You hugged your knees to your chest, burying your face in your soaked skirts, oblivious to the rain pouring down your face, thick strands of (h/c) hair hanging in your eyes, hiding the salty tears that rolled down your cheeks and dripped onto the wet concrete, mingling with the equally bitter tears wept by the sky. But you didn't make a single sound, the pain inside you hollow yet destructive, swallowing up everything but your tears and sorrow.
You stayed there as seconds ticked by, then turned into minutea, and gradually faded away into hours. You were drenched to the skin, but that didn't bother you. Everything was like a dream, like one of those frighteningly realistic nightmares you always had when you were a kid, but somewhere inside you you knew that you couldn't wake up to escape the terror anymore.
You stayed there, motionless, waiting for a person you know will never arrive. But you still waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Until you heard the gentle swish of footsteps as someone walked through the puddles, and it suddenly stopped raining as an umbrella was placed above your head. You finally looked up, staring into the dark brown eyes of Yamamoto Takeshi. He extended his hand, his long elegant fingers, roughened and calloused from years of playing baseball and sword training, reminding you of another person's similar fingers.
"Come on," The cheerful grin he normally wore had all but vanished from the man's face, replaced with a thin line that showed the sadness you were feeling, making him seem older than his twenty-four years. His eyes were red-rimmed, betraying the tears he had shed in silent secrecy, a reminder that he was suffering as much as you.
You didn't say anything, but held out your hand to hold his, allowing him to pull you to your feet, letting him lead you to an event you never want to attend.
The funeral of Yamamoto's best friend, the Vongola's most loyal guardian, Tsuna's right-hand man.
The funeral of your fiancé, Gokudera Hayato.