(With major thanks to the wonderful player of Toby!)

"We've got a few more left," he said around the red crazy straw stuck into his lemonade. It was cold enough to carry around something like tea or cider to drink, or that hot lemon stuff that Ichiraku's always served, but he always got lemonade when he came here. Lemonade and dumplings. He reached into the white box he'd settled onto the fountain's ledge between them, dipped a dumpling into the brown sauce and tossed it whole into his mouth. He gulped without chewing. "So, what do you think? Delivering for the church isn't so bad, is it?" He scratched the familiar label on the plastic cup in his hand, eating away some of the second 'i' in Ichiraku's.

"No, it's not." The tiny Irish girl chuckled as she watched her companion, contradicting him by daintily picking up a freshly dipped dumpling yet only nibbling at the edge. "So this is what you do every day? It's no wonder that you know so many people around here." She took a proper bite and chewed, swallowing it down before taking a sip of green tea. Jeaned ankles hooked, swinging idly off the side of the fountain.

"Mostly, yeah. Today was light, we only had.. seven?" He'd been carrying the boxes around, but had immediately lost count of them once they started finding their way into the hands of the people that needed them. He leaned to rummage through his back pocket and shake out the yellow paper that held all the addresses. "Yeah. I don't know that many people. I go to most of the houses all the time. They're all people that used to go to the church and can't really anymore. It gets worse for them all in the winter, I think. Some of them need firewood and stuff."

"Do you help get that for them too?" Kingsley took another bite out of her dumpling, watching Toby's eyes as they flicked over the words scribbled on that little sheet of paper. The heels of her sneakers thumped quietly against the stone foundation beneath her. "Logan chops wood for our house all the time, but always too much. I wonder if he'd mind if we took some. He always used to give some to our neighbors back home but he doesn't really know anyone here. It wouldn't be much different."

"Yeah, sometimes. Mostly, I just deliver it to them, it's usually been gathered before I ever get there." He folded the paper with easy movements of his fingers, the alloy bracelets on his wrist chiming together as he stuffed it back into his pocket. He took another long drink of the lemonade. "You think he would? That'd be great."

"I don't see why not. It'd be just like home, but through a church." She took a sip of her tea, taking some time to roll the warm liquid along her tongue before swallowing it down. "He built the church back home, you know. Designed it and everythin'. He's done a few others over the years as we moved, but nothin' as nice as that one. At least I think so." Another sip before popping the last half of her dumpling into her mouth.

"Is that what he does? Builds stuff?" He grabbed another dumpling, skipped dunking it and simply held it in his fingertips. "That'd be cool of him to do. We could always use help. I think Patrick's doing most of that stuff this year. He can be everywhere and he's really strong. It'd take him five minutes," snickering.

"Yeah. He was pretty famous back in Ireland, for that type of stuff anyway." She wrapped both hands around the paper cup, feeling the heat seep out and into her tiny digits. "That's what got us pickin' where to live for the first couple of years. He'd get offered some job and we'd go there. As soon as he was done, we were off to the next place." The mouth of her cup hovered near her bottom lip, the rising steam moistening it. "He hasn't done it in awhile, though. Ever since Brandon died." One shoulder lifted in a half-hearted shrug and a passing bird caught her attention, glittering greens lifting as it soared into flight.

He made a sound low in his throat to tell her that he heard, biting off half of the dumpling, his jaw working slowly as he chewed. "That really made everyone sad, didn't it? It hit everybody, not just Quillian. It's nice and kind of depressing at the same time. Everyone stuck together."

A small frown hung itself at the corners of her mouth, her eyes remaining fixated on the bird long after it had disappeared into the sky. "Yeah, it did. Brandon was really special, to all of us. I think it was worse because it wasn't expected. No one had any time to say goodbye." Her face turned down, her lip bumping against the rim of her cup as if she had forgotten it was there. To make up for it, she took a slow sip.

"No one ever does. I wouldn't want to meet anybody that's ready to die, and preparing for it." He took a long drink from his lemonade, setting it beside the white box on the fountain. "It'll get easier. For everybody. You won't forget him, you'll just.. start to not really hurt so much anymore."

A small sound hummed from her and the tiniest of smiles hitched. Otherwise, she let that part of the conversation die. "So what does the church usually do around the holidays?" It was a more pleasant topic, or so she hoped, and she turned an optimistic look onto him.

