A/N: This is a rewrite of the work, I'll have to say I am happier with it now, so it's safe to say that this work is complete. The first chapter was inspired by the piece "Cold" by Jorge Mendez.

I have decided to re-post this because apparently this work decided not to update.

Warning: Tragically sad

I stood before the white grave, have been ever since the ceremony had long ended, staring silently at the name that was freshly engraved upon the smooth white stone.

It was surrounded by other markers within the graveyard, one of many.

I have always known that death was something inevitable for everyone, for all ages and all walks of life, all manners of termination.

I myself have been closely acquainted with death itself, been surrounded by it and this is just another reminder.

A painful reminder.

The sun began to cast an orange glow over the land, the heat from the afternoon had dwindled and died down, the last traces of warmth struggled to touch the earth, breathing its last spluttering breath.

Soon the day will end, just like the life that had ended beneath the ground before me.

But unlike the sun, this life before me will not return to grace me with his warmth again.

Not ever.

I stared down at it in a detached manner.

I suppose I will be fine, this is just one of many lives that had passed into my life and passed away.

Just one of many.

It is not anything special, just a piece of memory for me to keep as I walk onwards, further away from my past, further away from now.

I will simply keep working, I will return to it once I am done here.

I doubt that I would come back to visit again.

This will be the last time.

I peered down at the many flowers that the others have left behind, lying upon the foot of his grave.

Gifts for the dead that will slowly rot and die over time.

I wonder if his practical mind will appreciate their thoughts or curse at them for leaving him something so useless, a remotely backhanded jab at his current predicament.

Most certainly the latter.

I felt myself smirk a little at the prospect of it.

I could imagine him as clearly as if it is happening, eyebrows furrowed and lips curled downwards in annoyance, throwing his beautifully sculpted hands in the air as he ranted.

My smile melted away.

Why does his image appear in my mind even now?

Why do I smile at it?

I do not want to.

For it will only amplify my yearning for him later, the memories made painful by the clarity of the loss.

He was not meant to be anything special, simply one of the many.

One of the many.

I told myself again and again, deluded myself over and over again.

But the truth continues to plague me, rearing its ugly head at me.

You love him, it said, shouted even, breaking through the detachment that I held onto as tightly as I could.

No, I responded.

And it was then that I realise that I cannot escape the entrapment of my feelings.

I love him.

It all came back in a rush.

His innocent brown eyes whenever it looked upon me, the light always caught it at the right time, causing them to sparkle and shine like precious gems that I am not allowed to touch.

His playful smirk whenever he endeavours to trip me up in a conversation or causes me to overanalyze his moves in the games.

His obsession with keeping his hair neat and presentable, even though it had the innate ability of never being out of place.

The exceptions where his hair stubbornly remained out of place whenever he fell asleep at the desk.

The half-smile that graced his face when he was deeply amused by the silly antics that was caused by myself.

No one had smiled at me because of my strange actions before.

The flash of violent anger directed at me when I stepped past a boundary too far.

Still I found that passion intriguing, stunning.

His lilted voice that spoke my name.

False as it was, my name.

"What do you think, Ryuuzaki?"

"Looks like I win this time, Ryuuzaki."

"Ryuuzaki, I swear to god, if you don't cut that out right now, I'm going to murder you!"

"No that does not make me Kira at all!"

"You want me to guess? Strawberry cheesecake, I suppose…"

"You're being ridiculous."

"We'll catch Kira together."

"As long as I'm here, you'll never be alone, Ryuuzaki."

"Lies!"

I trembled and backed up, arms involuntarily holding myself as I glared down at the white, silent grave.

"How dare you lie to me?" I croaked, shocked at how my voice sounded so unlike myself.

So fragile, so broken.

Soon I realised I could not care less.

He lied to me, he said that he will never leave me alone.

He left me, to lie within the ground, silent, silent, cold, unmoving, rotting…

Dead.

A choked sob escaped my lips before I could stop myself.

I shuddered and sank to the ground, on my knees before the silent grave of Light Yagami.

A coldness pierced the skin of my hand, yet I barely felt it nor do I care what had caused it.

Another one struck the top of my head but my eyes do not leave his name as numbness enveloped my being.

Soon more and more joined and it fell all around me, soaking my suit that I have never worn except for occasions like this.

Rain dripped from my hair, clothes, into my eyes yet I do not register them, merely glaring at the grave of my companion, my suspect and a mass-murderer.

I remembered the day when all the light melted from his eyes, his smile rigid and his laugh no longer light-hearted.

I had known, had known clearly that he had returned to being Kira, my enemy, my friend.

An evil born from goodness, a goodness tainted by darkness, the darkness that birthed the evil that he is.

But I knew, I knew better.

He was good, was good till the very end.

He traded his soul.

For mine.

I was overwhelmed by my emotions that I believed I had shut away, never to see it again.

I didn't register what I did as a sob burst out of me, my own voice sounding foreign to my ears.

I clutched myself tighter, doubling over and shaking violently.

"Why!?" I screamed at the gravestone as I raised my head, "You thought it was better to save me? That it was better if you're gone?!"

He didn't reply, his name glaring back at me as my hands formed into fists, beating once at the sodden ground between us, trembling not from the cold.

Water flowed down my face and I tasted salt, a mingling of rainwater and my own tears.

I closed my eyes, overcome by misery and more misery.

"I'd rather it was me," I whispered brokenly.

The grave didn't respond as heavy rain continued to fall around us, soaking us both.