It had been years that had passed since that last, fleeting moment. He could clearly remember the eight melodies being sung into the darkness. Their last hope had been their savior. It was only enough to save the day though, not even a lifetime.

The male hesitated, his hand wavering over the telephone. Did he even have a phone?

He was being ridiculous. Of course he had a phone. Why wouldn't he? He knew for a fact that he had a phone. He was just stalling now. Taking a deep breath, he started dialing. The clicking noise of the phone as the buttons went around and around resounded in the room shortly before he was interrupted.

"Honey? Is that you, Ninten? Are you calling your father?"

His mother entered the room from the staircase off to the back of the room. Ninten slammed the telephone handset back as he turned to face her, shaking his head. This action awarded him with a tight frown.

"Now, you know how I feel about you treating the phone so roughly," his mother spoke. He sighed as he picked it up again, but he did not start to dial this time. An eyebrow raising, his mother leaned forward as she approached him from behind.

"Did you forget your poor father's number?"

A shake of the head was given. His mother stood upright and properly as to give her son space and scooted back a little.

"Then for heaven's' sake, who are you calling exactly?" she cried. Ninten pondered over what to say exactly before responding:

"Do you know what Loid's number is?"

"Hun, who's this Loid boy you speak about again?"

"He's the guy with really pale hair and plastic rimmed, HUGE, circular glasses. Does that ring a bell, Mom?"

It had taken a few idle moments, but at last something had formed as an idea in the woman's head.

"Ah, yes, dearie! That young boy!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know you and your friends exchanged phone numbers."

"Erm... yeah, though he wrote it down somewhere."

"H'm... Have you tried looking through your room then?"

The truth was a flat no, but Ninten wouldn't utter that word with any dignity. He'd just be shoo'd off to his room with something along the lines of an 'I told you so!' and the bratty twins mocking his mother's words. He spoke in the form of incomprehensible and short phrases as his mother's eyes narrowed and her foot started tapping. Uh oh. That was never a good sign paired along with her arms folded across her chest. Taking the sign, he edged away slowly while his mother's eyes followed his every move. He then dashed his way up the steps and across the hall to his room at the very end. Opening the door in his hurrying, he quickly slammed it behind him. From below, he heard the muffled shouting of his mother.

Now, it was time to go find that cursed slip of paper. Loid couldn't have just written it on his arm, now could he? Maybe he shouldn't have waited all these years to actually call the guy up. His room was almost completely barren- white was the color that covered the carpet and the walls and the ceiling and even the single, isolated chair and parts of his bed. This proved to be both an advantage and a disadvantage as most things were.

1) He could easily find something in something was was almost empty as opposed to messy.

2) The piece of paper was probably white, and thus the room provided a great place for it to camouflage.

He knew one thing though i.e. that he had only his pockets and a few bags he had bought for inventory on the journey. He went straight to underneath the bed, dropping down onto his chest and knees and skidding very briefly across the carpet. Meeting underneath the blanket into the dark abyss, he began to paw at the items he had stuffed underneath. A various assortment of baseball bats- broken and not- had found their way down there as well as a few pencils left over from the numerous school years. Near the front of the bed he reached out for the big bag and pulled it out. With little difficulty he able to force it out of the gap between the wood and the floor of the room. If he HAD stuffed in it here, he hoped he didn't accidentally feed his friends the paper rather than an herb. Then again, he was pretty sure they wouldn't be idiotic enough to at least notify him if he did something like that. At least he hoped so.

Opening the big bag, he began to rummage around in it. Its contents had greatly depleted since the moment he had bought it. Picking up one dried up herb and pulling it towards his nose, he took a big sniff. While it may have been a good while, there was still the very faint leftovers of its mystical and whimsical scent to lift his spirits. He dropped it back in and continued to try looking for it by touch. He gave a deep sigh as it dawned on him that the scribble was not to be found within the bunches of herbs. He closed it up and set it against the bottom of his bed before he went to look in his drawers. Sliding one out, he found the clean piles of folded cloth his mother had left all organized by type as she had always. Even when he was surely capable and really did deserve to be forced to put up with some form of responsibility, she had made sure everything was neat and tidy in almost all the rooms of the house.

This all was reversed in almost an instant as the boy started checking through all the articles of clothing. If he didn't find it in a pocket or a fold or in the inside, he tossed it. It was as simple as that. His eyes darted around as his hands moved frantically. After a bit, his hand had reached the plain and smooth surface of the bottom of the drawer. He forced it back to its original position as he moved onto the next one below it, crouching down to reach it. Shaking his head when he got no results, he didn't bother closing it as he dashed back down the staircase. His footsteps echoing in the house, his mother asked:

"What's the rush? Did you not find it upstairs?"

This simple question had been silently answered as he went to get the basement key on the dinner table and fumbled with it as he unlocked the door nearest to the phone. He hurried on down and made his way to the washer and dryer. They had finished their cycles long ago, but everyone had yet to actually put them into baskets and sort them to each family member. Opening the doors, he repeated the process he had used upstairs to search in both. Similarly, the results were unlucky for him. Shutting the two behind him, he let out an exasperated groan and sludged up the basement staircase.

"Sorry to hear you didn't find it, dear. Do you want a good ol' rack of ribs for dinner later tonight to take things off your mind?" his mother offered. Ninten nodded as he slumped into a nearby chair, slapping on the red baseball cap he had laid on the ground next to it. It brought good memories to him, that's to be sure. Feeling restless and uneasy though, he decided to take it off again to play with it a little just to get his hands busy. Peering inside though, his eyes widened. Taking the cap with him, he ran to the phone once more and set the hat next to the telephone as he began to dial rapidly with a growing grin.

He couldn't believe he had forgotten it all along; He had placed it in his baseball cap along with Ana's mailing address.