He was not one to cry, no he had never been like that. Only the worst of things could get Roderich to cry, and those things had to be perilous indeed, things which made irreversible change in his life, problematic things which upset him heavily.
This, unfortunately, was one of those things, he noted, seated in a pew all by himself. How he wished he were not so attached. How he longed to be away from this.
How he longed for the one who had passed to be by his side.
Yes, upon thinking about it a bit more, that was all he needed at that moment, for those thin, pale little arms to wrap themselves around his waist and for the soft, waif-like voice he knew so well to whisper his name with the love and adoration of a whole lifetime.
That lovely being, which lasted only thirty years. And only sixteen years was their time together.
Ah, how his heart ached. Sixteen years and it felt like four, as if it were just a petty affair, not meaning a thing. But God almighty his heart longed for him, his body ached for him, and anything, anything at all that sounded like his name would make his heart race with hope and anticipation-only to bring him down within seconds.
That soft embrace was all he could want at that moment. Roderich leaned down, covering up his eyes and making a soft, shuddering cry of pain. It was his own fault for loving a human, but that human was so much more than a human. Oh, he was everything in the world, he was the stars and the moon, and he was gone.
He was gone, he reminded himself.
He was gone, and he was never going to come back, no matter how much he convinced himself.
The brunet rose and walked out before the priest could even begin.