He wasn't that surprised but, as sad as it was for him to admit, he was better at talking about bad things than good things. He tossed the rest of the dumpling in his mouth. "Decorate. A lot. At the end of this month, they get a bunch of really huge turkeys. There's way too much food for everyone to know what to do with." He snickered. "It's nice in the church. It's really warm and bright. Marlena always makes some sort of different bread."

"That sounds nice." She grinned, tasting her tea. Tentatively, she picked another dumpling, swirling one end in the sauce. "My family always gets together. It's nice and all, but it almost always ends up in a big mess. Christmas is better. A huge tree and tons of little presents. We try not to get anythin' too big or expensive though, instead makin' it a sort of game to see who can be the most creative. Everyone else almost always just does what they're good at and makes stuff." She chuckled quietly, biting off half of the dumpling.

He chuckled. "We kind of get together, sometimes. Or we try to. Sometimes some of us don't make it, but there's always food for us left over." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking over at her sideways. "Does that mean you do what you're good at on Christmas too?"

She popped the last half into her mouth, her head bobbing as she listened to him and chewed. When he asked that last part, she swallowed, looking over at him with slightly widened eyes. "What, me? I'm not really good at anythin'. Not anythin' that I can actually make anyway. I mean, I help cook and usually end up makin' the desert but.. other than that, no. I usually just go shoppin'."

A smile spread on his mouth. She had been the one to say it, not him. "Does that ever make you sad? Do you want to be able to make something like your family?"

It felt odd, him asking that question and smiling. It caused her gaze to flit away, bringing that cup to hover close to her mouth again. "I guess so. I mean, it'd be nice but.. you can't really force somethin' like that." She gave another small shrug, sipping at her chilling tea. It was almost gone. She'd be losing it as a fidget item soon.

"...Cooking for people's not something to really brush off as not doing anything." He glanced behind him at the fountain. He wasn't sure he'd been back here since that thing had crawled up out of it and tried to attack everybody. He scratched at the scars wrapping his throat, his eyes wandering, half lodged in the memory of it. "You haven't figured out something you'd want to be able to do..?"

"In a family of seven, it is." She sent a sidelong grin at him, sipping again at her drink. Setting the empty cup on the other side of her, her hands linked together in her lap, her chin lifting, starry greens looking around at the many rooftops surrounding them. She really liked it here. "Not really. Like I said, it's not like I can just wish to be able to do somethin' and poof I can." Her feet still banged their quiet tempo against the base of the fountain, a drumbeat to accompany the background noise of the water behind them.

"It'll be fine this year," he said after a long silence. His gaze followed the little path he'd remembered May running when she'd seen him here. He rubbed at one of his ears to get the sound of his screamed name to stop echoing in his head. "You've never shopped here before, right? I bet the city has really good things for everybody in your family."

"Just that time when I got your knife." Her fingers unlaced so that they could rise up behind her head. For a short while they busied themselves there, unclasping the binding of the glittery hair clip that Toby had given her, resulting in a billow of mahogany curls to brush past her face. The barrette placed safely in her lap, she used her fingers like tiny combs, running them through her thick hair. "Which store is your favorite?" She peered at him through the half-shielding loop of one arm.

"I don't know." His voice was far away. He frowned as he forced his mind to sink into thought. "...I really don't. I know where a lot of them are, I just.. haven't really been inside them. I haven't had much reason to. I don't really shop much except to buy gifts for people."

"That's the best reason to shop," she said with a grin. With the topic of Brandon a fair ways behind them, she was finding it easier to smile. "And that's usually the best way to get to know where to go and what places you like the best." Restraining rebellious strands with one hand, the other took up the clip and went about the task of reining them in. Once done, it left her with half of her hair pulled back. The bottom half was left to weigh itself down past her shoulders. Her hands once again resting in her lap, she studied her companion for a moment, her head tilted just enough to one side. "...Are you okay, Toby?"

"Yeah, but I don't go there 'cause I like it. I guess.. I kind of feel like when I find a place that has things for people, it's theirs. If I started liking it, it'd be weird." He scrunched up his face, grinning. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking too much. I do that sometimes." He exhaled, long and slow. "I really don't think I have a favorite one. There's the little district that has a whole bunch of Japanese stuff for May. There's been a few jewelry stores that I've bought stuff from for my friends, restaurants.. My favorite place.. it might not be a store."

