A/N: Not sure really if there was a point to this. Pretty drabbley.

Hanna's smile as he stepped back from me made my chest twist and my arms ache to gather him back. His eyes were alight with something hysterical, but his voice was calm and sweet when he said, "I'm happy for you, Donnovain."

The words were as strong as a goodbye.

"Hanna." My life is divided into before and after; and he seems to think the two couldn't overlap.

"No, really! You're remembering more stuff now, this is great!" The enthusiasm in his voice didn't sound forced; only light-hearted and happy for my sake. But that blue of his eyes was hurting so much - he really was transparent to anyone who cared to get close enough.

But he would keep every pain a secret if he could. I hate that. "Hanna," I say again, claiming the step he'd taken back and never taking my eyes off him. He leans against the wall behind him, scrabbling desperately at the fraying edges of his facade.

"Now - now we could probably figure out where you're from! Where you lived, what you did, stuff about your...your family." His hesitation doesn't linger and he plays it off with another warm smile. "That'd be awesome, right?" He doesn't seem to want to look at me, doesn't seem to want me close. Arms drawn up subconsciously, expression trembling on the verge of breaking.

"Hanna."

My past is just that, and there's no turning back time. What happened to me wasn't fair, and wasn't right, but despite that - can I truly say I regret it? Because that one malicious, cold-hearted act led me here. Here, where despite being dead I feel more alive than should be possible; where despite being something truly horrific, I found acceptance in the eyes and the heart of someone like Hanna. And I wonder if the before could offer me half of what I had in the after.

But I couldn't expect Hanna to understand that without help. His eyes are too bright now, and I know despite his best efforts he's about to cry. His fists are trembling and there's nothing I want more than to take his hands in mine and soothe the hurt away.

Instead I reach out, putting a hand on the wall on either side of his head and lean down. My words, when I speak them, are soft and heavy with a promise.

"I will always be here."

His eyes close in despair and I wonder how many promises have been made to him before. I'm closer before I realize it and my forehead is touching his. "Hanna." His skin is feverish and his breath is soft. He's trembling and I realize that hope and faith must be the hardest things in the world. But brave little Hanna dives in head first, and opens his eyes to meet mine.

"Always," I tell him, meaning it with everything I had. "Right here."

We're so close, close enough that I can feel his distressed shudder, see the twitch of his lips as they struggle to form a smile. But it would be a smile for my sake instead of his, so I press his shoulders against the wall before it has a chance to stutter across his pale face, and a kiss to his forehead.

My lips linger there, and something like a sob works its way out of him, and he's pressing against me, arms winding around my waist like he'll never let go.

"I don't want to be selfish," he was whispering. "I want the best for you. I want you to be happy, Donny."

My name didn't sound so threatening anymore and my face shifted into another involuntary smile. My arms come tightly around him, and I'm praying he'll understand; words aren't my forte, but actions speak louder. And I wish he'd get through his head that being with him will never be anything but a privilege.

But since he's Hanna, it wouldn't click. He's been alone so long, he just couldn't conceive the idea that he's simply worth knowing. Simply worth loving. It wouldn't matter how many times I told him.

But I have no doubt that I can show him. Sliding my fingers under his chin and tilting up his head, I lean down and kiss him, as gently as I know how. But I'm thorough, and he's panting when I pull back.

"Then let me stay."

He must have so much faith in me – because the learned distrust was melting from his eyes in favor of that glowing hope I love so much. "Not fair," he mumbles against my mouth, face a delicate red. "Keep doing that and you'll get me to agree to anything."

"Oh, really?" I ask with the sole purpose of hearing him laugh. When he does, weakly, I add it to a tally of my own.

I can show him, given just a bit more time.