Fly Me to the Moon

Timcanpy was crying. No, bawling. He was bawling bloody fountains all over the chest, while Allen stood over him disapprovingly.

"I'll be back," Allen repeated, exasperated. "You know I will."

They were standing in Allen's official hotel room, which had adjacent quarters recently vacated by Lenalee, because her brother of questionable sanity had decided his precious sister must be removed from the pervert's presence.

Tim shook his he– himself vigorously, denying this. Suddenly, Timcanpy was only seeing Allen once a day, just for long enough to know that the exorcist was alive and report that all was well, and the golden ball missed him desperately.

"Look, just. Stay."

Fountains. Bloody fountains. Allen didn't have time for this, not when Tyki had asked him to be ready for him when he came back, and that could mean –

Timcanpy flew at his head, bonking against it. Why did the golem make a noise like a squeeze toy upon impact? One of the perpetual mysteries of the world.

"No, Timcanpy. I love you, but no." He reached a gloved hand up and closed it around Tim, putting him in the chest and locking the golden thing inside. He'd come back to the hotel to pack some more clothes and check on Timcanpy before returning to Tyki's, but he was eager to beat the Noah back. "I have to go. Stay, okay?"

Timcanpy was furious. He beat against the lid until he heard a distant "bye!" and the sound of a door closing. Then he drifted down and moped.

And moped. And played dead. That was one sad little golem inside that chest. First, Lenalee's golem had been recalled to base along with the girl, and then Allen starts leaving him like there's someone else . Life was sad.

Finally, he stirred again. Why couldn't he come with Allen? Even when he was ruthlessly taking every cent from honest players, Tim could usually just hid inside with the dough. He didn't like it. He wanted Allen. He resumed heroically body slamming the chest panel above him, body squishing against the wood each time he threw himself against it. He would. Reach. Allen.

Air! He burst through the splinters and fluttered in the air, before spotting a convenient vent and flying out of it. Sure, Timcanpy couldn't feel the brisk chill of the air, but he could feel the chill in his golem heart every time Allen went away.

Twice, he mistook a snow-covered black object for Allen. The first time, it was a mailbox that kind of looked like Allen hunched over, and he had flown towards it with no hesitation, just to learn that yes, mailboxes are metal. The second time, he'd forgotten how high he was flying and he'd thought the top of a lamp post was his exorcist, just because the ribbon tied around it had seemed like a scarf. From then on, he flew lower and slower, making it his job to peek into houses and watch people, hoping one of them would hold Cross' protégé.

He watched a thief cackle to himself as he made off with some rich couple's money. It felt nostalgic, so he had to turn away. He watched countless couples snuggling up, individuals staring at screens, children asking for candy. He watched the baker bake for however long it took for him to produce a puddle of drool. By the time he realized it, he'd almost frozen himself to the windowsill with his own drool puddle.

By now, he was on the east side of the upscale area of town, with tastefully renovated gothic residences with tall windows and winding staircases, interspersed with smaller, but no less curated dwellings.

House #846: huge hall. ballroom dancing with participants who looked related.

House #847: annex. girl playing with candles and no supervision.

House #848: attic. two weird people pretending to argue with an umbrella.

He didn't even bother getting closer.

House #849: particularly foreboding house. a fat man looking at some photographs.

Tim sighed. He was never going to find Allen.

House #850: modern living room. just some sunglasses on a table.

House#851: study. domestic dispute or assault.

House #85- Wait. One of them had white hair. Timcampy half tumbled in midair in his haste to backtrack.

He'd almost missed it because the other man's hand had been in Allen's signature white hair, and Allen was missing his exorcist uniform. That, and the white-haired boy had been on the ground.

House #851: study. empty.

The golden golem flew around to another window. Salon: empty. Bedroom: Strike!

Occupants: 2. Allen Walker, exorcist. The Destroyer of Time. Tyki Mikk, member of the Noah family. The Noah of Pleasure.

The gears inside the ball whirred. Report your findings to the nearest exorcist immediately. Report-

Another golem would have been helpless against the command. But he was programmed by General Cross Marian, so he could give the middle finger to any order he wanted, even if he had no middle finger, because Cross was incapable of creating something entirely obedient. Immediately was optional. Translated, it meant anytime.

By now, Allen was on his back with his ankles around Tyki's neck, and things were looking increasingly consensual. Sure, the Noah's hands were still around a pale wrist each, but Allen didn't seem to be putting up much of a fight. Then Allen moaned, and Timcampy recognized the sound from the other times Allen had suddenly locked him in a convenient nearby receptacle for ten minutes or so, because "it's really creepy to have you watching me, Tim."

Was this what his exorcist had been doing? He landed on the windowsill and glued his eyes against the window. It looked painful. He would have to report this to someone. Some tears dripped from his eyes and down the sides of his body. Then some drool trickled out of his mouth. He continued watching.