I'm pretty sucky with endings, but I hope it's ok. Don't want to ruin it at the final hurdle.

If you're still here after all this shit, I applaud your tenacity (and patience, my god). Thanks for giving this fic a go, and I hope it lived up to your expectations.

Well, that's all, folks.

Love All, Trust A Few, Do Wrong To None

By the time Nezumi is striding down the streets of Lost Town, he's figured it all out.

He does recognise that handwriting – from months of reading Shion's notes on his sheet music. And if Shion wants to meet him, that means he wants to talk. And if he wants to talk…

I'm not looking forward to this.

Shion is sitting at the fountain, tense as all hell and looking as if he might implode at any moment. Nezumi smirks a little in wry sympathy. He feels pretty much the same.

He gathers his breath and relaxes his shoulders as he approaches. "Shion."

Shion starts, looking around wildly before he spots Nezumi across the plaza. His grin and wave are a little sheepish.

Nezumi waves back, his smirk melting into a smile.

"Hey," Shion greets as Nezumi settles down beside him.

"Hey," Nezumi replies, not entirely sure what else there is to say. He's comforted a little by the fact that Shion appears similarly lost for words, casting lavender eyes around the plaza, maybe in hope that he'll find a clue as to what to do next.

After a good minute or two of awkward silence, Shion breathes a deep sigh, eyes returning to the pale hands folded in his lap. "We need to talk."

Nezumi follows his gaze, feeling too awkward for eye contact. Shion is wringing his hands nervously.

"Yeah," he replies after a beat. "I guess we do."

He knows, now. If he really looks deep inside himself – not something he enjoys doing, but a necessary step every now and then – he'll even admit to himself that he's known for a while. And after that kiss… well, it's become undeniable.

Shion takes a breath. "Nezumi, I… There's something I need to say. I've said it before, but not properly. I wasn't even sure myself at the time, so I don't know why I thought it was reasonable of me to expect you to be sure." Shion frowns a little, and Nezumi has an overwhelming urge to reach forward and kiss those lips back into a smile. "I'm not making much sense, am I."

Nezumi's lips quirk slightly. Sometimes, Shion could be so… well, Shion. "Not really."

Shion breathes heavily, slouching and half-smiling in resignation, eyes lifted towards the sky. Nezumi could stare at that portrait for an eternity, Shion's ghost-white profile glowing ethereally in the summer sun, and he can hardly believe he never noticed in all those months how beautiful Shion is.

"I can't explain it," Shion murmurs after a moment, voice airy and tentative. "I knew before we kissed. I knew even before the fire." He keeps his lilac gaze on the sky; perhaps, Nezumi thinks, because it's easier. "I just knew."

The smile doesn't fade, even as Shion reaches across the small space between them and encloses Nezumi's hand in his. His grip is sure and firm, and he squeezes Nezumi's fingers gently. "I'm sorry for not knowing what to do, and not being able to express myself properly. Maybe if I'd been able to figure things out earlier, we wouldn't have wasted so much time in this mess."

Nezumi opens his mouth to protest – it's an equal part his own fault, too – but Shion interrupts him with a sigh.

He turns, then. Meets Nezumi's eyes with the force of a lilac lightning bolt, and no matter how hard he tries Nezumi can't tear his eyes away. "Nezumi."

Shion's leaning forward, dipping his head, and Nezumi unconsciously mimics the action until their foreheads brush.

"Yeah?" Nezumi whispers, his throat dry and his neck hot, his breaths coming in staccato stutters. He leans into the touch, and shivers tremble down his spine.

Shion's smile widens. "I love you."

Nezumi is silent for a moment, blinking slowly. He'd even been expecting it, and yet hearing it said aloud still managed to stun him, leave him helplessly breathless.

"You don't have to answer now. I don't want to rush you, Nezumi. I just want you to know… I love you." Shion tips his head a little, pressing a sweet kiss against the corner of Nezumi's lips. "I always will."

I love you.

I always will.

Nezumi had not been expecting to feel the elation he had felt when hearing those words. Neither had he been expecting the words that found their way to the tip of his tongue, itching to finally be let loose.

He stares blindly out of his bedroom window, tossing the ball of paper back and forth between his hands, needing to occupy them somehow before he uses them to tear his hair out.

He's a nervous wreck.

Inukashi's words, not his. And while he would really like to be able to disagree, well… he could draw up a mile-long list of negative connotations of these feelings: fear of unchartered territory, fear of abandonment, fear of inadequacy, fear of commitment, fear of disappointment, fear of betrayal.

Fear that once he gave in, he would never be able to turn back.

Fear that he wouldn't want to.

