Disclaimer: I don't own Dogs, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Shirow Miwa. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.
Not Quite A Letter
A/N: Mentions of Ian and Milena.
Kiri would murder him if she found out. He knew that. But, if he told a white lie and said that he'd gotten lost, she'd have to believe him. She was always chewing him out about it anyway.
He never brought anything when he stopped by, never found any need to. The dead were gone, and he didn't think like the ancient Egyptians had. That the dead would need their possessions in the afterlife.
"I had wanted to ask her, you know," he said to the stone, hands weighing down his pockets. It was never easy, coming back and talking to dead air. Doing so always made him wonder if his words were heard, or if they just floated away, empty, into what atmosphere the world had left.
His fingers curled around the paper, stashed away in an envelope with a pretty wax seal. The man who had made the seal for him had been gone for years, probably killed when his shop was evicted. Poor old fellow had loved that little place.
It had been a whim that inspired him to write it, knowing full and well that he wasn't a particularly fluent man when it came to words of love. Such an important moment, he'd decided, didn't need to be ruined by his stammering. So he'd written to her, hoping that, between the lines of his sloppy writing, she'd just laugh and accept his proposal.
"Maybe it's silly," he whispered, "but I wrote her this letter. I wanted so much to make her happy." Mihai pulled the envelope from his pocket, now wrinkled and dirty. "The things is, I don't even remember what the hell I said in here."
The ground was cool, the moisture seeping through his trousers as he knelt beside the stone. He didn't know what to say after all that, whether or not Ian could hear him.
So he touched the stone, trying to ignore the chill that swept through his fingers. It was still Ian, he tried to convince himself. He was still here, still as hurt and forgotten as he'd ever been, his shoulders trembling as he cried.
"I don't think I ever told you," Mihai bowed his head, "but you're a good boy."