"Faith is not simply a patience that passively suffers until the storm is past. Rather, it is a spirit that bears things - with resignations, yes, but above all, with blazing, serene hope."

~ Corazon Aquino

S

The previous night's snowfall had left a thick layer of snow stretching before Shion's figure as far as he could see through countless marble gravestones. It crunched beneath his feet with each step, leaving holes at their wake, at least four inches deep on the ground and aligned neatly, for their owner's pace was anything but hurried.

Rose Memorial Cemetery

Shion barely glanced at the plain inscription carved artfully on the stone arch. The coldness of the wrought iron gate's door prickled his hand even through the woolen gloves his mother had given him. As he withdrew his hand, thin fibers of wool stuck frozen on the icy iron bar he had held. They idly caught the generous light of the morning sun. The golden light bathed everything with a weak warmth and reflected off of every snow ridden surface. Shion looked up at the sky; towards beyond the gate's arch and squinted his eyes at the rays cutting through clouds of pure white. So bright.. even as it continued to snow. The gate door soundlessly turned on its well-maintained hinges and closed behind him. It was so quiet; Shion could almost hear the lazily falling snow around him.

Four lines on the left and twenty two rows ahead.

Shion didn't need any guide nor did he felt an urge to check the names on the pale blue gravestones of marble. He had come here countless times before. He knew exactly where he was going. Just as he knew every single name inscribed on the headstones.

I really took my time this time, Shion though as he pulled his scarf down his face. His exhales materialized in ghastly white puffs and dissolved in air, as with each step, he inevitably disturbed the snow and the mournful silence of the cemetery. There was no other living soul walking among the endless rows other than him. He was completely alone apart from thousands and thousands of representative graves. Shion climbed up a mild slope through the rows with a confident familiarity and did not stop until he was under the sublime shadow of a snow glazed beech tree. Right below the canopy of its bare branches was the gravestone Shion had come to visit.

Rising pale blue and bright from the snow that embraced it, the headstone with silver inscriptions was just like how Shion had left it the last time he had been here. Only now it was supporting a white hat made of fresh snow. Shion smiled lightly at the memory of many hand-knitted hats and beanies his friend had worn with pride. He left the snow untouched and crouched before the headstone. Reaching out a gloved hand, he ran his fingers across his friend's name and the elegantly engraved figure of a wren in flight on the marble's smooth surface.

"I am sorry for not visiting sooner, Safu," Shion murmured. He felt like the air around him had heaved a deep, exasperated sigh, much like his best friend used to do at him. Shion couldn't help the second smile that fell on his lips.

"I know I am the worst. I was supposed to visit you weeks ago." Eyes of crimson absently glanced over the headstone, taking in everything but focusing on nothing in particular.

There was a pause.

"He is back, Safu."

Shion felt his heart tighten in his chest as the words fell from his lips. Would he ever get used to it? Would there ever be a day, that man's return would not feel so unreal to him? Would he ever wake up some day in the future and not be surprised by the warmth next to him?

"He came back six weeks ago. That's why I couldn't visit you. I was… I guess I was trying to adjust."

Ever since they had met at the age of two, for fourteen years Shion had known her, he had never been the friend Safu had deserved to have. He had kept her in the dark, he had not shared with her what was in his heart and he had not considered his best friend's feelings as he had selfishly expected her to settle with what little he had given her when Safu on the other hand, had given him everything she had. Only after losing her, had Shion understood how horribly he had treated his friend. It was too late now to make amends, to ask for forgiveness for his mistakes or to change what he had done to her. It was too late and Shion knew it but ever since she was gone, Shion had still found himself here every time he had needed someone to talk, someone to reveal his deepest secrets, his most frightening nightmares and his fragile hopes. He knew it would make no difference. He knew Safu was gone and opening his heart to her now wouldn't mean a thing but he still hadn't been able to stop his feet from coming here every single time he needed what Safu had always been to him; his best friend.

A large snowflake landed lightly on top of his outstretched hand. Glistening as it sat on his woolen glove; it slowly melted into the fiber, cooling Shion's skin beneath it.

