I sat in silence, my legs crossed and my eyes fixed on the cell in front of me. Dust was gathering in layers and the bed had been stripped of its sheets. The wafer thin blanket and hard-as-rock pillow had been removed so only a mattress and metal bed frame stood. They hadn't bothered to make the bed, as they didn't get many people down in the cells.

The chains hung limply, the large cuffs resting on the ground, rusting slowly. Moss and slime had began their descents up the stone walls, giving off a greenish-grey look to them. A few of the large stones that made the wall were crumbling away.

The mirror that stood at the other end of the cell was dotted with black marks, a crack or two at the edges. It looked as though it hadn't been cleaned in years.

It probably would have angered me if it weren't that I didn't want to set foot in there.

That was because I could almost see him. The tall brunette sitting cross-legged on the bed. Shimmering green eyes staring intently at me, a crooked smile on his face. His bangs would fall over his face and he would always brush them out of his way. He would tangle his fingers together and play with his fingers.

I would almost see him stand up, walk up to the bars and ask to be let out. I could almost see him walk out as I opened the gate and I could almost see him walk up the stairs, looking back at me to see if I was coming.

I would never follow though. If I went up those stairs, I wouldn't almost see him. So I sat there, staring at the empty cell. Nobody bothered me anymore, and I'm sure someone had already claimed the title of Corporal. Probably Ackerman. She was strong and clever.

Everyone had probably forgotten I was even down here. That I even existed. Like they did with him. Nobody came down here and looked into the empty cell where you could almost see a tall brunette sitting cross-legged on the bed. Shimmering green eyes staring intently at them, a crooked smile on his face.

Nobody cared anymore.

So it was just me, and the boy you could almost see. The boy you could almost hear. The boy who's laugh echoed through the headquarters. The boy who's screams shook the building. The boy who's eyes were so intense sometimes you would just look away.

The boy who's smile would lift your heart for days on end.

But that almost wasn't a definite. It was an almost. A nearly. A painful nearly. That kind of nearly were you want to scream and yell 'It's not fair!'. But it is fair. Not everyone can live forever.

But when his blood is on my hands, it's harder. That almost is a lot closer to a definite than usual.

But it would never be a definite.

By the time it became a less almost, I probably wouldn't be able to move. Paralysed.

Why wasn't I the one who you could almost see. Almost hear. Almost, almost, almost.

That word rang in my head.

Maybe one day that almost would be a definite.

The day when I do become an almost. When someone is sitting in my room thinking what I am thinking.

Probably not.

There's no one left to care for me anymore. They're all almosts. Shimmering almosts.

The kind of almosts that made you want to scream that 'It's not fair'! But it still was.

At least nobody would sit in my room with all the almosts.

At least I would be able to be with my almosts.

Maybe my almosts wanted me to forget? Maybe they wanted me to let go. Maybe.

I didn't want to forget.

I didn't want to let go.

But the colours aren't as vibrant anymore.

The brunette sitting cross legged on the bed, shimmering green eyes and a crooked smile didn't seem as nice anymore,

The chocolatey brown hair was more of a full grey-brown.

The shimmering green was more of a dampened grey.

The crooked smile seemed more of a faded line.

I didn't want to forget.

I didn't want to let go.

But the thing was.

I was forgetting.

But not letting go.

So I sat with my fading almosts, becoming an almost.

The brunette boy seemed more of a greyish figure.

A greyish figure who I couldn't define the features.

I've forgotten but I haven't let go.

I can't let go of my almosts.

But I think my almosts have let go of me.

Because those almosts are more of a slight. Slightly see a figure.

So I sat with my slightlies. I sat with the fading memories.

I sat until those slightlies turned into barelies and those barelies turned into can't.

I couldn't see them anymore.

I couldn't see anything anymore.

Maybe one day, I think, I may see my almosts again.

Maybe they won't be almosts.

Maybe they will be definites.

Maybe one day, one day, I would get to see the tall brunette sitting cross-legged on the bed. Shimmering green eyes looking at me intently, a crooked smile on his face. His bangs would fall over his face and he's always brush them away. He would tangle his fingers together and play with his fingers.

Maybe one day I would get to see him again.

Maybe...