The silver-haired man wandered, lonely, through an Earth garden, not knowing where he was, not caring.

His still face betrayed no sign of emotion, no sign of thought. All he heard was a single word, a name, echoed even in the mournful sighs of the birds.

Zoisite Zoisite Zoisite...

He stopped short as the scent of roses assaulted him. He had entered a rose garden, there were nothing but roses all around him, roses the same colour as the one he had given his beloved. His lover.

He scowled, then yanked one of the roses off a bush. Maybe if he could feel anger, towards the one who left him, towards the one who left him with nothing, nothing but pain, it would be easier...

But no. He could only feel sorrow, that aching, lonely emptiness, that only his Zoisite could fill.

He bowed his head, closing his eyes. The pain was too much to bear... He let the scent of roses overwhelm him, he began to drown in memories.

The tall shitennou felt as if he was only half alive, the other half of his soul brutally torn away from him. The only one he had ever loved, the only one who had ever loved him was gone.

How he had abused that love, used it. Taken advantage of the fact that he was the only one who could make the stubborn, willful little sakura do anything, anything at all. He had been so proud of that, had told everyone of it. Even the lowly youma.

He had never expressed his love to the little man, he himself had never known how much he loved him, needed him. He never could have guessed how much the emotion known as love had touched him, he had never understood. Not until his beloved little rat was dead.

It was his fault Zoisite was dead. If he had tried a little harder to save him, if he hadn't been so tolerant of his lover's vendettas. There was somewhere where he had gone wrong, where there was something he said or did, or something he didn't, and at that moment Zoisite's death was decided.

If only he could tell him how much he loved him...

"Kunzite?" A soft, ghostly voice spoke, half in his head, half out loud. Afraid to look, he moaned.

"Kunzite-sama..." That voice, so familiar, so beloved. Now tinged with... fear?

"Zoi- Zoisaito... beloved..." Kunzite opened his eyes and looked up, fearful of what he might see. He saw...

Nothing.

"Zoisite, where are you?" His voice was filled with pure anguish.

"I am here." The voice came from... somewhere.

Kunzite whirled around, saw his beloved, kneeling in the dirt, his coppery hair covering his face. "I- I..." His voice trailed off. He had nothing to say.

Kunzite reached for his lover. "Kunzite..." The small man raised his face, his features twisted with pain. "Don't..."

Kunzite stopped, confused. "Why..."

Zoisite reached for the rose Kunzite still held. "Give it to me."

He obeyed, not understanding. As the sakura's gloved hand closed around the stem, the bloom withered, then died.

"Do you see why, beloved? I carry... the touch of death."

"I see."

"Why am I here?" Zoisite's voice was small and plaintive. He continued. "I don't know why I'm here. Why did you call me?"

Kunzite's face was blank. "What do you mean, call?"

"Did you want to tell me something, something very important? That's why people call us."

Nothing came to Kunzite's mind. "I don't... I don't know. I- I am sorry, Zoisaito."

The little man's beautiful verdant eyes filled with tears beneath his golden lashes. "I'm sorry too." His voice was soft, barely understandable, but the anguish in his whispered words was unmistakable. The look on his face was that of pure agony.

With a small, agonized cry, he disappeared, not in his usual flurry of cherry blossoms, but in a blinding black light. The flower he had been holding dropped to the ground.

Kunzite picked up the dead and wilted rose, holding it gently in his huge hand. Why didn't you tell him...

He thought of the look on his lover's face, and crushed the already dead flower in his fists, not caring that the thorns bit into his hand. He began to scream.