There was a slight comfort in visiting the cemetery. Memories flooded at the back of your mind, an ocean full of drowned ships. Splintered pieces of wood and ripped sails still surging in the heavy wind. Drowned memories which you never bothered, or never wanted to dig up. Every time you tried to venture through that ocean to find melodies of happiness, you would be bleeding because of the sharp edges of the dreadful past. You never wanted to unravel the cause of pain as it would only drench you into the myriad of thoughts. Consuming you. Absorbing you. Its thick tentacles plunging into your chest mercilessly.
It was hard to survive that burn in your lungs, the waters melting you up. But still, you were alive. But you were suffering. A sole survivor in the ocean of your mind filled with blurry pictures of him.
That night, bleeding mascara, unleashed secrets and shards of broken promises pricked your mind. So much blood. It choked you up.
'I won't be staying around forever, you weak shit.'
Simple things brought Ayato to your mind like a pale blue sky, gentle wind or even a storm cloud on the horizon.
Ayato was right. You shouldn't have pieced yourself together with the bricks of his security and comfort when you yourself knew that they were meant to crumble one day.
That day, when humans taught themselves that they could be similar to ghouls. Strength. They squeezed ghouls' blood dry.
Comforting your distraught mind, breathing in stale smoke, stomach knotted with hunger, a sky full of glass stars around you, you decided to surrender to your feelings.
You couldn't take the tears that threatened to strangle you in the midst of the night with the intense shaking of your shoulders and bubbles of sobs choking you.
It seemed as if you would collapse right here in the depth of your thoughts or the pain which had rooted itself within you.
Stepping through the rusted iron gates of the cemetery, you looked at the marble sculptures and rotting flowers. The path was worn down, jagged and broken. Many tombstones had pieces missing and carving faded off from the touch of mournful hands.
Everything was on a slow process of destruction.
You gulped. It seemed strange to you that a ghoul was buried among humans, sharing the same soil. Ayato wouldn't have wanted that. But getting buried seemed far too dignified than decaying inside a dustbin or getting used up by the CCG.
You marveled at the life running inside your veins.
Was the Aogiri affected by his death? You didn't think so.
Stepping closer to his tombstone, you placed your hand upon the phrases. Companion; brother; a beloved son. Nothing thoughtful. Nothing personal. Ayato's grave was hardly visited, justifying the presence of a single lone rose which was set down by you. You didn't know if his sister visited or not for Ayato had never disclosed any personal views on her. You just wished she did...or knew about his brother's efforts to keep her safe.
You blinked the tears away.
Could your beating red heart fill his gaping wound? Would he be alive then?
Love wasn't a medication. You had learned.
Universe is infinite.
However, reality is not.
Sitting down, you tucked your chin under your folded arms, propped up against your knees. Ayato might peaceful in there, for the first time in his life. Peace. No judgement. You stared at the weeds, brushing against the crumbling stone.
You tipped your head back, looking at the patches of deep blue and purple etched upon the sky. The air was still. As if everything in life had been holding its breath for that one small finite moment. Jagged edges of treetops with branches clawing at stars came into view as you leaned back further. Your body weight was almost being supported by Ayato's tombstone. Still supporting you even when he was dead.
"I don't want to keep you inside my head forever. Even though we couldn't love each other, I lost you in the worst possible way. A-And it hurts," your voice broke.
The dead couldn't speak. And you were grateful for that.
Those wonderful tragic things about him seemed normal to you as you yourself were living tragically. It became a part of your life. Now he wasn't here to share his part.
You rubbed your temples. "I'm sorry. This just seems stupid, I know. You might be laughing at me right now..."
It was your optimistic self which was surfacing such
things. You wished to be left alone.
'I don't care.'
He had said that very often. But in truth, he cared so much that he bled to death with the pain of it.
And now you were asking for forgiveness under the October sky, regrets captured with each besetting breath. For not loving him. For not achieving a hold of his heart so that you could protect it and mend it. For not giving him...happiness.
Everything was a regret.
"I want to forget you...but not completely. I want to breathe again, Ayato. You are strangling me." You were afraid of condemnation, inherently sinful. "Please don't blame me...You were a good friend...I really...liked you."
Forgetting him was impossible. It seemed like he had plagued your mind and you were desperately trying to contain him, pleading him to stop the venomous contamination.
His voice were a huge weight which dragged you down to sit beside him.
It had led you here, on the ground of the dead, seeking serenity.
Time ticked by, there was no movement.
New people would try to fill the gaping hole in your heart but the particular hole was of the shape of Ayato in which nobody could ever fit. You two were serrated pieces of desolation which when put together ended up ruining each other.
It was correct. A human and a ghoul. Now you were ruined.
This difference was a knot which you tried to untie. Isn't failing a lovely monster?
'Read to me what you wrote, (Name)!'
Your mind replayed this and you involuntarily chuckled at the old piece of information. In normal days of battle or peace, you couldn't even remember a single speck of any moment with him.
But now, these moments were all you thought about.
It was painful.
A business of grief.
You dug your half-moon fingernails into the skin above your bloody, shattered and broken heart, as if any moment you'd rip it out.
Was his heart also broken? Did he ever harbour any feelings for you? Was everything between you two limited to crumpled pieces of papers and unread sentences?
He saved you. Gave you life. You, a meager human. This knowledge was a sharp stab to your sides, piercing through your defences. You went cold at the thought that he had been lingering around your enemies. You watched as they ripped him apart.
The graveyard was soaked with his strong smell, as if reminding you about all the inconsequential things you liked about him. You unwound yourself, trying to swallow your misery.
Maybe he was trying to fix things, taking the initiative.
'Oi, (Name) do you think you'd cry if I were to die?'
'Nah. I'd probably celebrate or something.'
Your heart wrenched, waiting for that moment when it finally falls and drops you to your knees. Maybe the worst part wasn't losing him...it was losing yourself. It was a habitual pain, one that tore your insides to rags and your emotions to shreds.
You loved him. Maybe it was in a nostalgic way.
A friend. He was a friend.
It always came with a sting, burning brightly than any of your scars or reflections.
You gulped, tortured sentences passing your lips, "I will visit again, I can't keep you in my mind. So, I'll... write... to let you out." White-hot gems in the sky burned through your lowered eyelids.
'Pathetic shit, what have you written? Tell me. Is it about me?'
You could hear his voice, the splinter of a recollection hitting you hard in the chest. "I can't bleed ink anymore, Ayato."
It was difficult. Your brain couldn't put together words. Every night, you would pick up a pen, pressing it hard on the paper, trying to summon words from your mind. You couldn't soak up the paper with cleverly written sentences anymore, carrying raw emotions which lingered behind the frigid surface of each word. You were a writer, sealing your pain between the leaves of skinny pages, waiting to read them to Ayato, hoping he would not ignore the fragmented girl underneath.
He was gone, and you folded every inked memory on the crease of that.