Sander Sides Oneshots

Grief

Patton watched, silent and somber, as the coffin lid slammed, echoing in the empty halls of the church. Though the face was covered, his face was burned in the emotional man's eyelids. Pale skin, neat purple hair, black and silver tuxedo, closed eyes, as if he was sleeping.

Patton swallowed thickly. No, stop. Virgil wouldn't want you to grieve from him. But the tears were inescapable. They came slowly and silently, washing away the pale makeup he had put on to hide his already red cheeks.

The black polished shoes tapped against polished floor, a ground that held many somber families and friends grieving, but today held only one. He touched the casket with a shaking hand, hoping that this was all a dream, that his son would shake him awake, an innocent child hoping for some comfort after a bad dream.

But all he could feel was a cold coffin, ready to bury and be forgotten. All he could hear was his wails echoing to him, tortured and begging. All he could see was an echo of what once was. All he could do was stand and wait, wait for a hand to hold his, but that hand lay as it has and always will.

Empty. Cold. Dead.

Virgil. Please. Come back to your dad. You meant the world to him, but now that world is broken. Please.

Please.