Introducing my newest 9 fanfiction. This is definitely a new one. A new personal best. :D

The idea came to me on Thursday and started on it yesterday and worked through it all day today. ^_^

I was going to have 9 act a little conceited, but wrote that out to make him in character. I just didn't think that was at all suited to his character.

This story is not at all for the 9 anniversary. Nope. I don't have anything planned for that day, but it's a milestone in the movie.

Well, all's well that ends well. Enjoy the story.

6 wasn't usually this excited, but when he put his mind into it, he did something and he did it well. He wiped his hand on his side, then dipped his hand into the inkwell to his right, and continued with his drawing in front of him. He carefully circled the pupils onto the portrait of 9 he had been working on for the last hour. Time passed 6 and he didn't notice it. Finishing this sketch was more important than anything he could think of. If he had anything to think of.

He thought about the look on 9's face when he showed it to him once it was finished. He would smile and then he would reward him warmly. He and 9 had been involved romantically for the past two months. The two realized these feelings some time after they were all resurrected through the rain. 6 still hardly believed he and 9 were together, and he couldn't think of anything that could burst his bubble.

6 painstakingly drew another line connecting the other together. It was mainly a headshot portrait, not a full-body sketch. He thought of doing that another time; the inspiration just seemed to come to him at the right moment.

He wiped his hands on his lap, observing the portrait adoringly. The portrait of 9 was just as real as the world around him. 6 had to hand it to himself, he could really do a lot when he could put the effort. He picked up the finished sketch, stood up, and traipsed out the doorway, remembering to push the tarp that acted as a makeshift door.

The black-and-white stitchpunk strolled through the hall, being careful not to drop the paper. He looked from the towering book stacks to the rays of sun cutting through the ruined library. He could hardly anticipate handing this to 9 and seeing his reaction. 6 hurried along.

9's room was located near the twins' ramshackle globe. There was a set of still-standing bookcases that made up the room, and a dusty curtain was used as a door. The striped stitchpunk ducked when he was about to bump into a broken marble column that was leaning against a pile of rubble. He walked around a dust-covered book rather than walking on top of it. He saw the doorway, clutching the paper a bit tightly. Smiling, 6 reached with his left hand and parted the curtain.

"9," he said, peering inside, "I m-made this for—"

He stopped dead in his tracks, his hands still clutching the paper. His mismatched optics widened, mouth dropped open.

On the bed was 9 and next to him was 1, his arms wrapped around him, and the way he was holding him let 6 know they were in the middle of an intimate moment. 1's other hand seemed to be clutching 9's zipper. 6 didn't need to be told that he had interrupted their session.

"6," spoke 9, looking from him to the surrounding makeshift walls, "I...this... I was—This isn't what it looks like."

The way 9 avoided looking 6 in the optics showed that he was trying to grasp at anything to not admit what was happening.

"I...I thought..." 6's hands trembled. The floor seemed to sink beneath his feet. "Why?!"

9 bit his lip. "6, I," he began, scratching the back of his head, "I, I just..."

"You s-said—you loved me!," shouted 6, pen-nib fingers shaking.

"I-I know," said 9, "I love you, I do...or at least I thought I did."

6's pupils widened to the size of saucers.

"What?," he muttered, his voice practically a whisper.

"I'm sorry, but," said 9, optics shifting from 6 to the floor, "with 1... I have everything I need from him."

1's arms remained around 9, and the way he looked at 6 let him know that he was just as surprised as he was but also showing that he wasn't ashamed either.

"How l-long...has t-this—been g-going on?," asked 6, not meeting 9's gaze.

9, grabbing at the sheet reflexively, looked from him to 1 and back. He held his breath be off he gave an answer.

"Three weeks," he said, a hint of guilt in his voice.

1 changed position on the bed, keeping his arms around 9. The striped stitchpunk stared, mouth opening.

"I...I..." 6's optics gazed at the portrait.

"6—"

"I HATE YOU!"

6 tore the paper in half. He dashed out of the room in fury, letting out a heart-wrenched sob.

9 looked down at the drawing, expression shifting from shame to hurt to confused to scared. The portrait was what gartered his attention, and the regret wouldn't make the situation any better.

"Let him go," said 1, drawing him closer, nuzzling his neck, "let's get back to where we started."