"Why would it be weird?" She chuckled quietly, her feet continuing their idle bounce. She nodded, just so that he knew that she had heard him. If he didn't want to get into it, she wouldn't push. If he did, that was his choice. "Yeah? What is it? A restaurant?" Her thumbs rubbed together, one nail finding a barely-there callous and scratching at it.

"No. I don't know. I haven't thought about this much. I've just been living." He gathered up his lemonade and the box of dumplings only to hand it over to her as he stood. "Liking things again didn't really click in my head."

She took them without saying, although she remained sitting for a few seconds more, just watching him. Why did she suddenly feel like she had said something wrong? With a private sigh, she shifted herself off of the fountain ledge and got to her feet, making sure to grab her own empty cup. "..When did you stop?" The question was a quiet one, almost timid. Indeed, she had bitten her bottom lip right after asking it.

"Stopped.. liking things? When I first came back to the city, after all of.. you know.. happened." He gathered up the rest of the boxes that were sitting nearby, the defined lines of muscles in his arms the only indication they were heavy at all. He lifted them on his palm with ease. "A lot of things changed then. There was a year or so between when it all happened and when I actually talked to someone face to face. I spent a lot of time by myself. I've wondered if what happened killed part of me off."

She frowned, a thin yet defined line that looked so out of place on her pretty face. (s)"That's sad.." She walked a short way to a nearby trash can, tossing out her empty cup. When she walked back to him, she had tucked the small dumpling box under an arm, her other hand busy tucking an escaped curl back behind an ear. "So," she said with an attempt at sounding a bit more chipper. "Where to next?"

He decided to answer her question first. "Mrs. Adelstein's." It had taken him forever to even pronounce that word correctly. He took the lead, began down a road that took them in the direction of the inn, but ended up turning right at the last moment. "It's not as sad as it sounds. I don't remember a lot of that year. I don't remember what I did besides walk. I sat outside staring at places. It just.. all of those days kind of squished together. I met all the friends I have now by chance in, like, a week."

She nodded, following his lead like she had been for most of the day, her little feet padding fast behind him until she got to his side, finally slowing to their usual gait. "It's still sad, at least to me. A whole year wasted.. and all because of somethin' that wasn't even your fault." She sniffed, rubbing a finger under her nose. The sudden onset of nightfall brought the temperature down low, making her happy that she had decided to dress somewhat nice for the deliveries. The cream-colored turtleneck sweater was helping her keep warm. "At least that's a good part. Friends are important to help get over things." She wasn't looking at him, instead deciding that the road ahead deserved her visual attention.

A gentle smile curved his lower lips. "I don't think anyone's told me that before. I don't tell people much, so maybe that's it." He poked the red straw into his chin. "But.. because of all that stuff, I think that's what did it. I probably brainwashed myself or something. Knowing myself enough, admitting that I enjoyed something, that I wanted to be around something, or someone.. that was always hard. It still is."

"Why is it so hard?" She glanced at him sideways, just enough so that her head didn't need to move. "Are you scared you're goin' to lose it, or them, or somethin'?" She suddenly realized that her hand felt terribly empty. She tucked it safely into her front pocket.

"I don't know. Maybe.. sometimes." He took another turn, this time to the left. "I've already told you that where I grew up, people don't like people like me. Even as much as I wanted to be Lisa's friend, or Denise's. A-ah.. she's another Claymore that came here. Um.. even though I liked them and wanted to be their friend, that never left me. With Denise it was easier, I met her after all this happened. I was kind of like her, so I couldn't feel that way about her too much. There are just some things that people like me aren't supposed to have. Really, we're supposed to die. But I was too scared to do that. So I just kind of had to.. live as quietly as I could." He chuckled. (s)"I'm sorry. You don't want to hear me talking like this, do you?"

She listened quietly, the only other sound other than his voice being the padding of their feet as they walked down the road. When he chuckled and apologized, she looked over at him, offering a meek grin. "Don't be. It's okay. I like hearin' you talk about just about anythin'. Besides, if you can't talk to me about this sort of thing, who can you?" It was meant to be comforting, reassuring, and she tried to support it by enhancing the curve of her smile. Gently, an elbow bumped against his.

