The funeral was a blur of somber faces and hushed whispers. Akaashi moved through the throng of mourners like a ghost, his own grief a heavy cloak draped over his shoulders. The scent of lilies and damp earth filled the air, a suffocating perfume that clung to him like a second skin. He saw familiar faces – teammates, friends, family – their expressions mirroring his own sorrow, their eyes reflecting the same unspoken pain. He recognized the sympathetic glances, the awkward pats on the back, the well-meaning but ultimately inadequate words of comfort. They all tried to offer solace, but their words felt like pebbles thrown into a bottomless pit, making barely a ripple in the ocean of his despair.
He stood by Bokuto's open grave, the freshly turned earth a stark reminder of the finality of death. The priest's words, though intended to bring comfort, sounded hollow and distant, lost in the swirling vortex of his grief. He stared at the simple wooden cross bearing Bokuto's name, a name that now felt like a distant echo, a whisper in the wind. The snow continued to fall, blanketing the cemetery in a layer of pristine white, a stark contrast to the raw, unyielding pain in his heart.
Later, at the reception, the murmur of polite conversation felt like a cruel mockery of his grief. He sat alone, a solitary figure in a sea of sympathetic faces, his gaze fixed on the swirling snow outside the window. He saw flashes of Bokuto – his infectious laughter, his unwavering optimism, his fierce determination, his boundless love. Memories that were both a source of comfort and an unbearable torment, a bittersweet symphony of joy and sorrow. He felt the weight of his loss, the crushing burden of a life lived without the vibrant presence of the man who had been his world. The world felt empty, devoid of color and sound, a silent testament to the void that Bokuto had left behind. The snow continued to fall, a relentless reminder of the cold, harsh reality of his new life—a life without Bokuto. He knew the road ahead would be long and arduous, a journey through a landscape of grief and loss, but he would walk it, one step at a time, carrying the memory of Bokuto's love as a beacon in the darkness.
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Love beyond Season
FanfictionThe snow fell that day, a relentless, suffocating blanket of white that mirrored the chilling emptiness settling in Akaashi's soul. He stood by the window, the frosted glass a cold, unforgiving barrier between him and the world outside. Each snow...
