Ash and Embers
Under the cold, watchful eye of an autumn sky, David grapples with the raw edges of loss, finding a fragile solace in the quiet strength of his best friend. A shared fire, hushed confessions, and the weight of a community's unspoken grief forge a bond that promises steadfastness against the encroaching dark.
EXT. EDGE OF WOODS - NIGHT
SOUND of a CRACKLING FIRE
A hungry fire spits embers into the inky blackness. They climb like brief, fiery souls before winking out against the indifferent stars.
DAVID (17, withdrawn, haunted) watches them, hands shoved deep into the pockets of a faded hoodie, fists clenched. The autumn cold seeps through his jeans.
He grabs a half-charred stick and pokes at a stubborn log.
A shower of sparks erupts.
CLOSE ON DAVID'S FACE, illuminated for a beat: pale, eyes shadowed and hollow. He looks like he’s holding his breath, waiting for the world to break again.
SOUND of a BRANCH SNAPPING in the darkness behind him.
David flinches, shoulders hunching, but doesn't turn. He knows.
A moment later, TOMMY (17, steady, kind) settles onto the log beside him. A familiar weight. Not touching, just present.
The silence between them is full, not empty. David keeps poking the fire, a slow, meditative rhythm.
Tommy pulls out a half-eaten bag of chips. The LOUD CRUNCH is jarring, then oddly comforting. He offers the bag. David shakes his head. His stomach rumbles in protest.
TOMMY
> You’re still out here.
DAVID
> Thought you’d be home.
TOMMY
> Yeah, well.
>(shrugs, eats a chip)
> Saw your light wasn’t on. Figured.
>(beat)
> Thought you might need the company.
David just grunts. A noncommittal sound that means both 'go away' and 'please stay'.
An ember lands on David’s jeans. He flicks it off, watches it die in the dirt. He feels Tommy’s steady gaze on him but doesn’t meet it.
DAVID
>(mumbling)
> It’s stupid.
TOMMY
> What’s… stupid?
Tommy rests a hand on the log between them. Close enough for David to feel the warmth.
DAVID
> All of it. This. Me, out here. Still…
>(waves a hand vaguely)
> Still thinking about it. About him. Like it’s going to change anything. He's gone, and… and everyone’s still just… pretending, you know? Like it didn’t shatter everything.
Tommy is quiet for a long moment.
SOUND of leaves rustling in a faint breeze, the hiss of the fire.
TOMMY
> No one’s pretending, David. They’re just… dealing. Or trying to. Yours is out here, ours is… probably worse, trying to figure out how to talk to you.
DAVID
>(scoffs)
> Like this? What is ‘like this’?
TOMMY
> Like you’re carrying the whole damn town’s grief on your own back. Like you think you have to be the one to remember him the hardest, to hurt the most.
That hits him. A sharp, uncomfortable truth. David grinds the stick into the dirt, snapping the tip.
DAVID
> Someone has to. He deserves… to be remembered.
TOMMY
> He *is* remembered. By everyone. But that doesn’t mean you have to break yourself doing it. And it doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.
David finally looks at him. The firelight catches the worry in Tommy’s brow, the dark circles under his eyes.
DAVID
>(the words spilling out)
> It’s not just him. It’s… it’s what happened a few months after. And then last month. Like… like a contagious quiet. Everyone just… holding their breath. And I keep thinking, what if…
>(voice cracking)
> What if I’m next? What if *you’re* next? What if we all just… disappear?
He hates the burning behind his eyes.
Tommy doesn't hesitate. He reaches out, grips David's forearm. A firm, anchoring touch. His gaze is unwavering.
TOMMY
> You’re not next. And I’m not. And we’re not going to let anyone else be, either. Not if we can help it.
Overwhelmed, David pulls his arm free. The intensity is too much.
But Tommy doesn't retreat. He shifts closer, their shoulders now brushing. A steady, warm weight.
TOMMY
>(voice lower)
> We talk. Even when it’s stupid. Even when it hurts. Especially then. And we listen. Even when there’s nothing to say. We just… show up. Like I did tonight.
A different kind of heat rises in David’s face. He risks a glance at Tommy, who now watches the flames, his shoulder a steadfast presence.
DAVID
>(a raw whisper)
> I… I don’t want to lose you, too.
It’s the truest thing he’s said all year.
Tommy turns his head sharply, his eyes luminous in the firelight. He reaches out again, this time taking David’s hand, lacing their fingers together. A strong, undeniable grip.
TOMMY
>(voice raspy with emotion)
> You won’t. You won’t lose me. Ever. I promise you that.
>(squeezes his hand)
> We’re a team, David. Always have been. We just… we never really put it into words like this, I guess.
David swallows, his throat tight. He squeezes back, holding on as if it’s the only thing keeping him from floating away.
ANGLE ON their clasped hands, silhouetted against the glowing embers.
DAVID
>(like a prayer)
> A team. We… we look out for each other. No matter what. We pull each other back.
TOMMY
> Exactly. A pact. You and me. Against… everything. We don’t let anyone fall. We keep showing up.
The fire has shrunk to a bed of glowing coals. The weight of their promise settles between them.
Tommy finally releases David's hand, but the warmth lingers. He nudges David’s shoulder playfully.
TOMMY
> Come on. It’s freezing. My butt’s gone numb.
A small, weak smile forms on David's lips. The first in a long time. He pushes himself up, stiff, and Tommy follows, dusting off his jeans.