He blinked, his arm shifting loosely at the bump. (s)"A-ah..yeah. Right." His fingertip bent the straw toward his mouth but when he took a drink, the lemonade tasted watered down. He hadn't needed much coaxing. "There was a time, right after I found out, that I thought I wanted to die. I couldn't do it myself. People like me are supposed to be killed by a Claymore and that's it. So I waited. I knew they were watching. I didn't know how to suppress my yoki back then, so whenever I used it, someone could probably feel it. I wanted them to come find me. ...People didn't want that to be true."

"Because they cared about you." It came out without even thinking and, right after, she wondered if it shouldn't have. She shifted the dumpling box to her other side just in case they bumped into each other, which they tended to do. She didn't want to squish it. "So what made you not want to.. die.. anymore?" She didn't like saying that word, die. It made her feel all queasy inside.

"I'm not so sure about that anymore." He took another left turn, bringing them one a street that was flanked on both sides with huge, brick, buildings. They were houses, but they were all connected. Like an apartment.. but not. He never knew what to think about them. "Back then, I had a couple people. Ixora was one, but she was never around, and I don't blame her for that. I was a dick to her a few times. Really badly. The other one was Katt. I hadn't met May yet. Around then.. Katt was the only one that really knew what was going on. She talked to Lisa to try and help me, when she was still here. Nowadays, though, I don't know what to think about her." He jogged up the small staircase that led to one of the houses, leaving his lemonade on the railing. He set all but one of the cardboard boxes down and touched the yellowing doorbell button. "What made me *not* want to? Fear. Selfishness too. A lot of it."

"Well.. there had to be someone who cared about you, just you, that didn't want you to go." She couldn't bring herself to say that word a second time. It felt like a rock in her heart. The more she even just thought about it, about Toby being dead or at least wanting to be, the more heavily it sat. "And so what if they didn't care. What's it really matter now. You know that now you have people that care about you, worry about you... Don't you?" She had followed him up the stairs, watching his face even if he didn't even glance at her. She stopped one step lowered than him. "...That's it? There's nothin' else that kept you from wantin' to die?" Oh! Add another pound to that invisible rock. "..But you had to have found somethin' else after that.. didn't you? You still don't.. want to die." It was more of a statement than a question, like she was scared to leave even the littlest bit of wiggle room.

"At the time, it was Katt. At least she said it was. We'd already gone through that whole.. she had feelings thing, and I didn't." He stabbed his thumb into the doorbell a second time. "I didn't want her to." He did glance at her, the tips of his hair hiding some of her profile from his view. "I came close. That time, it was a Claymore's sword that got me through the chest. I remember it hurting, then I remember my yoki taking over. I remember healing and getting up and.." He shook his head. "...It was May. Actually. When I met her, I had just found out. I was waiting, sitting, thinking. My head was a storm that just wouldn't die. But when she showed up, it all stopped. I was just a normal, but weird, guy to her. She smiled so much, and she wanted to be my friend, and she didn't know anything about me or what I could do. She almost did, and I'll never forget the look on her face. She was scared.. I think of me and for herself." He dropped his hand. It always took the old lady a little while to get to the door. "She made everything alright. When I was hanging out with her, I could pretend nothing was going on. I didn't want to lose that. Even if death was what I'd deserved and wanted, I didn't want to lose it. She was my friend, and already, she was important to me. I've hurt other people because they've thought about touching her." He tilted his head, stepped back from the door. "I'm not sure it was all fixed then, but I found out that I was too scared to even die. I wasn't supposed to have friends, but I wanted them. Tell me that isn't pathetic."

The door swung open, framing a hunched old woman with thick black glasses and about three shawls wrapped around her shoulders and head. Her knobby hand was curled around an equally knobby cane. By Toby's brilliant grin, it seemed he hadn't been talking about anything bad at all.

Her mouth had opened to respond but anything she had to say was cut short by the appearance of the elderly woman. Kingsley, too, put on a brilliant smile for the old lady. Even her eyes glittered with a sort of warmth that went perfectly with the greeting, convincing even though there was a swarm of dark thoughts storming inside of her head. Along with it was a strange sense of frustration, but that was slowly ebbing with what he had just told her. Still, he hadn't confirmed the last part of what she had said. That part nagged.

