A/N: I definitely was not expecting to write a fic today. I just got in the mood and started writing on Tumblr. Spoilers for chapter 58, also based off it.
Side note: I had to stop several times because I kept crying. I hope you cry too (but because of good things!)

...Happiness
...Sorii.
...1/23/11

She is dying, and she is happy.

She whispers his names, crying like always. But unlike those other times, she's smiling. "Vivi… Vivi…"

He holds her hand, no longer soft and slender but instead bony and wrinkled. He can feel his heart breaking inside his inhuman chest, but he does his best to smile. A platonic smile, and he knows he's lying to himself, why the hell am I smiling when I should be begging for God, that unholy piece of shit liar, to spare her, to let me keep her here, why does this bastard have to be so cruel —

"Thank you," She says. He doesn't say anything, stays silent, because he feels that if he opens his mouth he will say something and regret it, he will do something embarrassing in front of his wife, his Hana, his blossom. Instead, he holds her hand in both of his, lifting it to view with the glorious rose ring perched on her ring finger, a symbol of their bond.

His hold is gentle. He is a demon. He feels as though he could crush her hand to dust if he wanted to. Still, he stays silent. He doesn't trust his voice.

"You were always by my side," She sighs. "Thank you." She closes her eyes. "I was happy. And from here on, forever and ever," Her hand goes slack. "I'm the happiest person in the world." The fingers that are old, the fingers that he will never have, curl in limply as his beloved breathes her last.

He is still in shock. He sits there, in the same position. He can not cry. Numbly, he thinks to himself, What is happiness?

Such a fickle human emotion, it is. Fleeting, like the time it takes for a flower to wither in my palm. Humans are so fragile. He remembers when he found her on that cold Winter day, all alone and bundled up. He remembers when Felton was ordered to toss Hana back to those despicable humans, the ones who cast her away in the first place. He remembers when he heard those words, those reassuring coos that Hana loves you even if you are a demon. And unconsciously he thought I want us to be together forever and ever. He remembers when she is hypnotized by Moritz, and he admits to her, so beautiful atop that cherry blossom tree, that I want to be with you forever. He remembers when Felton tries to stop them, arguing that We and Hana-chan come from different worlds. Hana should live a happy life as a human. He recalls the pain he felt when he realized that it was true, and that his friend was right, but he just couldn't bring himself to separate himself from her. He recalls the day he goes back to Hana, the day Ellinor screams that You're the only one who can make her happy! And god, the joy he felt when he heard that. It was like the weight of the world had been lifted off.

It'll end up a thorny path, he recalls someone saying. But he shakes his head. What is happiness? He thinks to himself again. Was the road we chose the right one? He takes one last glance at Hana. She looks as though she could be sleeping, smiling, eyes closed. It would be the last time she lies in his bed.

I don't know, he admits. He holds her precious hand a little tighter, a little more firmly, to confirm that this is reality, that she is real, and not just a figment of his imagination. And he sadly closes his eyes, a sad smile still on his face, the handsome face that will never age. It's unfair, he bitterly thinks. That she had to be a human. Even our half-demon children don't age half as fast as she did.

And then he lets go, and her hand tumbles to down to his crimson bed sheets, never to move again, never to stroke his cheek or pat his head or run her fingers through his hair, never to hold his hand and reassure him that everything will be alright.

And he allows himself to mourn, and a trail of tears push past the grime on his face from staying up for the past three days with her, falling salty, slowly, as if to prolong his departure from her side. He makes no move to wipe them away, and instead sits there, staring at her, her aged form, this woman he loved - no, loves.

And now it is three years later, and he is in front of her grave. And amongst all this reminiscing, he smiles the same smile that he would only reserve for her, that kind smile. "Ah, that's right," He says out loud. Her words come flowing back to him as if it were yesterday (though it might as well have been yesterday he's a demon after all three years is nothing). "I'm also… the happiest person in the world," He admits, the cherry blossoms floating down from that tree he planted when she was only 14. It has survived up until this day, this new millennium, a symbol of their everlasting love.

Soon enough the others arrive, and with the bouquet of roses, the same roses she would give him every day without fail, he plucks one out and takes a small whiff of it before it begins to whither in his hand, just like she did, so fast, so brittle. And he places it on her grave. And together, they are happy.

...Fini.

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