Sometimes, when he's alone, he stares at it. Lets the chain run through his fingers, hears the gentle clinking as it hits his metal appendages. He only does this at night, when he's sure everyone is asleep and no one will be looking for him. He sits by the window, letting the few weak rays from the moon slide through the blinds onto the ring, and waits. Even he's not sure what for. A sign, maybe. The chain clinks through his gun hand again.
In the moonlight, he can see all the damage that it has taken. It's been bent out of shape in battle, rusted from rain and other various substances; he can barely see the engraving on the inside but that's ok, he knows it by heart. Heart. His heart. Sometimes, he wonders if he still has one. Wonders if it disappeared when the light went out in her eyes or if Black Ghost took that, too. He tries not to think about it.
A glint in the darkness- something that tears him out of his silent pain. His head jerks, blue eyes looking around. He's aware that it was only the reflection of the moonlight off his clock, but he also sees the shadows lurking from the corner of his eye. He thinks about turning on the light, just for an instant, to clear his mind. Instead he remains still, except for the gentle movement of his hands, the clinking of the chain. He decides that if there is anything lurking in the shadows, he'll let it take him. The more he thinks about it, the more the shadow swells with power; the harder his heart pounds. He goes back to the ring, which has been forgotten in his moment of distraction. Clink. Clink. Clink.
He still wears it for her, though he has been warned time and time again that it could be used against him. Someone could choke him with it; it could get caught while he is sleeping. What they don't know is that he barely sleeps anymore; what they ignore is that it would break against his neck before it would choke him.
He switches hands. The cold metal slides into his palm. The same gentle motion until he feels the ring warming up. Deep down, he longs to think that warming up the ring will keep her alive, somehow; a reason why he always wears it around his neck. It's his sign to her- My heart is still beating, I am alive. Though at these times, when the moon shows all his imperfections, he's not quite sure he is.
A clacking noise fills the room. He starts, His head whipping around to look at his door, the chair scraping against the floor. The noise stops. A light comes on, seeping underneath his door, the shadows barely containing it. His mind is blank for a moment, struggling to rise through layers of exhaustion to complete comprehensive thought. Someone is awake. He looks to his alarm clock. It's early, but still dark outside. He turns again to the doorway. Francoise. Francoise was an early riser. It could also be Pyunma, but the gentle clacking sounded more like her slippers.
He turns towards the window, shoulders slumped forward, the ring in hand. He looks to the stars outside, conjuring her face in his mind, presses his lips to the warm metal. His eyes close; his shoulders relax. He holds it by the chain, the gentle clinking sounding different now, and slides it over his head. It lies in the same spot it always does, against his heart. He puts on a shirt, finds his slippers, and quietly greets Francoise in the kitchen with what appears to be a sleepy smile.
No one questions why he's such an early riser, except for Jet, who is baffled at how he stays awake.
No one could know how much he still misses her.