"Toby." The way she said it made it sound like 'Tobby.' "It is about time, what have you been doing with yourse--" The woman's watery blue eyes shifted to Kingsley and her barely there eyebrows rose. It made more wrinkles fold the thin flesh of her face. Then she laughed. It was wet sounding and sounded like it was taking effort. She lifted her cane and swung it into the outside of his left knee with affection. "You better not've slobbered all over my delivery, children."

"Little short for you, eh? But you're a strapping lad, you tower over everyone. You sure you ain't a tree?" She held out a curled hand for the box Toby was carrying and he offered it once he'd slit the tape on it, making it easier to open later.

He didn't know what to say. The subject up until the old woman had appeared had messed his head up too much to allow him to do anything else but chuckle awkwardly and try to hide the fact that his ears were red. He snuck a look to Kingsley from beneath his hair.

Kingsley's eyes widened and, instantly, a blush bloomed. She smiled shyly, prettily, her chin tucking slightly toward her chest. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Adelstein." It was surprising how easily she pronounced the name. "I'm Kingsley. I'll be helpin' with the deliveries from time to time." She bit her lower lip then, her smile making it hard for her teeth to keep a hold. Shocking eyes flicked up to Toby, her blush still red and full.

"Off with yeh, off with yeh. Don't waste your lives darkening old women's doorsteps. The night is young. Why, when I was your age?" The old woman trailed off laughing and somehow made it back into her house with the box and her cane while only catching her shawls in the door once. Another click slam, and they were left alone.

He exhaled a long sigh, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. "This must have been a weird day for her. Normally, she stands there and talks a lot."

A quiet hum vibrated in her throat as she turned halfway on her step, swallowing as she looked toward her feet. "Maybe she was just bein' nice, lettin' us go."

"Maybe. It's not like there's not hot packs in the other boxes, but still." He snickered, bending to retrieve what deliveries were left. He took his lemonade up in his free hand, turned, and jogged down the flat stairs back to the street. "Come on, we can keep talking." He kept going down the narrow street at a slow enough pace for her to catch up.

It didn't take long. After so many months of trying to keep up, she had finally gotten the knack of it. Once she was besides him again, she shifted the box on her hip and re-stuffed her other hand deep into a pocket. After a long while, "...So May's really the reason you stopped wantin' to die?" Seems like she'd gotten use to saying that word after all. "Why didn't you two ever end up together?" Random, right? Thankfully it was really just an honest question. Jealousy or any other emotion of that nature wasn't the cause. It really was just Kingsley being Kingsley, asking what naturally came to mind. Innocence could really be a kicker sometimes, couldn?t it?

He nodded slowly, then froze, abruptly enough that the upper cardboard box skidded on the top of the lower one, teetering near going over, but never really did. He blinked, his astonished, mismatched gaze just as slowly finding her beside him. All he could do was stare because, for once, he had absolutely no idea what to say or do.

She slowed to a stop, just a step or two in front of him, and turned, looking up at him. The green color of her eyes was dark, mostly hidden by the fall of darkness that now drenched them both. There was a gleam there, something private and linked closely to her heart, but even those with keen eyes would be hard pressed to see it. She didn't say anything. She just stared back at him, waiting.

The shock bled away from the sharp angles of his face, leaving only a rueful stain. In his eyes, on his mouth, in the wrinkle of his brow; everywhere. He needed to say something, or do something. The longer he sat, the worse it would be. But he still didn't know. He didn't know a lot of things, like what was she thinking. Behind her steady eyes and unwavering expression, what was going on inside of her head. Answers barreled onto his tongue one by one, and he bit them all back. The fight was obvious in his face. He pursed his twitching mouth, gulping loud enough to hear and turned from her. And began to walk. But even that action was slow, short lived. He came to another pause after only two footsteps.

"I'm sorry," she muttered quietly, starting after him when he walked. She slowed when he paused again but didn't come to a complete stop, stepping past him sluggishly as her head turned his way. But her eyes didn't find his face again. This time they lingered more in the direction of his shoes. "I shouldn't have asked that. Forget I even did. It's really not my place to know." She was trying her best to just brush past this little hiccup, even if the way he was acting brought a dryness to her throat.

(s)"Kingsley, what do you think?" he asked at the same time she apologized. Everything in his hands felt cumbersome and heavy all of a sudden. He leaned down, dropping off the boxes on the street, his lemonade on top. "What are you thinking.."

