The two options lay on Hunter's bed, mocking his indecisiveness. A full suit might've been overkill. A shirt and slacks might've been mistaken as too casual. He stood there staring at them. One said long time companion. The other said glorified booty call. Neither one would, no matter how long he stared, would bring Fitz back.

"You ok?" Charlie asked, peeking his head through Hunter's bedroom door.

"I don't know what to wear. Typical fag problem," Hunter said, trying his damndest to be flippant.

"What did you wear to Tristan's funeral?" Charlie asked.

"This is different and you know it," came the bitter reply.

"Sorry, I just..."

"No," Hunter said, opening the door and standing at the doorway. "I'm sorry. I just...I don't know what's expected of me. You know?"

"You're expected to be sad. And to make your peace."

"I just don't want to look like a maitre d' while I'm doing it."

Charlie ran to his room and brought back a grey striped tie and put it against the black shirt.

"Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Hunter tentatively picked up the shirt and then broke down. "I can't go."

"You have to, Hunter."

"If go, if they bury him...then he's not coming back."

Charlie held Hunter tight. "But he's not, Hunter. I'm sorry." Hunter sobbed in his arms for a long time. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"It won't be a bother?"

"No," Charlie said, already trying to figure out how to tell Ben he'd have to cancel their Skype date. "I'm here for you."

*

When they arrived at the Catholic church on the South Side, Virgil was waiting for them outside.

"Good to see you," Virgil said somberly, shaking Hunter's hand. Hunter had regained as much of his composure as he could in the cab and just nodded solemnly. They made their way into the lobby.

"Mr. Fitzgerald, I'm so sorry for your loss," Virgil said, shaking hands with a man that looked like Fitz would've if he'd lived another thirty years.

"Thank you Virgil. I'm sorry for yours also. You were the best partner my son could hope for."

"Mr. Fitzgerald, my condolences," Hunter said, offering his hand.

"Thank you, young man. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"I'm Hunter, sir. Caleb was my boyfriend."

Mr. Fitzgerald abruptly took his hand away. "Young man, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Excuse me?"

"I loved my son very much, but there were just some things I could not condone. It was made very clear to Caleb that the lifestyle wouldn't affect this family."

"With all due respect, I loved your son too."

"With all due respect, who the fuck are you? I've known my son his whole life. I loved him, raised him. I have a right to be here. Who are you? Some sniveling faggot who had some tryst with him for a few months? I've never even heard your name mentioned. This service is for the people who loved and knew my son. Not some fly by night...whatever. I can see where you'd confuse your perversion with love. I get it, I'm an empathetic man. But I'm respectfully asking you to go away. There's no place for it here."

Mr. Fitzgerald stormed into the chapel. Charlie placed his hand on Hunter's shoulder. "Do you want to go?"

"Fuck him," Hunter said, his eyes blazed with tears that refused to come out. "I came here to make my peace."

Charlie stood with Hunter across the street from the church, not saying a word as Hunter stared intently at the church. They watched as pallbearers brought Fitz's coffin out to a hearse. They followed on foot as the hearse drove the cemetery. They sat on a grassy hill overlooking Fitz's grave as the priest read last rites and the coffin was lowered into the ground. They watched as family and friends slowly filtered away, as fresh dug earth was placed into the grave. Soon the sun began to set and Charlie realized that they hadn't said a word.

Once the gravediggers had gone, once there was silence in the cemetery, Hunter began the descent down to see Fitz's grave. Charlie sat and watched for a moment, giving Hunter space. Hunter stood there, staring at Fitz's grave, not moving, not saying anything. After what seemed like an eternity, Charlie made his way down.

"You ok?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah," Hunter said flatly.

"You don't seem it," Charlie said.

"Remember when I broke down in the apartment earlier?"

"Yeah," Charlie said, placing his hand on Hunter's shoulder.  Hunter brushed it off.

"That was the last time you'll ever see that. Cuz fuck it, you know? It's not worth it."

Hunter spent the cab ride home staring out the window, not saying a word. And it scared the hell out of Charlie.

###