"There was no typhoon this time. Or no explosions," Shion added with a light smile. "It was raining though. It had been raining for three consecutive days. Some areas in the West Block had flooded and the Committee sent aid. I had been working on the evacuation and replacement plans on that night. Remember I told you about the residential village we are building in the south, Safu? I proposed we moved the people there into the houses that are complete."

Shion withdrew his hand as he let his knees sink into the snow. Placing both hands on his lap, Shion looked up at the sky only to find it partially blocked with the frozen branches of the old beech tree. They swayed lazily in the light winter breeze; a muted image alone, for they had no leaves left to compose the gentle rustling sound Shion had listened to on his visits in warmer seasons.

"I couldn't sleep that night… No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't sleep. I kept hearing the rain… Rain always makes me think about him. I think already told you that. "

Looking down at the name of his best friend, Shion thought he could still hear the rain.

It was pattering relentlessly against his window as water trails reflected on Shion's ceiling. He laid still in his bed, in a tangle of sheets he didn't attempt to free himself from and questions he could not answer. Nature's effortless rhythm was strangely in sync with his own blood rushing in his ears.

Shion couldn't sleep. He didn't want to. There was a part of him that was terrified of what the dreams would show him tonight. He wasn't afraid of nightmares. Not that night. He never had nightmares when it rained. He knew what awaited him beyond the border of reality was something much more painful. Something that would take his breath away with the fiery glow of grey eyes; bring him to his knees with the entirely too convincing feel of a pair of hardened hands and wake him up chocking on dry sobs as his lips burned with the velvety fire of another set of lips pressing against his own. The tormenting memory of the bright spring morning that Nezumi had left him on a hill… Dreams that brought him back to Shion over and over again. In the lethargic haze of summer sunsets. During the peak of a rabid snowstorm. As he walked through trees clad in colors of autumn and laid in the middle of a field of sunflowers in spring… Dreams he found himself wrapped in his warmth; warmth so real it brought tears in his eyes even as he slept. That was what awaited him that night.

"That's why I couldn't sleep," Shion murmured to his dead friend as he closed his eyes. "I knew if I fell asleep, I would dream about him. It was raining and I always dream about him when it rains." He opened his eyes to look at his friend's name. Shion knew she would understand. Only she would understand. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

"Maybe that's why… maybe for that reason when I saw him, I believed it was a dream."

N

At a certain point, rereading a novel becomes less of a rereading and more of a recalling. It becomes more like the story is drawn straight from the confines of one's subconscious mind and then played like a recording, but, perhaps that was only true for his own memory; maybe, only his worked in such a manner. After all, being an actor meant rehearsing lines again and again until they sprang to the mouth, out the lips, like a second nature—always on time, always on cue. This manner of memorization would naturally one day become part of his everyday life, and now that it had, a hobby as simple as reading became.. a bit different.
On any other day, grey eyes would scan over the wonted letters, completely immersed within the tale regardless of how easily he could recall it. The story would receive his full attention (or at least, the majority of it, depending on Shion's whereabouts). Today, however, the book rested spine up. The pages fanned out against his chest as they had for a good half hour, but the words themselves continued onward in his mind, drawn from the past. It was a means of keeping his conscious busy, and yet, it still strayed.
His attention rose upward toward the ceiling, one that was becoming awfully familiar as of late. Even lying on the sofa, stretched out comfortably with his hands folded behind his head, Nezumi couldn't help but realize just how accustomed to this apartment he was becoming.
..It's been what… six weeks?
He couldn't help but frown, rolling onto his side. The novel tumbled downward only to be caught by his hand before it could fall against the carpet below. Placing it atop the coffee table, Nezumi sat up, running his fingers lazily through his bangs. That frown remained all the while.
..Six weeks, and I'm already—
A small chuckle followed by a shake of the head: the frown fell away.
—Like Hell I'm getting used to this. It doesn't feel like I've been here that long.. and yet..
And yet, he had.

