The graves poked up through snow like odd little decorations, regulated and repeating. Neglected, lonely, old of the soul, the graves sat in silence, observing the snow as they had for years and years. And some, passing over the three figures visiting the newest of their kind.
His knees were cold and wet, and mostly likely dirty as well. He couldn't tell. His light black jacket was zipped up to the top, revealing only a pink nose and bright blue eyes under a mop of blonde hair and a homemade-looking hat. The graves, in the way that old souls do, remarked on who might have given such a hat, bright blue and matched exactly to his eyes. They do not ask him, of course; their conversation is invisible to the boy. But he draws their interest as he opens his mouth.
"Hey, Axel," His voice is a soft tenor, raspy from what might have been a cold. A mitten that matched the hat lifted and touched the grave he knelt in front of. His Adam's apple bobbed with contained emotion, "Surprised to see me? I bet you are. I bet you didn't think I meant it when I said I'd visit every year." He gave a laugh- the same laugh the graves had heard so many times; a laugh that should have been something much more sad, "Well, here I am. And..here you are." The blonde boy swallowed, and looked back at his companions. They nodded, and he turned back to the gravestone.
"I...I want to sing for you. I know it's not perfect, but I think you'll like it." He took a deep breath, and the graves listened, their conversations more silent than usual.
"My funny valentine," Roxas started. His voice was raspy, he could hear it, but he had sung it a thousand times. It had to be good, for Axel, " Sweet, cosmic valentine. You make me smile...with my heart." He smiled a little, memories wafting back.
Your looks are laughable.
Red and gold locks entwined in the morning sun.
Unphotographable.
Fingers entwined, squeezing, unsqueezing.
But still you're my favorite work of art.
Axel, leaned against the kitchen counter, hip jutted outward in that way he knows drives Roxas crazy. His eyes, caught in the glint of the window, squint in that mischievous, smiling way. Roxas' knees feel weak.
Is your figure less than Greek?
Rosy fingers of dawn on his lover's face, on his closed eyes, on his cheekbones, already much too gaunt. His eyebrows lift at the touches to the arching bones, then furrow at his partner's expression. What's wrong? Roxas shakes his head. You know what's wrong. Axel smiles, and covers the small hand with one of his own. Shh.
Is your mouth a little weak?
Tears, so many tears and so little time. Axel, heavy against his chest, breath uneven and fighting down the sobs. Roxas' palm, rubbing across the skin of his head, stroking in the way that Axel used to love when there was something to stroke. Whispered comforts and shaking hands. They find each other; they entwine.
When you open it to speak, are you smart?
Hospital. Everything a sterile, sickening white. Some interior decorator they hired here, huh? Roxas wiped the tears hastily for the umpteenth time, determined to see those lips as the words left them, those eyes he was so very afraid of. The luster was gone, it had worn away like the meat on Axel's body. Still, a thin hand clutched in his. Right, Rox? Some decorator...aha. Beeping.
Don't change a hair for me, not if you care for me!
Beep. Beep. Beep. I. Love. You. Please. Don't. Go. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-
"Stay, little valentine, STAY!" Roxas' voice cracked violently as the note echoed through the graveyard. He buckled over, and one of the other men leapt forward to catch him. The brown-haired boy held the blonde into his chest, tried to still his shaking, tried to quell the gasps and whimpers. He turned his eyes toward the grave, and bit his lip.
"Each day is valentine's day," he sang softly. He helped the blonde to his feet. The tallest boy, silver hair pulled back and covered in snow, swiftly moved his arms around Roxas' waist, glancing briefly at Sora. The brunette gave a weak smile. The blonde sniffed hastily.
The graves watched, silent, as they made their way back to their car.