Lost

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Rain sprinkled the slick, muddy ground, turning the graveyard into a slippery death trap. Small crystals of ice, disguised by the pouring rain, pelted the small group of black figures.

It was a dreadful day, fitting the mournful occasion almost too well. It felt like a somber scene in a movie, and Atsushi almost wished it was. This didn't feel like real life, no matter how tangible his frigid fingers and sunken heart were.

Atsushi glanced up at the faces of the people surrounding him, and felt his heart sink even lower. Together, they formed a small semi-circle, ringed around the gray stone grave. Almost as if they were protecting it.

Next to the weretiger, Akutagawa stood, Rashomon wrapped tightly around his shivering form. His pale fingers shook, though with anger or sadness, Atsushi could not tell. The Mafioso's face betrayed a look of aggravation, tinged with sorrow. Like he was angry at the world for allowing someone to die.

Beside Akutagawa, Kunikida frowned, appearing just as irritated. His ever-present notebook was clutched tightly in the man's fist, knuckles white with tension.

Lingering beside the doppo-poet, his eyes ablaze with bitter, desperate melancholy, was Chuuya. A silver flask was clutched in his slender fingers, and the orange haired man did not try to conceal it. His hair was bedraggled, and his cheeks tear stained. Though Chuuya would never admit that he was sad.

However, huddled beside the Mafioso, a small group of people let their tears flow free. Ranpo, clinging to Poe's arm, seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve. Though Edgar was usually quite wary of physical contact, he seemed to allow Ranpoe this small moment of comfort in the depths of his sadness. Lucy stood beside the detectives, her hands resting protectively on Q's shoulders. Though the pink-haired girl didn't know the deceased well, she had taken over as Q's guardian, and insisted on accompanying him to the funeral. Kenji sat beside them, his hat sitting dejectedly on his lap.

A little ways away, Fukuzawa and Mori stood, robed in black, staring solemnly at the group of mourners. Ango stood uncertainty beside them, not quite belonging in either group. Next to the solemn leaders, Kouyou and Yosano were standing shoulder to shoulder, a silent air of comfort between them. Standing in front of the couple, taking relief in their comforting presence, was Kyouka. Originally, she had stood next to Atsushi, but had silently fled when the forlorn emotions overwhelmed her spirit.

Atsushi turned back to the cold, unfeeling grave. The engraved letters seemed to send a punch into his heart. Osamu Dazai.

Chuuya sighed in annoyance, and took another swig from his flask. Kunikida opened his mouth, as if to speak, but closed it again in defeat. There was nothing left to say.

This thought, however, didn't seem to occur to Chuuya.

"Damnit," He growled, eyes burning with melancholy annoyance. "Bastard had to go and die on us. That fucking waste of bandages!"

Akutagawa turned, his eyes shifting between rage, agreement, and sorrow.

"Shut up!" He muttered, lip curling in annoyance.

Chuuya scowled, fist clenching, "Fuck off. You don't get to be upset about this. You despised him, so shut up, sit down, and keep your feelings to yourself."

"Like you tolerated him either," Aku retorted, "You couldn't stand the sight of him. Why do you get to be upset?"

"Because I loved him!" Chuuya shouted, startling the mourners. Turning on his heel, the orange-haired man stalked away, drowning his shame in his flask.

Tentatively, Atsushi reached his hand towards Akutagawa's, attempting to comfort the shocked man.

Aku drew his hand away sharply, ot allowing himself to be comforted. Kouyou shared a knowing look with Yosano, then started walking briskly in the direction Chuuya went. Either to berate or comfort him, Atsushi didn't know Yosano wrapped an arm around Kyouka's shoulders, and shared a look with Poe.

Chuuya's outburst had effectively ended the somber funeral, and everyone was aware. Poe slowly guided Ranpoe away from the grave, walking towards Yosano. Kenji stood, solemnly putting his hat on, and followed Ranpoe. Lucy crouched down slightly, hefted Q into her arms, settling him sideways on her hips. She carried him like a toddler, though he was 8, but the somber situation seemed to warrant it. She gave Atsushi an apologetic look, then slowly trailed after the group of exiting mourners.

When they converged, simple plans were made, Lucy took Kyouka's hand, and headed away, taking care of her and Q for the night. Kunikida and Yosano headed in the opposite direction, probably to a bar, to drown their feelings in alcohol. Kouyou would be back later, after taking care of Chuuya, and would meet them at the bar.

Ranpoe and Poe walked a little ways away from them, going home to mourn in private. Only Akutagawa and Atsushi remained at the grave.

Though no one spoke, a silent understanding passed between them. Nothing would ever be the same.

Everything had changed.

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