I hesitated, unsure of how to respond.

The weight of the night pressed on my shoulders, and for a moment, I felt like the world was closing in around us. I sat down beside her, the coldness of the grass seeping through the fabric of my jeans.

"Why were you hoping I'd be here?" I asked cautiously, my gaze meeting hers.

She took a sip from the vodka bottle before responding, "You get it. You understand."

I nodded slowly, unsure of what exactly she meant but feeling a strange connection in our shared pain. We sat there in silence for a while, the only sound being the distant rustle of leaves and the occasional distant howl of a night wind.

"You know," Seren began, her words slightly slurred. "Sometimes, it just feels like it would be so much easier to give up. To just let go of everything."

I felt a chill run down my spine as her words echoed my own thoughts from earlier. The darkness in her eyes mirrored the storm within my mind.

"Yeah," I admitted, my voice barely audible. "I know what you mean."

She looked at me, searching for something in my eyes. The moonlight painted shadows on her face, emphasizing the weariness etched into her features.

"Everything just seems so hard," she said, her words heavy with a mixture of bitterness and longing.

It was a statement, not a question, but it hung in the air, demanding acknowledgment. It was strange, knowing that she looked the way she did. I tried not to think that in a superficial way, but I couldn't help it. By the looks of her, she could have anything she wanted. I could tell by her clothes that she came from money. I could tell that she was privileged. She was beautiful. So what was so hard?

"Yeah," I replied, a lump forming in my throat. "I know."

Seren's gaze dropped to the ground, and I could sense the weight of her own loneliness. It was a tangible thing, a presence that enveloped us both in the quiet cemetery.

"Sometimes," she continued, her voice barely a whisper, "it feels like everyone would be better off without me. Like I'm just a burden."

I didn't know how to respond. Her words struck too close to home, echoing the internal struggles I faced daily.

"Why are you a burden?," I asked finally, my words carrying a sincerity I hadn't expected.

She gave a hollow laugh, devoid of any humour. "I'm just so fucking sad, and no one knows why."

In the stillness of the graveyard, I could feel the magnitude of Seren's struggle, a struggle that resonated with the echoes of my own battles. I knew that we were both drowning in the same ocean of darkness.

"I get it," I whispered, my voice barely audible in the quiet night. "I feel the same way sometimes."

Seren's eyes met mine, and in that moment, it was as if the barriers between us crumbled, leaving behind an unspoken understanding.

"Nobody understands," Seren admitted, her vulnerability cutting through the cold night air. "They see the surface, but they don't see what's underneath."

"What's underneath?" I found myself asking, unable to stop the curious words from leaving my mouth.

Seren stilled, I could see the way her chest stopped rising with air. Just for a second, her face went blank, as if she was too busy inside her own mind to control the muscles of emotion. I didn't have to guess why. She was searching for the answer to my question. I don't think she knew the answer.

But then, she surprised me. Her face fell for just a fraction of a moment, and then she laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh. It was a tragic laugh, like she finally had figured out a truth that would solve none of her problems.

"I don't know," she told me, shaking her head. The tragic laugh had died but the ghost of it still lived on her face. "Maybe there's nothing underneath my surface. Maybe everyone is right. Maybe there's nothing more to me."

I tilted my head as she spoke, absorbing her words. But, I found that I didn't have any words to give her. I didn't know her. She might be right. Maybe, there really wasn't anything under her surface.

Seren brought the bottle up to her lips again, taking a swig of the vodka. The bottle was almost empty, and I found myself wondering if she had drank the entire thing tonight, alone.

"What about you?" She broke the silence, holding out the bottle towards me.

I hesitated, just for second, before grabbing it from her and taking a sip of my own. The vodka burned against my mouth and scratched against my throat. But it didn't bother me. I was used to that burn and scratch by now.

"What about me?" I asked her, not quite sure what question she was really asking me.

"I mean," she started, reaching back out to take her bottle back. "Two nights in a row in the graveyard. At night. It's not normal behaviour, that much I know."

Seren was looking at me gently, like she was trying to see the same things that I saw in her. A partner for drowning.

"Are you visiting someone?" She asked me, and I wasn't surprised that's what she would assume. I mean, why else would I be here, right?

"No," I told her honestly, and I silently pondered why I did so. I could have lied. I could have lied quite easily.

"So, why?" She asked me, and I was expecting to see confusion, or perhaps concern on her face. She didn't have that, though. She only looked curious, genuinely curious to hear my answer.

I took a breath, letting the oxygen calm my body. I rolled my lips together as I looked at her, wondering just how much I could tell her.

There was a part of me that was yearning to tell her everything. All of it. Every morbid, twisted, desperate thought that raged through my head like a high speed train that never needed to stop for fuel.

I had no one else to tell them all, did I?

"I'm..." I started, letting a sigh escape my mouth. "I'm just tired."

Seren didn't answer right away. She was still searching my face, as if she knew that the words that escaped my mouth were coded and she wanted to find the true meaning behind them.

"What are you tired of?" She finally asked me, her voice quieter than it had been before.

"Life," I blurted out, and I felt a quick rush of regret pass through me. I looked back up at her face, expecting to see panic and alarm.

But, I calmed down when I didn't see those things. Seren wasn't panicked by my admission. She wasn't alarmed. She just looked like she understood.

"Why?" She asked me in the same quiet voice.

And again, she looked genuinely curious to hear my answer. But, maybe she wasn't just curious for my explanation. Maybe, she was looking for her own explanation, too. Just in my words instead of hers.

"It feels like nothing is beautiful anymore," I told her, still stunned by the honesty in my own words. It had been months since I had been so honest to anyone but myself.

"Maybe you're just not looking in the right places," she told me. "For the beauty," she added, nodding like she was agreeing with herself.

"Maybe," I shrugged. "Maybe there's no beauty left for me."

"But people love you?" She said the words as statement, but there was hint of question in them, like she was looking for affirmation. She must have been remembering my words from the night before, but not trusting her alochol riddled memory.

"Yeah," I sighed. "There's people who love me."

"There's beauty in that," she told me, and I noticed her voice held a tinge of longing.

"Maybe that's not enough for me. Not anymore. It's not enough for them to love me," I said, though I felt like I was talking more to myself then her.

"What would be enough?" She asked, and the heavy slurring was returning to her voice.

"I think..." I sighed the words out again, like they were a thought I hadn't yet finished processing.

"I think I need them to remember me."