Mika held Yuu's hand in his own, his thumbs brushing over his knuckles gently. His hand was old now, wrinkled and worn from age. He ran his fingers over Yuu's. They were not soft, but hard and calloused from fighting. That was something Mika liked about Yuu, his hands. They were the hands of a warrior, but they still held a gentle and delicate touch.

Mika looked up to Yuu's face, to see him staring back at him. His face was wrinkled too, laugh lines most prominent on his face.

His hair was no longer pitch black like it once was, but was now dulled to an ash gray colour, and it fell limply onto the pillow beneath his head. There were large, pronounced bags underneath his eyes from too many nights staying up late.

But, well everything about Yuu was slowly fading away, his eyes were still the same bright emerald green they were when they first met, still vivid and full of life. His eyes, they were Mika's favourite. They were always shining bright, gleaming with determination. Just one look from those eyes and Mika was left aflame.

Mika's eyes drifted off of Yuu's face and to his arms. His arms that used to be so strong and able were now weak and useless, not even able to lift the lightest of things without assistance. His legs too were no longer able to support him, too old and worn to be useful. His whole body was frail, and it seemed as if it would fall apart at any moment, but Mika swore to Yuu, to himself, that he would be there to put him back together, always.

Because to him, even after all these years, Yuu-chan was still beautiful.

/ /

Mika held Yuu's hand in his own, his thumb brushing over his knuckles gently. His hand was cold, and fell limply in Mika's hold. He looked to Yuu's fingers and frowned. They were now shaped and nicely manicured, the funeral home taking it upon themselves to make their 'guests' look their best, but Mika could only remember how Yuu didn't care much for appearance or how people perceived him, and always had short, roughly cut nails.

Mika's eyes moved to Yuu's face, noticing how his eyes were closed and mouth turned slightly upward in a peaceful expression, the face he usually made when sleeping in Mika's protective embrace.

How Mika wished he were sleeping.

The clothing he wore, Mika noticed, was familiar to him, as he had helped Yuu-chan pick it out. The suit was pitch black, contrasting with his gray hair and oddly pale skin, and was nicely ironed. Mika wished Yuu's skin still had the nice tan it used to, as the stark white reminded him too much of the skin of the vampires that tormented them.

The coffin he lay in was smooth and expensive, carved from nice, dark brown oak wood. Yuu's family, or what was left of them, had picked it out for him, but Mika didn't like it. He felt as if Yuu wouldn't either. In his head, Mika could faintly hear Yuu's voice saying something like "Why do I need such a luxury if I'm dead?" But the luxury, Mika knew, was not something for the dead, but something to comfort the living.

He looked to Yuu's suit again, and frowned when he noticed it was wet, large water droplets slowly staining his jacket. Mika brought his hand to his face and hastily wiped away his tears. It was pitiful, yes, but he could not help but cry as he cursed his vampirism, his immortality, wishing he were the one laying cold in the coffin and not his precious husband.

Because, even in death, Yuu-chan was still beautiful.