the language of roses

When they found Muraki's dead body on the cruise liner, scarlet rose petals spilled across the bed and floor as though to compensate for the lack of actual blood. He clasped the roses to himself like a cherished lover.

Hisoka literally felt his heart flutter in his chest. He pressed his hands against his ribs, feeling the hard bone behind the thin flesh as his pulse jumped in his throat.

Surely not, he thought. You cannot be dead like this. I would have known it when you died. You cannot leave me alone, not now, not before I kill you.

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