Grieving//Dragon's Tears
He shouldn't still be here, Feilong thought. His body seemed unwilling, though, to move from the spot which he had been occupying for hours now, standing still as a statue while staring at the grave. The sky was darkening now in a combination of late afternoon and blustery autumn weather. The Baishe leader sighed silently and the wind picked up as if sympathising with him as it made the man's long dark hair flutter before sending some dry fallen leaves further along the path.
It had been days, now, since Asami's funeral and Feilong knew that he had to leave soon, that he really should leave. There was nothing left here for him. During the past few days his entire obsession, everything he had ever felt for Asami had come crashing down around him, the man's death seemingly carrying it away like water in a stream. The whole process had left the Feilong strangely drained and blank.
He took one last long glance at the gravestone and turned back, ready to head back for the sleek black car parked by the roadside in which his driver was waiting. What the Chinese hadn't anticipated was the presence that suddenly stood in his way, the boy looking tired and lost, his short dishevelled hair being ruffled by the wind.
"Takaba…," Feilong uttered in surprise.
In the few seconds they stared at each other Feilong could watch, as if in slow motion, as Akihito's wide eyes filled with tears. Then the younger male threw himself at Feilong and broke down, sobbing and clutching at the black fabric of an expensive suit.
Feilong found himself stunned, not being accustomed to displays of such strong emotions. Unsure of his motions, Feilong simply wrapped his arms around Akihito's shaking form and let the boy cry. Feilong himself closed his eyes after a few moments, letting some of the tension in his posture fade.
To anyone who did not know what heartbreak had been involved in the past few days the sight of the two men, one crying and the other comforting, might have been one of hope. Feilong and Akihito knew different. Their situation was desolate.
They broke the embrace a while later, Akihito still sniffling as they began to walk towards Feilong's car. Standing beside the vehicle, neither knew what exactly to say, but Akihito knew what he wanted.
"Please, can I come with you," he asked, desperation evident in his voice. "I only have the apartment to go back to and now… right now I just can't." The younger man's voice was steadily rising in pitch as his emotions threatened to take over.
Feilong said nothing for a moment but then nodded silently, his decision made. "Get in." He motioned for Akihito to get into the car while Feilong himself walked around to the other side and gave the driver his instructions. They passed the journey to the hotel in complete silence.
Once they entered Feilong's suite, Akihito collapsed on the bed immediately, exhausted. Feilong took off his suit jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. The Triad leader's phone rang then and he excused himself, taking the conversation to the balcony.
Feilong was tempted to heave a sigh of relief once he'd ended the phone call. He was feeling far too raw to be dealing with business right now. With a small sigh, at least, he switched off his phone as he once again entered the room. What a bittersweet image he was met with.
Akihito had finally given in to exhaustion and had curled up on the bed, shoes off, but otherwise still clad in blue jeans and a faded green hoody. Shaking his head sadly, Feilong walked to the bed and sat down next to the sleeping boy. He sat there, just watching, watching the younger man sleep.
A while later full darkness had descended outside. Feilong had dimmed the room's light to a minimum and had continued watching Akihito sleep. The sight drew a sad sigh from the Baishe leader as he reached out to brush some strands of soft brown hair from the sleeping man's eyes. Feilong's hand lingered there and it only took a few moments for Akihito to open his eyes, reaching for the Chinese's hand with his own. Akihito closed his hand over Feilong's and smiled sadly but gently. "You can cry, you know," the young Japanese said, his voice slightly sleep-laden. "I know how much he meant to you."
Feilong looked stricken, if only for a moment. Then he inclined his head. "Go back to sleep," he told Akihito gently, disentangling his hand from the other's. Akihito complied, feigned to, at least, and once more closed his eyes. A short while later his breathing had evened and sleep was truly threatening to claim the young Japanese's mind once more, but he could still distantly hear the sounds of his surroundings.
Still slightly shocked by Akihito's words, Feilong sat, staring at the floor. The carpet's pattern shouldn't be this blurry, right? Feilong hadn't cried in over eight years and he'd be damned if he started now. Shaking his head angrily, Feilong could feel the first pinpricks of tears stabbing at his eyes. Then he buried his head in his hands and cried. Silent sobs and tears leaking down beautiful pale cheeks concealed behind long fingers.
Akihito had a hard time holding back his own tears behind closed eyes as he heard Feilong cry. He didn't dare disturb the older man, though. Akihito knew that Feilong would not want to be seen like this. The man liked his privacy and Akihito was supposed to be asleep, after all.
And so he did fall asleep again, eventually, long before Feilong could reign in his tears, and a thought crossed Akihito's mind just before his dreams claimed him. He'd once heard something, a legend, maybe. That a dragon's tears could heal. Akihito hoped for both himself and Feilong that this was