Nezumi is scared of a lot of things. But the thing which has always frightened him the most is Shion. Shion has sway over him unlike anyone he's ever met. When Shion is angry, Nezumi is angry. When Shion is upset, Nezumi is upset. And when he sees Shion smile…

Well, let's just say that in Nezumi's opinion, the positives far outweigh the negatives.

So why can't he just let himself go?

"Shit," he mumbles, as the paper ball lands in his mug of coffee. He fishes it out with a finger and thumb, sighing gruffly, before throwing it at the waste paper basket in the corner of the room.

He misses, and it hits the edge of his desk and rebounds onto the floor, where it rolls languidly across the pale carpet, leaving a brown trail in its wake.

Strange, how that reminds him of Shion. Shion, when he spilled hot coffee all over his World History essay at school, and his face scrunched up into an expression of annoyance so cute that not even the profanity spilling from his lips could dull the effect.

Shion.

The sound of the doorbell cuts through the quiet of the household. Unusual. No one in the house is much of a people person, so there aren't usually visitors besides the pizza delivery guys – and they've just had dinner. Nezumi raises a brow and moves to his door, opening it just enough for the doorstep conversation to be audible.

"What's up, huh? You're late!" Inukashi, sounding pretty irate.

"Sorry. I got caught up in… some stuff."

Nezumi's breath catches in his throat. It can't be…

Inukashi huffs loudly. "You're such a moron, Shion, I swear. Well don't just stand there, come in – have you had dinner yet? We have a bit of leftover pizza if you're hungry."

Nezumi can feel his heartbeat in his skull. Shion is in his house. Why is Shion in his house?

Inukashi's voice becomes muffled as they move into the kitchen. "Where were you last week, anyway? The dogs missed you."

Oh, right. Inukashi's dog-washer.

He forcibly calms his heart. If he just stays upstairs for the next couple of hours, he'll be fine. No need to interact with Shion just yet.

But he hears the back door open, and he can't help himself when he glances out of the window, conveniently overlooking the garden. Shion doesn't look any different. Well, he's changed out of that nice shirt he was wearing earlier and into an old print tee, much more suitable for messy dog-washing. But apart from that…

I don't know what I expected. Just maybe a sign that this afternoon wasn't a hallucination.

He sees Shion laugh, grinning widely at whoever is standing in the doorway to the kitchen (most likely Inukashi), before spinning eagerly around to greet the excited babble of barking dogs. Each one he gives a thorough hug and separate greeting, seemingly remembering each dog individually.

Nezumi swallows the lump in his throat, and curses himself for being ridiculous enough to feel jealous of dogs. With a certain amount of reluctance, he pulls the blinds closed, if only to stop himself from staring creepily at Shion for the next two hours.

He flops down into his chair and takes a swig of coffee. His plan is simple: to shut himself in his room – barricade the door, if necessary – and hide himself away until Shion leaves. It's pathetic, he knows that – but he still feels a little shaken by their encounter at the fountain, and he most certainly isn't ready for an energetic, bubbly Shion to burst right through his door and possibly give him a heart attack. To be honest, he doesn't think he's quite ready to face anyone just yet.

"Oi! Princess! Get your ass down here, it's your turn to do the dishes!"

Unfortunately, it seems fate doesn't agree with his plan. Nezumi sighs, rubbing irritably at his eye. "No it's not," he calls back, hoping Inukashi's too exhausted after soccer practice to argue with him.

There's a distinct clinking sound, suspiciously similar to that of someone manhandling porcelain. "Yes it is! If you don't get down here right now, I'll smash all the plates and tell the old man you did it!"

Nezumi snorts. "You wouldn't."

He can almost hear the vicious smirk in Inukashi's voice. "You wanna bet?"

Nezumi tenses slightly. True, they might have done similar things back when they were a rebellious ten-year-old, but surely…

There's a horrible smashing sound, and Nezumi shoots out of his chair. "I'm coming! Wait!"

When he gets downstairs, Inukashi is holding a jagged-edged slice of what used to be a blue plate. They're smirking devilishly as they hand the dirty half-plate off to Nezumi. They obnoxiously sashay towards the living room humming an offensively cheerful tune, careful not to tread on the porcelain pieces scattered across the floor on their way out.

Nezumi growls deep in his throat at the sight of the smashed plate littering the kitchen tiles. At least it's only one, he tries to console himself. He quickly sweeps up what he can and dumps it in the trash, before turning to confront the huge pile of dirty dishes in the sink – that is, far more than there should be for only one day… and a sneaking suspicion grows that Inukashi didn't do their dishes last night.

That little –!

A loud splash sounds from outside, and Nezumi is suddenly jolted back into the reality that he's going to be washing dishes here for at least half an hour, in full view of the window and with Shion only twenty yards away.

He isn't sure whether to be thrilled or terrified.

