Chapter 1
(Squalos POV)
Several droplets slipped down his face as threads of silver and white fell away from his body. The wind caught them, carrying them off into the unknown. It was getting dark and the burnt reds and oranges of the evening soon to be clothed in black leered. They mocked him. Those stupid reds and oranges – So much like his eyes. They couldn't hurt him however. He didn't care much for what the sky thought, because the red he enjoyed was gone.
The black he welcomed. It matched the soft strands that currently tickled his face. He pulled a hand up, sliding his fingers through the dark hair. It felt good, there was nothing artificial about it. It reminded him of the soft silk-lined suits he'd worn to the many functions he'd been made to attend.
Then finally came the moon. Squalo frowned. He'd often been compared to the moon – as he seemed to glow in the night, his skin was a soft shade of milky cream – That's what xanxus had said one night after one too many shots. He glared at it as it hit the body in his arms. How dare that disgustingly pure light touch what was his! The silverhaired swordsman looked down, turning Xanxus to face him. He was not met by heated red eyes, they were closed.
He tried to hold back the rest of his tears, but he knew he'd already lost everything else, why did he even need his pride anymore? Quickly, he broke down into sobs, clinging tightly to Xanxus. Pride. Pride was a fucking murderer!
A voice soon brought him back to the real world, it was faint, but definitely there. He tried to will the tears away, catching a glance at Xanxus' face through non-clouded eyes – Had Xanxus just-
…No. Squalo felt his heart twist in his chest. That voice hadn't been Xanxus'. Was he really such a fool? To think a dead man would awaken just because he was missed? The voice squalo had heard…had been his own pathetic whimpers. There was no one else there except himself and the cold body in his arms.
"I miss you…" he murmured, leaning down for a final blood-soaked kiss. When he pulled away,Squalo finally came back to the truth; They'd never been alone. It was now time for the funeral to continue and Squalo to be taken home by lussuria. No-one could take it anymore. To see that once pride-filled young swordsman fall to his knees and cling to something so pathetically and sob.
Squalo never cried, until that one day.
