Closure. — 2025.08.26

Notes: OOC, written in third-person, as always.

Vague depressive thoughts / hints at behavior.

Life goes on, Kamuro knows this very well, though can’t help but feel hollow within, head hanging low as he stares down at his beloved’s grave— Life goes on, but right now, it truly does feel like it’s over for him. In his right hand, a beautiful bouquet of meticulously arranged flowers; a flash of color in the depressing ambience the graveyard held itself with, the fleeting beauty of life in a few roses, hyacinths and orchids, a symbol of their love that soon enough would wither away too. 

Life was bitter, a cycle of hurt. But what to do except for accepting it and continuing forward? Emptiness eats him away, tearing him apart from his very core and leaving him devoid of any real joy. It wasn’t anything new in the slightest, but it had certainly worsened in the light of recent events.

His other hand tightly clutches a tiny red box, covered in thin velvet and faint scratches, the fabric was slipping off slowly. Not quite old, yet still full of dust, it had been set aside to forget along with a mountain of memories and wilted affections. Inside the receptacle laid two beautiful sapphire rings, still looking as shiny and clean as they were when first bought, despite the messiness of where they were stored in.

Clearly, they hadn’t been used for that long.

Shinji shifts his weight from a foot to another, before halfheartedly moving himself to sit down on his knees by the burial site, exhaling quietly as his shoulders dropped with sorrow. Glossy eyes stared at the grave, and then at the bouquet resting in his hand, inspecting the flowers one last time before leaning forward and shakily dropping it on top of the tomb. His arm stays suspended in the air, hand twitching as his fingers curl slightly and a quiet sniffle makes its way out of him. 

He almost reaches forward to touch the tombstone, but desists from going through with it, and instead his arm slowly drops to his lap, both hands now fidgeting with the box that held the engagement rings in a desperate attempt to keep his composure and avoid crying. He licks his lips, opening his mouth to speak— But no noise comes out. Shinji’s eyebrows knit together in a mix of frustration and despondency, he doesn’t know what to say, or if he should even say anything in the first place.

There was no reason to, as they wouldn’t really be able to hear him, alas, he still wanted to say something. Even if just the smallest little thing, just to get it off his chest and liberate himself from the heavy weight of his misery keeping him pinned to the ground. His head drops to the sigh, and he lets anothe sad little sigh out, quitting the fidgeting and simply holding the box in his hands.

The skies were a different kind of blue without them by his side, and sometimes even what he loved the most seemed dull. He’s still not used to their absence, despite trying to appear as though he is. Trembling hands open the box, and set it down on his lap as he takes out the rings to observe them, to admire their beauty one last time. 

“. . . I should’ve appreciated you more while you were still around.” He starts absentmindedly, not really thinking of what words he wants to say anymore, and just letting his feelings do the talking. “I should’ve been a better partner. A better man.”

The rings dig into his palms as his hands tighten around them, but the pain isn’t uncomfortable in the slightest, it’s an almost welcome sensation that keeps him grounded in the here and now. His lips quiver and fall open once again as a ragged breath escapes— Turning into a sob midway. Although he’s actively trying to keep the tears from leaking, he’s bound to fail. 

“I miss you, I miss you so, so much.” Kamuro’s usually loud, self-assured voice sounds meek. It cracks, dejection and agony slowly making themselves more noticeable. “I know you said you forgave me for it but— Ah, god, I’m such an idiot. . . If only I had known better, I wish I could’ve known better. Maybe—. . .” The pain in his tone, almost palpable. He struggles to speak. “Maybe things would’ve been different then, don’t you think?”

Drowning in regrets and guilt, his shoulders shook as his mind once more began to linger on what-ifs about how life could’ve been. His shoulders shook, as the tears started to break free and fall from his eyes. If only, he muses, if only he hadn’t been as stupid as to leave all those years ago.

If only he had offered help that day. Would’ve things been different? If only he wasn’t such a selfish man, maybe he wouldn’t have put his stupid issues over something of clear importance.

If only, he muses.

“Do you think maybe we would’ve gotten married, had I stayed? That maybe, just maybe, we would’ve gotten to be happy?” He croaks out between sobs, to no one specifically, shoulders sagging. “You deserved that happiness. You deserve it much more than I do, so then, why am I the living one?” In another life, maybe they got to be happy together, in another life, but not in this one, apparently. “I should’ve— I should have been the one, not you. You should still be here. I would’ve done anything to trade my life for yours—”

He pauses, and a bitter laugh exits his throat, low and humorless. “. . . But now it’s a little too late for that, isn’t it? It’s too late for regrets.” Shaking his head dejectedly, Shinji gives a last look to the rings in his hands before finally setting them down inside the box again. Tears are still dropping nonstop, and he can’t help but keep sobbing. He tightly clutches the box in his hands for a few more minutes, before reaching forward and setting it down beside the bouquet. 

Cold wind blows on him, and all it does is make him cry harder. He can’t even pretend to be happy, or to feel at peace, he couldn’t even put up a smile despite desperately wanting to. Hands lay on his lap, clawing at his pants subconsciously in a sorrowful fashion, he’s trying to put himself back together, yet he simply isn’t able to do so.

Spontaneously, he hunches over and moves forward to hug the tombstone, arms flexing from the force he was using to embrace the headstone. Tears ran down his face, contorted with distress as he cried, sniffles and hiccups mixing with the sobs. He wasn’t thinking, not at all; this was done out of pure subconscious desire. His tears dampened the stone as they fell, and although he felt pathetic, he couldn’t stop crying.

The raw emotions coursing through his soul pained him, making the ache seem almost physical. Is this how it feels to live with a broken heart? He didn’t want to live like this— Well, it’s not like he really wanted to live to begin with. But he didn’t have any choice. He still had other people to care for, after all.

Kamuro nuzzles his face against against the hard stone, and his arms tighten around it— He really doesn’t want to let go, but he knows he has to. “I still love you. I will always love you.” He murmurs in misery, hold slowly loosening until eventually he lets go altogether.

He sits back and observes the grave for a while longer, until finally, he pushes himself up onto his feet with low spirits. Closing his eyes and wiping them with the back of his hand, the tears keep coming, but he no longer pays them any mind. 

“. . . Rest in peace, rest well.” Empty words, as he knows that was not quite the case. 

Kamuro dusts his clothes off and sighs, stepping back and turning around with a sniffle. What a mess, he thought, with shame. No last glance is given, he simply distances himself from the spot, and makes his way out of the graveyard.

Life goes on, he tells himself one last time. He’d have to move on eventually.