9 couldn't get 6's outburst out of his mind, but he also couldn't resist 1's advances. He reluctantly gave in to the throes of passion, hoping to forget what happened.

Meanwhile, 6 reached the library entrance, racing down the stairs, whimpering. He held his arms out, not to hold on to anything but to ensure he could break his fall in case he tripped. He ran down the courtyard, passing the newly-growing garden. He didn't care nor did he want to acknowledge the tufts of greenery, he wanted to forget 9 and his betrayal. He could still see it in his head. 9, 1, their arms wrapped each other, the hurt, the pain, the portrait, ripping it up. 6 could see it clearly, and he wished for it to be a nightmare so he could wake up. When he couldn't command himself to wake up he realized he was indeed awake and trying to grasp at anything to wish it were a nightmare.

6 stopped by one of the statues, planting a hand against it. He was crouched over, catching his breath. If the ground could swallow him up, it would be a blessing. Anything to not accept what was happening. He grabbed at his black key.

"6?," said a voice.

The striped stitchpunk spun around, gasping. 5 looked at him worriedly.

"I saw you run out the door," he said, "is everything okay?"

6 wanted to say it, but couldn't work his mouth.

"What happened?," asked 5.

6 stood, his hand running up and down his key.

"I," he croaked, clearing his throat, "I saw 9...with 1. They were... in 9's room. And t-they were..."

5 blinked, brow furrowed, then widened his optic when he registered what 6 was trying to articulate.

"Oh," he said, "oh dear, I'm... I'm sorry."

5 gently placed a hand on 6's shoulder. 6 flinched but allowed his hand to stay there. He clutched at his key.

"I...I..." 6 couldn't seem to say what he wanted to say. He was too wrenched in his heartbreak to focus coherently.

"Come, sit," uttered 5, leading 6 toward a chunk of broken marble. He helped 6 climb on to the marble chunk. The two sat together, 5 glancing at 6 worriedly, hoping he was prepared to help him with the breakup.

Silence trembled between them, both not sure how to start the conversation or who should talk. 5 looked at 6 every once in a while, giving him the time to calm down enough to talk. He wondered if he wanted to talk at all.

6, whose hands were around his black key, let go, grabbing at the edge of the marble chunk. He looked at the ground, preparing to speak up.

"I...," he said, "I was...m-making a...portrait o-of 9."

5 kept a neutral expression while he listened.

"I w-was...g-going to...his...room...to g-give it...to him...when I s-saw him...with 1."

6's hand grabbed at his key, pulling it when he remembered what he saw. The look on 1's face taunted him.

"What did 9 say?," queried 5.

"He said," continued 6, "he s-said he...had e-ever-y-thing...he n-needed from...1." The mention of 1's name was enough to make 6 kick at the marble chunk he sat on. He managed to break of small chunk of it falling to the ground.

"How long has he been...?" 5 chose not to say the rest, thinking it would upset 6 more.

6 didn't look up at 5 as he answered.

"Three weeks."

The one-eyed stitchpunk blinked, putting a hand on 6's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said.

6 muttered under his breath, turning away. He pulled on his key.

"I'm sorry 9 did this to you," said 5, tone sounding more comforting, "I really am. I really thought you and him were happy."

"I d-did, too!," whimpered 6, keeping his hands gripped around his key.

5 pulled 6 closer in a hug.

"I d-don't know...w-what I did..wrong," sobbed 6, hands letting go of his key.

"You didn't do anything wrong," said 5.

The black-and-white stitchpunk trembled in 5's arms. 6 gripped his key again for security. He could still see 9's betrayal bombarding his mind.

"Why?," moan 6. "W-why did...this h-have to..happen?"

5's lip curled microscopically. He held 6 in his arms, ready to listen to 6's next sentence.

The two remained silent for what seemed like eternity. 6 spent the moment trembling and trying to stop himself from shaking when he was close to calming down. All the moments he spent with 9, every gesture, every comment was gone. It was tarnished.

"I-I," croaked 6, "don't k-know...how I'm...going t-to—forget him."

"Hmm," hummed 5, loosening his hold around 6, "well, let's think about it for a minute." He sat a little straighter. "What did you like most about 9?"

6 glanced up at him, mismatched optics blinking.

