From my roleplay account. The prompt was death, so this is what happened.
He'd heard about it even before he got there. He'd heard about after he'd sat with him as well. Shuuhei had refused to believe that it could happen, had told himself that it would never be allowed, but he had been so naive in the matter. His footsteps were rapid and uneven, body heavy with unspoken tension. One of his worst fears had come true.
His driving will had been to protect his friends, but he was nothing if he couldn't even protect one of them. Shuuhei had seen the dying light in Izuru's blue eyes, had held his hand even as he lay there in suffering. He'd felt his reiatsu flicker and his pulse sputter as it grew weaker, saw the fear in his eyes and the resigned calm within whatever movements he'd had left. The brunette had stayed at Izuru's side, listening to unspoken stories and murmured apologies, to which he told him to be quiet and lie still, you'll be fine, don't worry; there was no need for his blonde friend to apologize for something he did not do.
He had been so wrong. And now that it was over, Shuuhei kept those stories and words in his mind, playing the sound of Izuru's voice over and over in his mind, because he knew he would not always remember it. Eventually it too would fade, leaving nothing more then pictures and writings, memories and snatched gifts from which his pain would be stored.
Shuuhei stopped drinking during the evening after his first night out. Instinct had him turn to the right of him, searching for a bright smile and a hand willing to pour more sake for him- but he was not there. All that remained was the ghost of a happy smile and glistening blue eyes.
His pranks and games on others, when and if they ever happened, ceased to nothing. Shuuhei would have been content to let himself fade away, but it was not allowed to happen; he was a fukutaicho after all, and giving up would only soil Izuru's memory.
Besides, it was different if Izuru wasn't around to help him when doing crazy shit.
He grew empty, ashamed that he'd let his friend go, had taken his hand out of his. Ashamed that he no longer had a voice to hold on to, nor warmth to remind him of a better time, one he had spent with slacking work hours and countless conversations that never made sense to anyone but themselves.
Ashamed that he, too, had allowed himself to fall.
Ashamed that it too would pass, and Izuru would become nothing more then a thought carried at the ends of silence spent alone.
Shuuhei simply sat back against the wall and watched the moon outside; he was already starting to grow numb.
This is a short little drabble that I wrote for my Izuru roleplayer. Kind of quick and just put together, but hope you like it~ -Shuu
