**A Heart in Mourning**

Prompt: It was a sad day, a day that felt so low. Rei Hino lost her grandfather to a bad sickness and it broke her heart very badly. After the news, she didn’t want to speak to anyone, not even her friends, or the girl she loves most, Usagi Tsukino. At the funeral, Rei felt surges of tears and anger and lashed out at anyone who tried to speak to her. A few days afterward, she bawled her eyes out in emotional pain. Usagi came by provided some comfort to Rei and told her that she’s knows it’s hard, but her grandfather will always be in her heart forever. Rei embraced Usagi and stayed in her arms for what felt like minutes. When Usagi’s around, it makes her feel more calmer, even happy.

It was a sad day, a day that felt so low. The sun hung heavy in the sky, its light dimmed by the pall of grief that enveloped Tokyo in the wake of Rei Hino’s loss. Her grandfather, a man of wisdom and warmth, had succumbed to a terrible sickness, leaving a void in her heart that felt as deep as the ocean. Despite a world bustling with life and color, Rei felt as if she were trapped in a monochrome void where laughter and joy faded into echoes of the past. After the news broke, Rei closed herself off from everyone. She shut her friends out, dismissing their attempts to support her with sharp glances and a silence sharp enough to cut. Usagi Tsukino, the girl Rei cherished more than anyone else, received no special treatment. “Leave me alone,” she had snapped one evening when Usagi showed up with a basket full of snacks and a hopeful smile. It was as if Rei had barricaded herself behind an impenetrable wall, a barrier woven from grief, anger, and an all-consuming sadness. The funeral was a blur of somber faces, flowers, and muffled sobs. As she stood by her grandfather’s coffin, feelings of loss swirled within her. She would never again hear his laughter, feel his guiding hand upon her shoulder, or receive his words of wisdom. Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot and heavy—their salty bitterness mingling with the choking bitterness of anger at the unfairness of it all. She felt so alone in a crowded room filled with well-meaning friends and family. Whenever someone approached her—a relative offering a hug, a family friend murmuring words of sympathy—Rei lashed out. “Just go away!” she would shout, her voice cracking like fragile glass under immense pressure. Frustration poured out in her words, directed at those who simply wanted to help her to share in her grief. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate their kindness; it was that their attempts to comfort her felt like an unwelcome intrusion in her quiet sorrow. Days passed, each one melding into the next in a surreal haze. It felt like Rei was trapped in a cycle of grief, dragging her feet through the mud of despair. The world continued to spin, but for her, everything remained dull and lifeless. She could barely find the energy to get out of bed, much less engage with anyone or anything. Thoughts of her grandfather and the memories they had shared haunted her like shadows in the night, and sometimes she would lay awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling an ache in her chest that seemed to grow with every passing hour. She was a storm of emotions—angry, sad, confused—and the chaotic gale roared inside her, leaving her utterly worn down. Then came a moment, when the dam within her finally broke. It was one of those late evenings when the weight of her loneliness felt unbearable. Reclining on her bed, tears began to pour freely from her eyes. They fell onto her pillow in a silent outpouring of emotions—the mix of bitter memories and the profound emptiness left by her grandfather's passing overwhelmed her, and she wept. Deep, shuddering cries echoed through the stillness of her room, a cacophony of sorrow that she couldn’t contain. Just when Rei thought she might drown in her despair, a soft knock on her door pulled her from the depths of her grief. “Rei?” Usagi's voice was gentle, yet filled with concern, reaching out to her through the barrier she had created. “Can I come in?” For a moment, Rei hesitated, afraid that opening the door would let even more vulnerability spill out. But Usagi’s warmth was a beacon, calling her back from the edge. In a small flicker of hope, she opened the door. Usagi stepped inside, her eyes full of compassion as she took in the scene before her. Rei, hair disheveled, tears still glistening on her cheeks, looked so fragile. Usagi moved closer, enveloping Rei in her arms without hesitation, holding her tightly like a protective cloak against the storm swirling within. “It’s okay,” Usagi whispered, her voice a soothing balm on Rei’s raw heart. “I— I know it’s hard. I can’t begin to imagine the pain you're feeling right now, but... your grandfather will always be in your heart. You don’t have to face this alone.” That promise washed over Rei like a gentle wave, momentarily calming the tumult in her chest. With a shuddering breath, she leaned into Usagi, the warmth of her body anchoring Rei to the present. She cried, allowing the floodgates to open and the emotions she tried to suppress spill forth. The girl she loved most held her tightly, and in her embrace, it felt like the world had softened. For those precious moments, the chaos melted away, replaced by the haven of Usagi’s unfaltering support. Time seemed to stand still as Rei found solace in Usagi’s presence. Everything hurt, but this—being held, being understood—made the pain more bearable, a soothing melody amidst a heartbreaking symphony. It felt as if Usagi's positivity was seeping into her soul, weaving hope into the fabric of her grief. Rei pulled back slightly, meeting Usagi’s gaze, her eyes still watery but slowly softening. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Always,” Usagi replied, her eyes sparkling with unwavering love. Together they sat in silence, the weight of grief no lighter, yet somehow less burdensome. For the first time since her grandfather’s passing, Rei felt a flicker of peace amidst the storm, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, love could forge a light.