//Someone wanted more angst. I'm having a shït day so I'll gladly provide.
Edit: I lowkey still like the way I wrote it.

He hated crying. He hated the feeling of warm tears burning his eyes before gliding down his skin, their innocent mask hiding the twisted pain he truly felt.

But trying to stop crying on that day would be harder than trying to stop the ocean.

He didn't care that he was out in public when it happened. He didn't care that people were asking if he was okay.

He didn't care about anything.

All he cared about was him. And he was gone.

All he could feel pain, stabbing and fast, taking over his mind and body. He couldn't feel the weather, couldn't feel the tears on his face.

He longed, no...he begged to just have one more day. One more day of being given orders, one more day of just seeing him.

But some part of him knew, a part he ignored in that moment, that his begs wouldn't he granted. They never were before, so why now?

He held onto false hope that maybe, just maybe, this was part of the game. That this was only temporary, and he'd come home to his boss sitting on his couch, drinking coffee, and raising a brow at the state he was in.

He didn't care that this hope he grasped onto for life was obviously going to die soon. He didn't want false hope, he didn't want to believe so highly in something only to have it crush him.

All he could do was cry and cling hopelessly onto hope, something he never wanted to do in his life. It never ended well for anyone.