Short one-shot I wrote while I was bored.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, shounen-ai, the usual stuff.

-.die.-

It was raining again. You always hated it when it rained. It makes you sad. Why does it make you sad? I don’t know, but I don’t like it when you’re sad. It makes me sad too.

I watch you while you watch the rain. You always watch the rain when it rains. Why do you watch the rain when it rains when the rain makes you sad? Why?

I can see you crying now. No, no don’t cry, please! I don’t like seeing your pretty blue eyes all faded and wet. I never liked it at all.

I can hear you singing. I always liked it when you sang. You have the voice of an angel. No, your voice is prettier than an angel’s. What are you singing? Oh yes, I remember this song.

“Hand in mine, into your icy blues
And then I'd say to you we could take to the highway
With this trunk of ammunition too
I'd end my days with you in a hail of bullets

I'm trying, I'm trying
To let you know just how much you mean to me
And after all the things we put each other through and

I would drive on to the end with you
A liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full
And I feel like there's nothing left to do
But prove myself to you and we'll keep it running”

I always loved that song. Why do you cry when you sing it?

-.die.-

It’s raining again, and this time you’re walking down the street. I follow, carefully watching where you’re going. You were always so unpredictable. Where are you going today? And why do you have black roses? I always liked black roses.

Oh, a cemetery. You love cemeteries. The dark and gloomy atmosphere always suited you. I love it too.

But you don’t stop to look at each individual grave like you usually do. Why is that? Why aren’t you doing what you usually do? Why are you crying again?

You stop at a grave with an angel over the gravestone. It’s a pretty angel. Why did you stop here? You lay the roses at the base of the angel. The angel has an open book in it’s outstretched arms, and you put two roses on that too. These ones are blood red. Pretty blood red roses.

You run your fingers through your shoulder length black hair. You’re still crying when you turn away from the grave and walk away. Why are you wearing your trench coat in the rain? You never wear it in the rain. You said it ruins the leather.

I look at the grave with the roses and the angel above it, almost like it was watching over. My eyes widen as I read the name written in polished rock.

‘Phoenix Church

1986-2005

A loved son, a missed brother, a treasured lover

Spread your fiery wings and fly, Phoenix.’

I died? Is that why you’re crying? Are you crying because I’m gone?

I’m so sorry, Aether.

Please forgive me.

-.cry.-

Review please!