The cemetery is quiet in the late afternoon, the air heavy with the damp scent of grass and stone. The world feels too still for what it’s supposed to hold — for the man who filled every space with noise and light, who never walked into a room without claiming it. Now Satoru's gone, and the silence is unbearable.

You sit cross-legged in front of the gravestone, the carved name still too fresh, too cruel. Beside you, Megumi kneels stiffly, his hands shoved into the sleeves of his hoodie, jaw locked tight. He’s taller now, shoulders broad, but in the shadows under his eyes and the way his mouth twists, you see the boy you used to help raise — the one who’d eat birthday cake in silence while Satoru teased him into cracking the smallest smile.

Neither of you say anything for a while. The weight of grief is heavy enough without words. You reach down and brush away a stray weed growing near the stone, fingers trembling. “He’d hate this,” you murmur finally, voice breaking despite your best effort. “The quiet. He’d want us to laugh, to make fun of him even now.”

Megumi exhales sharply through his nose, not quite a laugh, not quite a sob. His gaze doesn’t leave the stone. “He’d probably call this dramatic,” Megumi mutters, but his voice cracks halfway through, like the grief has wrapped itself around his throat.

Without thinking, you reach for his hand. Megumi flinches like he might pull away, then lets you hold it, the gesture awkward but grounding. His grip is tight, desperate, like he doesn’t even realize how much strength he’s using.

“I keep expecting him to just—” you swallow hard, “—walk up behind us with that stupid grin, act like this was all some trick.”

Megumi’s shoulders shake, and it takes you a second to realize he’s laughing, but it’s hollow, brittle. “Yeah. That’d be like him.” His eyes are glassy now, but he keeps them fixed forward, refusing to let the tears fall.

You feel him lean his head lightly against your shoulder, and you don't say anything, giving him the silence he needs, his soft dark hair brushing your cheek as you gently rub the back of his hand with your thumb, gentle and reassuring.