(q)"I don't know." She gave a full-bodied shrug, turning her head from him even as she continued, taking one, two, three more steps away from him before coming to a stop. She didn't turn to face him, instead favoring talking to the ground. (q)"What's there really to think?"

"St--wait.." The words didn't sound like they had come from him, but from a child fearing being left behind. He tried to follow, then paused. And there was suddenly a roaring voice in his head telling him to quit holding himself back. That that's how he had got into so many messes before, how he'd gotten into this one. He tripped after her, reaching out for her little shoulders to try and spin her around to face him. (s)"You don't have to look up. But don't leave. You've got to say something. I don't.. I don't know what there really is to think. You've got to tell me. I try to figure crap out on my own enough as it is and if I do it now--" He grit his teeth. (s)"...I don't h-have any right to ask you for anything but.. please. Do this for me. Tell me. Don't be quiet."

She turned around but only because of the aid of his hands. Her head felt too heavy, unable (or was it unwilling?) to lift and suddenly she felt like a half dozen bricks lay thick in her stomach. Her heart was thudding, hard against a tightening chest. (s)"I don't know, Toby," she repeated again, this time along with his name. With speaking it, a sharp pain jabbed at her side. A frown carved harshly at her mouth. (s)"I mean, really.. What am I supposed to say? I asked you somethin' like this once before and you gave me an answer but... but I don't believe you. I never really did. And now when I asked you somethin' else, you get all.. frozen. Freaked out. Can't even say anythin'... Do you really think that I don't see it?" How anyone could ever talk about all of this and not have a hint of jealousy or anger in their voice, it's beyond comprehension. But Kingsley? Well, this girl was just full of surprises, now wasn't she?

Her heart was racing, her pulse roaring in her ears. She felt a heat creeping over her, swallowing up her face, throat and chest, but it was the cold flash that followed it that took precedence. (q)"I'm not mad at you or anythin', or at least I don't think I am, but... I just need you to be honest with me about this, Toby. If you can't, I... I-I don't know." Her head shook, quickly and almost in place. Its downward cant didn?t provide its usual privacy curtain of chestnut. She suddenly wished that she hadn't worn it up.

He was swallowing so much he felt sick. His stomach rolled over itself, his guts in knots. His hands on her shoulders were cold, palms clammy with sweat brought on by panic. He wasn't sure how he was able to stay on his feet let alone order any sort of thought. And further than that, get it to his mouth to say. His tears had, by this point, spilled past the scrunch of his eyelashes, his cold cheeks wet. He would be lying to himself if he said he'd expected her to act like this. She seemed hurt.. not jealous, angry, or even hurt in that selfish way that he was so used to. The one that would cause people to lash out and get themselves frozen to the damn street because they were too stupid to take care of themselves. ...Hurt and disappointed, maybe. (s)"You d-didn't believe me then..? What do you s-see now..?" He felt like his head was going to implode.

She felt weird, uncomfortable. Unlike any other time, his hands on her felt wrong. Out of place. It took a conscious sense of control not to shrug them off. (q)"I don't know." This was the answer of the night, ladies and gentleman. (q)"No, I didn't believe you then. I tried to, even convince myself that I did, but... I didn't." The feeling at her throat was getting annoying, like icy, spidery hands wringing themselves around her delicate neck. (q)"And I don't know what I see now. I don't know what you're lookin' for from me."

They were at an impasse. He'd realized it a long time ago, when this first came up, that she was strangely one of those people that could see through so many things. Every time she looked at him, he had to fight to stay upright, to guard against that vulnerable part of himself that he didn't want to be and, even more so, didn't want anyone else to know about. He sniffed, exhaled heavily. His hands tensed as if to move, but he couldn't get them to. It was the only way she seemed real. (vs)"Then a-ask me again.." He could barely hear his own voice. But even his whisper sounded more resolved than he felt.

That made her frown, deep and hard. The wrong feature upon such a fragile face. Her chin tucked sharp and low toward her chest. Protecting her face, hiding the stain of tears. It took some time before she could find her voice again and, even then, it was soft and low, barely a whisper that somehow managed to creep out without being choked halfway through. The hurt, though, was obvious, woven tightly between every sound, every syllable. (vq)"...Are you in love with May?"

