Louise and Gideon's love at a funeral

The scent of lilies clung to the cold winter air, their perfume heavy and overwhelming. The graveyard was hushed, save for the occasional rustle of wind through barren trees. Louise stood near the back, her gloved hands clutched tightly in front of her, eyes locked on the casket being lowered into the earth. She didn’t know the deceased personally—an elderly distant relative of her mother’s—but that didn’t matter. Her parents had insisted she come, that it was “a matter of respect.” So here she was, dressed in her school uniform under a black coat too big for her petite frame, surrounded by strangers cloaked in mourning. Her mother stood stiffly beside her, face expressionless but eyes red-rimmed. Her father had gone off to speak to someone at the front. Louise tried to listen to the priest's words, but her mind wandered. She wasn't thinking about death or grief. She was thinking about the boy. Or rather, the young man. He stood just a few feet away, tall and lean, with a shadowed jaw and dark eyes that seemed to carry the entire weight of the ceremony in their depths. He wore a black suit that fit too well for someone who claimed no connection to vanity, and his hands were tucked into the pockets of his long coat. He wasn’t crying. He didn’t even look sad. He looked…observant. Louise hadn’t meant to stare, but when their eyes met with the rows of mourners, something shifted. The world slowed, just for a second. His brows lifted slightly, as if he’d noticed her too. A polite nod. She returned it awkwardly, heat rising to her cheeks. The casket finally disappeared into the ground. People began to drift away in murmuring clusters, their coats flapping in the wind. Louise remained where she was. So did he. As her parents chatted with relatives she didn’t know, she found herself gravitating toward the gate, needing space. Needing to breathe. And that’s when he was there, leaning casually against the stone wall that framed the cemetery, a cigarette dangling from his fingers but unlit. “You looked like you wanted to disappear,” he said, his voice low and warm. Louise blinked at him. Up close, he looked even older, maybe twenty, but not in a way that made her nervous. His presence wasn’t threatening—it was grounding. “I hate funerals,” she replied before she could think better of it. He smirked. “That makes two of us.” Silence stretched between them for a beat. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Do you come to these often?” she asked, immediately regretting it. Sorry. That came out weird.” He laughed softly, the sound like gravel. “No. My cousin died. Cancer. He was thirty-five. Left behind a wife and two little girls.” “I’m sorry,” she said, sincere this time. He nodded, exhaling through his nose. “It is what it is.” She glanced back at her parents. Still talking. “I’m Louise,” she said, suddenly needing him to know her name. “Gideon.” She liked the way it sounded. Like something from a novel. “Well, Gideon,” she said, trying to sound more grown than she felt, “thank you for rescuing me from funeral small talk.” He chuckled again. “Anytime.” They spoke for ten more minutes before her mother spotted her and called out, her voice sharp with irritation. Louise flinched. “I should go.” “Yeah,” Gideon said, eyes flicking to her parents. “Maybe I’ll see you around?” She gave him a small smile. “Maybe.” As she walked back to her family, she could feel his eyes on her. That night, as she lay in bed beneath her floral comforter, Louise couldn't stop thinking about him. His voice. His eyes. The way he looked at her was like she wasn’t a child, like he saw her. She’d never had a boyfriend. Never even been kissed. But this—whatever this was—felt different. And dangerous. And utterly thrilling. Over the next week, she found herself returning to the cemetery. Not every day. Just often enough that it didn’t seem intentional. At least, that’s what she told herself. On the third visit, she saw him again. “You stalking me?” he teased. “Maybe,” she answered with a grin. And that was the beginning. They talked. About books, music, what it was like to lose people. He told her about his job at a mechanic’s shop, how he was saving for his own garage one day. She told him about school, her dream of being a writer, the way her parents didn’t take her seriously. “They treat me like I’m made of glass,” she said, hating how vulnerable her voice sounded. “Maybe they’re scared of breaking you,” he said gently. She looked up at him then, heart pounding. “But I’m not that fragile.” His eyes softened. “No. You’re not.” Days turned into weeks. They stopped meeting at the cemetery and started sneaking walks in the park. Late afternoon coffee runs. She told her parents she was studying with friends. They never suspected. She was the “good girl,” after all. But she wasn’t entirely sure what they’d do if they found out. Because Gideon was 19. And she was…still just 15. Too young, in the eyes of the law. Too young, in the eyes of her parents. Too young, even in the eyes of some of her friends, though they didn’t know the truth. And yet…with him, she felt older. Seen. Safe. He never pressured her. Never crossed a line. Their hands sometimes brushed, lingering a second too long. She dreamed of kissing him, but he never tried. Not even once. “I like you, Louise,” he said one evening, as they sat on a park bench with the sunset bleeding orange across the sky. “But this… this isn’t simple. You know that, right?” “I know,” she whispered. “But I don’t care.” He looked at her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. Then he sighed. “One day, when it’s not illegal to kiss you, I’ll take you on a proper date.” Her heart fluttered. “Promise?” “Promise.” But promises are tricky things, especially when the world is stacked against you. And as summer neared and her parents grew more watchful, Louise knew something would have to change. Because what she and Gideon had—it wasn’t just a phase. It was love. Real. Raw. And complicated. Just like life.