Amou's POV, finally.


So he took his wings and fled:
Then the morn blushed rosy red:

The next night, Amou crept silently into Nakaura's room. The man was tossing and turning in his sleep again, caught up in his nightmare. Oh, Tomonori-san. What could he do to help him? He would do anything to wipe the anxiety and sadness from his friend's face. But this wasn't as easy as curing a headache; this was something that the Eraser's healing powers couldn't repair in seconds. It might take longer for Nakaura to heal from this sort of pain but if only Amou was able to help him! If only Nakaura would tell him what was wrong. He felt like the man was holding something back. Something crucial.

"I'll wait," the boy whispered. "I'll wait for you to tell me but…" He shook his head, knowing how stubborn the priest could be. How long would it take for Nakaura to finally give in and tell Amou what was bothering him so much?

Amou, without realising it, had sat next to the other's sleeping form and had been idly tracing little patterns on the priest's pale forehead. "Oh!" the young Eraser exclaimed quietly when he saw what he was doing and snatched back his hand, face burning. And he stood to flee.

"Tsukasa," the priest mumbled and his hand flopped to the pillow, by his head. The Eraser froze by the door; Nakaura had been awake this whole time?

"Y-Yes, Tomonori-san?" Amou thought he would die of embarrassment right there.

"Tsukasa," the priest said again and made a little distressed noise. The boy was at his side in a flash.

"I'm here; oh, did I wake you? I was just…ah, I was, erm…" But the man didn't seem to hear his apologies. He's dreaming, Amou realised.

"Tsukasa." This time, the name was so wracked with fear and anguish that the Eraser involuntarily shivered. He was what Nakaura was dreaming about? He was the cause of his pain? The boy couldn't believe it. He rose to his feet and took a few unsteady steps back, leaning against the doorframe for support.

I was wrong; I thought Tomonori-san accepted me but…he-he's dreaming about me as an Eraser, as a harbinger of death, a bloody killer. Yes, that has to be it. 'Thou shalt not kill' and I've murdered-no- slaughtered too many. Too many to hope for even a sliver of redemption. The Kiriharas, the Kusakabes. Oh, how I've destroyed them and the lives of their children! And he's a priest; he can't have me in his house but he's too polite to say so. Does he think taking me in was a mistake? But…he told me that he didn't care who I was, I was his family now. Was that a lie too, to make me feel better? Oh, Tomonori-san is so kind, so kind to me, always.

Amou looked to the man lying near him, lost in his troubled dreams. And I've repaid that kindness by making him suffer like this. I'm horrible, I'm sickening. I don't deserve to live…I don't deserve him. I don't deserve anyone's friendship. Kirihara-san, Itsuki, Kusakabe-kun, Shiba-sempai…Tomonori-san.

He left the room and entered his own. Dressing warmly, he found his money and put it in one of the pockets. He would go to his own kind, where he belonged. I've been living in a lie; I thought they could…they could be my family. I thought he could be my family. I was so wrong. So delusional.

Satisfied that he was ready, he went for one last look at the man he had stayed with for so long. "It won't help at all and it seems so insignificant but I want to say I…I'm sorry," he told Nakaura's sleeping form. "I'm sorry for everything and…I hope you'll be happy now. Because if you are, I will be too."

On sudden impulse, he leaned over and smoothed back the priest's dark hair, kissing his forehead very softly.

And then the next minute he was gone, the door shutting quietly behind him. The lock clicked back into place and then all was quiet again.

Nakaura groaned quietly and his eyes unclosed, his nightmare still reflecting in his eyes. Rising up on one elbow, he looked around the room near-sidedly, squinting a little and fumbling around on the table for his glasses. He put them on and the world snapped into its normal clear view. Strange, he would have sworn that he had felt a presence in the room before. That creeping feeling of someone else's aura that had affected him in his dream and forced him awake.

But no one was there.

He lay back down. It was probably nothing; just his paranoia getting the better of him.

But then why did his forehead tingle ever so slightly?
------------------------------------------------------------

I dried my tears & armed my fears,
With ten thousand shields and spears.

Nakaura carefully flipped the omelette and listened for the usual creak Amou's door made when it opened. Good morning, Tomonori-san, he would mumble, still half-asleep as he smiled hazily at the priest and sat down at the table. And then Nakaura's stomach would flip-flop just like the egg he was cooking.

"Good morning, Tsukasa," he would reply and turn back to the omelette, conscious of the boy's casual stare. He felt like it could burn a whole in the back of his head. What are you thinking about? he would wonder then. Are you thinking of me?

