Withdrawal sucks. I sit across from you at this table almost every day now, what with the destruction of your house and everything, and you watch me suffer with those glimmering eyes like you don't see any of it. You don't seem to see much of anything, but I've learned better by now. Those eyes don't miss much.

I'm not doing much anymore…I just don't have the energy to rebuild and try to pick up where I left off. You've taken her place at my side, since she ran off to work somewhere else…I barely blame her. I would run from me if I could. I miss the days when I didn't feel so alone. When the whole group was together, riding around in Highwind…even a good fight with Yuffie would be nice right about now. Everything's so different now that we've broken up. Nibelheim, Cosmo Canyon, the remains of Midgar…Rocket Town, Wutai, Kalm; we're so spread out nowadays, it's almost impossible to keep in contact. Sure, the PHS is nice and we can talk…but it's not the same.

We're all growing up and we're doing it alone. Sure, I have you here and others have grouped up, and that's fine and dandy, but damn it, we spent nearly a year together! We had family back then…something I haven't had in years.

You really surprised me when we landed in Nibelheim. I never expected, though your house was gone, such that it was, that you would have asked to come back home with me. My house was empty by now, so I had the room…but to have you at my side? No one would have expected it. We're not exactly two peas in a pod, you know. More like I'm an apple and you're…I don't know, you're a pickle or something.

…That's a bad analogy.

Let's make me the pickle and you can be…well, it's not one food, but you're like a s'more. You know, the graham cracker and the chocolate and the marshmallow. I know, were you literally in front of me, you'd give me a weird look, but let me try and think through this one. You're not easy to get to know, to really get into, so there's your graham cracker exterior. Easily the next most visible part of you is your sweet and caring side. Always the first one to comfort, you've got a second layer of chocolate and makes people love you, even subconsciously. And third, you're a softie at heart. A cold-blooded killer people may make you out to be, but you're all warm and gooey on the inside.

I can see you glaring already. Give it up. At least I'm the pickle now. Something that used to be a tad bland and just exist was suddenly submerged into a rather unappetizing situation and now has come out sour and looking older, much more for the worse. As the press closes in on the Saviors, you're always the one to point out the good in anyone they happen to be bashing at the moment. I really appreciate some of the things you've come up with for me. I'm not entirely sure if I believe them…but I appreciate it all the same. It's been a while since I've been with anyone who will compliment me for doing nothing special…but just for being me.

I'm not sure if I'm in love with you or if you're just being yourself for once and I can't tell the difference. I don't know if I've ever really been in love before, so I have very little to compare it to. You're not much help either, being deadly silent…even more so than usual. You give me gray hair, my friend. I'd really appreciate it is you'd stop that – I'd like to be blonde for a bit longer.

As I see you walk out to the kitchen, giving a small nod to me for a good morning, I see you smile. You've probably noticed that I've gone another day without a cigarette. I hope you're pleased. It's driving me nuts.

"Ya hungry?" I ask.

"I will get it if I am. Do not worry." You insist on doing everything yourself. This is my house, damn it, let me serve you! Yet again, I force you away from the stove and begin cooking. I see you try and hide a smile as you walk away.

I don't really think it's love. I've never really thought of love this way. I just…I think it's that I respect you. I've never looked up to much of anyone. My father was…well, absent, and my mother had to work double time just to keep me and my sister alive. She kept one of us alive…my sister was killed. That wasn't my mom's fault, but she always blamed herself.

I can cook, but I don't very often, so yet again I've caught the stove on fire. I curse under my breath and wave the flames out. "You like your eggs well done, right?" I make a joke out of everything. I see you glance up at me and smile.

"I'm sure that as long as they still have some semblance of softness, they will be eatable." That makes me smirk as I poke at the eggs. They don't crackle, so I put them on a plate and bring them to you. You give them an odd look, but eat them anyway. I guess the look is warranted – I'd glare at black eggs too. I walk back to the kitchen to get myself something different to eat, because I'm not trying to make eggs again. After finally perfecting the art of toast (eight charred slices in), I sit down across from you and munch on my toast. Somehow, without my noticing, you've gotten glasses of orange juice for the both of us. I smile again.

"Thanks," is all I say. You nod silently and our meal continues. I clean the dishes after another fight with you. One would think we hate each other. You grab your favored outer garment and head to the door. "Where ya headed today?" You glance back at me.

"I am going into town to get a little something. I'll be back soon, don't worry, Mother." You walk out, leaving me to stare at the door stunned because you called me Mother. Shaking my head, I flop down on the couch and turn on the TV. Midgar News is all I can find that has some semblance, as you would say, of intelligence. When I finally get sick of the reporter's irritating voice, I turn off the TV to see a small box sitting next to me. There's a note on it, and good little trained boy that I am, I read the card first before opening the present.

I saw this in a pawn shop and it reminded me of you. Thought you might want it.

I tear open the box and fall back, breathless. It's a ring. To be specific, it's my mother's wedding band, with my father and her initials carved on the inside of the band. I pawned it off for some extra Gil back when I was on my own after Mom died. I run my finger over the graceful CAH etched there. The H has almost worn off. Courtney Anne…is that all that's left of you? Had my father's absence even rubbed his name off of you? I slip the ring into my pocket and poke my head into your room, where you're lying on your bed, reading a book. "Nice trick getting past me without me noticing." You smirk.

"It's not that hard when you're watching the television." I laugh.

"Thanks for the ring back…it means a lot to me." You just nod and turn back to your book. I end the conversation by leaving.

So much of this relationship goes unspoken. If we could…what would we say to each other? I think I just said the eternal mantra I'd chant.

Thank you…for everything.

I know, it sucks, the ending is crap, but I didn't know how to end it! So…thar ye be. Hope it's satisfactory…guess who they are again!

-Skie