Here's chapter 4. Halfway to the end guys! Sorry for the late update!

The discovery of the dark boy's ring hanging around the blond boy's neck, almost like it was…treasured, was shocking to say the least. He had run out of the library like his tail was on fire, back to his apartment before he had a panic attack. But it was just his luck that he hadn't made it in time before his heartbeat started to pick up the pace. He had to duck into an abandoned alley before he caused a scene.

His breath came in short gasps, and he clawed at his chest, as if trying to open up his airways. He squatted down on his thighs, and put his head between his knees, trying to calm down. His skin started to get hot, and suddenly the walls of the alley were way too close together. Even though it was in the middle of winter, he shucked off his outer coat to let some air in. But even that was too much clothing. He pulled off his hoodie so he was only in a long sleeved Henley. Finally he was cool enough, but his breath was still uneven and he couldn't exactly see straight. He stayed in his hunched state on the ground, even though it was filthy and cold with snow. Eventually the fog from his breath was more even, and slower. Standing up, he gathered his various coats and walked out of the alley.

If he thought he wasn't going to get weird stares at his thin shirt, he was sorely wrong. People gawked at him like he was an animal who couldn't understand them. They whispered and pointed at him like he was an alien. He kept his head down and his eyes on the ground, but he could still sense when someone looked a beat too long at his arms and the thin material that covered them. His only saving grace (A/N like Jason!) was that his apartment was relatively close to the library so he had only a short distance to walk and be noticed by people who had nothing better to do.

Once he was through the door, he dropped his coats in a soaking pile of wet on the floor, kicked off his shoes and flopped on his couch. He draped his arm over his head and tried not to think about the trip to the library. But he couldn't avoid the stark truth: his blond boy kept the ring they had exchanged more than ten years ago. That could only mean one of two things, either he remembered their childhood together, or it just happened to match his outfit that day. It was probably the first, but the dark haired boy didn't want to get his hopes up only to find out that the blond hadn't remembered anything and the ring was just a fluke meant to tease him. No matter what happened, he couldn't afford to let himself be known to the blond for fear of being rejected or rebuffed, or not remembered. He could live with only the memories of his blond boy as long as they weren't tarnished by the image of the other boy looking at him with a blank stare or revulsion.

Turning over on the couch, the dark haired boy looked at the time. He had only spent half an hour at the library before he had freaked himself out with the ring. Normally he spent at least two hours looking at the blond before he decided it was creepy how long he watched the other boy. He hadn't even seen the blond pick out a book, or sit in his customary blue chair.

Noticing that it had taken him almost an hour for his panic attack to subside, he decided it was a good time to take a nap. All the stress of school, bullying, and seeing his ring around the blond boy's neck had taken its toll on the dark haired boy. Lying down in his still soaking clothing, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, where he was sure it was better than reality.

He was wrong.

As soon as he closed his eyes, his past started to creep up into the corners of his mind, not quite there, but close enough that he could see them. Images of the blond haired boy swam behind his eyelids. In some he was young, really young, with his arms around a small, dark haired boy that he recognized as himself. But in others he was the handsome doctor who went to the library on Tuesdays and Thursdays who had captured the dark haired boy's heart.

After a while, the pictures stopped being pictures, and turned into videos. Scenes out of his childhood were played back for him, as though it hadn't been painful enough when they happened. One particular scene stood out at him. The day he moved back.

The whole plane ride, Nico wondered how much the old city had changed. Was the ice cream parlor still owned by that stingy old man who never quite gave you two full scoops? Did the family on the corner of his street finally sell their house? Who lived in his old house? Was the old playground still there? And, more importantly, was Will still here? Nico had decided against warning Will of his return to their hometown. He didn't even have his address anymore. Will probably didn't even remember Nico, and all the fun times they had. The thought made Nico's blood run cold. How could someone mean so much to him, when he hadn't seen Will in over a decade? How could someone take up your entire world, when they themselves didn't remember you? Depressed, and not wanting to spend the plane ride obsessing over someone he would probably never see again, Nico decided to take a nap. He was flying halfway across the world after all.

