Title: Namae
Fandom: No. 6
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Nezumi/Shion
Genre: Angst? Not sure how to categorise this.
Warnings: Err Nezumi being violent? Written in present tense :/ Odd style, but it was fun.
Summary: It's not that Nezumi doesn't want to tell him his real name. It's that he doesn't even know it himself.

"Nezumi," Shion begins as he stirs the boiling stew in the pot. "Can't you tell me your real name?"

The addresse merely flips a page in Shakespeare's Midsummer's Night Dream, pretending that he hasn't heard a single word. He lies comfortably on the bed, legs stretched out over the covers. For now, he is hungry, and Shion is taking too long cooking that pot of soup.

I am slow of study. Says Snug in Act I Scene II. It applies so much to Shion, Nezumi thinks.

"Nezumi," the white haired boy whines, almost, put off by the lack of response.

Nezumi doesn't bother to respond, because if he does, Shion would just spout more oblivious questions that Nezumi has to wonder where all these questions even come from. He would know - they had done this a million times by now. That's only proof of Shion's insatiable inquisitiveness.

"I want to know," Shion continues on, knowing that Nezumi is listening to every single word. "I want to know everything about you."

Here, Nezumi slaps the book shut loudly, scattering the mice that had been huddling on his shoulder. "Stop saying something so naive. I don't want to hear it."

"It's not," Shion protests, turning around to meet Nezumi's disapproving stare. "I'm being serious."

The stew is done, and he flicks the stove off before setting the pot on the table. Dinner may be ready, but their conversation is not.

"You always are," Nezumi replies, and there is a hint of sarcasm in it. "And that's because you don't understand anything," he remarks in the tone where Shion knows he's treading on dangerous waters.

But he presses on earnestly anyways. "I don't understand anything because you won't tell me anything!" he retorts. "Is it so difficult to tell me your real name?"

The larger teen basically ignores him and starts on dinner, sipping the boiling hot liquid with a certain kind of elegance.

"Nezumi!"

Shion frowns when Nezumi takes another seemingly obnoxious mouth of the stew he cooked. He reaches out and catches the other's wrist. "Nezumi!"

He didn't expect to be thrown against one of the many bookshelves they have in the room. Nezumi's hand is dangerously tight around his neck, and it's choking him to the point where he's feeling a little dizzy. Pain racks up his spine as the sharp edges of the books dig into his back, but Shion doesn't find himself struggling at all. He only looks back toward Nezumi who has a terrifying glare on his face.

"Which part of shut up do you not understand, your Majesty?" Nezumi demands, nails digging deeper in his neck.

"But..." Shion manages between the tight hold. "I really want to know..."

"Just because you want to know doesn't mean that I will tell you. Stop being such an airhead," Nezumi growls, voice low. "I'm fucking sick of it. This is not No. 6," he drawls the word like its something poisonous. "Just because you're staying with me doesn't mean that we're friends. Stop trying to build useless relationships," he warns. "It's only going to be harder when I kill you."

"But you wouldn't," Shion blinks.

"Wouldn't what?" Nezumi sneers, bringing his face right close to his ear. "Kill you?" The hand around his neck tightens further, and a finger brushes over a pressure point. "If I press right here," he purrs darkly, tapping on the spot, "You won't see your mother ever again."

Even so, Shion doesn't so much as fear. Those red eyes blink back in understanding instead, as though Nezumi had just explained number seventy six of the wonders of the human body. It's quite amazing, Nezumi silently thinks. The boy trusts him too much, and the thought digs into his stomach. It's also extremely stupid of the said boy. He starts to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Shion is used to Nezumi laughing at him, so he doesn't say a word when the other seem like he's going into hysterics. Nezumi calms down after a while, and a smirk stretches on his lips. He hasn't let go yet.

"Naa, your Majesty," the larger teen snorts. "What do you want to know? Where I was born? My parents? My siblings?" he taunts darkly. "It will cost you, you know," he smirks. "I don't do things for free."

Nezumi expects Shion to back off, because the boy is currently dirt poor. Shion only gets wages from doing chores for Inukashi, and that's all the money Shion insists on paying Nezumi for letting him stay with him.

"I'll work for the amount," Shion tells him seriously.

"Not a chance," Nezumi flicks his forehead, rolling his eyes. "No amount of work you do will earn you enough. Not in the West District, anyway."

"I...I'll figure out something," Shion insists stubbornly. "Please, Nezumi!"

The earnesty takes Nezumi aback even though he knows he should have anticipated it. This was Shion, after all. However, the boy isn't giving up, and that starts to get a little on his nerves. Just to tease the boy further, Nezumi leans closer, lips brushing against the red snake coiled around the other's neck. He knows it's a sensitive area, and purposely blows a puff of hot air onto the skin. His hand that curls around the spot unwraps a little to drag a fingernail down the heated skin, and his other hand slips up the other's shirt and presses against the edge of the other's hips, stroking the bare skin suggestively.

"You could give me your body instead," he murmurs.

Nezumi isn't prepared for the answer.

"Okay."

Shion says this without hesitation. Nezumi draws back in incredulity, ready to reprimand him for being too easy, but words die on his throat the moment he sees the smaller teen's expression. It shines determination more than anything. Despite the red flush crawling up his neck, Shion doesn't look the least bit uncomfortable. It's as though he takes the body reaction like a natural scientific response to stimuli, and he just lets it happen. Nezumi would bet his life that that was exactly the case.

He would never understand the kid.

"What do you want?" he asks finally, stepping back.

"Your name," Shion says immediately. "Not Nezumi or Eve. Your real name."

"Is it that important?" Nezumi raises an eyebrow. Here he was, giving a chance to ask Shion whatever he wants (whether he will answer is still doubtful), yet the boy insists on knowing something so...trivial.

"Yes." The white haired boy states without a heartbeat.

Nezumi gives him a blank look in return. "VC-103221."

"I said your real-"

"I just told you," Nezumi interrupts, watching signs of expression on the other's face.

It comes. Confusion, disbelief, then realization, understanding, and finally, the worst emotion that Nezumi ever wanted to witness - sympathy. Pity.

"Nezumi..." Shion reaches out, but Nezumi has already slammed the door behind him.

The empty room has never felt so cold. Perhaps Nezumi had been right in his harsh words. After all, he had been prying at something sensitive, something painful. He always thought Nezumi was just trying to be difficult, or trying to keep that redundant distance between them. He hadn't considered the fact that Nezumi was just avoiding his questions because they brought up something personal. Something Nezumi wished that never existed in his memories.

Something that brought Nezumi to hate No. 6 so much.

It's not that Nezumi doesn't want to tell him his real name. It's that he doesn't even know it himself.

Owari.