Because really, there aren't nearly enough No.6 fics.
I found a random word generator, and the word 'mollycoddle' came up...it somehow turned into this monster. Anyways, enjoy (I hope) this strange little story-type-thing. (Yes, I realize it's written weird)
Disclaimer: ...I only wish I owned No.6...
Sion didn't understand, couldn't understand the air of indifference everyone outside No.6 carried. There was murder and death and stealing and hatehatehate. He didn't like it, the feeling of not knowing why, and Nezumi knew it. Day after day, he would observe those nuances that meant Sion was thinking (idon'tgetitidon'tunderstand) and try to look through those red eyes that saw nothing but good (whyiseverythingsowrong) and love (ihateitihateit) and no pain (ithurtsithurtshelpmei'mburning).
But it made sense, because Sion had been mollycoddled and loved and- Nezumi called it innocence. No matter what seemed to happen, that white little flower seemed to stay untainted. He wanted to preserve it; that burst of purity against the dark backdrop of reality, keep it for himself.
It was faint, but he saw it. He saw the tattered edge of the petal, and he was scared (it'smyfaultishouldn'). Nezumi ignored it. That always worked in the past, maybe it would work now. Sion didn't even complain, even though he had every right to cryscreamrunfindawayout. The petal started to wilt. Nezumi avoided looking at it.
Safu is here, he said and led the way like he had been in the correction facility all his life. Nezumi watched the petal fall. Wandering the halls that screamed deaththere'sdeathheregetoutGOAWAY was no picnic. The white made Nezumi's eyes hurt; rats belonged in the dark, safe from the light of the other world.
BANGBANGBANG and there was smoke and what'shappeningi'mconfusedSIONGETAWAY and he was bleeding and he didn't know why until he saw the blood (ithurtswhere'ssionisheokay). The man with the gun was going to kill him, he could tell -BANG and the man was on the ground and Sion- Sion was holding a gun. Nezumi could see them, the withered petals falling off and leaving nothing but a blackened stem-oh. There was still one left. Sion was still pure. He didn't kill, he was clean and what was he doing. Why is he pointing that weapon at the man- what was he saying? Oh, that's right- the man shot him. Sion was angry why was he so angry no don't don't do it don'tdon'tDON'T- too late.
No more petals left, no more innocence, and Nezumi cried. He didn't see Sion come back and witness his crime. No. He only moved when those warm arms were around him and soft reassurances were whispered in his ear- but that wasn't right. Sion was the one who needed to be held and told it's alright because he just killed someone. But Nezumi couldn't bring himself to do it.
Sion hated him. He could tell by the way his eyes (thoseredredeyesliketheblood) held that look of madness and betrayal. And it hurt. But he let him rage and scream as the elevator fell. It was his fault Sion was like this, and that Safu ruined him too, getting captured like that- but she was gone now and Sion was asking if he'd been used and he could only lie and say yes, because Sion needed someone to blame. Besides, it really was his fault.
BANG-and he's shot again but this time it's for Sion and it's dark and then they're in the halls and he's being carried and what happened. They're back where they came from and Sion is telling him to grab his hand and he reaches- BLOODTHERE'SBLOODCOMINGFROMSION'SCHEST. And he grabs that hand and they fallandfalland-
Now they're alone and Sion is deaddeaddeadhe'sdeadjustliketheflower. And then he's singing, because Sion was the one but he's gone and he deserves a proper send-off in this forsaken place- ELYURIAS. She's singing and then there's just brightgloriouswhatisthat. He stands and it's gone and he's healed and- SION IS ALIVE AND HE'S TALKING AND NOT DEAD. It's all Nezumi can do to not break down right then.
Nezumi leads the way back to what used to be home, and they take it all in. He knows he has to leave, so he goes. But Sion calls him back. And he takes his most-special person and kisses those soft lips that aren't cold and dead, all the while watching the bud that has started to grow in place of the withered flower. Sion watches him go, and Nezumi knows this. He knows when his flower turns and goes to find his mother. And he's already counting down the seconds until he gets to see that white hair and red snake again. Because he promised that foolish, mollycoddled young man that he'd be back.