After breakfast was ready, they would sit opposite each other and eat. Nakaura would sip his coffee and throw fleeting glances at the Eraser when he was sure the boy wasn't looking.

Why not just tell him?

And in his daydreams, he did: he stood and walked to where Amou sat.

'Tomonori-san,' Tsukasa said and put down his fork but the priest put a hand on his shoulder. Crouching before him so he could see into his face, the hand on the boy's shoulder slid up to rest on his cheek. The boy reddened but made no move to stop him and Nakaura leaned forward very slowly, looking into Amou's eyes to judge his reaction, as he turned his head to kiss his mouth softly.

The Eraser's lips withdrew a centimetre but then a second later, he kissed him back. The hand at Amou's cheek slid forward to run its fingers through forbiddenly silky blonde hair. Nakaura stood, pulling the boy up with him as he deepened his kiss and Amou clung to him, his eyes fluttering closed. Nakaura thought his angel tasted sweeter than honey.

"Tomonori-san." The voice would rattle him out of his daydream and he would look up to his angel's smiling face. "Would you pass the toast?"

"Er, sure," the priest would answer and weakly hand the plate to the boy. And their fingers would touch, sending a pleasant buzz along Nakaura's arm, to his shoulder, and down his spine. Tearing his eyes away from the Eraser, he would devote himself to his coffee with an almost fanatical desperation.

Shaking himself from the memory, the priest turned off the stove and began to fill some of the dirty bowls in the sink with water. Helping himself to the coffee pot, he waited for his breakfast to cool. And he waited for the young Eraser to stumble into the kitchen and give him a bright sleep-blurred smile.

"Tsukasa!" he called out ten minutes later. "Your breakfast is getting cold." No answer. "Tsukasa?" He went to the boy's door and knocked. "Tsukasa, are you awake yet? You're going to be late for school."

The door swung inward at his touch and he stepped inside curiously. The light wasn't on, the Eraser wasn't there; he began to grow worried. Tsukasa wouldn't go out anywhere without telling him first. He was getting a bad feeling about this. Tukasa, where have you gone?

Then he saw the note on the table:

Dear Tomonori-san, he read. Thank you for being so kind to me; tell Kirihara-san and the others I said goodbye. I know I'm the one that's been upsetting you and I know why. I don't understand why you felt like you couldn't tell me before; I would have left on my own. I've repaid your kindness with nothing but trouble. I had to leave. Don't worry about me; I'm going back to the Eraser fleet.

I'm sorry.

Tsukasa.

"Oh, sweet Lord," Nakaura breathed and dropped the note. The boy had found out; how had he? It didn't matter how he had found out. He knew the priest loved him. He's appalled, scared. Revolted with me. And now he was gone.

"No," he said, collapsing into the chair by Tsukasa's desk. His nightmares, his fears, they had come true. He couldn't wake up from this; his angel had really truly left him. I'll never see him again.

"No. No, no, no." He covered his face with his hands. "It's not real, it's not real. It's only a dream; wake up!" He pounded his forehead and remembered Amou's cool touch soothing his headache away. He shook his head violently. "Please. Please. Let this be a dream. Tsukasa!" He couldn't cry; he had selfishly spent all his tears on himself, pitying himself, yes, for loving the boy. But he should have been thankful; could love like that be wrong? "Is this how you chose for me to repent, Lord?" I don't care, he thought. I just want my Tsukasa back.

He stood up unsteadily to look about the room. It feels so empty now; it didn't feel like this before, when I lived here alone but then…I found him that day. And in those years, he's become everything to me. Now it feels like when I don't feel God's presence with me; devoid of silence. I can believe that I've been forsaken my God; I feel horrible that He won't answer me. But my angel's forsaken me too and that isn't just misery. I feel…like I have a hole in my heart; it hurts.

"I'll-" he started at the sound of his own voice. "I'll do anything but please, give him back."

He's taken back His angel. "Come back to me, Tsukasa."

I loved him and he's left me now. I swear, I'll never love another person like that ever again; not until he comes back or until I die. I'll never be able to love anyone the way I loved him. The way I still love him.

"Tsukasa!" he shouted hoarsely. Suddenly, it felt like everything was crashing down on him. He sank to the floor and lay on Tsukasa's unmade bed. From his pocket, he pulled out a single long white feather and left it on the bed sheet, close to his eyes.

"Never," he whispered and buried his face in the pillow.

And breathed in the scent of soap and violets.

I feel sad after writing that chapter. Anyway, three more chapters to go!