Summary: Alaude only has a few requests when he's dead, and they happen to be some of the strangest that Giotto has ever seen. Because of the circumstances, he goes along with them. No pairings, character death.
Dude this is really long and I didn't expect it to be this long. I recommend you listen to If I Die Young by The Band Perry while reading.
KHR isn't mine and thanks for reading!
Words: 1,353
When Alaude died, seemingly by his own hand, he had left a letter on his desk. It was simple, scrawled in his elegant cursive. There were no absurd requests, just a few things that he would have liked to happen. It listed what he wanted his body to end up like, how he wished to be buried, and honestly, it was the strangest list that Giotto had ever seen. Alaude had some strange requests, but Alaude had always been a strange person. It was simply who he was, and the least that Giotto could do was follow the list.
The first problem?
Of course Alaude would want a wooden coffin. He was classy, it fit him. Being buried in a dark wood coffin... it would simply flatter the pale-faced, pale-haired blond. A nice contrast to his platinum hair and porcelain skin. A complimenting color to his dark suit.
That was a horrible image. He couldn't imagine his strong cloud guardian looking so... fragile, so weak. Yes, Alaude looked delicate to begin with, but his eyes had a hardness to them that was unmatched by anyone, not even Daemon. He had to wonder what caused them to become so cold. But, somehow, Giotto felt as if he really didn't want to know. It was probably better that way.
… Not that he could have found out now, anyway. Alaude's history was kept under such tight lock that he didn't know anything past what Alaude and Knuckle told him. Honestly, that wasn't a lot.
Giotto traced a finger over dry ink, moving to follow the beautiful writing that was Alaude's. Alaude's writing was impeccable, perfect. He prided himself in order, and he wouldn't let himself break that. It was just the kind of person that Alaude was- almost a perfectionist, in fact. It came in handy several times, though. Alaude's tendencies kept them all in order, in fear that Alaude would punish them if they didn't. He owed that to the blond.
He wondered why the blond was pushed off that rope that kept him from falling. He wondered why Alaude chose to end himself. He could only speculate, because Alaude had such a complex mind that no one could understand him. Sometimes, Alaude couldn't even understand himself. It was only who Alaude was. Nothing would change. Sometimes, Alaude thought faster than he could speak and that was when he stumbled over words and breath caught in his throat.
He managed to persuade everyone that that was the reason when he stopped breathing during dinner.
Giotto knew he was lying.
Giotto knew that there was an underlying meaning to the cause, and although he had a suspicion, he never acted on it. It was Alaude's decision if he wished to reveal it, and he would never force his Cloud to do anything he didn't want to. He would never. That would mean betrayed the pact that he and Alaude had made, and nothing could be worse than that. He would break Alaude's trust, and he had seen how hard it was to gain back.
But, maybe he should have. Maybe, if he had confronted Alaude about it, he might still be here.
Maybe, Alaude found it better to commit an honored act of ending his life. It never fit Alaude to simply pass away quietly, in his sleep. That wasn't him at all. Perhaps... that was the entire reason behind it all. But, was Alaude that easy to read? He didn't believe it.
Giotto shook his head and returned his eyes back to the parchment in his hands. Second request... lay him down on a bed of satin? That worked fine enough, he supposed. A nice purple satin, to match his element. It would look nice. He realized he was a lot more accepting of this turnabout now, after pondering about the man's decisions.
He wondered why satin. Alaude had always liked more common cloth; ones that wouldn't make him stand out. He was a rather simplistic man, and Giotto had to wonder. Satin seemed a bit too extravagant for Alaude, but he wouldn't question a dead man's will.
Third request. A bed of... roses?
Well, Niccolo Cavallone did like to woo the blond with his roses, but that was more of trying to get on the frenchman's good side than actually trying to woo him. Ever since they had met, though, Alaude had taken nothing but roses. He originally ticked it off as his guardian being difficult, but Knuckle had told him the other story. Alaude's adoptive mother's favorite flowers were roses. He never figured Alaude to be close with any parent he had, but apparently... he was wrong.
He was wrong about a lot of things when it came to Alaude though. He shouldn't be surprised.
Fourth request... this one was the strangest. Sink him away on a river? And at such a specific time... That... Alaude would be one to request something like that, wouldn't he? He was always such a strange person, and he shouldn't have expected anything less.
Alaude would, though. He was one to never leave a trace, and being sunk would make sure of it. None of his remains would be able to be found... no one could find out who he was later, because there would be no body. Although, they couldn't leave him on any random river.
They left him on the Seine, from his homeland. Knuckle felt he deserved to finally be put back to rest in his home, his origins. Knuckle said that he'd like that, and they all went along. Knuckle knew him best, after all.
Yeah, they'd just trust Knuckle's judgment.
And, the last one...
"Send me away with the words of a love song."
Giotto didn't question it, because he had a feeling just who that was talking to.
Now, quite honestly, he had to wonder how Alaude felt. How had he felt when he realized... Perhaps, that led the man to end his own life. Perhaps that, coupled with the crippling illness he had... It was surely a more Alaude way to go, rather than simply passing in sleep. Alaude would end himself in battle. That was most likely how he wanted to go, but it was not possible. There was no way Alaude could have found a fight without causing trouble to the Vongola.
Maybe, that was why they found him in his study, leaning back peacefully into his armchair. Maybe that was why they found him with such a peaceful look, and a small knife in his chest. He lived a short, but glorious life. He brought success to the Vongola, and Giotto couldn't thank him enough. Nothing he could do now could express anything close to the amount of gratitude he had towards the other blond.
Giotto made to fold the note up again, but his eyes caught on something scrawled on the back, in messier writing.
"Vivre la Vongola..." Giotto spoke in accented French.
The Vongola don couldn't hold back a smile. Even if it was a shaky, almost hesitant smile, it was a smile nonetheless. He always knew that Alaude supported the Vongola's cause, but he never knew how much, but... somehow, reading the few words that Alaude had written on the back gave him some kind of hope. Some kind of refreshing knowledge that made Giotto want to keep going, despite the lack of a cloud guardian, because he knew that no one would ever replace Alaude.
Alaude's words repeated in his mind.
"What is the point of preaching ideas when no one listens to you? There is none. No one will listen to you unless you make yourself heard."
Giotto realized how true the words were. How accurate they were to the world of life, and the harshness of revolution. The revolution that Alaude was born in, and suffered through. He wondered if Alaude sided with the rebels, although he was only a child. Giotto wondered if Alaude really knew how important he would be later on in life.
Suddenly, he realized what Alaude meant.
"Funny, when you're dead how people start listening."