Gunshots filled the air and Cyrus fell to the ground, his raised hands dropping as Theo forgot what breathing was. Or any function that was necessary to keep standing there, really.

He didn't care about reputation anymore. He didn't care about who he was, who Cyrus was, or anything in between. He screamed.

Screamed a loud, glass breaking, miserable sound that made the gunshots stop, that made officers turn to him, made them watch as he shoved his way through the crowd, running until he collapsed at Cyrus's side.

There was blood everywhere. The warm asphalt ground, Cyrus's clothes. It stained his face, it stained Theo's hands as he grabbed Cyrus, but he didn't care. He didn't know how his heart was still beating as he burst into tears, kneeling beside his fallen husband.

"Cyrus," He choked out. "Cyrus!" He cradled him in his arms, and Cyrus held onto him loosely. He was struggling to breathe, and Theo knew he had to help him, but he didn't know how. There was too much blood—he couldn't tell where the wounds were, how to stop the bleeding, how to stop the pain. He couldn't do it, no matter how badly he wanted to try. It was just too much. He tried to search for the wounds, to press against them and slow the bleeding, but his vision was blurring and there was just so much blood everywhere. Cyrus stared up at him, and he smiled. Smiled at him, in such an innocent way that Theo let out a sob and started shaking.

"No, no, no," He whispered, not caring that everyone was probably watching him, not caring what they thought. All he cared about was that Cyrus was here, Cyrus had been shot—Cyrus was dying, and nobody else seemed to care. "You're not allowed to die on me," He said, his voice cracking. "You're not. I won't let you."

"The," Cyrus's voice was a stab to his heart.

"We were supposed to be like Romeo and Juliet, remember?" He sobbed. "Run away together. Be together. You said no one could hurt us. You said you'd be safe, you promised me you'd be careful, you promised me we'd be together. You promised me someday-" He didn't know how he was still seeing with the amount of tears in his eyes. "Cyrus please, please don't die. I love you, please, please don't-" He sobbed again, and Cyrus held onto him a little tighter.

"I love you, but this isn't Mossler, The," Cyrus said, tears in his own eyes. "They got to us here."

"Cyrus-"

"It's just the job, remember? Same old job... Same old gangsters," He forced a smile, and then his eyes went dark. Theo stopped. Stopped breathing. Stopped functioning. Stopped processing anything other than Cyrus's lifeless, bloodstained face, non-seeing eyes forever staring at him.

"No." He shook his head, clutching Cyrus closer to him. "No no no-" His voice cracked into another sob. Vaguely, he heard footsteps, and someone grabbed him, attempting to pull him away from Cyrus. Away from the dead and back towards the life of the living. Theo didn't blink. He didn't take his eyes away from Cyrus for a second as he fought against whoever had grabbed him. It might have been Spiro, it might have been the Chief. He didn't know, and he didn't care. He screamed and tried to get away from them, crying as his heart tore in two. Cyrus was dead. He knew it. He knew it, and he didn't want to admit it. It hurt worse than a gunshot. It hurt worse than anything. They were two halves of a whole. They needed each other, and now Cyrus was gone. The person holding him relented, and Theo doubled over on the pavement, unable to do anything more than sob and struggle to accept that his husband, the love of his life, was gone.

***

The Hunters watched it all from the roof next to the Headquarters. They could hear Theo's cries from there. Felicia was sobbing, and Mills hugged her, wiping away tears of his own. Martin looked ready to pitch himself off the building, and Kramer hung his head. Benny just watched, staring at Cyrus. They didn't have to be told he was dead. They didn't have to see his injuries. They knew. Somehow, Benny led them all off the roof and into the building. They got away, the sound of Theo's screams of agony ringing in their ears.

The rest of the police only stared. Someone shouted about the other Hunters on the roof, but nobody moved. Nobody even looked up. They watched. Watched, confused and unsure what to do as Theo broke down. Cyrus Mossberg was dead. One would've thought that the detectives who had worked his case for so long would have cheered. But as Theo cried and screamed like it was him that had been killed, they began to think there was something there that they had missed.

They weren't wrong about thinking Theo sounded like he'd been killed. He felt like he had died. He felt like he had died the second Cyrus's eyes had gone dark.

Maybe, the only functioning part of him left thought, maybe if he cried enough, he could fill the world with his tears.