Stay with me at dawn, hide me away at dusk

2. Fuyumi

It was only a week later when Dabi returned, to the blue roses lying dead and limp, sapphire-tinted brown. But added to the dying flowers was new life, a lone sunflower nestled in between the other roses.

As Dabi approached, the women at the grave looked up, tears dried on her cheeks and smiling despite the fact that he was the second most wanted villain and looked uglier than the drunk man on 26 Highton Street (if this place exists and you live there, no offence). She shuffled over and allowed him space to stand at the end of the grave.

They stayed there in silence, one standing one sitting, neither saying anything. Once someone said that twins had a special connection, and if that was true, than Dabi could no longer feel his with the girl that was formally dubbed 'Fuyu' in his mind. Now they were two strangers with no obligation to each other, mourning for the phantom child under the marble slab. And maybe they were mourning the loss of each other as well.

If twins had a special connection, then maybe Dabi didn't imagine the conversation that ran through his head as he stood in the quiet.

"Are you going to come back?" Fuyumi asked, even though her lips stayed closed.

"Can I come back?" Dabi countered, chuckling without sound as his breathing stays even on the outside.

"We all miss you," she stated, though there was no melancholy in her voice.

"I miss you too," he replied, though it sounded apathetic in his mind.

"Then why'd you leave?" The questioning resumed.

"Why'd you stay?" He chased the tail of a non-existent conversation.

"Someone had to look after the others," voice-in-head Fuyumi said, while I-don't-know-her Fuyumi turned her face to look at him. He could see the weary determination set in her young eyes through the corner of his own, and sighed.

"Sometimes I wish I could've too," and he really did.

"No one blames you," she coaxed, but there was no turning back.

"You were always too forgiving," he chuckled again, the unmoving shadow of a laugh.

"I suppose so," and she joined him in the shadow of laughter.

She stood up, briefly skimming her hand over the age-roughened stone of his grave and turned to him. He didn't swivel to face her, but kept his burning gaze on the twining vines that veined across the tombstone like the black in the bright marble. Fuyumi placed her hand on his shoulder, grey eyes intense behind wire-framed glasses.

And without a word, she left. And the graveyard sat silent, the only sound the ghost of Fuyumi's tears and the echoes of Dabi's unshed ones.

...

And this is where it all goes to hell and I sob uncontrollably into my pillow due to the quality of my own writing.