Flowers from my lips
Tobirama dies with a black chakra rod through his chest and flowers spilling over his lips. Dark hair brushes against his cheek and unsteady breathing rasps in his ear; he wants to laugh a little as he brings a shaking hand up, tangling it in long locks "You needn't have struck me down" he murmurs "waiting would have worked just as well." (he dreams he feels lip on his neck, words whispered against his pulse, praise and condemnation both)
Madara wants to weep when he sees red flowers on white skin, he cradles that hated (dear) frame close even as light fades in red eyes (what more is there to live for now?) and he feels flowers bloom in his lungs (always knew before, but long ignored), hyacinth tasting bitter on his tongue (less bitter than words he never said, anger held close) as he feels death drawing close. a bitter yell in the air, a sword in his back, and he curls close - breathing onto pale lips "Would that I had lived another life with you" he gasps, pressing close to a body (most treasured - he shuold have been) gone cold "we might have been happy then."
