if fate is willing.

After you, it is Cara and Ash’s turn. You can see that Ash is still crying; they haven’t fully stopped crying ever since you and Luka picked them up earlier this morning. Next, Takashi steps forward, ushering Rin in front of him. You know Rin is trying their best to hold back from crying and to keep their stoic facade, but still, you notice their obsidian eyes are glassy, and occasionally, they dab their eyes with a handkerchief.

Luka is up next, and this time, he looks more determined now. Your father and mother step up together after Luka returns to his place. Your mother is openly crying, something you’ve seen for the very first time today. She was often called ‘Ice Queen’ as a funny little jab at her cryokinesis, and her cold and stoic demeanor. You yourself have wondered at least once before whether your mother is even capable of actually shedding a tear. Well, you know the answer now.

Your father, in the meantime, has never looked older and more weary than he is currently. It makes you feel guilty for not introducing Sasha to him and your mother sooner; they could’ve had more memories with him and Sasha could’ve known his grandparents better. But despite the two years of them knowing Sasha, both your parents were deeply attached to him. In fact, you have never seen your father be as affectionate and gentle as he was with Sasha. Who can blame them? Sasha was a really sweet and adorable boy.

Yvette was the last one to step forward. You can see her mouth open and close silently as she whispers something that only she—and Sasha—can hear. You wonder if she’s apologizing to him right now, laying out all of her regrets to him, and asking for his forgiveness.

After Yvette is done, the pallbearers return and start to shovel the dirt back over the casket as the priest recites a prayer. You watch blankly through the remainder of the procession, mind starts wondering about your next move, where you should start your investigation and hunt, and the image of putting whoever it was that took your precious son from you six feet under.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…” the priest finishes, concluding the ceremony.

You are taking a step closer to the fresh grave when you notice a movement coming toward you out of your peripheral vision. You swivel your head and see Yvette approaching you, steps a bit hesitant.

“Vik…” she says as she stands beside you. She reaches out and grabs your hand, but you jerk it out of her delicate grip.

“What do you want?” you snap at her coldly and she flinches. “Can’t you see that you’re overstaying your welcome? You should go now before your precious Agency notices that you’re gone or worse—a paparazzi or a fan of yours find you here,” you sneer.

She looks like she’s about to cry again and you clench your jaw in a mix of guilt and frustration. “Just go…” you sigh. “I just want to be left alone now.”

“I—I won’t be long. I just need to give you this,” she says, her familiar twinkling and melodic voice like a mild balm to your ears. Reaching into her handbag, she pulls out a business card and a pen. She swiftly turns the card around and jots down something before handing it to you.

You accept it reluctantly and scan the card. The front is the Constellation Agency business card, but on the back, Yvette has scrawled her private phone number along with a little heart at the end. It almost makes you scoff.

“Well, whenever you feel like you need to talk to someone, I’ll always be available. Just give me a call. Please,” she says the last part so quietly it almost gets carried away by the wind.

You just grunt in response before saying, “Go home now, or you’ll get escorted out soon.”

She looks down sadly at the fresh grave one last time before turning on her heels and striding toward the entrance, the watchful eyes of the guards stay on her as she passes by them.

You have half the mind to scrunch the card and discard it, but somehow, you decide not to in the end. A moment of weakness perhaps, but you put it in your inner pocket instead of tossing it into the nearest trash.

You don’t really have the time to process your decision when your father approaches you with a beautifully carved wooden box in his hands. A familiar box. Immediately, you know what is inside.

“My son,” he says as he stands in front of you. “I think this is the right time to give you these back.” He opens the case and inside are two elegant custom M45 MEUSOCs. They were gifted to you by your parents on your 18th birthday.

You take the box and hold one of the two pistols. It’s familiar and fits in your palm nicely.

“Let these guns serve you in bringing justice and vengeance for Sasha’s death,” he proclaims solemnly.

“They will do nicely indeed,” you say breathlessly.

Somehow, this feels right and you wonder why you even bother to leave in the first place.