To anger the dead and soothe the living

He found Shouta inside, in a corner in a previously guest bedroom. Water dripped down the walls, and mildew threatened to suffocate him. Half of the room had wasted away; a few planks left of a bed and wardrobe, however the dresser was polished and glinted sinsterly in the darkness, like a pair of eyes.Shouta was sweeping the dust that had collected on the top of it, making sure not to knock the vase of fresh lilies over or mark the picture frame. Simple black surround with no photograph inside. No inscriptions, only char marks from candles that had since been snuffed out.Dark eyes glanced over to meet green ones, before returning to running his damp hand over the worn wood."You don't have to come every time. I'd come home. Eventually."