Title: Cavatina: In Bloom (Souci)
Rating: G
Genre: Friendship/Family
Prompt: "Pain and grief"
Word Count:
Summary: Loss and how we deal. [Mimi x Ken]


[12/08/16]


They all tell her how beautiful the service was. Miyako and Hikari had ended up in tears and Sora had brought baked goods and barley tea for everyone. They had spent the afternoon together, offering their support in the best way they knew. She doesn't text any of them but one, and him only to offer an apology. She spends that afternoon at home, caught in an inexplicable melancholy her parents don't know how to deal with.

It is still high autumn and the trees around the cemetery are shedding their browning leaves. As the Ichijoujis' car slows down, Ken looks longingly at the sky. Today marks the sixth anniversay of Osamu's passing and the loneliness that's always a step behind is all around him, now. His parents are speaking quietly to each other but he has finely tuned them out and he is the first out of the car when they finally arrive.

"Did you bring your offerings, Ken-kun?" his mother asks and Ken nods silently. He has never once forgotten but she always asks. His father squeezes his shoulder and Ken smiles, though his eyes are beginning to water.

"I'll be back," he says, inclining his head and turning on his heel before they can protest. His feet carry him away through the graves of countless strangers and he wonders how a place so peaceful can be so full of loss. He walks with his hands deep in his coat's pockets, trying to recall memories of his lost brother only to get increasingly anxious as he realises they are so few and already so old. The service held the day before was heavy with stories about the eldest Ichijouji son and Ken's heart breaks again as he thinks how few of those he shared in, if at all.

By the time he comes back, Mr. and Mrs. Ichijouji have moved to a stone bench a few feet away, giving him the privacy he never asked for. There is a spray of bright marigolds that look at odds with the soothing incense and the washed-out colours of the graveyard; Ken is overwhelmed as he draws closer and reaches for the small box that has his name on it. He doesn't recognise the handwriting but tears the paper off and his heart shrinks as he draws out a small children's toy and an accompanying card:

Don't forget to send a message!

Love,

Mimi

The dead leaves rustle in the crisp autumn wind and with it, bright soap bubbles that go high, high in the air.