When he saw those hands, protected and placed poetically across his stomach, as if Ren knew, had fucking known this was going to happen, well of course he cried. It was all he knew to do.
Ren knew he was going to crash, and made to preserve those hands so that he might be able to play with Trapnest again someday. He'd had some hope that he'd survive the accident, and had protected them even at the cost of the physical condition of the rest of his body. Like the trooper he was, his mentality made him take one for the team, like Takumi had taught them to do.
He'd been worried that because of his addiction, and the shakes that had afflicted his hands as a result, he'd hold the band back; prevent them from moving forward and being successful. How could one play with fingers that couldn't press down on the strings properly? He'd vowed to cut the crack and get well on his own, his stubbornness causing him to fight his addiction through sheer will power so as not to bog the rest of them down. It was this that had caused him to fold those hands perfectly, peacefully, so he'd play again one day. So he'd be able to prove he was strong, prove that he'd been able to cut down this addiction that had consumed him all on his own so he could begin to make things right with Nana once more.
But Ren Honjo would never play guitar again. Nor take another breath, nor see the ocean, nor hear Nana's singing ever again, though it was Reira's he'd longed to hear in the end.
That padlock he always wore was now immortalized in the flesh of his skull, in a sick symbol of unison with the Ren flower Nana had inked on her arm. A permanent reminder of what they had. Their love was meant to last forever, was supposed to have lasted forever, because it was a beautiful thing they had. It was precious. Their love was rare, something that was supposed to only exist in fairytales; everyone said so, and even if they didn't, they thought it, at least. It was destroyed by a momentary lapse in reason, a trick of the eyes accompanied with a fault in mentality. A swerve in the snow.
What was once something so extraordinary now only left misery and regret in its wake. Internal voices reasoning, 'I shouldn't have encouraged him.' 'He was on his way to get me, this is all my fault…' blaming themselves in ways no one should ever put themselves through. Tears and guilt pouring out their eyes as they said their final goodbyes, and yet garnering nothing at all from the one that mattered the most.
Her dry eyes gazed numbly at his sheet-covered body, eyeing those hands that had come out unscathed, remembering all their fond touches and how they'd held and played a guitar so magically. Held her and kept her safe when things hadn't been so god damned complicated.
This was the last time she'd see them.
Their marriage ended in his death. Her everything ended in his death. And so she left, like she had all those years ago, to make a new something, her ring and flower an ever present reminder of what'd been robbed from her a second time.
'Time stopped moving for me.'
I hope you're resting in peace, Ren. When I die, I pray I may rest as easily as you appeared to be. I'm tired of always chasing after you; wait up for me this time, won't you?