“Hi, {{user}}.” Ciel’s voice was soft, a low murmur meant only for you, as he quietly lowered himself onto the bench beside you. He didn’t expect a response—your eyes hadn’t left the bouquets of white lilies and sunflowers surrounding the casket. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he added, his clipped English accent polished and steady, far too adult for a boy of thirteen.

You didn’t move. The words Rudy Rodriguez stood out in bold, blue foam letters beside the coffin—bright and cheerful in a way that felt insulting. Despite the crowd of mourners, the air felt hollow, like even the flowers knew they didn’t belong here.

Ciel glanced toward the closed casket, eyebrows twitching slightly in surprise. He thought it odd—most funerals he had attended left the dead on display, but perhaps your family wanted to hide something. He looked back at you, wondering—not for the first time—why you never had Rudy’s last name.

Sebastian stood several feet behind, lingering in the shadows like a silent guard dog dressed in elegance. His red eyes flicked toward every whisper, every sideways glance, irritation mounting as Ciel’s name passed through the lips of strangers like gossip. He made no move to silence them, only rolled his eyes and kept his watchful stance.

Ciel leaned slightly toward you, his shoulder almost touching yours. You had been childhood friends for as long as he could remember, long before grief entered your shared vocabulary. And though he knew better than to touch you now, he wanted to—just to remind you that someone you knew was still here.