The end of the day had been ordinary.
The day had ended, and Demyx had decided to walk home, despite the rain.
Fair enough.
He had pulled up his hood, and began to walk the distance to his house, the rain dripping through the mesh in his backpack.
It wasn't raining too hard, but just enough to make the ground slick.
He had slipped on a patch of grass, backpack falling beside him, head landing in a puddle on the wet grass. His head bounced once, falling back and knocking his reading glasses sideways.
And then, he just lay there.
The puddles in the ground soaked through his clothes instantly, through the hood that was up, making his hair wet. The rest of his body was wet, his hands.
It was cold.
But really, he didn't care much.
Then again, he didn't really like thinking of his sister Namine, sick that day, home alone.
So, he just didn't.
He just stared up at the light grey sky, misting down onto his face.
And instead of thinking of Namine or his backpack and other things, soaking wet on the ground, he thought about Zexion.
Zexion, who had died just on a day like this.
The parking lot had been drenched, and he had sat, holding Zexion's alabaster hand, pulse fading lightly.
Zexion's blue eyes had stared out the window, little wheezing breaths coming out of his mouth, teeth broke down from the chemo barely visible.
Demyx remembered the sterile smell of the hospital, which he forever associated with the smell of the dying. He had hated thinking about Zexion that way, but it was in the back of his mind every time he had walked into that damned hospital..
His Zexion, dying.
He didn't want that to happen, and his heart had heart so much on that day.
"Hey Demyx?"
He looked up.
"Yea, Zexion?"
Zexion's eyes were so clear, unclouded by the medication, even though they had given him enough to nearly pass out.
"I love you. Okay?"
No explanation, just a confession.
He smiled.
"I love you too."
It was only natural, and the truth.
And with that, Zexion pulled a little on Demyx's shirt, not having enough strength to lean up himself.
A chaste kiss was exchanged, and fifteen minutes later, Zexion died in Demyx's arms.
Tears didn't prick his eyes any more when those thoughts passed his mind. He had cried himself dry on the day. Literally. He hadn't cried a drop since.
The ache was still there though.
It always was.
He lifted a hand, lazily, feeling cold drops prick his hand as he did so.
Nonna had always liked the rain.
He recalled the smell of old rose perfume, and her soft wrinkled hands as she had placed his own smaller ones on a wet window.
"It's raining, bambino, look."
She tsked, staring with her big, watery blue eyes.
"What's wrong, Nonna? I thought you liked the rain..."
"Oh...I do, but it also means another thing."
"Huh? What does it mean?"
"Gli angeli piangono. The angels are crying, Demyx."
He then had turned, and looked out the window, out into the rain.
And now, he lay here, his hand that had been in the rain now laying parallel to his body. Not a dry spot was left on him.
His eyes turned up to the sky again.
The angels were crying.
Were they crying for Zexion?
A/N: I walked home into the rain today, and this short little fic passed through my head.
I know it's a sudden "I loved blank and blank died" thing, but I had to write it for some reason. I just thought that the angels were crying today, maybe. ._.