He held a small bouquet of sunflowers in one hand, and worried the end of his scarf in his other. Katyusha had offered to come with him, but he told her no, this was something he needed to do alone. Natalia had even come to his home to see him, but all he wanted was to be alone. Okay, that was a lie. All he wanted was Alfred. He got to the cemetery gates, and started to hum the song he would always sing to Alfred when he was scared, or upset. Humming turned to soft singing as he entered the desolate place.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
Francis had taught it to him on one of his many visits to their home. The Frenchman laughed and said he had sang it to their twins over a thousand times since their mother died. Ivan was happy to have some sort of leverage over his lover, who was always teasing him about the "ugly sounding Russian thing" he would sing softly in his sleep at times. It was what Katyusha would sing to him and Natalia. To Ivan's surprise, it made Alfred's eyes light up when he sang to him. It became Ivan's go-to song to calm Alfred down after a scary movie, a hard day at work, a bad fight, anything that made his lover unhappy.
My only sunshine.
Ivan was nearing closer to the place he had been avoiding for months. His voice was beginning to waver, and, oh god. He didn't want to cry right now. Not in public. Not ever again. He wanted Alfred to pull him close to his chest and stroke his hair and sing to him- not to be walking through a graveyard, singing a children's song, willing himself not to cry.
You make me happy, when skies are grey.
Ivan didn't have the self control he thought he did, and tears were starting to stream down his face. He silently cursed them, but made no move to wipe them off or stop walking towards where he was going. He kept walking, and kept singing.
You'll never know dear, how much I love you.
He had reached his destination. A modest grey tombstone, inscribed simply with "Alfred F. Jones: Brother, Son, Lover. July 4, 1932-April 23, 1952." It did no justice to the man Alfred was, it was too plain, too grey, too depressing, too finite. Ivan bent down to lay the flowers on the grave, but was surprised when he dropped to his knees, and started sobbing. He had been preparing for weeks, trying to get to a point where the pain in his heart didn't hurt him to this point- but here he was, 6 feet above his lover, completely broken down, sobbing loudly and begging Alfred to come back.
Please don't take my sunshine away.