'How many days had passed now? Fifty-seven..? Possibly fifty-eight?

It didn't really matter all too much now. Time had passed, and quite obviously, it wasn't going to improve any time soon. Each day was pretty much the same, although it felt different. Slower. More painful. I guess that is the weariness kicking in. Funny… I never really cared about it. I have my wish, don't I? Being alone was really the most fun.'

Gilbert had looked down at the notebook page, ignoring the slight smudging on the ink. A couple of water drops had fallen down from somewhere above. Hesitantly reaching up and feeling his cheeks, there hadn't been any sign of dampness. It must have been the corroded holes the steel sheet of his temporary roof again. It made sense. If he hadn't cried yet, so why would he cry now?

The albino laid back against the wall, sighing softly to himself. At first, he tried calling out to people, it hadn't been to any success. First, it had just been Gilbert acting as himself, calling out to any passer-by (who in his opinion) deserved a comment of some sort. That had soon changed into begging, hunger and loneliness slowly starting to settle in. No matter how much the man seemed to eat, from whatever little food could be found or obtained by guilting people into giving him food, the hunger still remained. A sensation gnawing gradually through his stomach. After that had been the desperate attempts at bargaining with people. Offering to sell the very clothes off of his back. Most of the possessions that he had brought with him were well and truly gone at this point. Leaving Gilbert with little more than the clothing he wore, a small pocket knife, a tattered notebook with a previously discarded pen and a folded up photograph in his pocket.

At this point, he had actually forgotten who was actually in the photograph besides himself. Three other people, their names appeared to always escape his memory, along with he also knew him. All that the Prussian could remember was a soft, glowing feeling that bloomed inside of him when he looked upon it.

He couldn't bear to gaze upon the photo too long, in fear that the glowing feeling would disappear if he looked at it for too long. Almost like a perfume. It's pleasant initially, but gradually it begins to fade until there isn't a trace of its existence remaining besides the memory, Leaning down a little, Gilbert begun writing once more.

'Memories were fleeting anyway… I can barely remember anything but my own name, along with a sense of loneliness. Why do I feel this way though? Hadn't I always been lonely? I don't remember any names, nor having any family of my own. Obviously, I would have had to, wouldn't I? No point dwelling on this anyway, there are more important things.'

With that, he closed the notebook and slid it into his left jacket pocket. The blood rushed to his head as he tried standing, leaning back against the wall and groaning as he clenched his crimson eyes shut. It had almost caused him to pass out. Exhaling slowly then shifting away from the brick wall, Gilbert slowly opened his eyes and looked down at his damp shoes. Of all of his clothing, it had probably been his boots that had withheld the most damage and wear of his possessions. His clothes weren't clean, but they were less dirtied than some would have expected. The Prussian was a clean man, when circumstances allowed. He had been smart about how he approached things. If you had learnt your way around the area, soon enough finding ways to survive was simple enough. Gilbert had made sure to keep a clean appearance, he'd clean himself in public bathrooms in the early hours of the morning. It was less likely to be interrupted during those hours, although naturally, he had been victim to one or two of those uncomfortable exchanges of awkward glances.

The albino took a few unsteady steps forward, his legs beginning to warm up to the motion of walking once more. It took him a moment to regain his orientation, red eyes darting towards the nearest street sign. Gilbert ignored the few stray droplets of water, building his way up into a sprint, looking for a familiar building. His breathing grew more and more erratic, the exhaustion and hunger taking its toll.

His feet getting ahead of his thoughts, Gilbert felt himself collide right into somebody, not having the time to stop himself. The two bodies fell right towards the ground, his sight blurring until a moment afterwards. The first thing what had struck him was the violet eyes. Such an odd colour for a person to possess, although he was one to speak, having red eyes of his own. He opened his mouth to speak, but turned away hurriedly in confusion. The other man reminded him of somebody, but he couldn't quite remember from where. Possibly he had run into him on the street once before? Or had it been something else.

Reaching into his pocket, Gilbert slid out and carefully unfolded the photograph, as if it were the most precious thing in the world. An image of three people and himself, two were brunettes and a blonde. A bout of shock hitting him, he turned over back towards where the violet eyed man had fallen, finding that he had begun walking once more. Maybe he had turned too quickly to recognise him. Stumbling over his own feet to rise, he ran up to the man again. Shaking the hands which held the photograph, as if it were a rattle or something of the sort. The brunette still hadn't turned around. Desperate to catch his attention, Gilbert had tried speaking but nothing came out besides a hoarse croak. His voice had been like this for quite some time now, of course, why would it change now?

Slamming his fist against the brick wall in frustration, the albino slowly slid down the wall, sighing in defeat. Dropping his head down, he hit his fist against his leg, screwing his face up. It was only then when he had felt a gentle hand grasp his shoulder. Instead of the brunette he had been chasing, this had been a taller blonde instead.