tw//character death, ideation of self harm (ish?)
Not a prompt
Leader almost wished the roses had thorns, so that they could feel them digging into their skin. It'd keep them grounded, if nothing else.
The grave had been freshly dug, and the words lovingly inscribed.
Here lies Youngest.
Leader's heart panged, seeing how small the gap between the day of birth and day of death was.
Youngest, who loved to play jokes and tricks on the team -- all completely harmless. Well, except for the time they rearranged the kitchen cabinets from Medic's strict placement. Leader remembered watching Youngest dash out of the base, screaming for mercy, as Medic had chased after them with a broomstick. But besides that, the whoopie cushions and plastic spiders never led to any harm.
Leader forced out a laugh. "This... this is a good one, Youngest. Really good," they said to the grave. "You even got Medic good."
Their hands gripped the roses tighter, seeking some form of sensation.
"You... you put a lot of effort into this one, huh?" If their words were choked with sobs... well, nobody but Youngest was there to hear it. And nobody would believe Youngest if they said that stuck-up, laughs-once-in-a-blue-moon Leader cried. They'd just think it was another silly joke.
(God, how they wished this was another one.)
"Your-- your room will be there for you. Once you're done with this one. With a complimentary scolding from Caretaker. Like always."
They thought of the rest of their team, who'd long since retreated back to the base to continue their mourning. Caretaker had been utterly distraught, but still tried to be there for everyone. Leader hoped they were taking care of themself and allowing themself to grieve. They made a mental note to keep an eye on Caretaker.
Gently, Leader kneeled in front of the fresh plot and laid down the yellow roses. Youngest had been an incurable romantic; they knew that they'd appreciate the flowers, and the meaning even more.
"Just... don't take too long, okay?" Leader whispered.
