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Leonard could still taste the blood in his mouth from that day. It had already been a while since, though he could not remember how long. It felt just like yesterday that he was teasing Klein as they travelled to their missions. But now...
Leonard's shadow flickers and he grounds himself, lighting another candle on the fresh headstones, the writing on them still clean, as he was left in that ruined hall, alone. The Church would soon be giving funds to have the Nighthawks place fixed, but for now, the least he could do was this. He traced his fingers over the lettering, marking the sharp lines, so harsh - so unforgiving for such a soft person. He traced the words, Klein Moretti, and felt a bitterness in the back of his throat. He really wished his own poems worked on himself. What he would give to have one last conversation with that- it didn't matter. Klein was dead.
Those that were left were still reeling from the events, all wore black to show their mourning, their steps a lot slower. It wasn't easy to forget their steadfast Captain and the rookie Beyonder, the one so quick to advance. Their colleague. Their friend. Even if he was just there for two months. Leonard finally left the building and the headstones behind as he stepped out, to where he didn't know. No one knew much of anything now that it was over. Yet, he felt frustrated, his green eyes dark as he clenched his fists. No, he knew what he had to do. He had to get better, advance further, and join the Red Gloves. Maybe then he could, he could have saved him. He shook his thoughts away. He had to leave the dead with the dead. There were only two fates you could have as a Beyonder - either you die, or you survive. And for some reason, Leonard was the one left alive. And Klein was dead. He had to do this. Had to live for his- no, their sake. His nails dug into his palm. To get revenge.
He caught sight of a familiar face - Melissa, with her bonnet, and Benson, dressed still in mourning, Klein's surviving family. The thought of talking to them crossed his mind, to quell the ache in his heart, but he dismissed it as soon as it came. How could he? He was the one to deliver the news to them. And who was he to Klein, anyways. They were just.... colleagues. Nothing more. He had no right to ask for more. And now he never could. He decided to just tail them instead. Their faces were similar enough to Klein, maybe he could delude himself into thinking he was still there.
The poet shadowed them down familiar streets, back to the marketplace. Leonard winced. This was just like that first time, when he tailed Klein Moretti cause of his involvement with the suicides. Back then he had looked so naive, unaware of the forces working behind the shadows. The Midnight Poet never doubted him though. Leonard knew Klein was special, even then. And now, of course- he sighed. Tailing the Morettis' had only made his ache more apparent. Perhaps, this was a bad idea after all. Leonard left them, heading to a different section of the market. It was fine. At least the Morettis' seemed okay.
Wounds of this nature would never heal. Not for them. Not for Leonard. All they could do was live. The Morettis' would be fine. Just like Leonard had to- he clenched his fists again, almost drawing blood- he had to get better, make sure none of that ever happened again. Make sure he could make the ones responsible pay for this. Pay for Klein's-
A yellow flower abruptly interrupts his thoughts as it's practically shoved into his face. Leonard nearly coughs, sure that a few petals had gone inside his throat. He was so preoccupied that he hadn't even- he looked up and saw a clown, no, a jester would be the more appropriate word. A fool - clown face drawn and a silly jester hat on his curly hair, as he smiled, holding the yellow flowers out to him.
"Seville Chrysanthemum." He pushes the yellow flowers to the long-haired Beyonder as Leonard is forced to grab it, the usually quick-lipped poet now at a loss for words. The clown just smiles. "A symbol for happiness."
Leonard blinks, as he just takes the flowers, their fresh scent filling his senses as a gentle breeze blew in. He looks at the smiling fool, so familiar and yet-
"If you keep frowning like that, your face will get twisted." The bells jingle from his hat as the clown chuckles. "A smile is much more becoming of a pretty face."
Leonard just stares as the jester continued to chuckle. He looked down at the yellow flowers- they really were pretty. A laugh sounds out as he looked back at the smiling painted face. "See? Much better already."
The silent poet felt the weight of the flowers in his hand and put his hand out to give it back. But he was stopped by a gloved hand. The clown shook his head and smiled, "For you, good sir." The jester turned and strode off, laughing, a sweet tinkling sound echoing through the busy marketplace, as if it was only intended for one person. "To remind you of happiness!"
Leonard just stared at the retreating figure, already too distant to even say a meek 'thank you', in response. He looked down at the yellow flowers in his hand as the people brushed past him, busy in their own lives, sounds of haggling already drowning out the distant footsteps. But he could still hear the sweet, simple jingle of those bells. He traced his fingers down the soft edges of the flowers, freshly cut and strangely alive. And for the first time in a long time, Leonard felt a smile linger on his lips.