A/N: Yet another No. 6 oneshot, I know. I recently went through a relapse and got my life ruined all over again: I spent a whole two days completely empty. Then I found this, though! It's not mine: this is a translation of Rinne-chan's oneshot in French under the same title (except you say it moh-moh). I found it while browsing feverishly through the archives, and the simplicity and overall charm of it bewitched me. Thankfully, she was kind enough to let me transform it into an English version, and I tried my best to keep it as similar in style as possible. Translation is a lot harder than I thought.

Disclaimer: I don't own No. 6 or the plot of this fic. Credits for the writing go to Rinne-chan.

Moments

There were those unspoken moments when they were both wholly conscious of one another. Those moments when, without speaking, they fought silent duels, ended alluded-to battles, exchanged words without resonance. Between the two of them and against themselves.

For example when Shion sat down on the bed, a book in hand. He didn't look at Nezumi, who was occupied with other things. He didn't ask him to join him. He only sat down, back to the wall, and opened his book. However, Nezumi heard his silent request. "Come join me. Read with me. Let me feel your presence." He understood it by hearing the pages turning a little too quickly, by seeing that Shion had placed himself a little too close to the edge of the bed to be natural, as if he'd left him a place. He even saw it in the way in which the albino had placed the blanket over his shoulders, only using half of the fabric to cover himself, the other half resting over the place that he wanted the rat to take.

At first, Nezumi contented himself with ignoring him. He wasn't going to serve as an emotional replacement for the blond. If the latter wanted to survive, he'd need to toughen up. Resisting this need for others was at the basis of the lesson. Additionally, if he wanted something, he should have the nerve to ask for it. Two lessons for the price of one, then. Without taking into account that he, Nezumi, did not have the slightest intention of tying himself to the albino more than necessary. Their story was merely one of agreements. He owed him his life, he saved his and taught him a lesson in survival. More than fair, right?

There were also those moments when, when it was particularly cold, they both huddled up in the bed, though normally one of the two would sleep on the sofa. It wasn't a very comfortable bed, and it creaked so much that if one of them moved, an unaccustomed person would have been awoken. Nezumi, out of habit, slept facing the door, although it was bolted three, even four times. Shion therefore had the right to the space next to the wall. Often, when he thought the rat was sleeping, the albino rolled over to face him, even though the latter always had his back turned. The movement never failed to wake the said rat if he really had been asleep, and he felt Shion's gaze boring into his neck. However, he didn't roll over. For some obscure reason, he didn't want to meet the blond's gaze in the dark. He didn't want to read all the things there which dissolved themselves during the day, but which the night never failed to unveil. It wasn't so much the fact of reading Shion that frightened him. He knew practically everything about him anyway, and he wasn't a good liar. No; what stopped him from turning over was the fear of what Shion might manage to read in him. He had a disturbing aptness for understanding the rat more than he should have been able to, and the latter wondered whether that applied to him exclusively or if it was an innate gift of the albino.

They stayed there, therefore; both of them, awake for hours. Nezumi couldn't fall asleep as long as he could feel the gaze of the other fixed upon him from behind, and Shion maintained the situation for as long as possible. Maybe it was in hope that Nezumi would roll over, or because it was the only time he allowed himself to think and that this process took many hours. Whether it was one or the other, the albino always ended up closing his eyes, always facing Nezumi's back. Only then did the latter allow himself to fall asleep in turn.

There were also those times when, wanting to exercise a bit or simply to explore the safe parts of the surrounding area, Shion dressed before he went out. Once again, he didn't ask Nezumi to accompany him. At the very most, he asked him whether he wanted him to do some shopping. Each time, the rat responded in the negative, arguing that if he ventured to the market alone he wouldn't be able to take three steps before getting kidnapped, ripped off or killed. Or all three at the same time, why not? No, most of the time, Shion just slipped on his coat, a bit more slowly than necessary, feigned having lost a glove or a sock, found it where he knew very well he'd left it, then made his way towards the door. Upon opening it, he shot a final glance at Nezumi, who took great care not to turn around, and told him how long he thought his walk would take. It was always a little like a final request, a final hope that he would accompany him, and the rat took great care not to reply. Once again, the blond had to learn to cope alone a bit more. Once the door closed, several seconds passed before Shion's steps could be heard, revealing that he'd stayed by the door for a moment before giving up and leaving.

There were vast amounts of them, those silent moments, when Shion always seemed to ask in vain. Those moments when Nezumi stayed indifferent, for his good as well as for that of the other.

And yet...

Nezumi didn't come to sit next to Shion when he was reading. However, when he saw that the blond was beginning to lose interest in his reading, or simply when his eyebrows scrunched up at a passage, he interrupted whatever he was doing, approached, took note of where the albino was and began to recite from memory the extract in question, under the simultaneously grateful and enraptured gaze of his companion.

Nezumi never rolled over when Shion stared at him. However, after he'd dropped off it was he who turned to watch him sleep for a few moments, moving closer sometimes when he noticed the albino trembling, whether it was due to nightmares or the cold. One time, one only, he took his hand, which lay between their two faces, in his own. Only to prove to himself, and to Shion as well, that he wasn't alone, if only in that instant.

Nezumi never demonstrated any interest in following Shion when the latter went out. Despite everything, once the door closed and his footfalls had become almost inaudible, he leapt upright, grabbed his coat and his constant scarf and rushed outside, slamming the door. A little farther on he found Shion, alerted by the sound, who was waiting for him. He grumbled a sentence saying that he did in fact need to go to Inukashi's or to the market, and Shion didn't need any coaxing to follow him, no matter how lame the excuse. Once, he even offered Nezumi the latter's gloves that he had taken before leaving, seeing that he was rubbing his hands together. The latter shot a glance at Shion's hands and discovered without surprise that they had their own mittens on. The half-mocking, half-tender smile that the blond sent him prevented him from calling him a sentimental idiot.

Oh, there were tonnes of them, silent moments like those. Those unspoken instants, as frequent as they were simple, that populated their daily life. A delicate raising of voice when they began to hum a tune that the other recognised, the choice of a book that they knew the other liked, the cooking of a hot dish when the other came in from outside after a particularly cold day... Little harmless gestures, but for them they held the utmost value. Neither of them were deluding themselves. Their future was uncertain, their past troubled, and nothing promised that they'd still be together – even alive – in a year. For Nezumi, who hated No. 6 as much as Shion wanted to save it, for he who wanted to avoid relationships as much as the other insisted upon sustaining them, for he who was no longer deluding himself as for he whose naïvety had surprised more than one individual, for they who were simultaneously made to be reunited and to be separated, those moments represented the essential element of their happiness.

After all, both knew that it would be those moments that they would have to hang onto when they no longer had anything else.

So Shion continued to sit on the edge of the bed, Nezumi continued to recite, and when the two were resting face to face, their fingers interlaced, eyes closed and yet awake, they could only hope to be able to go to the market together the next day.

A/N: Cute, huh? If it sounded a bit odd, I'm sorry: this is my first translation ever and I don't appear to be especially gifted. Please feel free to tell me how to improve, and make sure to check out the original (and some of her other fics) on Rinne-chan's profile if you speak French!