It was silent. Kurogane didn't move, and Fai didn't speak. They sat; Kurogane in the bed because he had no choice and Fai in the chair by the wall, because he would not leave. Leaving was giving in. Running Away. Haven't I done enough of that? His cynical smile twisted in one corner. It didn't feel as safe as the other. It wasn't quite comfortable. He couldn't quite stop it. Time passed, and eventually that faded away too.

Kurogane didn't open his eyes. His brows were still knotted together where they met. "Look." He broke the silence, quiet. His face was drawn tight, and Fai knew he couldn't hope for an apology. Even though I deserve one. He wasn't giving one either. Fair enough, he guessed. He didn't say anything, just waiting, gut knotting uneasily.

"Just . . . " There was a long pause, that stretched. "Why?"

The word hung there. Kurogane opened his eyes and looked at Fai dead on, eyes dull and unflinching. Fai's eyes; shadows of dark ice, went to a corner of the room, inhabited only by shadow. Kurogane didn't elaborate- didn't say which why it was that he wanted. He didn't need to. Fai's heart thudded.

Why? . . . . . why did I?

And it was then that he was terrified- somewhere in all the years of burying the truth, he had lost something. He no longer knew the reason why. And that was the last thing that he had been holding on to. Gone.

Kurogane stared; expecting an answer probably. Fai tried to swallow and failed. Why did I lie?

[Kurogane] The mage's lips trembled. His eyes were too wide. He looked scared, unreasonable. More than he should have been, with me unable to move beyond the bed. I narrowed my eyes slightly.

He moved his lips to speak, made a slight sound, and closed them again. My eyes narrowed a bit more- answer the damn question, mage. But I was unsettled- the kind of instinct in my gut that never lied. This wasn't right. The mage has his reasons- ones that I could not respect, but I knew they were there, silent. Confronted, he had hinted at them before. Why not tell now?

"Fai." I said his name. I tried to ignore the way it tasted on my tongue- like an indulgence. My anger was still stronger, the need for an answer to that burning, painful question. "Why."

He parted his lips. He should have made a sound. Someone else would have. His shoulders trembled- invisible to someone who didn't watch like me. Then shook again, this time subtle, but visible. His lips trembled. And then he collapsed on himself, arms pulling inward and hands grasping at his upper arm, his shoulder. Tears streaming down his too-pale cheeks. Silent.

Then there was the inevitable sound of crying, quiet. His shoulders were thin, wracked by the uncontrolled crying, and I wasn't angry. I was at a loss. Not a lie. Not this.

"I don't," He sobbed, voice choking up in a sob. I wanted to say something, but then he was talking again. I pressed my lips together and listened. I waited for him to talk- after all this time. Finally. I was worried by the fact that I didn't know why he was crying. But I understood that he needed this. So I waited, fingers tightening on the bed sheets.

"I C-can't . . . . " He sobbed, and the last word escaped as a bewildered, desperate cry; demanding an answer a justification. "Why?"

I closed my eyes against the stab at my heart. His face was twisted, broken. Red and puffy around those too-pale eyes, framed by now-lank fair hair. I straightened my face.

"Fai." He cried quietly, and I tried again, raising my voice just slightly. Not loud or demanding. But to be heard. "Fai."

He looked up at me through slender fingers that shook. My anger uncurled in my stomach, warningly. That goddamned mage. Against all my best inclinations I wanted to kiss those fingers. I ignored that too. I beckoned, curling my fingers. He shook his head.

I closed my hand. So that's how it is. Something else I didn't know. More that he hadn't told me.

"Fine." I whispered. He sobbed harder, but I was angry all over again. You're not the only one hurt, you bastard. You mother fucking bastard.

"I d-don't know!" He cried, and collapsed into himself even more; curling further into himself. He sounded angry. His fingers curled, nails biting into his skin. "I'm sorry!"

He wasn't sorry for what he had said. Not for what he had done. I knew the liar better than that. He was sorry, though. You should be.

"Fine." I said quietly. "It's fine."

I paused a second.

"Cry. It helps."

And he did. Sitting in his chair, where I couldn't touch him. And in a sicker reality that I shut out of my mind, so that his dirty traitorous hands couldn't touch me. Just cling to his own body. I watched until he was silent. Until he drew his knees up to his chest, took a deep shuddering breath and dared to meet my eyes. His looked dull. Red-rimmed and puffy. Cheeks made a mess by too much crying.

"I don't know why. It's gone."

And it was the truth. So I didn't argue.

"Okay."