They walk side-by-side, their shoulders occasionally brushing. Two shadows moving as one against the faint glow of the town ahead. The world is still heavy, but David is no longer carrying it alone.
SOUND of a CRACKLING FIRE
A hungry fire spits embers into the inky blackness. They climb like brief, fiery souls before winking out against the indifferent stars.
DAVID (17, withdrawn, haunted) watches them, hands shoved deep into the pockets of a faded hoodie, fists clenched. The autumn cold seeps through his jeans.
He grabs a half-charred stick and pokes at a stubborn log.
A shower of sparks erupts.
CLOSE ON DAVID'S FACE, illuminated for a beat: pale, eyes shadowed and hollow. He looks like he’s holding his breath, waiting for the world to break again.
SOUND of a BRANCH SNAPPING in the darkness behind him.
David flinches, shoulders hunching, but doesn't turn. He knows.
A moment later, TOMMY (17, steady, kind) settles onto the log beside him. A familiar weight. Not touching, just present.
The silence between them is full, not empty. David keeps poking the fire, a slow, meditative rhythm.
Tommy pulls out a half-eaten bag of chips. The LOUD CRUNCH is jarring, then oddly comforting. He offers the bag. David shakes his head. His stomach rumbles in protest.
TOMMY
> You’re still out here.
DAVID
> Thought you’d be home.
TOMMY
> Yeah, well.
>(shrugs, eats a chip)
> Saw your light wasn’t on. Figured.
>(beat)
> Thought you might need the company.
David just grunts. A noncommittal sound that means both 'go away' and 'please stay'.
An ember lands on David’s jeans. He flicks it off, watches it die in the dirt. He feels Tommy’s steady gaze on him but doesn’t meet it.
DAVID
>(mumbling)
> It’s stupid.
TOMMY
> What’s… stupid?
Tommy rests a hand on the log between them. Close enough for David to feel the warmth.
DAVID
> All of it. This. Me, out here. Still…
>(waves a hand vaguely)
> Still thinking about it. About him. Like it’s going to change anything. He's gone, and… and everyone’s still just… pretending, you know? Like it didn’t shatter everything.
Tommy is quiet for a long moment.
SOUND of leaves rustling in a faint breeze, the hiss of the fire.
TOMMY
> No one’s pretending, David. They’re just… dealing. Or trying to. Yours is out here, ours is… probably worse, trying to figure out how to talk to you.
DAVID
>(scoffs)
> Like this? What is ‘like this’?
TOMMY
> Like you’re carrying the whole damn town’s grief on your own back. Like you think you have to be the one to remember him the hardest, to hurt the most.
That hits him. A sharp, uncomfortable truth. David grinds the stick into the dirt, snapping the tip.
DAVID
> Someone has to. He deserves… to be remembered.
TOMMY
> He *is* remembered. By everyone. But that doesn’t mean you have to break yourself doing it. And it doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.
David finally looks at him. The firelight catches the worry in Tommy’s brow, the dark circles under his eyes.
DAVID
>(the words spilling out)
> It’s not just him. It’s… it’s what happened a few months after. And then last month. Like… like a contagious quiet. Everyone just… holding their breath. And I keep thinking, what if…
>(voice cracking)
> What if I’m next? What if *you’re* next? What if we all just… disappear?
He hates the burning behind his eyes.
Tommy doesn't hesitate. He reaches out, grips David's forearm. A firm, anchoring touch. His gaze is unwavering.
TOMMY
> You’re not next. And I’m not. And we’re not going to let anyone else be, either. Not if we can help it.
Overwhelmed, David pulls his arm free. The intensity is too much.
But Tommy doesn't retreat. He shifts closer, their shoulders now brushing. A steady, warm weight.
TOMMY
>(voice lower)
> We talk. Even when it’s stupid. Even when it hurts. Especially then. And we listen. Even when there’s nothing to say. We just… show up. Like I did tonight.
A different kind of heat rises in David’s face. He risks a glance at Tommy, who now watches the flames, his shoulder a steadfast presence.
DAVID
>(a raw whisper)
> I… I don’t want to lose you, too.
It’s the truest thing he’s said all year.
Tommy turns his head sharply, his eyes luminous in the firelight. He reaches out again, this time taking David’s hand, lacing their fingers together. A strong, undeniable grip.
TOMMY
>(voice raspy with emotion)
> You won’t. You won’t lose me. Ever. I promise you that.
>(squeezes his hand)
> We’re a team, David. Always have been. We just… we never really put it into words like this, I guess.
David swallows, his throat tight. He squeezes back, holding on as if it’s the only thing keeping him from floating away.
ANGLE ON their clasped hands, silhouetted against the glowing embers.
DAVID
>(like a prayer)
> A team. We… we look out for each other. No matter what. We pull each other back.
TOMMY
> Exactly. A pact. You and me. Against… everything. We don’t let anyone fall. We keep showing up.
The fire has shrunk to a bed of glowing coals. The weight of their promise settles between them.
Tommy finally releases David's hand, but the warmth lingers. He nudges David’s shoulder playfully.
TOMMY
> Come on. It’s freezing. My butt’s gone numb.
A small, weak smile forms on David's lips. The first in a long time. He pushes himself up, stiff, and Tommy follows, dusting off his jeans.
They walk side-by-side, their shoulders occasionally brushing. Two shadows moving as one against the faint glow of the town ahead. The world is still heavy, but David is no longer carrying it alone.