Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he'd come back. Despite this, Sion grimaced at his naivety, he knew perfectly well Nezumi couldn't be tied down-but he also knew that Nezumi kept his promises. It was how long he'd wait for that promise to be fulfilled that he was worried about.

Sion sighed and sat himself down onto the mountain of dirt that was just outside of the remains of No. 6. Tired. He was incredibly tired. Previous to this whole escapade that had become his life, Sion had lived a purposeful and simple life. He had never expected his ambitions to become more than what he had at that moment. To build over No. 6 was distant and perhaps much too close to be a dream. He'd be lying if he said he weren't a little intimidated-but this was his dream now. There was a moment of surprise as he found a warm sensation trudging along his cheeks. Tears.

If Sion were his old self he might of gotten up, wiped the tears and decided to have faith in the man who had become so important to him while walking to accomplish a new mission-but he wasn't. Nezumi had changed him and he wasn't who he used to be. He was different now.

He knew this.

So he allowed himself to clutch one of Inukashi's dogs and sob until his throat went raw.

Then he stood up, gathered the air in his lungs and screamed where no storm could cover his cries.

That would be a small reminder to Nezumi to not break his promise.

the persistence of memory

Sion just wouldn't be Sion if Nezumi wasn't drawn to his dizzying warmth.

Thoughts of kisses and clear eyes filled with determination were brought about every day to somehow forget the lack of contact. Within the day dreaming and distractions filled with the white haired boy are fears and emotional bruises that have plagued Nezumi since the destruction of No. 6. It's strange. He finds dully familiar emotions like, 'fear' and 'hurt'. His eyes darken as he relates to thoughts of the past, once again, for the eighth time that day, 'I have fallen.'

Sion hasn't once gone to the place where they used to li-they? What? Even now, Nezumi finds himself shocked and slightly angry at the importance of the boy. By now, he's realized that, without a doubt, he had been going on for him. Nezumi sighed and tried to laugh. It was a painful sound; forced and perhaps a little too bitter to be called a 'laugh'. He tried again, his melodic voice bursting out into a horrendous crack. Embarrassed as he was, he tried to laugh again, only to be met with the warm rush of moisture down his cheeks. Even as he cried he kept trying to laugh; to try and make things a little simpler by forgetting that he cared about Sion.

He has fallen.

Without a doubt, he has changed, becoming a careful man-afraid and somehow loving. Wishing, caring, fearing... he didn't understand or know these things until he met Sion. Before this, even with Sion, Nezumi could have never admitted to himself that to care, instead of survive, was okay. Perhaps caring and surviving are one in the same, for surely, without Sion, Nezumi couldn't have lived in the first place.

Nezumi was surprised. A sick sort of shock entangling him, a detached horror surrounding him as he lay, broken and bleeding, and collapsed on the floor he had struggled to see the flash of white in the corner of his eyes holding a gun... and firing. There was a sudden wave of fear and nausea as he saw Sion's finger pull on the trigger, cold and distant. A stranger to Nezumi's aching heart. Perhaps there were a few things Nezumi was afraid of-being held back, being stuck in the same place forever-but without a doubt, the one thing that tore Nezumi from himself was Sion. Sion changing, Sion caring, Sion learning things he should never have had to learn.

Maybe he blamed her a little. They were here to save the girl Sion cared so much about, after all. To save... the girl Sion cared about. Maybe Nezumi really went there to just save Sion. Nezumi didn't remember ever doing something to just make someone happy, but he tried with all of his being to deny that part of the reason that he did choose to get captured-an act completely uncharacteristic when coupled with his feelings-was because of Sion, for Sion and to help Sion. Even though he denied the act in its entirety-he also embraced it. It was a secret treasure and wish. Just like Sion.

There is still a part of him that believes to love or care is to be weak and maybe, just maybe... because of all of this-

Nezumi is strong, now.

1, 2, 3...

Sometimes you go on a walk and catch a glimpse of something-you find yourself drawn to the flurry of clothing or the faint blur of a person rushing to work-and it turns out to be more than you anticipated. It turns out to be the adventure you hoped for.

Unfortunately, Sion was disappointed at the lack of adventure.

The dash of navy blue that had crossed his vision was not Nezumi. It wasn't stealthy or elegant-or strong and cool. It was a simple scarf of a stranger that held distant memories and familiar feelings.

He wasn't re-building No. 6. He had helped break down the walls between them. It would be something new, something different from the corruption and hate that filled that 'utopia'. The place he would create wouldn't be perfect-but it wouldn't be like No. 6. It wouldn't be a lie spreading its growth.

It'd be honest.

The goal, though, was hard to strive for. The 'honesty' constantly reminded him of Nezumi.

Sion sighed and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, massaging the soreness that came from his reading glasses. He placed the lens on the table, gently, taking care not to scratch them.

Maybe he should take a break today. His head hurt.