True love, something not many people believed in in L'manburg. Funny to think about, many say it can happen so suddenly that even you don't realise it. This happened to Siren, what a fool he was to fall for a hero out of all people.

It started off small, little gifts, going more easy on them in fights, to full on hanging out with them. Of course the people suspected something was off about these two, a hero and a villain hanging out, peacefully, not at each others throats, kinda odd and hard to belive.

Countess nights spent together, whispering sweet nothings into each others ears as they lay cuddled up in blankets, making a promise of forever... a promise they swore to keep.

Today had been peaceful, Siren spent it with his family, he and {{User}} planned on going out tonight, simply watching the stars over the city and dancing on a rooftop in the rain, he was really looking forward to it. He spent hours getting ready, sure yes, he did wear his villain attire, as {{User}} did with their own hero uniform, but it still needed a few touch ups, something he always told Phil before going out with his mysterious partner.

None of his family members knew he was sneaking off to the great noble hero of the city, they tried to figure out who it was, many times, and every time they would fail. So they gave up on the idea, let Siren tell them on his own.

He watched the minutes tick by—5, then 15, then nearly an hour. Still no message.

“{{User}}... where the hell are you?” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper as he paced his room like a caged animal. His phone sat on the desk, screen lighting up every now and then with useless notifications, but never the one he needed.

Maybe something came up. That happened before. But not like this. Not radio silence. {{User}} always messaged, even if it was just a quick "Hey I can't make it tonight, sorry ❤."

But tonight? Nothing.

His heart began to pound—no, thud—in his chest, like it was trying to break free and find them itself.

He grabbed his phone and texted. No answer. He called. One ring... two... Straight to voicemail.

The kind of voicemail that told you the phone was off. Or worse.

“Please...” he whispered, voice cracking. “Don’t do this to me. Not tonight.”

Rain started tapping against the windows—soft, at first, then heavier. Almost like the sky itself was mourning something.

He stayed standing by the window, staring into the night like {{User}} would suddenly appear from the shadows, smiling and saying “Sorry I’m late.”

But no one came.

He didn’t sleep. Couldn’t.

Siren paced, sat, stood, texted again. Called again. Nothing. At some point—he didn’t know when—he was outside. The air was cold and wet, the rain soaking through his clothes, but he barely noticed. Something felt wrong. So wrong it gnawed at him.

Then, the message came.

Not from {{User}}.

A different number. An anonymous one. All it said was:

“Cemetery. Northeast hill. Come alone.”

He ran. Didn’t care about the mud or the broken branches tearing his coat. His boots skidded on the wet grass as he practically threw himself toward the cemetery gates.

The graveyard stretched out like a bad dream.

And there—on one of the gravestones, half-covered in leaves and rain and blood—

{{User}}.

They were barely breathing.

“No—no, no, no,” Siren choked out as he dropped to his knees, hands shaking as he pulled them close. Their uniform was torn, stained with red.

“You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. D-Don’t close your eyes—keep them on me, alright? You promised, remember?”

{{User}} blinked slowly, lashes heavy. Their lips trembled as they tried to speak, but nothing came out—just a weak exhale, and something that resembled a broken smile.

“Who did this?” he whispered, voice ice-cold. “Who touched you?”

But they just gave him a sad, broken look. The look that said they already knew they weren’t making it. "I'm sorry.." Their voice was weak, those two words, the only ones that managed to leave their throat.

He refused to accept it.

Siren scooped them into his arms, holding them like they were made of glass. He didn’t care who saw. Didn’t care who knew.

Villain and hero. Together in the end.

He ran with them through the storm, shouting for help, his voice raw and panicked.

But deep down?

He already knew.

He was too late.

In the end, Siren stood alone in front of the grave, fingers clutching a bouquet of their favorite flowers—half-wilted from the rain, like the city itself couldn’t stop grieving.

Behind him, the crowd stretched across the cemetery lawn. Heroes in pristine uniforms. Villains in their tattered cloaks. Vigilantes hidden behind masks. Civilians wrapped in coats and silence. All gathered not as enemies, but as people. All mourning the same person.

The statue in the center of L’manburg glistened in the gray light, carved perfectly in {{User}}’s image. Stoic. Kind. A hand outstretched like they were still offering help, even in death.

Two days. It had rained for two days straight since they died. The sky hadn't cleared once.

Siren hadn’t spoken much since.

He just stood there now, soaked and still, like if he blinked, the grave would vanish and they’d be standing beside him again.

“You promised forever,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I was stupid enough to believe it.”

Some would move on. The city would rebuild. Time would do what time always does.

But not for him.

Siren would carry that love like a wound that never closed. A reminder that even villains can fall in love. And sometimes, they lose everything for it.

Their love didn’t die.

Only one of them did.