The day is cold when he arrives, it's been quite a while. Mateo feels bad. Worse than usual, if that's even possible. He has a reason now. He couldn't do it before, or at least that's what he keeps telling himself. Mateo has to tell him. He must tell him about the decisions he made, the changes that happened and what he did.
Breathing gets harder the closer he gets and he has to stop and compose himself more than once. He fishes for a cigarette in his coat pockets, lighting one with trembling fingers. The aroma isn't as comforting as he wishes it was but it's something he can hold on to in this absolute chaos of emotions and ambiguity.
He finally comes to a halt. He stands there smoke pouring from his mouth. He wants to say something so desperately, but he just can't find his voice, he can't even look. For a few minutes, there's nothing but quiet and shuddering breaths, until he finally, finally feels like he can speak without everything falling apart.
"Hey, Freddie." now that wasn't so bad. It's a start, maybe he can do this after all, or that's what Mateo thinks. He opens his eyes and reads the name on the headstone and nothing is fine all of a sudden. The world spins and his breath hitches in his throat. He almost falls into the dirt but manages to steady himself in the last second; staring at the grave. It's his name and he knows, he knows that it's here and it has been for so long but this time... This time there are no bitter sarcastic comments. No eye-rolling. There's nothing. Because Freddie is gone and Mateo is, for the second time in his life, truly, utterly alone. The realization crashes down on him as if the sky itself is falling. He's alone. Freddie - his home, his heart, his everything - is gone. For good this time. There's no coming back. He will never see him again, never touch him, never-
He stumbles again, gripping onto the headstone for support but falls onto his knees. He feels sick to his stomach as he kneels in the cold graveyard dirt, one hand barely supporting him, the other still on the gravestone. Dry heaving, tears prick at the corner of his eyes. Swallowing hard, he finally manages to calm down and sits up; leaning against the cold stone. Mateo tilts his head back and sighs deeply. Pathetic. Really, really pathetic. It’s been months now and he still can’t do this. When did doing anything become so hard? He doesn’t remember anymore. All he knows now is that he’s actually missing the constant sarcasm and insult. The way he could use them as a shield against everything that threatened to throw him off balance. He draws a shuddering breath. He must get it together. He as to do this now. There’s no use in delaying it anymore or insanity is inevitable.
“Even when you’re actually dead...you’re still capable of making me fall for you.” There’s a dry, humorless chuckle making its way past Mateo’s lips and he’s quiet again for a while.
“I’m sorry I’m so late.” His voice is barely a whisper as he wraps his arms around his knees, resting his chin on them.
“But I just, I couldn’t…” he stops, shaking his head to clear out his thoughts.
“I didn’t know what to say. I just, I wasn’t ready. I don’t think I am ready now, either, but I have some things to tell you.” Mateo starts fidgeting with the sleeves of his jacket, nervously licking his lips and suddenly, he just feels very tired.
“I got a tattoo. To, you know, remind me of you. It might be a bit stupid because I highly doubt I’ll ever forget you but still. It felt like the right thing to do.” There’s a small, bitter smile spreading on his lips.
“I think you would like it. It’s a cat. A ghost cat, right between my shoulder blades. Felt like the most appropriate place.” He can’t help but chuckle after ending his sentence, despite being on the verge of tears.
“To be honest, you’d probably be annoyed.” He’s full-on grinning now, with tears streaming down his face.
“But I’ve always enjoyed driving you insane, haven’t I?” his voice breaks on the last few words and Mateo presses the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying not to sob, but failing. There’s no more talking for a while until he finally stops shaking and has his voice back under control.
“I never thought it would be so hard to keep living in that room without you. I don’t think I can do that anymore, Freddie. I don’t think I can stand being in that house. Everything feels dead and empty and I have never been lonelier in my entire fucking life.” He draws another shuddering breath, calming himself down so he won’t break down again but it’s so hard, so godforsaken hard to not cry, thinking about everything they had together, everything they’ve been through.
“That fucking office. I just, I can’t be close to that anymore. So I’m gonna leave. I already packed everything I need but I just can’t stay in that house with these people anymore. It reminds me too much of what I have lost. It reminds me too much of you.” Standing up and dusting off his clothes, he finally turns to look at the headstone again.
“I just gotta be on the road again for a while, y’know. I’ll be back, I promise. I could never leave you. Not even now.” Mateo puts a hand on the gravestone and smiles bitterly.
“Even in death you still got a hold on me, you possessive bastard.” Stuffing his hands in his pockets he takes a few steps backward.
“I guess I’ll talk to you when I’m in town the next time. I’ll come back at some point.” Mateo turns to leave, feeling slightly relieved but even more alone than he did before. There’s nothing actually keeping him from leaving anymore. He’s been telling himself that talking to Freddie and saying goodbye is something to get done before he could actually hit the road again. So, this was it. He’d be back though. At some point.
It’s five months later when police discover his abandoned car along a street in the middle of a forest. Nobody has heard from Mateo in at least two months, which isn’t unusual, normally, but for some reason, people close to him have a bad feeling. The search for him goes on for two months in total before many give up. Even after searching the entirety of the Forest, however, there’s no body to be found. It’s as if Mateo has simply vanished from the face of the earth. Slowly, rumors start to develop about something stalking the forest, looking for someone it lost. There’s grief-stricken wailing heard at night and people swear they have seen what looks like a young man with long black hair, crying eyes that seem too wide, calling...waiting for someone.