He turns on the tap with perhaps more force than is necessary, glaring stubbornly down at the dishes as he begins the lengthy process and refusing to raise his head. Okay, he tells himself firmly. Just do the dishes. Scrub, rinse. Scrub, rinse. Shion isn't here.

Musical shrieks and cackles reach his ears from outside, interlaced with enthusiastic barks. Nezumi twitches.

There's a tremendous splash and the sound of the plastic bucket being thrown across the lawn.

It's the last straw.

Nezumi drops his current plate into the sink, scrubs his hands dry on his jeans and throws open the back door.

Shion turns around, eyebrows shooting up but more in pleasant surprise and confusion than shock. "Nezumi."

He tries to formulate a proper, coherent response, he really does. But all Nezumi can seem to do is clutch silently at the sliding glass door like it's a lifeline.

Shion's face breaks out into a wide, knowing grin, splitting his face in half from ear to ear. He stands, and tries not to trip over Inukashi's energetic mutts on his way over to the upturned bucket. He picks it up and heads towards him and it's all Nezumi can do not to cringe away as Shion squeezes past him through the doorway.

Nezumi watches Shion's face crumple a bit in thought as he eyes the overflowing sink, but somehow Shion manages to push enough dishes out of the way to get the tap water into the bucket.

Part of him wants to ask why Shion isn't talking to him. But most of him doesn't want to disrupt the almost-comfortable silence between them. He's never been particularly good at speaking freely and eloquently about his emotions, and if Shion is okay with not talking about them, then that's all for the better, really.

A minute later, Shion returns outside, and it's only after he's already standing barefoot in the grass that Nezumi realises he's followed him.

Shion kneels back down, resuming the chore. He doesn't ask Nezumi to leave, so Nezumi stays, opting to sit a few metres away so as to avoid any stray water splashes.

They sit like that, companionably quiet, for quite a while. Shion is content to wash the dogs, and Nezumi is content to watch him. But the nervous, edgy energy in his bloodstream doesn't calm, even as he relaxes into Shion's warm presence and Inukashi's gracious absence. He feels it thrumming in time with his heartbeat, and when Shion glances up and meets his eyes, the energy explodes in his veins like gunpowder.

Nezumi thinks that maybe he could have sat there forever and not minded it one bit. But unfortunately nothing lasts forever, and soon enough there are no more dogs to wash, and nothing to keep Shion in the house any longer.

Inukashi and Shion then spend some time exchanging friendly small talk about the dogs over cold pizza, and Nezumi inexplicably finds himself standing awkwardly in the corner of the kitchen rather than escaping back upstairs, which would definitely have been the more sensible course of action.

"I should probably be going," Shion says after a while, sounding just as reluctant as Nezumi feels.

"Be careful on the way home," Inukashi warns casually as they try to balance the two new plates on top of the already teetering pile of dirty dishes in the sink, and Nezumi glares at the increased workload. "It's pretty dark out, and you know West Block."

Shion casts a quick glance out of the window, as if surprised that sunset had already come and gone. Truth be told, Nezumi hadn't noticed either. He decides not to read too much into that.

Shion nods, smiles and heads for the door.

"I could give you a ride."

Nezumi blinks as all eyes turn to him. He doesn't remember making the conscious decision to say those words, but it seems they found their way out of his mouth anyway. He clears his throat a little, too proud to back down now. "Two can fit on my bike. If you want."

Inukashi's expression is one of amused shock (with a suggestively raised eyebrow as the cherry on the cake), but he steadfastly ignores them, focusing instead on Shion and praying that he hasn't just made a total fool of himself.

After a moment which feels like a lifetime, Shion nods slowly, the corners of his mouth quirking up in an odd smile. "Sure. That would be great."

Nezumi tugs on his boots and shrugs into his jacket on the way out of the front door and onto the driveway, where his motorcycle is parked alongside the car. He hands Shion the helmet and climbs on.

Shion looks meaningfully at the sole helmet in his hands, and back up at Nezumi as he starts the engine. He looks about to protest at the use of only one helmet between what is clearly two people, but Nezumi just rolls his eyes. "I've been riding without one for years. I'll be fine."

A resigned, faintly disapproving sigh leaves Shion's lips, and he awkwardly clambers on behind Nezumi, pulling the helmet over his head and lifting the visor. Nezumi can feel Shion's eyes on him, so he turns towards the road, revving the engine a little.

"You've been wearing one lately, though."

Warmth blooms in his veins, and Nezumi is glad Shion can't see the surprise on his face. "You noticed?"

"Yeah." A pause. "Why?"

Nezumi only shrugs, feigning nonchalance. There lies a story he's not quite ready to tell yet. The thought of telling Shion the truth… That the reason he's finally starting to look after himself is purely because his apathy about death has vastly reduced since meeting Shion – even thinking of it stains his cheeks red with embarrassment and makes his stomach churn with nerves. That's just not something you say in response to an offhand question.

