" A man travels the world in search of what he needs and returns home to find it. " — George Moore
The open road. The fabled lure of magnificent adventure, of a life waiting to be lived, of places waiting to be explored... of a future that was no longer set in stone, but waiting to be written. At the end of every golden meadow that reflected into silver eyes as the sun set over the horizon line, and buried within the depths of a bottomless blue ocean, waves rippling and breaking underneath tired feet... and softly strewn across fields of flowers, where blades of grass tickled calloused palms... there laid a boy in search of the man he would become.
The wind swept up locks of raven-colored hair, dark strands swaying in the breeze as he watched storm clouds roll over the darkening sky. His lips formed a straight line as his grey eyes skimmed over the water before him, gazing into the horizon with a heavy heart and a restless mind. Hues of twilight mixed with orange and yellow rays, reflecting against the tumultuous waters that separated No.2 from No.3. As he continued to stare off into the distance with his cloak dancing upon the edges of the chilly autumn air, Nezumi's tired shoulders finally slumped in defeat.
The open road... he had read so many stories about it, stories about leaving everything behind, about starting new. It was supposed to be rewarding, right? Enthralling, even. To learn so much about the world first-hand, to experience it all... to understand what it felt like to watch a Shakespearean tragedy performed on one of the most magnificent stages of No.5, or to breathe in the scent of an old, worn book in No.1's oldest public library.
It was supposed to be the one thing he had wanted and craved since he was just an adolescent, since he was just a boy who had known nothing but hardship the majority of his life. This was his chance to start anew, to experience a world that had inspired his favorite writers and poets. This was his chance to finally see himself through different eyes, ones that weren't so cynical, and angry, and frightened beyond all belief. Yet here Nezumi stood, three years into this journey, 19 years young, with that same glint of terror in his eyes, completely unknowing and lost and just as distraught as he had felt at the very beginning, when he had pressed a rough, passionate kiss to the lips of a boy on the precipice of his own change.
Here Nezumi was, restless beyond all belief, unable to understand why the hell he was wasting so much damn time thinking about this, thinking about Shion and his damn snake scar and white hair and soft skin and that stupid smile that spread across his face when he picked up on one of his literary references... not to mention the hand that had once found his in the middle of the night, its grip strong yet so very warm, soinviting... or the bright, loving crimson orbs that often stared at him so openly and unguardedly, as if he was the most important person in Shion's life, and held so much power over his very heart and soul.
These thoughts, the ones that plagued him at all hours of the day (but especially on an evening such as this one) left him feeling paralyzed; the very thought of Shion's existence still caused fear to creep up into the pit of his stomach without fail.
Would the feeling ever go away? He had traveled the world, he had seen so many beautiful sights, so many beautiful cities and families laughing in local parks and crisp, clean pages of new novels and plays that he had never been exposed to in West Block... he had tasted the marvels of the world and pushed away the horrid, disgusting aspects of society, disregarding everything that he had been through but never fully forgetting. He should've been able to let go by now, yet here he was, his tired feet leading him back towards the city in which he despised.
"...Why?" Nezumi spoke quietly to nobody in particular. He could feel the wind cradle his softly spoken word, carrying it in its embrace before its melody floated off to sea. Why? Why am I here? Why do I still think about this... think about you? Nezumi's hand pressed against the birch tree deeply rooted in the ground beside him, his fingers curiously running down rough edges of its bark.
Do you still think about me, Shion?
Birds crooned in the distance, their sound reminding him of a song he had once sang so effortlessly. And with that thought, a certain boy filled Nezumi's thoughts, taking over his mind completely as his eyes rolled shut. Replacing his hand with the right half of his body, Nezumi leaned against the tree in utter defeat and slid down its solid form until he was sitting, being cradled by its roots and the grass that surrounded it.
Shion had said the words so effortlessly, his voice raw and his eyes glassy as he stared up into grey. "There is no meaning in a world without you, Nezumi... No meaning at all." Nezumi knew Shion had meant every syllable, every shaky letter that formed the words that spilled out from that once-naive mouth.. but the knowledge of this innocent truth did not make it any easier for Nezumi. He was still unaware of who he was, and who he could be... after all, what could he possibly offer Shion? What did he know about love? Everything had disappeared beneath the very pads of his fingertips, leaving him with nothing, no home, no family... no future, other than pain and vengeance and anger. He hadn't been ready to open up his heart back then...
...But now?
Nezumi let out a long, drawn out sigh, brushing back his loose strands of hair as thunder rolled over the sea. But now... maybe he was ready. Maybe returning to Shion's side was the only way to stifle the fear that presented itself in his heart each and every time he thought about him. Maybe... it was finally time to return to him, to face those fears head on and be the man he so desperately wished to be.
It was almost Shion's birthday. In the back of his mind, Nezumi wondered when he had become so goddamn sentimental. He laughed to himself, the edges of his lips turning up into a smile as he contemplated who he really was... and, more importantly, who he was capable of being. Yep, I fucking knew it, Nezumi thought to himself, utterly bemused. Airheadedness is contagious.
Nezumi had been through so much in his life. He had seen so many ugly things, he had experienced so much pain... But now, as heavy drops of rain began to fall from the sky, the soon-to-be drenched rat could only think about the one place he had ever seen real beauty, and the only place he had ever laughed so genuinely, without any weight pressing down on his shoulders... and it was beside Shion.
There was once a city that existed in this world, a dream city-state that amassed the intellect of mankind. And there, within the place that had once taken everything from Nezumi, was where Shion waited patiently, watching the rain from his window, waiting for Nezumi to come back to him.
Nezumi wouldn't make Shion wait any longer. He knew where he had to go now, in order to answer all of his questions... in order to feel content again. He had to return to the only place that had ever felt like home... because there was no meaning in a world without Shion. Nezumi knew that now.
There was no meaning at all.