#buriedgraves

[diggsgraves]

                                  𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐨. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐮𝐬.

being the child of divorce was freaking weird. no, scratch that. that would require sevyn's parents to be divorced. they weren't. technically, they were like, legally separated or whatever. was it even a legal one? they were separated. and that was probably for the better. the only thing they had in common was a child, and sevyn didn't know what they ever saw in each other. they were in love once, or something close to it. sevyn remembered seeing them laugh together a lot when she was younger. he was one of the only people that could make scarlet laugh. she didn't laugh anymore.

sevyn was over eighteen now, and they never had any type of custody agreement anyway, so it was always a surprise when she got to see her dad. everyone always said her mom was married to her job, but her dad was too. she was always at the restaurant and he was always at the garage. except when he wasn't. like now when he was sprawled out with one arm stretched over the back of the couch. sevyn leaned over to grab another slice of pizza, taking a bite before dropping it on a paper plate. "you know," she started up conversation again, pointing a marker toward @buriedgraves . "mom's going to kill you if she finds out you're feeding me cheap, greasy pizza," she told him, biting the cap off the marker so she could pick up where she left off coloring in one of his tattoos.

[silasgraves]

34 years since his father's passing, and silas still visits simon's grave. sometimes it feels like an obligation. other times, he wants to do it. every year, regardless of what he's doing with his work, how deep he was in a bottle, whether he indulges the mourning or pushes it aside, silas always ends up back in tombstone, virgina. back in the graveyard where simon graves is buried. silas is aware he nor any of his siblings got enough time with their father. he had barely gotten to know simon, and yet, he still looked up to him. he'd been a good dad for eleven years, and if that's all silas had to remember him by, then at least he still had his memories. having left the cemetery, silas slowly made his way back to his childhood home, sitting in the car, staring up at its curtained windows and the porch light that was always on, no matter what time of day it was. he knows his mother is inside. he can't remember if he called to tell her he'd be in town, but silas thought she'd know, anyway. she always seemed to know.

walking up the path, he lets himself in, calls into the house so that sylvia isn't startled when silas finally finds her in the dining room, sitting under the chandelier. he stops just inside of the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a bouquet of flowers - silas had bought two ; one for his father, and one for her. ' painting or writing letters today? ' he questions as he approaches, placing the flowers on the table beside her and leaning down to press a soft kiss to her graying hair. seeing the way he aged always startled him a bit. when silas was a child, he thought his parents were invincible. that changed after simon died, of course, and now every year, he saw his mother grow closer to death, too. ' it's beautiful outside. have you been out today? ' @buriedgraves.

[diggsgraves]

                         𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧.

it was monday, which was a good enough excuse for scarlet to drink. it was hypocritical, the way she gave her brother shit for drowning his sorrows in booze when she did the same thing. she could give excuses for days about that. it's not the same. i don't drink that much. it's just wine. if she were more stable like she pretended to be, she may have seen all the red flags. the graves siblings had more in common than any of them would readily admit, and it wasn't just the triplets. she saw pieces of herself in silas, in sabine, and in sloane. she wondered if that was by nature or by nurture. were they all really just that similar, or did they each take fragments of scarlet with them as she chipped away from her person, piece by piece until all that was left was the ghost of the person she was before.

she didn't know why she grabbed two wine glasses until her sister walked in, and a phantom smile curled on the edged of her mouth. she poured both glasses and slid one across the table toward her sister. "we're aging like fine wine right?" she asked, eyeing the glass before taking the first drink of what was sure to be many. she tilted the glass toward @buriedgraves . "—or are we just aging?"