I blame the melancholy classical music my teacher was playing for putting me in the mood to write sad stuff. I do not own Shounen Shinkaron or the characters used in this fic. Enjoy.
There was pain. Sudden, excruciating, undeniable, indescribable pain. It was coming from somewhere in his chest, and he curled his body around himself to try and quell it, to keep himself from being overwhelmed by it. His hands grasped the front of his shirt, twisting and tangling the fabric hard in desperation. It was breaking. His heart was breaking. He had never imagined that heartbreak could hurt so much.
It hadn't started out this bad. It had taken a few hours for the shock to fade, for the pain to set in. This was all her fault. Except that it wasn't. Being able to blame would make coping easier, but he was just too gentle to blame someone who had done nothing deserving of blame. She was just a messenger, bearing the news that caused the pain. Now he finally understood why people would "shoot the messenger" when they received bad news. She wasn't at fault. There was no one at fault. It would be easier if someone was. Then he could focus on something other than the feeling of his heart wrenching apart. But there was nothing.
The burning behind his eyes only intensified, heightening until the tears he was trying to hold back finally spilled over, soaking his face. He was never very good at hiding his feelings. His eyes and nose were running, unable to stop. Everything felt hot. The terrible swell of emotion inside of him was far more than he could handle.
Everything made sense now. The skipped concerts, the violent behaviour, the absent smiles. He'd known. Sendo had known that he was going to die. He was angry about it. It was after he'd come to accept his fate that Sana had met him at the park. That was why he was so much gentler than when he'd attacked Sana's dad. The bloody shirts also made sense now. He'd isolated himself at that park, trying to finish his song. He'd promised Sana that he'd sing it for him when it was finished. That was never going to happen. Sendo had died before he could sing it. The song was finished, and so was his life.
By the time his dad found him, Sana was completely worn out by his grief. The tears were still there, but he had no strength left with which to cry. With the burning gone, he felt empty. Hollow. Like part of him had been torn away, and he could never get it back. He clung tightly to the notebook, the one Sendo had wanted him to have. The one he'd been holding when he died. It had splatters of Sendo's blood and drops of Sana's tears staining its cover. The song that Sendo had spent his last days writing was in there.
He didn't have the courage to read it.
It was important to him, but he didn't resist when his dad slid the book from under his hands. Mizuki had known him too. Sendo had viewed him as a rival. He had to be hurting too, though Sana knew that he would never show it.
He started when his dad began to sing. It felt out of place, given the circumstances, but it also felt right somehow. This wasn't one of his dad's songs. He knew all of them, his dad sang them so often. It wasn't a song he'd heard before, and yet he knew exactly whose it was.
The tears began to fall again.
"A love song. It's not like you." He heard his dad murmur when he'd finished singing. His tone told Sana that he was right about his dad being in pain as well. He hoped that Sendo was happy, wherever he was, and that his pain as he was dying hurt less than the pain they were feeling at his loss.