"I," he said, looking down at the ground, grabbing his key, "I, uh...I l-liked...that he...talked a-about...my d-drawings."

"Good start," said 5, nodding. "What else?"

"He," uttered 6, "he...l-liked...to r-read...with me."

5 kept his smile to let him know he was attentive.

"Anything else?"

It took 6 a tremendous amount of time to come up with his her answer. He gripped his key, trying to suppress the muffled whimpers that escaped his mouth.

"9 l-liked...to," continued 6 hoarsely, "d-draw with me. He m-made me...f-feel better...when I...had m-my—nightmares. He w-was...the f-first to...kiss me. B-but...he...was t-the...one to under-stand me. He b-believed my...visions." His voice cracked, and he clutched his key again, whimpering, hoping not to sob out loud.

5 patted 6's back, his smile fading, but he hoped to get a smile out 6 after this moment.

"Now," he said, "tell me what you won't miss about 9."

The striped artist looked at him before looking away, thinking of an answer.

"Well," said 6, "I w-won't miss...how h-he...was l-late...to our...d-dates."

"Okay," spoke 5, "what else?"

"I w-won't miss...how...he l-looked...bored w-when...I w-was...show-ing him...b-books on...art."

5 nodded, revealing a small smile.

"I won't," blurted 6, pulling on his key, "m-miss...how h-he acted...like h-he...was...acting...like h-he was...list-en-ing when...I-I w-was...talk-ing...about...a drawing idea."

"I see," said 5, looking at 6.

"And I," began 6, "won't m-miss...h-how he...ended our...d-dates early."

"That must've bothered you," said 5.

"It did."

6 clutched his key, staring hard at the ground as thigh he would run a hole in it. He almost wished he could.

"He b-betrayed me!," hollered 6, stepping off marble chunk. He scampered toward a small rock and kick it, letting out a frustrated groan. He ran over toward the statue he was standing next to, pulling his key off his neck. He held the key by its stem, hitting the statue with his key's ring.

5, sitting on the chunk of marble, watched, worried but refrained from interfering. He wanted to stop him, but he thought it would only lead to 6 hitting him either by accident or spite. 6's groans emphasized the pain he felt.

The striped stitchpunk smacked the statue about seven or eight times until he ended falling over. 6 dropped his key and picked up a pebble, throwing it toward the statue. It ricocheted off the statue's surface. 6 sat, realizing there was nothing else to throw. If he was human-sized he would knock the statue over to relieve the anger and pain. He let out a sob.

5, seeing the situation needed to be solved, walked over to the striped artist, crouching beside him.

"6," he said, wrapping an arm around him.

The black-and-white striped stitchpunk trembled at his touch, but he looked over, lip quivering.

"I," said 6, "I d-don't know...how I-I'll get...over...this."

"You'll get over it," crooned 5, smiling gently.

6 shrugged, possibly trying to get 5's arm off of him. But he didn't fuss with him, and only let 5 stay, not sure how to combat the pain.

"What d-did I...d-do wrong?," inquired 6, looking back the one-eyed stitchpunk.

"You did nothing wrong, 6," replied 5 convincingly. "It was 9 that tore the relationship apart."

6 glimpsed down, running his hand up and down his key.

"Was t-there," squeaked 6, "some-thing I-I...could've d-done...dif-feren-tly?"

5's expression showed sincerity mixed with firmness.

"I don't think there was anything you could've done to stop 9 from cheating on you."

The striped stitchpunk tightened his grip on his black key. He tried to show he wasn't wounded but he also tried to drown out what 5 said. He didn't want to hear it to keep his illusion from shattering. The picture of him and 9 he had erected up around his mind was slowly cracking to pieces.

"You want to know what I think?," said 5, raising his brow.

6 nodded as a response.

"I think 9 is an idiot for doing what he did," he said.

The striped artist was stumped.

"I think what he did was stupider than awakening the Machine," remarked 5, changing position.

"I-I...," muttered 6. "I d-don't...know..how to...answer that."

"That's okay," said 5, "I just want you to know that 9 is throwing away the best thing that could've happened to him."

A moment of silence brewed between them. 6 clutched his key, processing 5's words. Anything to get 9 off his mind.

"Did you 9 give you any gifts?," asked 5.

