Darkness was everywhere. A thick fog had settled in, making the scene ever more eerie. The roads were wet with water from recent showers, but now the air was filled with a deceiving calm. Only the sparsely placed street lamps, the moon, and stars lit up the town.

The sound of staccato splashes was heard as a pale man was running through the puddles down the road with a heavy burden over his back. His skin was alabaster, his hair pale as freshly fallen snow. His appearance had an otherworldly beauty to it, and may have been quite attractive if it weren't for the haunting yellow and black eyes. Yellow and black eyes that darted around warily, searching for an unseen attacker while the man continued to run.

His face and clothes were drenched in blood, but it was not his own.

The man cursed under his breath darted into a narrow alleyway, easing his burden down onto the cobblestone path. It was another man; one who was oddly similar to his more pale counterpart, if it weren't for his vivid orange locks and suntanned skin. Skin which was slowly losing its beautiful coloring, becoming more and more pale by the second.

The orange-haired man was whimpering, tears streaking down his face, his eyes clenched tightly shut. His white counterpart felt a pang in his chest, despite the fact he should not have a heart, for his companion.

He sat down on the cobblestone, curling behind the orange-haired man and clasping a hand over his mouth, "King," he whispered, "King, ye gotta be quiet, or he'll find us. I'm gonna get ya to a doctor, promise. It's gonna be okay, King."

His pleas for quiet were either unheard or ignored as the orange-haired man cried and shivered in his arms. The white man swallowed down the lump growing bigger in his throat.

"I-It's gonna be okay," he promised again, though his voice weak and unsure.

His orange-haired counterpart shook his head faintly, the motion softened by his slowly dying body. He took in rasping, labored breaths, each making both of them fear the next that came would be his last.

"Shiro," the orange-haired man said, "I… I know I've never said this before… I'm s-scared…"

Shiro shushed him, rocking him back and forth, "I know, I know, Ichigo. It's gonna be okay. It… it's gonna be okay. Soon he'll lose interest, and we can get ya to a doctor."

"I don't wanna die," Ichigo told his pale counterpart, "Sh..ir..o… I don't wanna die…"

"Ya won't," Shiro snapped, but there was no bite in the words. "Ya won't die. We're gonna be okay, both of us. We'll make it outta this."

"'m not… gonna make it," Ichigo said, voice weakening evermore.

Shiro's frame shook as he hugged his other half harder, "Don't! Don't say that. You'll live. You gotta. I need ya."

Everything grew eerily more silent. There was not a single sound, save for the raspy in and out of Ichigo's breathing. If it weren't for that, Shiro would have feared he'd already passed.

"Shiro," Ichigo said after the quiet had stretched for a while.

"Hm?"

"You… remember that song?" he asked pitifully. "The one... Mom would sing me to sleep with…?"

Shiro hesitated, the lump in his throat returning with a vengeance. He gulped it down, "... I do."

"Sing it for me?" He opened watery caramel-colored eyes to stare up at Shiro hopefully. "One last time?"

Shiro nodded numbly, lifting a hand to run nimble fingers through soft, tangled orange locks. He sighed shakily, closed his eyes. "You are my sunshine… my only sunshine… You make me happy, when skies are grey…" he opened his eyes to see a small smile on Ichigo's face, "You'll never know, dear… how much I love you…" and the smile slowly loosened, a few final tears leaked free as his body grew limp. Shiro trembled, hugging Ichigo tightly to himself. He took in a shuddering breath, a single tear falling down to land on Ichigo's bloodless face.

"Oh, please don't take my sunshine away."