He felt nothing.
The rain poured down. It plopped in puddles, soaked into the muddy ground, stuck his shoulders as a thousand tiny blows. Silveus stared into the rough-hewn hole and the puddle that grew in its depths. He stared at the dirt, and the grass, and the way water bounced as it absorbed into the puddles, and everything but the black box in the depths of the hole.
The first thing he'd felt was rage. How could they? How could the conductor be so careless? He'd wanted to [i do] something. Fix it, somehow. Make someone else hurt as much as he hurt.
It wouldn't bring him back.
He'd cried. That night, when he was all alone, when his friends had left and there was no one there to support him. That first night, the first time being alone in years, he'd cried. The pillow grew damp, but his bed stayed empty.
He hadn't cried in the morgue, when he'd had to stand there and identify the body. It was surreal, looking down at that broken, burned mess and having to pick apart the pieces; the diamond earring, the dumb tattoo. A part of him hadn't acknowledged it as his husband's body. It wasn't. There was no face. No broad chest, no strong arms that held him at night, no long legs with just a little to much hair. Just a mess of charred flesh and the pieces. The bits.
It wasn't Logan. It couldn't be.
He'd dreamed, that night, that Logan had come back to him. He'd slammed open the bedroom door like he'd used to.
"You'll break the wall," he'd complained, and Logan had smiled that big, warm smile that lit up the whole room.
Syllables spilled from his lips like diamonds, shining and bright and meaningless. He couldn't understand what Logan said, but he knew it was a joke, and he smiled anyways. He'd patted the bed beside him, but when he'd looked up, Logan was gone.
It was hard. Everything was hard. He wanted to sell the house, but Logan had worked so hard to buy it. He wanted to leave this town, but Logan had begged him to move here. He wanted to escape, but it felt like leaving behind Logan, and he couldn't. How could he?
He felt numb. He felt nothing. His soul had frozen without Logan there to keep him warm.
Heels clicked. Silveus looked up. He didn't recognize the man, but that wasn't a surprise. Most people at the funeral were Logan's friends and family. Silveus's family had abandoned him the moment he'd decided to marry a man. Not that he minded. They'd never been close. He had friends, here to support him, but not as many as Logan's friends and family. Logan had been so involved in the town--well, of course he had. That was half the reason he'd wanted to move here, right? The community. The family. And Silveus's family didn't want him, so why not try and join Logan's?
"Thank you," he murmured.
This man looked a lot like Logan. He looked away. Glanced back. Was he related to Logan? It was possible. A brother, perhaps? He didn't look much like Logan. His jaw was narrower, his face more angular... but there was something about his eyes, about the way he moved and walked, that was so very Logan.
Silveus turned back to the grave. That ragged hole in the ground. This was it. This was the end. He'd only had a few years. So few years. It felt like only a moment since Logan walked into his life. He breathed out and closed his eyes. If only it could have lasted forever.
[center Why did it always seems to rain on funeral days? It was like the heavens just knew to set the mood and so the flood commenced. Clearly didn’t have much consideration for the loved ones or the grave diggers. It was easy to imagine, already, the number of sinking heels and disgruntled mourners making their way through the grounds for the burial, but they weren’t there yet.
It was kind of ironic - this kind of affair was really for mortals. This wasn’t the kind of ceremony that would really take place, but for appearances, it was totally necessary. After all, when you chose to live amongst mortals, you had to cater to their fragile sense of reality. If only they knew the truth. Like the fact that a third of the congregation was comprised of immortals simply paying respects.
It really hadn’t been something they typically did, but this was a special exception. Especially for one so valued - so esteemed. Even if in the end he had appeared to turn his back on his heritage - on an entire world - in favour of love.
There was little one wouldn’t do for love, though. Who could blame him? Besides, you know, everyone.
Well, Faustus didn’t really count. He believed in making decisions for yourself and being willing to live with them. Logan had been willing to accept the consequences, and this is what they looked like. Not that he would be telling anyone here about that.
Thinking on it, the events leading up to this must have given him plenty of warning as to what was to come. Yet, he’d carried on as per usual - at least, based upon what Faustus had seen - and had opted to live each of his very last days to the fullest. Right up until the end. Defiant, some would say. Admirable, though, in the eyes of some.
Faustus was of no opinion. It wasn’t his place to have one at this point in time. He had duties to fulfil. Brother or no brother.
Donning his best, he cautiously approached Logan’s husband - now widowed - to pay his respects. His heels clicked at regularly interval with every step, long legs closing the distance easily as he cleared the main aisle.
“My condolences. I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”
Sorry for his loss and so much more. He could only imagine the shock come the days to follow, but he would be close - keeping an eye until the proper time.
This was something that could no longer go unaddressed, and he would heed a final request from someone as dear as Logan. He would not let this one be lost - without guidance. That made for a short life. It was the very least he could do. Even if keeping promises were seldom ever so easy in such matters.
Still, to go in such a terrible way... collateral damage was one thing, but to derail an entire train car? Perhaps the price of avoiding fate was high in these cases. At least he had been given some years with his beloved before this. Faustus sure as hell hoped it was worth it.