Roping his arms around his leg, Nezumi rested his forehead against his knee.
He was alone today, and that didn't bother him. However, it didn't stop him from being hyper aware of what was lacking in his new-found routine.
Usually days such as these, Shion would be wandering around the flat, prattling on about this and that. Sure, Nezumi would tune out a good lot of the nonsense, but he'd catch the bulk of his ideas, his new proposals with the committee, and his hopes to continue reconstructing the city into something worthy of that second chance they were all given; in those moments, Nezumi would always find himself silently commending Shion's growth. Afterward, they would sometimes sit together in the quiet, indulging in their own hobbies, but the fact was: they were together at almost every spare moment since his return, and even more so on Shion's off days, when he wasn't waking up with the dawn, climbing out of bed, stealing all the warmth away, and not returning until the late afternoon. Even so, here Nezumi sat, alone, and at a bit of a loss on how to occupy himself with the typical novel failing him.
To be clear, he wasn't lonely, just alone, but more than that, he was alone with his own thoughts, ones about something as fickle as time and how it had passed. He needed a better distraction.

The gentle snowfall just outside the window caught his attention. It seemed winter was finally here, with all its frigid tendencies, such as these random bouts of snow. He'd be lying if he said he was fond of the cold. Rising from the sofa, Nezumi tugged the afghan along with him, pulling it upward around his shoulders, and trying to banish the chill as he approached the window. It didn't help all that much. Fabrics, sadly, didn't supply their own heat; they merely captured the heat of the wearer and returned it.
Standing before the window, Nezumi peered through the glass at the calm descent of white. It felt as if suddenly, all this rushing and racing had a means of ceasing. The snow could swallow up the entire city, conceal it beneath a blanket of frost, and contain it in a hush for as long as it so desired. It was an oddly tranquil feeling, one that quieted his restless mind for a moment, the same way the icy rainfall had weeks ago..

That day, there had been a storm overhead, not a chaotic typhoon, but a thick rainstorm, one that had hung over the city for three days. It made his scaling of the balcony far more difficult than previously anticipated. The darkness had been expected, welcomed actually. He hadn't a fondness for traveling by daylight, especially not when he was slipping away into a home without a formal invitation, but all the same, his movements, up the rain slicked bars, were careful, precise in a way that Nezumi always prided himself in. However, they were also hurried, like he couldn't climb fast enough, as if time was at a limit and he was down to the final seconds.
Maybe that was why he had found himself splurging for a train ticket rather than weathering a six month hike back to No.6. Four years had been long enough; he had been ready to come back, to come home. At least, that's what he told himself when he spent every last silver he had for a full ride back.
Over the course of the entire train ride, seated alone, glancing out the window at the passing scenery, his thoughts were strictly on Shion. He thought of what he might say, how he might approach the other man, what had changed and what would be the same, but most of all, he thought about how all this would even fucking work in the first place. Questions flooded his mind on if his actions were too hasty, if he was actually ready to return, and if it was too late. The doubts were piling up a-dime-a-dozen, and yet, he had steeled himself to his choice.
Now or never.
A vow had been made atop that hill; he had sworn that the two of them would be reunited, and constantly, Shion's promise to wait resounded in his mind, whispered in his ear, until finally, he knew it was time. After all he had seen on his trip, after all he had learned, he just finally knew he needed to make good on that oath. A frightened child no more; he was ready to return a man, ready to face the one person in this world who cared for him, the only person who he could willingly let shackle him in place. Wanderlust cured for the time being, Nezumi was willing to commit to whatever life would be like upon his return, to whatever his return meant to Shion.

