"It's 11:11, make a wish, Yoite."

Yoite looked over at me, blue eyes hidden underneath the brim of his hat. "I don't." It was another one of his incoherent sentences.

Silently, I wished. I wished for Yoite.

Watching Yoite try to make a crown out of flowers is something I never thought I'd see in life. But yet, there we were, sitting at his hideout with a handful of flowers. It had been my idea at first, having grabbed a bundle of the tiny blossoms with my sweaty fists. I had worked slowly, talking to Yoite casually while weaving the soft lavender plants into a beautiful crown.

"...What are you doing with those?" He had asked me. I told him, simply, that I was making a crown. What surprised me then was him asking if he could try. So I handed it to him, somewhat curious myself as to what he would do.

For a couple minutes he fumbled with the crown, undoing it somewhat by accident and then trying to rebuild it. But unfortunately he had no idea what he was doing, and after a few short moments he threw it back at me. I could read the pain on his face, even though he tried to mask it.

"Forget it. I can't make anything with these hands."

I knew what he was talking about. Those hands. Searching my memories I recalled how much his fingers resembled ash, his skin covered with a charcoal color. It was like a black dust had been sprinkled over his skin, staining it with its permeation. Those hands, he claimed, could only destroy. But I remember Yoite's gentle touch on my cheek, both of us suffering in our anguish. I remember how I clung to that hand and didn't want to let go. Don't die, Yoite... Was all I could think. Don't leave me alone. I don't want to be alone again... Those hands, they were a balm to me.

For a moment I stared down at the crown, admiring the violet flowers for a moment. Then, quickly, I began to finish it up, weaving a couple more flowers together. "Here, Yoite," I offered, crossing over to sit down by his side. "Just tie the ends together and its done. You can do that."

For a moment, he looked at me. Then he looked down at his gloves. Then he looked nowhere.

"I...I think so."

After a few moments, he found it to be true. With the crown complete, I gave a celebratory applaud then placed the decoration on Yoite's dark hair, replacing the oversized hat that usually covered it. "Tada! It looks good on you, Yoite." I relished in how his cheeks flushed a pale pink. I liked seeing the blood rush to his face - it showed that Yoite, no matter how weak, was still alive. And that's how I liked Yoite...alive.

Alive.

My heart skipped a little and I pushed my mouth up against Yoite's, reassuring him with my lips.

This is how I like Yoite. I like him in the quiet of the summer afternoon, green trees all around the battered trains. I like him shadowed in the trees, but with freckles of light playing across his body in fragmented orbs. And I like him here, close to me, his fingers finding their way into my hair.

Yoite...I'm glad I don't have to erase you.

He can't make a crown out of flowers. But he made my 11:11 wish come true. And as he kissed me back, eyelashes tickling my cheek, my heart welled up with unspeakable feelings. I couldn't shape them. But I knew that my mind, no longer apathetic, was filled to the brim with the thoughts of Yoite. Yoite, the sun, the grass, the bamboo shoots, the crown of flowers -

I am grateful that we don't have to run anymore.