Why he thought he could answer such a question was beyond him. The silence she was radiating felt like it was burning his hands. Shaking, he curled his fingers into his palms until the heels of his palms were the only thing resting against her shoulders. Why was this time so much different than when anyone else asked him that question? Why couldn't he have done better? Why couldn't he be stronger than this? His breath trembled on its way in and out and he dipped his head as far as he could. His orange hair swung like a limp, ginger curtain, a barrier further erected between them. If knowing about him didn't make her disappear, this certainly would. He grunted, half in pain, half to test to see if his voice still worked. (s)"...I've n-never.. never t-told anyone. N-not even--" He shuddered, shaking his head. (vs)"N-no one."

(s)"I'm sorry." His voice cracked like an old, rotten board finally giving way under a great pressure. (s)"I'm sorry, I'm so s-sorry. I h-had to s-say I d-didn't. I had to.." He'd never imagined it like this. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. He knew that he was going to lose everything that he had now. Maybe it was a good thing, then. (s)"It was b-better. F-for everyone. Always. Always b-better for e-everybody.. if no one kn-knew."

She didn't say anything. Not a word. She didn't even think she had a voice any more, that it had run away and left her there all alone. Alone because she had never felt that Toby was so far away from her as he felt now. She didn't move, either, aside from the tiny motion of trembling that had taken over her entire body. She was frozen, paused in time. Every inch of her felt deathly cold, even the blood in her veins like nothing more than ice. She had waited so patiently for the answer but when it came, she had never hoped so much before that she could go back in time. She never would have asked him. Not this time, not the time before. If she could, she would have changed a lot of things. Being there, ever, was quite possibly one of them. (q)"I've got to go." It was sudden, sharp, barely out of her mouth before she turned on a heel and started walking.

Like most times someone walked away without saying a word, it was just a bare couple of seconds before she had a million things to say flooding into her head. She turned around again, fast. It was shocking, really, that her face had lifted up, her eyes, as broken and shattered as they were and filled with so much emotion that someone could drown in them, staring directly at him. "...It wasn't better, because someone knew." She paused, lower lip quivering, cheeks glistening by the faint light of the moon. "...You." And with that, she turned again, continuing to walk away.

"Ki--Kingsl--wait..!" Why was he doing this? What the hell was he going to say? Or do? If she got hurt, even more, because of this.. It was a repeated pattern. His tripping steps sent him forward. The world wavered as he caught himself against the ground. He felt the street scrape on his palm. The stack of deliveries left behind, he rushed after her. "Don't do this, don't leave like this. At least just.. w-wait until you're someplace safe that's not out h-here in the open. Please, just--" Her last remark hammered against his head and inside his brain and he flinched, kept moving forward with both hands shoved up against his ears. He wasn't going to hear it. (s)"...Please. Let me take you somewhere."

"No." That had to be the first time, ever, she had said that to him. Really said that to him, and with that sharp of a tone. She had whirled around on him, stopping dead in her tracks so that she could face him. Despite being so small, so petite and so fragile, she stood now like a miniature statue, head erect and chin lifted in a stubborn defiance that was born out of the fresh bloom of hurt. "I'm goin' home. To the house. Alone. I'm goin' to stay there. I'm not goin' back to the church." She turned again, started off. Her teeth hurt with how badly she was gritting them together. The tears in her eyes stung like a thousand red-hot needles.

He could deal with physical pain like it was no problem. A punch to the face, the gut, a kick, a knife. Any of it, he could deal with, because he knew exactly where it came from and what caused it. This.. this left it too open. There were too many options, guilt coming from too many places, fear right on its heels. He jumped, stumbled to a stop. He could feel the pressure of her eyes on him like sharp boulders raining down, one after the other. He let his eyes slide just enough to the side to where he couldn't meet them, his trembling hands lowering. If he was busy racking his brain for a way to make her listen, then he knew he was really screwed. It was better to just take it like this, accept it for what it was. Despite all of this, there was a great lifting from his chest. He didn't want to feel it, but he did.

She kept going down the alleyway, tears burning and her body trembling with each angered step. She didn't know it but the instant she stopped, really stopped, she'd be nothing more than a crumpled mess, sobbing and crying. And alone. She didn't look back, though. She knew as much as she knew anything that he would be okay. He'd been through a lot worse, had had a life much more full than she ever did and had gotten over plenty in his lifetime. She wouldn't admit it but she envied him that, for tonight was going to be her night to first ever experience heartbreak. And she was going to have to do it all on her own.