The doubts returned though the moment his feet were firmly planted on the balcony. Taking those final steps, slipping through the sliding doors: it was suddenly impossible, like a whole new journey stretched out ahead of him. He had decided on his manner of entry for the familiarity of it. This was supposed to make it easier, make him less anxious, and yet, it just made him notice the single factor that was missing. There wasn't a call welcoming him inside: only a darkened apartment.
It was possible that Shion had stopped waiting. Perhaps, Nezumi was about to attempt walking into a life already full, one in which Shion was surrounded by others much like himself, people his vibrant nature had drawn in. If he had stopped waiting, that would be fine, wouldn't it? If he had just moved forward and realized that there was far more to life than Nezumi? Of course. A life on standby just didn't suit Shion, so it would all be for the best if he decided Nezumi had taken too long, if he had decided he deserved better than waiting.
But if he were still waiting..

The air he sucked in had a bite to it, a chill that filled his lungs. Pushing the scarf from over his head, Nezumi tilted his head back, letting the rain droplets cascade downward catching in his lashes, trailing across his cheeks, falling along his lips, and off his chin. It was cool and refreshing, but it also awakened his senses, shocking his system and forcing him to face what was in front of him.
This was it: the point of no return. It was different from before, but it still had that encroaching fear to it that left him full of uncertainty; Still, he wanted to confront this, to finally understand what he hadn't all that time ago.
If Shion had waited four years, surely he could wait a few more minutes as Nezumi drew in another deep breath, preparing himself mentally for what awaited him beyond those doors.

S

The pale silver of dawn had seeped into the night, dyeing the dark clouds huddled in the east horizon with a dull grey. It was still raining without a break. It felt like there was a crack in the sky; an ocean of water pouring into the world they inhabited unknowing of what dwelled above the heavens. It was one of the quietest downpours Shion had ever witnessed. There was not a single flash of lightning shattering the sky in jolts of brilliant white, not a single thunder reverberating across the land and shaking window glasses in their panes and not a gust of wind roaring among the trees outside Shion's apartment. It was all muted in a chilling calm apart from the swishing sound of the rain.

Having spent almost the entire night lying awake in his bed, Shion's eyes of crimson absently watched the gradual lightening of the sky.

It didn't matter how empty he felt inside, the world was still turning. It didn't matter how the core of his being felt numb and bereft of life and infinitely hollow, the sun would rise, seasons would change, time would flow; days rolling into weeks, weeks into months, months into years. And Shion would remain, his heart forever missing a beat upon hearing his own name being called and dropping heavy and bitter in his stomach upon realizing it was not the voice he wanted to hear. He would remain, fixed and stationary, a harbor with a single dock, a single bollard; a harbor waiting for a single ship that might never come.

He didn't complain though. He didn't think his life, as it was, was horrible. He knew he was one of the lucky ones. He had seen so much with that person who had changed his life. He had heard of stories of parents leaving their babies in garbage cans so they wouldn't have another stomach to fill. He had watched people freeze to death in the streets of a district that was in immediate proximity with the richest city state left on Earth. He had had his food stolen, his body beaten, his heart weakened and his ideas, beliefs, opinions altered. He knew more about the world now than he did four years ago but he wasn't arrogant to claim he knew enough. He knew he was lucky. He knew he was strong, as well as weak. Knowledgeable, as well as ignorant. And selfless… as well as selfish. He was human.

He was as human as anyone.

No one replied to his silent questions in his dark bedroom. No comfort was given to his restless mind. It was still too early for the shadows to recede back into their nooks and corners and impenetrable indents. They still reigned over the approaching dawn. Shion realized sleep would not come to him tonight either… At least not the sort of dreamless rest he needed. This would be the third night he was giving up on it. He knew he could lie there all he wanted and it still wouldn't change the outcome… Shion was scared of the pain. He felt sick to the stomach at how weak he was but he was terrified of the pain that person's absence had left behind. He had believed it would get better in time. That he would learn to be stronger; his heart ever so unwavering, his faith unshakable. But it had got worse. With each passing day, hopelessness bled into his soul like thick drops of ink on white paper. It spread within his body and made him feel broken, unfamiliarly foreign, so… lost in his own skin. He couldn't help but think every time he gave in to his longing, his yearning for the man with grey eyes; it was eating away a part of him. Every time he curled up on his bed thinking about his warmth.. his smell.. his taste, with his hand in between his legs; dragging out a release that gave him no peace, with his heart a painful mess, his eyes burning with tears… he felt like he was being reduced to something less and less.

