Roses and Pictures

Marik stared down at the open casket, emotions not showing. He looked at the boy inside, arms crossed over his chest, white flowers under them. The boy had once held a smile that could melt a thousand cities of ice and eyes that would have made anyone fall for him.

Gently, Marik traced the jaw line of the boy with his finger before cupping his cheek lovingly. There was only the faint smile that the makeup artist had placed on the boys lips, but it wasn't the same. There was no joy in that smile; it was cold, without feeling.

He stared for a few seconds thinking about the memories the boy had given him, the only reminiscence of happiness he had left, the laughter that filled the air with its quiet jingle of happiness, and then the million apologies for how it sounds. The warm hugs of trust and love the boy had oh so often given to a man who was not worthy of such an angels light. The smiles of joy at seeing himself, oh how he'd give anything for it back.

A hand landed gently on his shoulder, but he didn't look up. There were no words spoken for quite some time, as Marik continued to gently rub the cold cheek of his lover. When he finally pulled his hand away, he could see the grey dead skin below, and had to choke back a sob.

"Marik," there were arms of a person around him now, and his gazed was turned from the deceased by a hug.

Even then he didn't cry. Even in the arms of another whom he loved dearly, he did not cry, for he had made a promise long ago not to.

Pulling away gently, he turned once again to the boy in the casket; bringing a single red rose to his lips he kissed it gently before placing it down next to the boys head.

He glanced down at the end of the casket where a picture laid, one of himself and his two lovers. They were at the amusement park with the boy on his back and the other man beside him with a cheeky grin. The picture screamed joy, but, even still, Marik felt none when he looked at the picture.

"The picture doesn't do him justice." Marik stated blandly. Afekia, the man behind him only looked at him for an answer. "The beauty on him is hidden behind a glass shield and a lens." Akefia nodded slowly, understanding.

They both glanced around the church where the funeral was being held, only two other people had even showed up; Bakura and Malik. The site of the empty church brought Marik into a state of fury.

"Can't people tell when the world has lost some of the only good left?" Marik asked his voice breaking.

"Mortals don't seem to know what good is anymore." Bakura replied looking blankly at the casket holding his fallen hikari. "They seem to have lost all of it."

Malik leaned on Bakura's shoulder and cried for a little while longer.

Marik turned back to the casket and noted the scar lines that were on his once perfect face and the leg, even though there was something there now to make it look like he still had a leg, everyone knew it wasn't Ryou's.

To think, that something so perfect and pure could be taken so easily by a drunk driver. It was almost laughable.

~~~~~

They lay in bed, the two lovers. Marik rolled over and looked at Akefia and did something he hadn't done in many years. Maneuvering his body closer to the other, he curled up with his head on the others chest, clutching tightly to the fabric of Akefia's shirt.

"I miss him." Was all Marik said before a choked sobbed burst forth and after that he couldn't stop, unknowingly causing the other to follow suit.

~~~~~

Bakura and Malik looked down at the three graves many years later, neither talking. Malik looked up at Bakura and nodded slightly before they each placed a black rose down on the outside stones. Both stood up and only stared for a second at the middle one before a single white rose was placed down on the middle one.

As the two left, a picture was now there on the middle stone, the same one from Ryou's funeral.

Bakura looked over at Malik with an almost broken grin.

"Let's just both hope they don't fuck up heaven for us, okay?"