One chilly April morning Jason Whittaker was on his knees, damp grass soiling his pants, the sun bright in his eyes. Underneath the leaves of a massive oak he kneeled, breathing in the field's sweet air.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry I haven't been here in a while." He said softly to the cold stone in front of him. As expected, the only answer is the wind. After a few minutes he stood to his feet and not bothering to wipe off his pants, he resumed the run he began earlier. His heart felt strangely heavy, even with him taking in the silence of the cemetery. His decision to visit her grave was only spurned on by a strong feeling halfway across Saturn Street and the realization he visited twice since arriving in Odyssey. Halfway across the empty lot he froze at sight of a familiar figure huddled up by a new grave. Jason's breath caught.

She was leaning forward, crossing her arms and gripping an antique mug in her right hand. Messy red hair framed her face. Uncomfortable at watching her, he tried to turn away, only to be brought back by her sobs.

"Connie?" He approached her slowly, the grass squishing beneath his shoes. Connie glanced up, a blush spread across her pale face. Hurriedly she stood up.

"H- hey." She chocked, wiping a tear away. Jason wasn't sure what to say, she looked at him for a minute before she started crying again.

"Connie." He rushed to her and she fell unexpectedly into his arms. Breath hitching and eyes raining. For a few minutes she cried until she was fully aware of who's shirt she was using as a tissue.

"Oh Jason I'm - sorry." She pushed herself away and embarrassed, frantically scrubbed at her eyes. "I just-"

"Don't apologize." He said gently. His own eyes feeling moist.

"I didn't mean to ruin your shirt or-" She hiccuped suddenly. A sorrowful smile lit up his scruffled face .

"It's water resistant." He offered, seriousness to his tone. Connie took a deep breath and brushed her hair behind her ear, feeling self-conscious.

"So...are you out on a run?" She asked.

"I guess that was the plan but I needed to do something." Jason unconsciously glanced towards the grave he had been visiting.

"How do you move on? She was...my first best friend." Connie blurted out, studying her mother's grave with a tremble.

"Not the way I did. I only tried to distract myself." He answered. "I guess when they're gone the thing that matters is how our actions portray the impact they had on us while alive. It's like seeing if we needed them, it's us without them."

"That sounded really poetic.

"I think I probably read the quote in some old book." Connie's attempt at a laugh became a loud sigh.

"Thanks Jason, sorry again about your shirt." She said. He shrugged, then after a moment spoke hesitantly.

"Connie, do you come here a lot?"

"I try to go at least once a month. You think that's unhealthy?" She asked, while wrapping her jacket around her shoulders. He shook his head vehemently.

"Why would that be unhealthy?"

"I...I-guess I thought..." She bit her lip. "Nevermind that."

"Well, bye. I better go. " He started for the hill then stopped. "Hey, you wanna get something to eat?" There's a cafe just up the street."

Connie took a look at the grave.

"I'd like that." She finally said.

I do not own these characters or their stories. I ask that you please review if you've taken the time to read this.