–Where are you?

Shion silently called out to the sky.

–When will you be back?

– And me…

–Will I still be me when your gaze finds mine again? Without your eyes keeping me on course who will I have become? You have only ever asked me for one thing, Nezumi. You told me not to change. You cried because you didn't want me to change. You cried for me. What if I am already someone else? Will you still want to keep your promise then?

Only the rain fell in response.

Shion pushed the bed covers off of him and got out of bed. He could as well work on the evacuation plans for the rest of the people in West Block instead of lying there idle. There were flood-likely areas in the district and after the night's relentless rain, Shion was pretty much certain the people already needed new housing. Pulling a black shirt over his grey sweatpants, Shion walked out of his bedroom, stopping on his way out to take a hairpin from his nightstand. He tied his hair in a low ponytail as he walked barefoot on carpeted floor.

As he waited his coffee machine to give him a huge cup of black coffee, Shion walked over to the small pet bed in the living room. Huddled in a corner, Tsukiyo was asleep on it. Shion gently brushed his fingers down his back and scratched his head. His whiskers twitched and his eyes opened in slits, revealing a pair of weary eyes. Tsukiyo was getting on in his years. He slept more now than he was awake and there was no sign of the quick scurry of his younger days. Shion had made extensive research about mice and had come to the realization, had Tsukiyo been any other rat, he would have died already.

He often wondered whether he was also waiting. In his own terms and his own will, was the little mouse also waiting? Waiting to see his old master and his two friends before he allowed himself to sleep one last time… Somehow this thought gave him a bit of courage. And a healthy dose of embarrassment. Compared to Tsukiyo's silent dedication and loyalty, Shion's own struggle was a pathetic display. He still found consolation in his old companion. In the mere thought that he was not alone in waiting.

Hearing his coffee machine fill his cup with hot coffee, Shion rose from beside the pet bed and took his cup from the counter. His mobile computer was in his bedroom so he went back in there, sipping from the cup as he moved as soundlessly as a ghost in his apartment. His desk was on the other side of his room, pushed against a wall of a spacious bathroom. Shion glanced out of the window as he walked past the balcony in the bedroom and… he froze where he stood.

Shion hadn't pulled the curtains all the way the night before. Maybe it was because he already knew he wouldn't be sleeping anyway or because he wasn't quite fond of darkness anymore, he had left around fifteen to twenty inches of space open. The lightening sky showing through two columns of pitch black curtains… was blocked by a figure.

There was someone out on his balcony.

Shion's heart picked up as he slowly turned to his right, facing the sliding door to the balcony. He took a hesitant step forward. The cup in his hand was slightly shaking as he tried to steady himself. Taking another step, Shion extended his free hand and curled his fingers around the curtain. He could almost see the figure blocking the view. A black shadow standing before the greying sky and the dark plantation below, standing unmoving under the downpour. He felt the hair on his arms stand.

Shion slowly pulled the curtain open.

The first thing he saw was the cloak. Draped around the slender figure and drenched in rain, dripping water droplets on the balcony tiles. Black leather boots, each with three parallel buckles that fastened at the outer sides. Long legs clad in rain darkened jeans. Leather jacket. Gloved hands in its pockets. The cloak… the superfiber scarf, Shion knew, was wrapped around the neck.

His face was raised upwards. Towards the leaking sky. Towards the yet to be lightened darkness stretching across the west horizon, above Shion's apartment. Eyes closed, face relaxed, lips slightly parted. Shion could see his exhales rise in rhythmic fumes before being swallowed in the falling rain. He was soaked to the bones. There wasn't an inch of him that was not drenched in rain and yet he stood under the downpour as if it was a sunny summer morning. Still as intangible from the nature as ever.

