It was raining heavily when Yukine found the young god. He was perched against a lamppost, phone in hand, staring at the blank screen. The falling water didn't seem to bother him; he didn't even seem to realize it was raining.
"Why are you standing in the rain? We really should get inside." It sounded like an order, but really it was a simple request, meant to take the male's mind off of things. It didn't work. It seemed like it was doing the inverse; at the mention of the rain, Yato looked up from the screen of his phone, taking in the cascading droplets as if he just realized it was pouring.
Azureus eyes stared at the shinki, listless.
"It was raining when I did it," he whispered.
The boy didn't have to ask to know what scene Yato was referring to. That scene with Hiyori… Yukine was a part of it, having actually severed the cord, but it was the Yato who had to make the decision. Shoulders jumped as frame shuddered upon recollection of it; the feeling of cutting something so precious, watching the girl he knew the man loved disappear from their very eyes, leaving them with nothing, just memories of bright eyes and soft smiles, of gentle scoldings and free food and endless love.
With a massive effort the teenager heaved himself back into the present, looking at Yato. Form slumped, staring off into space, tired eyes… the deity looked positively defeated. Pull yourself together, Yukine thought, but he couldn't bear to say the words out loud. Knowing that his caretaker was affected so deeply broke his heart; his very first friend was hurting badly and there was nothing he could do to assuage his pain.
There is nothing worse than a broken heart. I can only imagine what it must feel like to lose someone like that.
Not wanting his comrade to get sick, the golden haired shinki spoke up, venturing carefully.
"You should stop staring at your phone, waiting for Hiyori to text you. You're going to catch a cold." He cringed at his stupidity; why would he mention her, at a time like this? He really was oblivious to other people's feelings.
"Stop," Yato's cold voice brought him out of his reverie, and hardened ice met gold.
"Don't say her name. She's not coming back. She never will." His voice cracked on the last note, and Yukine instinctively reached out to console him, hand on the other's shoulder. Surpisingly, the raven haired didn't deny his attempt; he moved closer, knees bending, letting his head fall limply on the other's shoulder.
Arms encircled the taller male, closing him in a what he hoped to be comforting grasp.
He tried to be brave, but the influx of emotions welled up against him burst, and the younger cried, "Im sorry, Yato. I'm so sorry, " as tears dropped against Yato's tracksuit.
The taller responded by gripping the edge of Yukine's shirt tightly, hand fisted into a tiny ball.
Sobs racked the elder as he struggled to maintain his composure but failed miserably, his form shuddering against the other, nose burrowed in the crook of his shoulder, eyes screwed shut against the pain of the outside world.
They stayed there for hours, kneeling on the cold ground, seeking relief, the only sound coming from the now light rain and the sporadic pained hiccups of the once-carefree god.