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The air was thick and heavy, a low hanging fog covering the dirt path below Korekiyo and Rantaro's feet. Rantaro usually didn't mind going on walks with the taller, but this one felt strange. It felt as if Korekiyo was hiding something, which was natural, of course, but this was different. It was almost ominous as if Rantaro was getting taken to where he'd meet his maker. However, he knew no matter how many chills ran up his back through his thick leather jacket that Korekiyo would never hurt him. Not even accidentally. In a way, that comforted him enough to keep up with the other's long strides. He observed the masked individual with curiosity, biting his chapped lip as he reached out for his hand that wasn't busy with a small floral bouquet. He got ignored immediately, Korekiyo not even glancing to look at him. Rantaro frowned and sighed, stuffing his cold hands into his pockets as he took a look around the graveyard around them.
"This...isn't something illegal again, right?" He asked quietly, clearing his throat.
"No," Korekiyo answered shortly and sharply, pushing his hair over his shoulder.
"...Right. Err, do you wanna tell me what's goin' on?"
"No."
Rantaro exhaled, watching the fog drift past his ankles as he walked. He nearly ran into Korekiyo as the other halted to a stop, throwing out his arms and playing it off as if hugging him from behind. Korekiyo shouldered him off, clearing his throat as he took a step away from Rantaro. He crouched down until he was on his knees, looking at the gravestone in front of him. Rantaro watched him, lips parting as he realized where they were. Despite not knowing who the flowers were for, his shoulders slouched, and his legs felt like lead as he kept his hands in his pockets. His eyes felt watery all of a sudden, and he quickly wiped them with his sleeve. He didn't know what to say to the man below him, watching him with worry. Korekiyo placed the flowers in front of the gravestone, silently pulling up weeds and clearing leaves with shaky hands. He sniffled once, and Rantaro felt himself cave.
"Are you okay?" Rantaro asked gently, brows knitted tightly together as he took a step closer to Korekiyo.
"...Fine," Korekiyo replied, but there was hesitance in his voice. He cleared his throat, voice wavering despite his best attempt to avoid it, "Just need to greet her, is all."
"..Her--?" With a sudden realization, he gasped softly, eyes wide with worry, "Oh God, Kiyo, I'm...sorry. I didn't-"
"It's fine."
"Are you sure? You s-"
"I said that it's fine, " Korekiyo said sharply, nose stuffy as his voice cracked. He quickly wiped his eyes, tossing the weeds to the side and out of the way. His shoulders trembled, shutting his eyes tightly to prevent himself from letting tears fall.
Rantaro was speechless, taken aback at the other's tone. He cleared his throat quietly, placing a hand on Korekiyo's shoulder. He gently squeezed the man, a display of genuine concern on his face. Even that small bit of affection caused Korekiyo to choke back a sob, clenching his jaw to prevent any noises from escaping his covered lips as he turned his head away from Rantaro. The other sunk to the damp ground, tucking locks of hair behind Korekiyo's ear.
"...It's okay to cry, Kiyo," Rantaro said gently, sliding the hand that sat upon Korekiyo's shoulder down to his back. He rubbed the man's back lightly, sighing.
Korekiyo said nothing in response, eyes remaining shut as his entire body froze. Rantaro continued to rub his back, gaze never leaving Korekiyo.
"It's human to cry," He spoke softly, attempting to keep his voice low and gentle to soothe the taller male.
The dark-haired man cracked, a wail of despair escaping his throat as he began to sob into his gloved hands. He cried hard and loud, slouching so far that his head was nearly against the gravestone. Rantaro remained silent for a few beats, letting the man cry as he rubbed circles soothingly into his back.
"It's okay," Rantaro spoke, "Let it out, it's okay. It's just us."
Korekiyo leaned towards Rantaro, sitting upright as he went to rub his eyes. The eyeliner he had on was running down his cheeks and into his mask, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Rantaro reached behind Korekiyo and untied his mask, Korekiyo silently protesting but not doing anything to stop the cloth from being pulled from his face. Rantaro gently wiped off the runny eyeliner with his fingertips, rubbing them off onto his jeans. He cupped Korekiyo's cheeks, wordlessly soothing him.
"I miss her so much," Korekiyo sniffled, choking out another sob, "I miss her, Rantaro. It hurts knowing she--"
"It's okay. I know it does," Rantaro quickly cut him off, afraid if he were to let him speak about his sister, he'd get himself sick from crying so hard.
Without any words, Korekiyo began to cry silently again. He dropped his head, sniffling. He wasn't aware that the man in front of him was hugging him until he felt his hair gently brush across his cheek, but he didn't protest either. Rantaro's arms tightened around Korekiyo, holding him close. Korekiyo kept his arms by his sides, burying his head into the crook of the other's neck. He let himself relax, continuing to let out years of pent of mourning and grief. It felt almost wrong to him as if he were to going to get scolded for it. He knew Rantaro was different, though. He knew that Rantaro wouldn't tell him to "act professional" or "keep his composure." He hesitantly wrapped his arms around the other, weakly holding him.
"Thank you," Korekiyo mumbled into Rantaro, earning a gentle squeeze in response.
"You needed this, Kiyo. Don't thank me," Rantaro detested, shaking his head.
"...Thank you for being here, I mean." Kiyo sniffed, stuffy from the mucus that felt like it now encased his entire head.
"...Why wouldn't I be here?"
"Because no one else was."