Shion decided sometime during the night he had fallen asleep. This was a dream. He had tried his hardest to stay awake, to not have this happen to him again, to not wake up and find himself alone in an empty bed again. He could already feel his heart being cut open, his entire being drawn to the figure standing outside his door as he longed for his warmth in his arms. He had never dreamt of him like this before. This was so rich, so inexplicably mystic that it took his breath away. He was so beautiful in a way Shion had never seen him be. He was unbearably beautiful, and it hurt, and his whole body ached, every temporarily mended wound bursting open and Shion felt his hands shake uncontrollably as tears began to fall.

He dropped his cup and heard it shatter into pieces on the tiles; much like his heart did.

N

He hadn't an endless amount of minutes, at the most, only sixty—a single hour. And already, the seconds within those minutes were ticking away rapidly, servicing as a constant reminder of what he was wasting. But there was still enough time left for it if he actually wanted to: if he wanted to deviate from the original plan, give into all the building doubts and fears, just let them swallow up the final bit of resolve keeping him grounded, he could. And then, only then could he be free, for real this time. Every little ounce of responsibility he had poured into that promise four years ago, he could just call it void and steal away into the night, escape all that awaited him beyond this point. Just like that, it'd be done with. He could turn his back on Shion, put him in the past, and move forward.

But no.. that wasn't right.
Reunion would come, that was the vow, and that would ring true.. eventually.

It's been four years.. He's probably moved forward.
I left to begin with.. What right did I have to expect him to just wait?
Maybe.. I'm the one who's part of his past. That's fine by me though, isn't it? It's what I wanted in the first place.

It all sank in, snaked its way through his pores into his veins and circulated—these restless thoughts that he knew could tempt him toward the road once more. They could push him away again, not for himself this time, but strictly for Shion. Time hadn't stopped when he left; it marched onward, and surely, Shion had found some sort of hope to grasp onto, something that could help him soldier through anything that stood in his way. He was strong, much stronger than Nezumi originally believed. If he had moved on, then it was only right to walk away, to not uproot any sort of normalcy that Shion had maintained in his new lifestyle. Nezumi had always been this strange outlier, the glitch in the system. He was the one thing that never belonged in Shion's life to begin with.
However, on the off chance that Shion had waited patiently, that he remained the beacon, through storm and shine, to guide Nezumi on his journey home.. then that came with its own list of cons. If he returned to face all those pure intentions, those pure affections, and everything Shion offered, then he'd have to commit himself to one thing: staying. Until his final days, until time ceased its movement for the two of them, he would have to stand fast through thick and thin. He'd have to pluck his own wings and hold out his wrists willingly for the shackles. The luxury of straying, of wandering off would become a thing of the past, so the question was: freedom or stability, which did he really crave?
Life on the road had been difficult in itself. It had worn him down, left him exhausted to the point where all he wanted was a place to hang his coat, a pillow to rest his head on, somewhere that upon opening the door, he'd be greeted with a "welcome back". But, he had to ask himself another question: was this feeling temporary? Was this just some fleeting fantasy he had conjured up upon realizing that the world wasn't as remarkable as the novels portrayed it to be? Would he still feel this longing for a home in a year? What about in a month? A week? How long could he honestly remain stationary?

Droplets beat down against his face, running down into the folds of his scarf, painting damp trails along his skin through his clothes; he was soaked to the bone, and for a solitary moment, he thought of raising his arms, of lifting them to the sky and asking to be drawn in. Why couldn't he be swept up in the rainfall and relieved of this duty, of this choice. Let someone else make it. His life had already been turned into some elaborate foreordained fairy tale, so why not just add another predestined event to the mix? Come on, someone upstairs had to have some idea of how this should go, right?
..No.
Not right.
This was his own personal crossroads, the point where whichever road he walked was completely of his own accord. No one could decide for him.

Am I truly ready?
Am I ready.. for you, Shion?

Even with his eyes closed, with the darkness of night still lingering and the rain masking what little light there was behind thick ash colored clouds, Nezumi knew the dawn was fast approaching. Soon, it would break over the horizon. Beams of light would shoot across the city and illuminate every drop of rain. The city would be enveloped in a glimmering splendor without a single shadow left, thus he'd have nowhere to hide. Before that happened, a decision had to be made as to which path he'd take. There was a limit on just how much longer he could dither.

