❝ The night is long that never finds the day. ❞ —Macbeth: Act 4, Scene 3, Page 11.
On the eve of No. 6's collapse, there were many things keeping both Nezumi and Shion wide awake. In that single bed, the one Nezumi curled up in by himself for so many years, thoughts and emotions were running wild. Nezumi faced the wall, his eyes slightly open as he stared at the grooves of cement in front of him, the seams somehow holding his attention more than they ever deserved to. Nezumi's back was to a certain white haired boy, and although he wanted to turn around and offer Shion some form of comfort — after all, his tossing and turning this evening rivaled that of Nezumi's usual unconscious movements — he couldn't bring himself to. Not yet, anyway.
There were so many things Shion had taught Nezumi without even realizing. The young boy who had let Nezumi into his home four years ago gave him his hand and a bed and a warm meal, and from the outside looking in, that was certainly enough of a lesson to be taught — that sometimes, a man would be willing to help another, disregarding his past or his motives or the horrible circumstances that led one to the other —; but Nezumi had learned so much more that night. A living body with a pulse, a steady heartbeat and the heat of life that Nezumi had long since forgotten existed had filled him to the brim in Shion's large bed, reminding him that not everything was engulfed and entrapped by the clutches of death. Shion had indirectly given Nezumi hope… enough hope to keep on living, even after deciding to give up.
And then, in his tiny little home, Shion had taught Nezumi how to care for someone other than himself. Despite all of his protests, and despite wanting more than anything to push the intruder away, somehow, Nezumi couldn't fight against Shion… and this was more terrifying than anything Nezumi would ever come to understand. The idea that this boy, a product of the very city that had taken everything from Nezumi was now taking his heart, was beyond frightening to him. He had given up all of his money, his bed and his home and his life just to protect and be near him. And, in exchange, Shion taught Nezumi how to feel… with or without his consent.
These feelings, the ones now plaguing his heart as he remained awake in that tiny little bed… they were enough to make him want to run away.
Nezumi continued to stare at the wall through sleepy eyes. It was past midnight, and there were only a few hours left for them to sleep before they entered into Hell, yet the other boy kept fidgeting, switching from laying on his side to his stomach and then to his back, making the mattress move in tiny wave-like patterns. Nezumi's eyes rolled shut and he let out a sigh, taking a few moments to himself before turning his attention to Shion. Grey eyes peered over into red, and the uneasy and scared look in the other boy's eyes were enough to draw Nezumi out of his thoughts.
I want to hold hands, like when we were younger, Shion had eventually whispered.. and although Nezumi didn't say anything in reply, his hand slipped into Shion's, fingers squeezing his gently as he offered some sort of comfort. This boy, this terrifying boy that held so much power over Nezumi, was scared out of his mind. He was restless and anxious and worried about what lay ahead of them; it was written all over his face, in the distressed corners of his eyes, in the frown drawing his lips into a downward curve, in his overly expressive crimson orbs… and even though Nezumi knew Shion was terrified, he had no idea how to ease his mind. He knew things wouldn't ever be the same after this. This was, perhaps, the last night they would ever be at peace… laying together in the darkness like this, an innocent hand holding onto calloused fingers that knew too much of the world. Despite everything that made them different, their upbringings and ways of looking at life, it was this moment in time that neither boy would ever forget.
It was this home, this place on the outskirts of West Block, that neither would ever be able to return to. And, in this moment, both of them knew it all too well.
The pad of Nezumi's thumb ran along the smooth surface of Shion's hand, back and forth, over and over again, while a slight smile tugged on his lips. He didn't have any words of comfort for Shion, for he knew better than to lie and tell him that all would end well… so all he could do was continue to look into Shion's eyes, scooting closer until their noses were barely touching, his hand never leaving his companion's.
Despite these moments together, Nezumi's eyes would eventually close, and the raven haired boy would eventually tell Shion to go to sleep, even as Shion's gaze would continue to burn his skin as he drifted off. And even though Nezumi would still feel Shion's eyes brimming with tears as he continued to stare, Nezumi would remain as he was, eyes closed and seemingly asleep, knowing that he needed to be strong for both of them. However, in the back of his mind, Nezumi would continue to hope that the boy he cherished more than anything would remain unchanged, and would continue to teach him how to love, even if it took years for Nezumi to return to the arms that had long since enraptured his very being.