I wish the tenth was here to see this.

To see us, I should say.

To see the way I let his arms wrap around my person. The way I can let out a few tears in front of him, even share a bed with him when the night gets too long and full of nightmares of blood splattering on the walls…

I wish he were here to see Yamamoto and I getting along, bickering kept to a minimum due to the fragileness of the ground we now walk on.

I wish he was here to see us laughing occasionally and enjoying each other's company…

I remember two weeks after the tenth got in the accident, when Yamamoto and I were going to clean out your room. I remember standing there, looking up at the ceiling where marks had been left from gunshots, explosions –slices in the paint from Yamamoto getting a little over-excited about fighting. I remember feeling tears stroke my face and no sound try to move my limps into a whimper. And then, a warm and shaking body wrapped its arms around my shoulders, spilling tears into my hair and neck. I remember how I put one arm up and gripped onto Yamamoto's shirt, wanting to comfort him in our time of misery.

I wish the tenth had seen that –I wish he'd seen how good we could bond together.

I wish I could tell him how I had always enjoyed Yamamoto, and how I bickered with him because I was confused and not because it was to raise the tenth's blood pressure.

And oh how I wish I had thanked him for keeping the idiot around. For being there for him when I was out smoking and he was worried about my health –or when I didn't show up and he was there to tell the idiot it was all right.

I remember when I quit smoking; maybe a couple of months after the tenth were gone. I'd been outside at night about to light a cigarette when the simple thought of you made me feel grieved. It made me feel like I was turning into ash the more and more I smoked…it made me feel like I was dying. I remember throwing my whole pack of cigarettes in the trash can when I stepped inside from the balcony and into Yamamoto and I's room. He had looked up at me from his side of the bed (if you wanted to call it that, we rolled around so much we could never tell) and gave me this curious expression to my red eyes and shaking hands. I remember crawling into the bed and wrapping my arms tightly around the baseball idiot's body, nestling my head into his blue t-shirt. His response had been fingers running through my hair and a hand placed firmly on the small of my back as I cried over the feelings of death.

I wish the tenth had been able to see that moment –to be able to see how much we had grown since he had left.

I wish the tenth could understand how grateful we were together but yet how depressed we were for the reason. If it hadn't been for the accident we would have never had the courage to come together –but then again, if it hadn't been for the accident I wouldn't be writing this…

But what I wish for most of all, would to be able to see your smile when you saw all of this.