"Y-yes," answered 6 plainly, hands gripping his key.

The one-eyed stitchpunk sat crisscrossed, retracting his hand away from 6's shoulder.

"Well," said 5, "I think you should give them back to him."

At that, 6 lifted his head, optics blinking.

"Why?," he uttered.

"Because," said 5 evenly, "they'll remind you of 9's betrayal. And it's not good to keep gifts after you two have broken up."

6 looked like he wanted to protest but 5 interrupted him before he could.

"You can't beat yourself up over this," he said, crawling over to face 6 in the optics. "You have to see that 9 was the one that ended it. He ended it when he was seeing 1 behind your back. He didn't see what he had until he saw you there."

The black-and-white stitchpunk listened, optics drifting from 5 to the ground. His gaze rested on his hands, which clutched his key. He unclasped his key, letting his hands rest on his lap.

"9 didn't appreciate you," retorted 5, "not how you appreciated him."

"He d-didn't," spat 6, "ap-pre-ciate me...at all!"

5 watched him carefully, prepared to intervene if he did something foolish.

"Forget about 9. You're going to get over this eventually," said 5, "and who knows? Maybe you'll find someone else. Someone who does appreciate you."

6 swallowed. "L-like who?"

5 took his time deciding what answer to give.

"I know of someone," he said.

"Who?," repeated 6, hand grasping his key.

"Someone who's been by you for years," quoth 5, smile spreading across his lips.

"Who?"

"Someone who's tried his hardest to understand you."

"Who?"

5 hesitated, hoping he wasn't jumping to conclusions.

"Me," he said.

6's mouth opened and closed, like a fish. He barely had the time to blink.

"You?," he uttered, clutching his key a little tighter.

5 nodded. He snickered.

"Yeah," he said, "me."

"You?," repeated 6, confusion laced with surprise blooming on his face.

5 laughed in spite of himself.

"I know," he quoth, "but...I do feel this way, 6. I do love you. I didn't say anything because you were already with 9. And...now that this happened...maybe..."

The striped stitchpunk looked down at the ground, having a hard time processing this revelation.

"Maybe you'd," said 5, smiling in embarrassment than gladness.

6's optics drifted in all directions, struggling to grapple what he had heard. He grabbed at his lap out of reflex, feeling just as embarrassed as 5.

"I," said 6, looking up at 5, childish hope blossoming on his face. He ran his hands up and down his key.

5 kept his smile.

"I don't want to make you think you have to do this right away," he said, "after all, you just broke up with 9."

6 paused.

"And, well," continued 5, looking doubtful but also optimistic, "if you change your mind I'll understand."

The one-eyed stitchpunk stood up, about to turn around when 6's voice caught his attention.

"5," said 6.

"Yes?," said 5, gazing down at him.

The striped artist gently rose to his feet, not meeting 5's gaze. He clutched his key, drawing in a breath. 5 waited.

"I," muttered 6, giving his key a tug.

5 blinked.

6 threw his arms around him, surprising 5, as well as himself.

"T-thank you," muttered 6.

"You're welcome," replied 5, embracing 6 back.

He was about to break the hug when 6 suddenly pressed his lips against his. 5 widened his optic, feeling as though the ground beneath him was crumbling. Sparks flew, jolting inside his core, engulfing him in the throes of passion. It was like the striped artist was no longer bothered by his heartbreak. When 6 broke the kiss, he stared, taken aback.

"6..."

"You've w-waited...long enough," said 6 firmly, a smile appearing on his face.

5 returned the smile.

"I love you, 6," he said, pulling him closer.

The striped stitchpunk smiled.

"And I," stuttered 6, "l-love you...too."

5 beamed.

The two kissed once more, relishing the moment between them, forgetting about all their other troubles. When they pulled apart, they merely gazed at each other lovingly, basking in the warmth of the bright, golden sun, enjoying the silence and the serenity of the teeming garden.

"Let's forget what happened," said 5, smiling.

6 nodded.

In that moment, 6 found a new a image he wanted to seal forever. Him and 5.

Everything was going to be all right.

I'm kind of rusty on this. Haven't written a breakup story in, like, ever. I wanted to try it, though, just to see if I could. And here it is. Not bad, though, right? First time for anything.

Thank you for enjoying my story. :)