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Sam held his right hand in his left so hard his knuckles turned white and his fingers ached. His eyes were dry, fresh out of tears, and his hair a mess.
It's been three weeks since the notification of the ex-God's death was shown to the entire server. Two weeks since he was buried. One week since Sam and Ponk had last left their house.
As soon as they saw it they noticed the limp body about a mile up a hill behind them. They, of course, went to go see what had happened because whatever it was the notification couldn't have been correct.
Could it have?
As soon as they saw the state their dear friend was in they knew exactly what the notification had meant.
Poor Puffy wasn't seen not crying for God's knows how long. And his kids, oh lord his kids.
Ponk hasn't said a single thing since that day. Sam wished so badly that his lover would just talk to him but he knew he wouldn't. How could someone even fathom what to say after that?
People had only stopped questioning them on what happened recently when they stopped leaving the house.
Sam jumped as the floor began to creak behind him. Ponk had finally got up.
The smaller walked to the kitchen and just stood at the counter, too tired to actually fix anything. He began to cry again. He couldn't remember the last time he went five minutes without crying.
Sam got up from the couch and walked to the other. He gently wrapped his arms around the other and held him close, starting to tear up himself.
"You were right." He said in a broken voice.
"We should've told him."