Note: I never intended to fully write out Brad's Ceremony of Life when I was outlining for Pretty Boy. I did, however, consider diving into the type of reactions and emotional responses Marshall would have to go through when going public about his best friend's passing. I wanted to show how much the loss still impacted him even when trying to stay positive and hopeful of a better life to come.

This isn't going to be a super lengthy chapter because I'm really just going into this with the plan of showing how Marshall alone would have acted. And while there will be the occasional sweet moment, it will still be pretty sad. Grab your tissues 😭

***

Seeing everyone face to face like this was...overwhelming.

After coming to grips with the reality of the situation—with the reality that his best friend was actually...gone—Marshall knew he was going to have to make a public statement. The decision to do so was something he agonized over for a solid week. Because, even though not a lot of people were friends with or friendly toward Brad, he was known by many because of his prior status as an esteemed actor and dancer. His lacking presence at the theater would be noticed immediately; especially since he'd been casted as one of the main roles for an upcoming production. And while Brad just choosing to not show up anymore could've sold as a cover story, Marshall didn't want to tarnish his friend's legacy. He didn't want to slander the reputation of someone who was genuinely passionate about their craft.

So, in Marshall's eyes, it was up to him to come up with a believable tale about the sudden departure. It was his job to come up with a concrete story that wouldn't give anyone room to question anything or give them a reason to try and pursue more answers on their own.

Surprisingly enough, all it took was a text message to the production manager to set everything in motion. A mandatory meeting was scheduled, presenting an opportunity for Marshall to break the news. 

But now, as he was sitting in front of a large group on the theater's stage, his tongue felt weighed down. He couldn't look anyone in the eye. He couldn't keep his hands from trembling and had to hide them inside his hoodie's center pocket.

The mere thought of happy, delighted faces morphing into distraught ones because of him made his chest ache.

Marshall cleared his throat. "Uh, before we get started here, I just wanted to apologize about all this. Mr. Richard didn't schedule this meeting for work purposes. He did so because...something really...unfortunate has happened. Something that you guys have the right to know about."

A firm hand settled on Marshall's upper back. He gave a quick glance to the production manager beside him before looking back at a sea of anxious faces. 

"There really isn't an easy way to ease into this, so I'll just get right to it." A necessary breath was taken to unfurl the ball of tightness forming in his throat. "...You all know Brad Romero- either from working in the theater or the Dance Company. You all know that our off season is a time for us to take some nice vacations. Well, for his time off, Brad went overseas to Spain with his girlfriend for a few weeks. The night they came back, the weather kind of took a really bad turn. It was during that crazy storm, if any of you can remember. When they were driving back to town, Brad...accidentally got into a car accident. Trying to break caused the vehicle to flip multiple times. It only stopped when rolling into a rock face.

"After getting to the hospital he was at, I was told by his girlfriend's family that she died before the ambulance could complete transporting her. Brad's injuries were really bad too. The doctors did everything they could for him, but..."

The hand on Marshall's back began rubbing gentle circles in between his shoulder blades. 

"...Brad knew he was running a losing race. He felt like, no matter what the doctors did, they weren't going to be able to save him. So he told them to stop trying. And a few minutes after they gave me permission to see him, he..."

"You mean," Carlos asked, eyes wide and teary, "he's..."

Marshall nodded, staring at the floor. "He's...gone. And the reason I've waited to tell any of you this is because it's what he asked of me. 

"None of you know this, but Brad didn't have any living family members. His girlfriend was taken care of by relatives, but he didn't have anyone to do that for him. So, because he wanted it, I took care of everything.

"Before any of you ask, there was already a private funeral. Those who were supposed to know, knew. And his remains have been dealt with appropriately. I'm sorry if any of you wanted to be there for something like that, but it really wasn't the time or place for a large crowd.

"Still, I know quite a few of you got to know Brad to an extent. I know the news of him passing is...too much to handle." Marshall clenched his jaw in response to his voice wavering at the end. "Because of that, myself, Mr. Richard, and a few other staff members have come together to prepare something in the coming days. It'll kind of be a space for us to mourn, remember, share stories, and things like that.

