There are words for moments like these, so precious and loving.

But Touya does not know them, so he holds his tongue and lets his teeth clack together; it hurts, more than words can appease.

Who does it hurt more?

And that, he can never know.

He waits for N. For N to do anything. To say he's sorry. To stop Ghetsis. To hold him.

To love him.

There are words, and there are moments, and then there are the spaces between which matter more than anything.

But N doesn't come. The moments pass, and Touya lives within the spaces.