He dreamed of times long past, of scenes from his childhood. He dreamed of sunshine and light, and suns and happiness. When someone bumped his shoulder, he awoke feeling light and happy, like he slept for eight hours rather than four. Looking out his window, he was surprised to see they were already there. He was in New York again. He sighed with happiness. Although Italy had been fun, and new, and interesting, Nico had never quite let New York out of his heart. He had missed the ice cream, the hustle and bustle, the friendliness of everyone. Nico grabbed his bags and walked off the plane.

Moving from an Italian speaking country to an English speaking one wasn't as hard as he thought it was going to be. He listened to all the people speaking English in the airport, and tried to turn his language switch on. He realized that he remembered more than he thought he did. After not speaking English for more than ten years, he wasn't sure how he was going to fit back in with society, but he needn't have worried. Although Italian was one of the parents of English, words were very different, as well as the way you said them. Nico guessed he would have an Italian accent for the rest of his life.

Dragging his suitcase around behind him, he wandered out of the airport and tried in vain to find an empty taxi. At this time of day, everyone was leaving work, and going home, so no one was going to stop and take him around the city when there were paying customers who had money to burn. Sighing, he picked up his bags, and started walking to where he thought his hotel was located. But he didn't mind. He wanted time to wander around the streets, and alleys of his old city, to reacquaint himself with his old city. He had missed this. It was worth leaving his old home for his even older childhood memories.

He strolled down road after road, looking at the buildings and shops of New York. After a while, he realized he was lost. He had no idea where he was, where his hotel was, and he thought he might have lost a bag he had just noticed was gone, somewhere on his journey down memory lane. Pulling out his map, Nico tried to find something he recognized. Then he realized that he had been walking in the complete opposite direction of where his hotel was located. Groaning at his stupidity, he snatched his bags, and stalked off in the right direction this time.

Of course, with all his good luck, the weather decided now was a good time to start snowing. Wet, miserable, tired and just done with this stupid city, Nico huffed again and continued on his way. When he had moved back to New York, he hadn't been taking into account all the bad things about the city. He had only remembered the good points of his old home, not the snow, or the busy taxis, or the fast walking people who occasionally ran into him in their hurry to get home. Nico was sure his face was permanently set into a scowl. And that's when a taxi came a little too close to the sidewalk, and doused him in water. He was getting ready to cry, when he saw a tiny sign that indicated an even tinier turn onto the road he recognized was the one on which his hotel was located.

Eventually, he reached a building at which he thought he booked a room. Gathering his assortment of belongings and bags, he walked through the door, and into the hotel he hoped would be temporary. It had stained carpets, dusty chandeliers, and an old man who was hard of hearing at the front desk-if he could even call it a front desk. Living in the country hadn't made him a rich man, and moving back to the states had left him with less money than he had thought. As a result, he was staying in this dingy little hotel that didn't even keycards-he had an actual key for his room. This was unfortunately located on the seventh floor of a building that didn't have any operating elevators. Dragging his various bags and suitcases, he resigned himself to walking up seven flights of stairs.

Huffing his way up the sixth flight of stairs, Nico found himself cursing this city, his nostalgia, his lack of money, his one hundred pound bags, his short stature and even shorter legs, and his tendency to get out of breath a lot. The only thing that made this trip seem worthwhile was the chance that he could maybe see Will. Actually, on second thought Nico realized that it was probably better that they never met again, just in case Will didn't remember Nico, or worse, Will was in a relationship and didn't want anything to do with Nico. He didn't think he would be able to handle that, so it was better to not taint his memories of his childhood. He knew it was very close-minded and very cowardly of him to just not choose to see his old best friend, but then again, he was never really known for his courage. That was always Will. Nico wished he was braver, that he had the courage to talk to Will, and reacquaint himself with his friend, but he didn't. He couldn't risk it. Not again. Not ever again. Because promises made you feel like you were on top of the world, like you actually mattered to this person. But then they left you crashing back down to the earth, burning up and disintegrating until you felt nothing when they were broken.

See you next week! Hopefully on time...