"To give you guys the chance to gain some closure and to say goodbye, we're putting together an event known as Brad's Ceremony of Life."

*

Normally, Brad's smile was infectious.

Whenever his cheesy little grin was flashed, it was pretty impossible to not give one back.

A slideshow was playing overhead via a mounted projector. Images of Brad over the years were shown: him on stage, at the dance studio, hanging out at the bar, spending time at the Tacoma lake house, etc. In every image, whether they were off-guards or ones he posed for, the level of joy seen in his hazel eyes was astonishing. 

His gaze lit up even brighter when holding onto Marshall.

That detail, along with Brad's genuine expressions, only made the vampire feel pained.

As he walked up to the podium surrounded by cypress flowers, wet sniffling could be picked up around him. A few people who had come to know Brad themselves were overcome by grief and couldn't hold back their tears. Their friends rubbed their backs, offered hugs, and whispered soft phrases to help bring comfort.

The only things Marshall had to give him relief were his choker and wire necklace.

A pendant depicting a landscape scene in Barcelona was grabbed.

"...I've always thought the concept of death was crazy. It's something we all know is bound to happen at some point. But, for some reason, we're always caught off guard when it actually does. We're never sure how to react or respond or feel when someone close to us dies. Because the pain felt with each person we lose is never the same."

Marshall's eyes traced the contours of Brad's face printed on a brochure to his left.

"I remember when we first met, Brad was a very timid man. He'd pretty much just moved to the States and his English wasn't as great as he wanted it to be. A lot of people avoided him because they didn't think much of him. So, when we had to run through conditioning one day, I didn't hesitate in partnering up with him. He was really easy to talk to. Really easy to listen to. After work that day, I invited him out for some drinks and dinner at Bobby's Karaoke Bar." A quick smile was given to the bartender sitting in the audience. "...All it took was a couple of drinks and some music to get him to relax. And I found out real quick that as much of a shy guy as he was, beneath that, he was also one of the most insane people I've ever had the pleasure of befriending.

"He took me to a bouncy house obstacle course for my birthday once and proceeded to not even blink after slipping on his socks and face planting into the floor. One time during a sleepover, he asked me to put a bald cap on him to see how he'd look with no hair- just because. There was a night when we were out on the town for, like, museums and stuff of that nature; and he dragged me to a pet store at nine o'clock because they had kittens roaming around. There was that one time at the lake house where I was laying down, Brad thought I was sleeping, he tried to drop a water balloon on me, and he barely even panicked when I threw it right back at his face. During a night of drunken antics at another sleepover, he had me, someone who can't draw for their life, doodle on his arms to see what they'd look like with tattoos. Somehow, he also ended up with googly eyes on any drawing that had a face, so that was fun."

Quiet laughter rang out on all sides of the room.

In his head, Marshall was bombarded with dear memories of his best friend. Each moment he talked about was so meaningful and special in their own ways, reminiscing actually moved the vampire to tears.

"Aw, jeez, I told myself I wasn't gonna cry..." He wiped his cheek against the sleeve of his black dress shirt. "...I'm not gonna lie. I miss him. And it hurts. More than any type of pain I've ever experienced. As someone who considered me a brother- and for me to do the same for him- it's just...never easy to lose a member of the family. Because that's what he was. Family. 

"But rather than focusing on the hurt and the grief and the trauma, I want to keep looking back on the great times we had. I know Brad would want us to look back on the life he lived with bright smiles. Even if our hearts are shattering at the same time. Even if there are tears streaming down our faces. In the end, he'd want us to keep being able to smile. He'd want us to realize that this awful, earth-shattering grief we're experiencing...is only temporary. That the hurt is only temporary. He'd want us to continue living our lives, living our wildest dreams- even if the only way to experience it with him is through memories.

"To be completely honest, I don't think anything is ever going to fill the empty space in my heart caused by losing him. But that's okay. Because I still have the videos. I still have the pictures. I still have the DVDs of our performances. I still have the texts. I still have all of the little, amazing gifts he's given me over the years. And that...that's enough for me. That's enough."