So he swallows the melancholic thought, revs the engine once more for good luck, and pulls out onto the street.

Shion lets out a thin squeal at the sharp acceleration, and his arms wrap themselves tightly around Nezumi's middle. If he wasn't so practiced at this whole motorbike thing, there's a good chance it would have sent them both careening off into a neighbour's front yard.

He's almost thankful that the engine noise cuts off any opportunity for conversation. There's a strange atmosphere surrounding motorbike rides. You're entirely exposed to the elements, so forcefully grounded in reality; and yet, through the deafening noise and speed and tight closeness created by the situation, it feels strangely isolated and almost intimate. From the tentative squeeze around his middle and the feeling of Shion's chin on his shoulder when they stop at the traffic lights, Nezumi guesses that Shion can feel it too.

As they cruise down the empty streets, Shion presses closer, and Nezumi's heartbeat hammering in his ears overshadows even the noise from the engine. Chill night air slicing their skin, the familiar rumbling roar drowning out the sound of the town and streetlights flashing past like falling stars, Shion's arms around his waist and chest against his back – if Nezumi could choose any moment in his life to relive for eternity, this would be the one.

He exhales, his breath dissipating into the night, and he rasps, "I love you, Shion."

"Did you say something?" Shion calls over the raucous buzz of the engine, and Nezumi shakes his head, not bothering to conceal the soft smile pulling at his lips. Another time, perhaps. A time when he can stand strong and not crumble under the purifying weight of love.

Shion remains comfortably silent after that, and nothing Nezumi says would be audible anyway, so he instead basks in the perfect juxtaposition between the tingling warmth of Shion's touch and the cool summer night breeze.

Too soon they arrive at Shion's street, and Nezumi pulls over a few houses down. With the engine off, the silence hits him. He stands up, stretching out his arms above his head with a satisfying click.

Shion stands too, and hands him his helmet with a lopsided grin. "That was pretty awesome."

Nezumi smirks, preening with pride. "You're welcome any time, you know." He takes the proffered helmet under one arm.

"I'll take you up on that, sometime." Shion laughs a little, running a hand self-consciously through his hair and looking very much like he doesn't want to leave.

Nezumi doesn't want him to leave either, but it's late and keeping Shion any longer would be an act of pure selfishness. So instead he returns Shion's smile and resists the urge to wrap himself around Shion like a vice.

"So… I guess I should go," Shion murmurs, eyes fixed on Nezumi's motorcycle boots.

Nezumi clears his throat a little too loudly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Yeah."

Shion tries one final hopeful glance up before waving and backing away a few steps. He grins. "Bye."

Nezumi grins in return, but it fades as soon as Shion's back is turned, and he thinks, Now is the time. He mourns the icy loss of heat at his back, as if there is a hungry, gaping hole he can't see which can only be filled by Shion. He can't explain why, but it feels as if everything has clicked into place. For the first time since he can remember, everything feels right.

His chest burns with the words he's been wanting to say for too long. Shion is ambling away from him, the distance between them growing with every step. There's no one else around, and the air is humming with unspoken tension. It would be so easy. Nezumi could just walk right up to him and tell him everything they both need to hear.

And he knows. He just knows.

Now is the time.

"Shion, wait."

And he turns around, face blank and open with surprise.

Nezumi bites out the words with some difficulty; it goes against his very nature to leave himself so open, but since when have things regarding Shion ever been normal? "What I said on the motorbike," he calls, his voice sharp and clear, carrying easily down the street on the breeze. "You should know."

Shion is fully facing him now, brow knitted in cautious curiosity. His skin is hauntingly translucent in the dim street lighting, and Nezumi is almost scared that his ghostly form will vanish, slip through his fingers like white smoke.

"I love you."

Shion freezes.

His eyes are wide and he opens his mouth, but no sound comes out –

– Shit, Nezumi screams inside his head. I fucked up, oh shit –

– but then he's in fast forward, moving, rushing toward him, and Nezumi's moving, and they meet together with a crushing kiss as the helmet clatters to the ground unheard.

Nezumi can feel the stinging burn behind his eyes, and he keeps them pressed shut as Shion's hands are at his waist, his shoulders, his jaw. This is nothing like their first kiss; they're kissing with passion and need and Nezumi's fingers are digging into the small of Shion's back even as pale hands are wrapping tightly around the back of his neck. He tastes Shion's breath on his tongue as they tear themselves apart, though only far enough that when Nezumi opens his eyes, he sees liquid lavender burning molten and fierce.

"Say it again," Shion whispers against his lips.

The dam breaks.

"I love you."