a/n: New chapter fic WHOO :D I actually really LOVE this story, I've been working on it for a while and I wanted to wait until I actually finished the whole thing to post it to ff but I couldn't wait anymore lol. So yay for lack of self control! Anyways, this story is dedicated to my big sissy Laura (aka Miss Fenway) aka the Ultimate Lover of Logan Angst - which this story is full of. But it's also angsty for the other boys so that's fun -shot- okay enough of my ramblings! Long story short, this is "Save Me" and I hope you all enjoy! I don't own anything.
A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell them for a dollar; they're worth so much more after I'm a goner. And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singing. Funny when you're dead how people start listening - The Band Perry, 'If I Die Young'
Everyone always expected the weather on days like this to be dark and dreary. Rain falling from the blackened clouds, a light mist encasing the whole town. One of those days that just egged on the depressing setting.
Today was not one of those days. The sun was shining and birds were chirping, completely contradicting everyone dressed in black, tears falling from their faces. There was a black cloud cast over their hearts, it just went unseen by the naked eye. Today was a dark day, despite the weather. It was a day of loss.
Everyone was silent, taking in the words said by the minister before them. "Today," he started, sorrow evident in his voice. "We acknowledge a really terrible loss. Today we come together to remember the life of Logan Phillip Mitchell. Although we know he had so much life left in him, we thank God for the seventeen years he did have. Let us pray."
In the back of the funeral, behind the group of people mourning Logan's death, were three young men. Their eyes were red from lack of sleep and the tears they had been shedding, and their hair was messy and unkempt. Their hearts were hurting more than a bullet to the brain. But the difference between their sorrow and everybody else's is that theirs was from guilt.
It was their fault Logan was dead.
"Heavenly Father," the minister started the prayer. The three boys bowed their heads in suit with everyone else. "The Lord watches over you - the Lord is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all harm - He will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forever more." he paused to let everyone intake those words before closing his Bible and continuing. "May the Lord watch over our hearts in this dark time. In His name we pray, amen."
"Amen." everyone murmured, their voices low.
"And now, as a final goodbye to Logan," the minister said. "You may all step forward to place your rose on his grave.
The boys were barely aware they were holding the white roses but it was brought back to their attention when the minister mentioned them. As much as they didn't want to, they started to move forward, towards the front of the funeral. They felt everyone's eyes searing holes into them but they didn't stop. It was like they were on autopilot.
One by one, they knelt before Logan's grave looking over his headstone one more time as if they didn't already have it memorized.
Here lies Logan Phillip Mitchell.
Loved son and friend.
Gone but not forgotten.
One of them reached out to touch it, his fingers tracing over the flawless marble. Tears stung at his eyes as he whispered, "I'm sorry."