Hands drew into tight fists within his pockets. Lips parted taking in a shaken breath and exhaling it as a soft puff of heat into the crisp, yet bitter, chill of late autumn. The rain continued to wash over him. It showered down on him and washed away his tension. It left the idea that perhaps, this wasn't as difficult as he thought. Maybe, it was all just a matter of letting go. Natural thought and logic had him viewing the situation in simple terms: black and white, good or bad. But one look into the sky above revealed the same truth he was denying, the one that Shion had opened his eyes to years ago, the world was a vast expansion of shades. There was more to it than he originally believed. There was an uncertain grey area; there was neutrality. There was a third option.
He couldn't remain fixed in place forever, stuck in some impasse; he had to step forward.

I want to face you.
I want to see you again, that's why I came here in the first place. I'm tired of running away.

Another breath, just one more, lengthy, drawn out, he knew he had to make his move. At this very moment, he was alive and standing here because of that boy—no, that man—inside the apartment that this very balcony belonged to. Tasting the rain on his tongue, catching the scent of it in the air, even basking in the downpour was only possible because of their paths crossing eight years ago. Time had passed, and they had been drawn together again; the debt was repaid. But now, here he stood, no debts to repay, no reason to return aside from a vow and a feeling. A feeling that had only strengthen during their time apart, one that left him feeling energized and invigorated yet also vulnerable and exposed, as if every part of him was under scrutiny.
Just thinking of the intensity of those bright eyes brought forth the sensation them cutting through the darkness and gazing upon him, splitting him wide open to view all those hidden parts, the ones he had never intended to reveal. It felt as if Shion was staring right through him, like maybe those—

A loud shatter followed by the skating sound of shards across tiles, tore his gaze away from the sky; grey eyes were startled wide, like those of a hunted animal. The source of the noise, he knew he had to find it, silence it or else Shion would hear, he'd stir from his sleep and—but the cup was there. The remains of it, a mess of liquid and jagged edges, rested at Shion's feet.
He was standing in the door way, hands trembling, clearly unable to grasp at anything, white hair tousled messily around his face with bits drawn back into a small ponytail, and eyes, far more startled than Nezumi's, that contrasted heavily with that colorless face. It was as if Shion had seen a ghost, a mere shadow dancing before him, something otherworldly and fanciful, something so breathtaking that it forced him to tears—but this thing, whatever it was, just couldn't be a part of reality. And that look alone made Nezumi's heart sink, that look alone kept him weighed in place—he couldn't run: not now, not ever again.

Lips moved, but his voice carried no sound. The pitter-patter of the rain swallowed up his whisper, and he was left not only immobilized but mute under that gaze. An inner cry called for him to move forward, to slide open the glass door between them and draw Shion into his arms, to run his fingers through that hair, test its softness against his memories, to stroke that familiar scar with his thumb, and to let his hands remember Shion the way his mind did, the way his thoughts and dreams had countless times over in the past four years, specifically in the past few months.

..Shion..
The name resounded within him while the most vibrant and dreamlike months of his life replayed within an instant, but he remained just the same, as if he were froze in this moment, not in the past, not in the ones that had brought him here in the first place, the ones that made life apart so excruciating. It all felt painfully clear now, the mere sight of Shion standing there, let him know what he wasn't sure of before. This was it, this was why he had returned, why he had to stay. This was what the world couldn't offer him.
He was ready, as ready as he could be, for Shion.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

This is the first chapter of my roleplay thread with my partner A-Wanderer-No-More on Tumblr.

Nezumi = A-Wanderer-No-More. [a-wanderer-no-more. tumblr. com]
Shion = Me at Shion-of-No.6 [shion-of-no6. tumblr. com]

This is a really long thread. I expect it to be around 10 chapters long. My partner and I decided on weekly updates here.
I hope you'll enjoy it.

Preview image by Fujiroku [ fujiroku. tumblr. com ]