The rain increased as they drove the last part of the way to Kurogane's apartment. Had it been a movie scene, the black haired man reflected, he would have called it a cliché. Fay stayed quiet and as he looked over at him, Kurogane could see how tired the thin man was. After all, it had only been a few days since he had been on the verge of starving to death.

The car park lay deserted as they arrived, probably everyone were safe at home by now, well hidden from the disagreeable weather. Fay looked himself around carefully as he stepped out of the car, as if he was either expecting enemies behind each corner or looking for a way to flee. Most likely both, Kurogane thought.

"Hey, can you carry this?" He said and reached the blonde the plastic bag containing their dinner, more because he wanted to wake Fay up from the almost dazed condition he had fell into during the way, then because he actually needed the help.

Fay took the bag and looked down at its' contents.

"It smells nice," he commented, "what is it, Kuro-chan?"

Kurogane glared at the blonde over his shoulder as he took his bag from the trunk.

"I told you not to call me that!" He growled. "It's chicken. You will see once we get in from this damned rain…"

He locked the car and guided his unplanned guest across the park towards the nearest building.

"Whatever you do," he said strictly, "don't you dare make any mess that will get me thrown out of this apartment. I got it from a very special person and she would never forgive me if I was to be evicted."

Fay looked up at him, still looking half mocking but also hiding something else behind it. Curiosity, maybe? Kurogane wasn't sure why this eccentric stranger would be curious about him and he certainly didn't want to know that either.

"Ah," Fay said as he turned his gaze away again, "so you do have friends then, Kuro-tan?"

Kurogane twitched again; this man seemed to be able to get on his nerves with every singe sentence he made.

"That's none of your concern," he stated, "and stop using those stupid names already!"

He entered the code to the front door and let Fay in, ultimately closing down every chance to regret.

"My apartment is on the second floor," he said, "don't get lost in here and don't create any scenes. Apart from me there's a whole bunch of old, rich ladies living here and they are quite easy to upset…"

"I see…" Fay looked himself around, making an odd little whistling sound, "this place is really nice looking, Kuro-chan! I believed that tough policemen like you lived in run-down flats with leaking roofs and shady business all around them…"

Kurogane snorted as they started to walk up the stairs.

"Only in television mysteries of the cheaper sort. But I'd never been able to afford this place if I'd been a cop all my life."

Fay looked at him, genuinely interested, as he locked up the door to the apartment and they stepped in.

"No? So, what did you do before becoming a cop then?"

Kurogane kicked his shoes in under the drawer and threw his jacket on top of it.

"Close the door," he ordered, "and put the food in the kitchen. The guestroom is next at the left. There's some spare clothes stuffed in a box in the wardrobe. They won't fit you, but you will have to use them until we can get you something else."

Fay actually did as he was told, placing the boxes from within the bag at the table while Kurogane fetched plates and cutlery from the shelf.

"It's a long story," Kurogane finally answered, cautiously, as they sat down to eat.

Fay shrugged, studying the first bite for a short second before swallowing it hungrily.

"I won't go anywhere unless you throw me out," he eyed the rest of the food with a somewhat greedy look, "this is delicious! Thank you so much, Kuro-sama…"

Kurogane clenched his teeth, how the hell did he end up here; on the point of telling his life history to an extraordinary weird murderer who just happened to have moved in into his guest room after an idea from his equally weird boss?

"I worked as a bodyguard at first," he said at last, "to a young woman in charge of a big company. She was the one who bought this apartment for me…"

"Really?" Fay twirled a noodle around his fork playfully before eating it with a most satisfied expression, "how'd you end up a policeman then?"

Kurogane glared at him over his own fork.

"Not that it's any of your damn business," he muttered, "but I got fired. I killed some guys and came in trouble with the law. She thinks that I have to learn how to control myself…"

Fay looked slightly surprised.

"But you still got to work for the police?"

It was Kurogane's turn to shrug.

"I have an uncommon kind of boss," he said.

Of course there was more to it than that, but it wasn't like he was going to tell Fay of all persons…

"How about you then?" He said and served himself from a bottle of cheap whine that he had found in the cupboard the other day. Probably he had hidden it sometime when he had expected Yuuko to come over and then forgot about it. That woman was like a swamp, did you have any alcohol at home she would drink every single drop of it before she left. "You never answer any questions about yourself at all, what're you so damn scared of?"

Fay smiled briefly and poured himself some whine as well. He lifted the glass with long, delicate fingers and spun it around some times before tasting it.

"Not that bad," he decided, "hmm…"

He leaned forward a bit, placing his head in his hands.

"It doesn't matter who I am," he said. "You won't have to know, Kuro-chan."

"No?" Kurogane emptied his glass, "for only hours ago it was my fuckin' job to find out about it, and it wasn't like you were more talkative then."

Fay looked up at him, deep blue eyes under blonde bangs, and suddenly Kurogane was stunned by how painfully sad those eyes were. He took the bottle again, determined to break free from the melancholy in the other one's gaze.

"You're not from here," he tried instead; "your file said you were from Scandinavia. Don't you wanna go back there?"

Fay bit his lip, squeezing the glass tighter.

"I can't," he said. "Not before I'm dead I can go back there…"

Kurogane raised an eyebrow; at least that was a piece of seemingly honest information from the blonde.

"Don't you miss it? Your homeland?"

Fay gazed out at the falling rain, still biting his lip.

"Sometimes… At least the mountains and the snow," a smile once more turned up in his face as he turned back to Kurogane again, "you should really go there sometime, Kuro-chan, it's so pretty when it's snowing and everything is coated with white, fluffy snow, like spun sugar."

Kurogane snorted again.

"I don't know if the idea of a country covered in spun sugar is very tempting to me," he remarked, "but I still don't get what keeps you if you would like to go back there. It's up to you to decide about your own damn life, isn't it? To let things stop you only makes you weak."

"Then I'm probably weak," Fay said and yawned, "excuse me, Kuro-sama, but I'm so tired…"

Kurogane stood and shoved the plates down in the sink. There were already several dirty ones laying there waiting to be taken care of.

"Go to bed," he said shortly, "I don't have a spare toothbrush or anything. We'll have to go shopping first thing tomorrow."

Fay blinked at him.

"Don't you have to go to work, Kuro-chan?"

Kurogane glanced back at him.

"Apparently I'm free tomorrow," he said, not willing to inform Fay about the SMS he had gotten from Yuuko while waiting on the food, telling him to take a day of for "private matters" as the cunning police chef had called it, "just remember what I said and behave yourself. If you decide to run away, at least have the decency to do it quietly."

"I will not," Fay smiled, "it would be a shame as Kuro-tan has so much washing-ups he wants me to do for him, wouldn't it?"

Kurogane sighed, dejected.

"Good night then."

"Good night, Kuro-sama."

He lay in his bed, listening, as Fay went to bed in the nearby room. The unfamiliar movement in his apartment felt rather alien. Actually, the guestroom had never been used before, it had been Tomoyo's idea to furnish it and he had never thought that it should ever come to use.

He turned himself around, facing the wall. Life was really getting complicated.