" I'll be behind the willow, I guess. "
Why was he waiting? A sigh that slightly shook as it was exhaled. A closed hand knocking against the entrance doors. Remember when the lock broke? Hah, he wasn't there, but he wished it was more recent. Recent enough that the doors didn't block the way. Knock. Knock. The sound echoed for what was nearly an eternity passing. What was an eternity? The seconds he withstood without answer, answered that question.
He could just barely see him. He can imagine him, just sleeping on his couch. Right through that unneeded large window. The protagonist goes into a daydream. Morning; the owner waking up, seeing his daughter-figure so early. Finding the other stand by his door, like it was a regular day. Those days expired, however.
Then what was he doing, standing in front of an empty building in an empty street. Why did he leave his closest friends behind to check on a seemingly ancient relic of happiness? A pure happiness that he didn't expect to become pure. Dice games and dares seemed so childish to the today he stands in, he moved on from playing games like that. But then, this building - a building that hosts those games alone. What reason was there left for him to lurk?
Was it worry? Was it anxiety? Was it a need to revisit nostalgia? To make sure that this four-month old piece of nostalgia was kept safe?
Probably.
Never would he thought the day would come, was when the half-Qadir conman became the most innocent of the people he knew. Extending from the day they encountered eachother on the staircase. Lasting to the day Ushio survived the Azures. Remembering his rather clueless, daft and impulsive procedures and attempts at escapades, he found reason to keep up at night.
What was the chance of him being taken as well? Suffering, high up in that tower with no one to hear from him, his body dumped in an irrelevant ditch, never to be seen again? It piled up until it could form a crack on the top of his skull.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.
And a loud noise came from the door hinges, probably still weak. The DelBay was a rich man now, can't he fix that? But it's stable enough to hold him. Stable enough to become the boundary between today and the days before.
It takes a moment, two - three - four. Before shouting.
" Perseus! You twat - are you there?! "
He doesn't know what he was expecting -- Perseus to simply open the door? Welcome him in for a dice game with frog mucus? Solve all his problems - just like that? No. Of course not. But oh, he wishes it was just like that, so easily he could check. His best friend, his first friend. He never changed, and seems to be unable. Not even in front of Glineth. Not for anyone. Not for himself. And that was perfect.
Spirit, he'd kill to make sure he stays childish. For him to stay immature, to leave him for dead out of cowardliness, to try and go out on stupid adventures for his own gain. To stay a trickster and wipe jam on magician's cards. Something that he could have - that could stay absolutely still for him. Trapped in a theory called time that Silvian didn't believe in.
Silvian internally counts the steps taken backwards, eyeing the single room of the shop. Giving out a casual, disappointed sigh. He's still stuck to hoping Perseus wasn't dead already. An exhausted smile on his lips as he makes his way out from the doorstep.
" Cunt still ain't there. "
He could swear he heard the doors open as he leaves.
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