No. 6 Goodbye

Hey! So this is co-written with Ocean Of My Existence (if you haven't read her stuff go NOW- she's awesome) and a part of the Unforgettable 'verse. It's basically different characters reactions to Shion's death (her idea) and this is Nezumi's part first, of course. Also, I wanted to say thanks to thecoldforest, who has reviewed literally every story for this fandom I write. You seem pretty cool (check out her/his stuff too, it's good) and I hope you like this :) And I apologize profusely for the god-awful title. If anyone has any ideas, feel free to tell us XD

_**Goodbye **_

_Rain...Gross.._

It was actually quite obnoxious in Nezumi's opinion and he pulled the thick fiber-cloth hood even tighter around his fresh, make-up coated face. Outside the back door to the theater the black-haired male huddled, pressed up cautiously underneath one of the few corners providing shelter from the downpour.

A small yellow and red slip of paper was clutched in one hand underneath his coat, advertising the theatrical auditions for Shakespeare's Othello. He was going–_had _been going–to try out today, Nezumi had to try and earn a few extra dollars to attempt to support himself on his own once again.

He had even tried styling his hair, and putting make-up on to try and at least _look_ female (though he didn't exactly need it, he was very confident in his abilities). But most unceremoniously, the rain had been the one single flaw that had caused the cheap, crack-pot sellers to cancel; and though Nezumi had been the only person to even bother showing up, they had ultimately refused to hire him.

Now, the stormy, steel-gray eyed male crouched in the back alley of the rundown theater with a black eye and a nasty looking bruise on his left cheek; practically soaked through and shivering beside a stupid air vent for warmth. How pathetic he truly was. Of course, he had been through much worse, beaten down to worse odds and sunken down to even lower heights than this, but it didn't help him from feeling as downright shitty as ever.

_You're still such a pitiful bastard..._he thought angrily to himself as he rubbed his hands together numbly, the loud growling of his stomach rivaling the noise of his chattering teeth._ Such a goddamn bastard…_

Two months. Two months since Shion's death–and how was he ending up? A drowned little rat washed out of a gutter, too cold and hungry to even see straight, and trembling so horribly he felt like his entire body would just snap apart if he shook too hard.

...He had tried. Tried to get back into the swing of things: wake up, eat, try not to get beat up by a gang or two on the way to work, work, try not to be beat up by a gang on the way back home...But when you get fired from your job and kicked out of your house because of a stupid gang fight, it gets kinda hard. He had tried._ Really tried._ But after Shion's death...Everything fell apart, as though that stupid little airhead had been the one thing keeping all the pieces of his life stitched together, but when he'd died, the wound just kept opening up again. The blood of his own grief and self-pity and guilt a never-ending flow of torture. There was nothing he could do to stop the flow.

Nezumi had only ever cried once. Once. Not even when Shion had lay with his head in his lap, covered in blood and smiling up at him as though they were having a late morning reading session, or just enjoying the new summer breeze. He had been smiling, the bastard. He had never understood why Shion had been smiling as if he didn't have a care in the world, maybe it was the fact that he wouldn't have to suffer in this horrible world any longer. Suffer like he was doing now.

But Shion was gone now, and there was nothing left in the world to do but cry.

Home was no longer the small apartment he had shared with Shion. He had to resort to staying with Inukashi, who was going to kill him because he had needed this job to pay back the rent he owed her. Funnily enough though, since two months ago Nezumi had noticed little changes in Inukashi. She seemed just a little more... Willing to give people a chance, more willing to help them, more open-minded. To be honest, it was another thing that Nezumi hated. Everything was changing. Sure, that was great for everyone else it seemed, but his life had certainly gone to shit.

His clattering teeth suddenly clamped down on his tongue when it darted out to lick his dry lips. The taste of copper began to spread inside his mouth.

_Disgusting._

Everything that his life had become seemed to slap him in the face all at once, and he felt a sudden piercing self-loathing that had really always been there but that he had shoved down and kept quiet. He had preferred to hate other people instead. He shivered horribly and he choked on a hard sob. His vision blurred and he stared down at the ground, feeling simply humiliated and miserable and god, where was someone to hold him when he finally, finally wanted them there?

His throat hurt and he could feel snot dripping out of his nose, but he couldn't stop. It was late and he was cold and he wanted to go back to the small apartment to see Shion attempting to fix the books and he wanted to mock him mercilessly again for being such an airhead, but he also found himself wishing he'd taken the time, the courage, to tell Shion what he actually meant to him.

_Jesus._

He was just so, so, completely and utterly lost.

He knew his make-up was most definitely a mess by now. He wiped his eyes, and though the tears wouldn't stop, he began his trek 'home'.

_I'll do this, Shion. I'll get my life together. I swear._


End file.

No. 6, Angst