@one-groovy-rose said: If I may also add on to your prompts (if it isn't too much to ask) may I have one where Desmond/Descole has a feely moment visiting the graves of his wife and daughter? :D

Again, you guys seem to love making Desmond SufferTM

Luv u

Graves

"Are you sure you want to do this, Master?" Raymond looked back at the man as they pulled up at an all too familiar graveyard.

Desmond was gripping his arms with incredible force, his knuckles turning white. He nodded after a moment, unclenching one of his hands long enough to grab the vase of flowers by his side.

"I have to," he finally said. Raymond just nodded as he left the vehicle and opened the door for Desmond.

It had been one week since Olivia and Violet Sycamore's deaths. Desmond felt his breath hitching as he struggled to calm himself down, tears already springing into his eyes. He clenched his teeth as he exited the car, Raymond closing the door behind him with a soft bang.

Desmond refused to move until the older man was at his side. His grip tightened on the vase as he looked up at the sky.

It was a beautiful day, the sky clear with the exception of a few stray, whispy clouds. He had seen multiple couples, multiple families on picnics while Raymond passed a park on the way to the cemetary.

He couldn't do that anymore.

Desmond looked down and cleared the thoughts from his mind, taking a deep breath before taking a step towards the enclosed space. His limbs felt heavy, as if they were made of lead instead of flesh and bone. He shuddered. Raymond placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and slowly urged him forward.

"If you don't want to, I can always --"

"No." He had to. He had to. He took another step. "Do you know where they are?"

"Of course."

"Can you… lead the way?" He looked down at the ground. He couldn't look at all the gravestones. He already felt like he was going to fall apart with the smallest push. Raymond gave a soft hum as he extended a hand for Desmond to take. He reached up and gripped it tightly, the hand shaking. Raymond gave a soft squeeze before pulling Desmond along into the cemetary.

He was the only mourner there, the area devoid of people. Good. If he did break down, people wouldn't be there to see. He could feel Raymond's eyes on him as the older man glanced back, his mouth set in a straight line.

After about a minute of walking, Raymond slowed before finally stopping. Desmond kept his focus on the ground. Why did he want to do this again?

He looked up after a bit of prompting from Raymond, and felt his heart leap into his throat.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't. Seeing the stones with their names carved into them was too much. Seeing their pictures on the stones was too much. This was all too much.

Desmond didn't pay any mind as tears began streaming down his face, his grip on the vase loosening as his limbs shook. They were dead. They were really dead.

Raymond felt the change in atmosphere as Desmond went from grief to something akin to terror in a split second. The butler pulled the vase out of Desmond's hands, setting it down gently in between the two headstones before hearing a soft thud on the ground.

"Desmond!" The red-eyed man was sitting on his knees, leaning over as his arms hugged himself. He was muttering something to himself, and it wasn't until Raymond knelt down to his level that he could understand what he was saying.

"They're dead. Oh God, they're really dead." His eyes were wide and glazed over with tears. Raymond placed a heavy hand on his adoptive son's shoulder. The red-eyed man reacted instantly, throwing himself at the older man with a choked sob.

"There, there, Hershel." Raymond said the name without even thinking about it; the man in his arms didn't seem to care about the slip-up. "I'm here for you."

"They're dead, Raymond."

"I know. I know."

"They shouldn't be." Raymond lowered his eyes to the ground.

"...I know."