As they walked out into the night, Eddy was hit with a sudden note of nostalgia. He used to do this alot as a younger man, walking home through the alleyways with a warm body plastered against his side. Back then it was hardly the same man twice, the city tinged with a dreamy glassiness that only came from a long night of bar hopping, ending in a fun drunken tangle that brought regrets in the morning.<br/><br/>It was a strange thing to be doing it again but far more sober and with no intention of sleeping with the person under his arm.<i>You've grown old </i>whispered his 20 year old self, and yeah, that was fair.<br/><br/>Eddy gently steered Luke away from the worst of the puddles, steadying him with a firm hand when he swayed too far, righting him when he stumbled. It was ridiculously easy to do, the boy was so slim. If Eddy wanted, he could probably lift him without strain, he was still strong enough for that. Though his back might protest after the first ten minutes.<br/><br/>And then Luke started talking, and Eddy wasnt rude enough to ignore him even though he had a complicated answer for such a simple question.<br/><br/>Did he like art? The very thing he dedicated his entire life to, the thing that had saved him, destroyed him, and yet somehow saved him again? The very thing that he was celebrated for, the thing that had defined him as a man? The thing that he could no longer do, and now left a gaping hole in his very soul that he had no idea how to fill?<br/><br/>"Yeah, kid," Eddy said, quietly as he pulled Luke closer to keep him from stepping in a pothole, "I like art."