She died on a Monday morning, in the spring.
So many people had come to her funeral; her grandparents, friends, the man with the shaggy hair. People that hadn't known her as he had.
It was raining. The day she died.
Maybe he should have seen it coming. He knew that she was dying, he just didn't know it would be so soon. He had cancelled his show at the gallery to take care of her. If only he'd known what it was earlier, he thought maybe he could have made it less painful. It had been so obvious. The extreme weight loss, the bruises. She would sleep everyday until late past noon, waking up drenched in her own sweat.
He missed her. She was gone now, died in her sleep. She hadn't woken up one morning and he kept shaking her until it became violent, and he'd gotten up and screamed so loud that it rang in his ears. He'd turned things over and broke everything in his loft.
Then he crawled back into bed with her and fell asleep, so that when he woke up she would be alive again. His eyes opened half an hour later and he'd just stayed in bed, not daring to look behind him at the pale face of his love. Dead Love.
He sighed. There were no tears left since that morning.
The gallery had called him again, offering him another chance at a show. One of the photographers had cancelled on them, and they had been really impressed with his work, saying they couldn't possibly let a talent like his go to waste.
His work. His photos. They were all pictures of Kagome. Kagome laughing, Kagome singing, Kagome cooking, playing. Kagome sleeping, with bruises on her arms. Kagome looking up at the balloons in the sky.
Without her he would be nothing. But now she was nothing, just a body, cold and hard.
Leukemia. She'd had it for a while, her grandparents said. They had taken her to the doctor, but then after a while the treatments had stopped working. She had wanted to live life to its fullest, she had always been that way, living like there was no tomorrow. Only in her case it had been true. That explained it. All the times she had run away from him, then came running back into his arms. When she found out she wasn't going to live much longer, she ran away from home, and they hadn't seen her since then. Until today. Dead Love.
She had wanted to live, but she didn't know how. All she wanted was to be loved.
Today, the day of her funeral, it was sunny. The sun was shining and the birds were singing, and the plants were growing. Inuyasha felt like the air was cleaner.
The people who came to his showcase were awed. Who is this woman? They had asked. Where can we meet her? What is she to you? Your muse? Your lover?
She had been everything to him; his muse, his lover, and so much more. Nothing could express what he felt for her. His work of art. Everything that was beautiful about her; her mind, spirit, body, smile, her eyes.
He breathed in. Everyone had left the cemetery, leaving only him to stand by her headstone.
"I miss you, Kagome." He whispered.
And then he saw them. Floating in the blue sky. Balloons. It was a sign from her. The colourful balloons, just like she had been, flying higher and higher, ever out of his reach. But he smiled. She was telling him that she was alright. She had never told him, but he knew it now. She had loved him like he had loved her.
And he felt he was one of them, floating with the clouds.