A/N: Probably should have mentioned before now that I've been using a word limit - 100 words for the first chapter, 200 for the second and so on - which might explain the slightly odd pacing of some of the writing. Anyways, here's the last one - hope you enjoy it!

Matthew sits hunched over on the uncomfortable pew, limbs drawn in close as if – by making himself as small as possible – he might be able to disappear entirely. It surprises him that he is still there; he feels leaf-light, barely anchored by the pressure of his feet on the wooden floor.

Others file in – some silent, some murmuring in hushed, respectful voices. "That's his husband," whispers a British voice Matthew dimly recognises as that of Ludwig's godmother. "The poor lad."

'His husband.' Except I can't call myself that any more, can I? Matthew thinks bitterly, twisting his signet ring. Now, I'm…I'm a widower. The word seems strange, wrong; it's been over a week since Gilbert's death, but only now, hearing the phrase which no longer defines him, does he really understand. Not even thirty, and I'm a widower. For God's sake, Gil –

A hand falls gently on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Ludwig. Neither one says anything; the look which passes between them is enough to convey what trite words never could. Ludwig takes his hand away, and Matthew shifts across to let him sit down.

They're joined by Ludwig's parents; Matthew nods politely to them, not trusting himself to speak. The couple can only be in their sixties, but they seem to have aged decades since Matthew last saw them, Gerhart in particular. Losing his first wife…and now his son… A wave of sympathy washes over Matthew.

But grief is selfish; before long that feeling has drained away, leaving Matthew stranded once more in his own pain. He forces himself to stare down at the floor, to watch the light from the stained glass colouring the parquet, and not to lift his head and look at the coffin. Somewhere Gilbert's friend Roderich is playing the piano, the undulating melody and soft but insistent bass speaking of rain and storms and broken things; somewhere someone is crying, and someone else is trying to comfort them. Matthew keeps his gaze trained on the ground. Whatever it takes, he has to keep it together.

When the church is full and the doors have been closed, the vicar strides to the front. 'We are gathered here today to celebrate the life and to mourn the passing of Gilbert, whose short stay of twenty-nine years was a blessing to us all…'

Immediately Gilbert's voice comes into Matthew's head. ''Short stay'? What am I, a car park? But you've got the 'blessing' bit right…'

Gilbert keeps up a running commentary as the vicar goes on. ''Your being here is a tribute to his memory'? Not sure that's why Lovino's here – think he just got dragged along by Toni – but still, who wouldn't want to pay tribute to the awesome me?' By the time it's Matthew's turn to speak, a change has come over the Canadian. It's faint, so faint, but there's a smile haunting the corners of his mouth.

'That's better, Mattie,' he can hear Gilbert saying. 'Didn't I tell you not to be sad?'

For once in his life, he speaks with confidence; for once, everyone listens. "Gil wasn't always easy to get along with," he says. "In fact, he could be a right pain in the neck. But I loved him for it. We all did. Because, although he certainly had a quick temper, he was also quick to forgive, and quick to laugh. Sure, sometimes he may have been an arrogant so-and-so – but if he was the centre of his own world, he was the centre of mine, too, for five wonderful – five awesome – years."

His breath hitches, and he pauses before continuing, quoting this time.

"He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last for ever – "

And here he stops again, looking round at the congregation. "I wasn't wrong," he says quietly. "Love doesn't die with us. Gil may not be here, but that doesn't mean I – we – have to stop loving him."

As he sits down again, shaking a little, he hears Gilbert's voice in his ear one last time. 'Well said, Mattie. Well said.'

A/N: Well, what did you think? It turned out a little differently from how I was expecting it to, but I suppose that's Gilbert for you.

Thanks to everyone who's read this far, especially if you've left a review! I really appreciate it. Oh, and I was thinking of expanding some of the chapters, since the word count was only there to make sure I finished each one. Would anyone actually be interested in reading that?