Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious; I own nothing but my ideas.

Gareki doesn't live—not really. He just survives. He steals, cheats, and schemes just to survive, to get by, to see the sun rise the next day.

It's not until he meets that Nai kid that he thinks otherwise. Nai is a breath of fresh air, blowing into Gareki's polluted world, trickling in through the various cracks at first, but soon, Gareki's whole being is surrounded by it. He breathes it in greedily like he's been drowning up until this point, like a newborn taking in his first of many breaths.

He remembers when he finds Nai doe-eyed, skin blemished, clothes disheveled, and the feeling of protectiveness stirs up; it makes his fingers twitch and he can't help the quick glance thrown at said boy or how he has to remind himself to inhale, exhale, calm down. It's not that difficult unless ruby red flickers up and clashes with black onyx; then he repeats the chant like an incantation.

At every chance he gets, Gareki breathes Nai in. He breathes in the smiles and laughter (is it supposed to smell like strawberries?) and sucks up the happiness like a sponge, almost to the point where he can no longer hold anything anymore.

How he has survived without this supply until now, Gareki does not remember, and honestly, he does not want to. All he wants is to keep breathing and growing and living, if that's what he's doing now, because Nai has given him the reason to.

Nai overflows and overwhelms him because Nai is Nai, and Nai is the one who gives and takes his breath away.