The young man stood quietly in front of the two stones that stared blankly at him. He watched as flowers were placed in front of them. They were a bouquet of morning glories – his mother’s favorite. They fluttered in the cool autumn wind, forever blooming until finally the last of their short lives escaped them. He felt a comfortable weight on his shoulder, and he glanced to his right.
“It’s nice to see that we’re not the only ones,” she said quietly. He glanced at the rest of the flowers decorating the graves. The young man couldn’t help but roll his eyes. As if those had been sent out of good will and fond memory. Those flowers had name cards attached for a reason. He loved the way she looked at the world, but there were times when he couldn’t help but scoff.
Maybe Sayoko was right. Maybe his parents’ passing had affected him in more ways than the simple bestowment of a multi=billion empire.
“We should go,” he sighed. “It’s never a good idea to dwell on the past. And we’ll be late for the opening ceremony.”
“Are you sure? I’m sure they’ll understand if we’re a little late.”
He nodded. Truth be told, if it hadn’t been for Euphie, he wouldn’t have visited his parents on their death-iversary. He had never really cared for his father – that night so many years ago, he had only cried over his father’s death because he had been a child, and he had been afraid of the changes that were imminent in his life. All his tears had been reserved exclusively for his mother, who he had adored as a child and still did. She had been such a beautiful and good person: that night he hadn’t been the only one to suffer such a loss. Humanity had lost one of their best that fateful day.
“Come on. Let’s go.” He coaxed her away from the horrible memories. “It’s too cold to be standing outside for this long. I don’t want you to get sick again.”
She smiled. “I’m not going to get sick again. I’m not that fragile; you don’t have to worry about me.”
He led her away anyway. She followed him, their hands swinging between them. Unlocking the doors, Suzaku opened the door for her, but she didn’t get in. Instead, she straightened the knot of his tie.
“I love you, Suzaku.” She touched his cheek. “Do you love me?”
“Of course,” he replied softly. “There’s no one else for me but you. I don’t know what I would do without you, Euphie.”
She gently pinched his cheek. “I’m glad. I just wish you would smile a little more. It’s more believable if you smile, you know.”
He cracked a smile at her playful poke. Pleased with herself, she kissed him on the cheek before climbing inside. Closing the door after her, he walked to the other side. He understood why Euphie had said what she had. He himself had been feeling it lately – his brooding sulkiness. Before he had been good at pretending to like those around him, to socialize and be a good member of society if only to continue on his mother’s good name. But as the years passed by, the 26-year-old couldn’t help but feel irritation. 18 years had passed since his parents’ death; couldn’t the city just move on now? Weren’t there better things to take advantage of to help themselves with? He’d grown up now. He was no longer the child the city thought him to be, and he could tell the difference between those who genuinely cared and those who were just trying to dip their fingers into his family legacy. So why couldn’t they tell the difference between the frightened 8-year-old orphan and the 26-year-old man who now had his own scars to boast of? How greedy were they to distort reality for so long?
As they left the cemetery, Suzaku tried to push the dark thoughts out of his head. His mother wouldn’t want him to be so moody, and it clearly made Euphie worry. He drummed his fingers on the wheel. If it made her worry, then he’d obviously have to make it so that she didn’t worry, didn’t it? Of course it did. So Suzaku asked her about the newest litter of kittens that their cat had sired and whether or not one of them hadn’t inherited its father’s taste for his blood.
. . .
A stiletto delicately nudged the still body. The owner of the boot pouted. “He’s dead.”
“How strange,” said her partner. He seemed genuinely puzzled as he brought up the muzzle of the gun to his face and peered down the barrel. “I didn’t know he’d die that quickly.”
“So what are we going to do now? Give up?”
“Far from it.” He threw the gun down and turned to her. Gently wiping the blood splatter from her face, he popped the finger into her mouth. “How’s that taste, sweetheart? Sweet? Salty?”
“I’ve tasted worse.” She giggled as she knelt down. “Better his brain than his dick.”
He laughed hoarsely. Leaning back against the wall, he looked up at the grey of the morning sky. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he sighed as his eyes fluttered close. What a beautiful morning it was. What better way to start the day than with a murder and a blowjob?
Why, with two murders, of course! But everybody already knew that, didn’t they? Of course they did. And so the Joker laughed and laughed as he listened to the enchanting music that was the wails of the police siren. My, what a beautiful morning! What a beautiful day!