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It felt uncomfortable, as if something was moving beneath his eyes. As if the thought was crawling beneath the surface of his mind. As Lucia was telling her own thoughts in the hopes that it would get somewhere, Michael's hand found his way onto his front pocket. His fingers softly glossed through the cross. The words did certainly haunted his echoes. New faces. Nightmares. Fears. How close to that had he been anyway? Perhaps just a meter away...

His eyes turned up at the sky briefly, then to the huge damaged wall of Amone then back to Lucia. Poor sweet Lucia. It again. The tears he so not wanted to see, even though he always said it was a natural thing to let it out. What a dilemma of a human mind. It tightened his heart, as the blood flow seemed to stop within him. He hated to see those tears. He hated to think what would have been of this Asseni girl if it hadn't been for all of this. What could have been of Jean, Isaac and everyone? Would they smile just like Lucia did just moments earlier? He felt it. It was not just her tears. 

Was he scared? After seeing everything? And to live in the fear that he was going to die like a dog in the mud, leaving only a hollow in everyone's heart both at home and those he knew at the front. 

[color=bf00ff]"I..."[/color]

He hesitated, as he looked down onto his jacket. His words went for naught. It was a step away from reality, close but it was shut off right there. Would he want to say that he knew the feeling, then restate what the other philosophical guy had probably told her a million times? Would she want to hear that? She had come to him willingly here, that meant she had looked upon him as a trusted person whom she could had a shoulder to stand on. He couldn't be so simple-minded. 

Michael looked over to Lucia's hand as she cupped them on her chest. The frail hands that matched her now fragile self. The hand which he slowly moved his, which was nearly the size of her own, but was rather stiffer and much colder than her soft warmth. 

[color=bf00ff]"...I'm scared too..."[/color] 

His fear was a lot different. The haunting memory of people dying was just a salt to be rubbed, but the looming scythe that kept him awake for nights wasn't them. The letter in his pocket had gone old, but the ink had burned onto his mind. He wanted to go home. He wanted to cuddle by his mother's bedside. He wanted to reverse time to go back to those days where he, ironically, could look forward to a tomorrow. But despite the variation, it was a fear. It came from the same source, the same hellfire that humanity had built itself and drowned themselves upon. 

[color=bf00ff]"There is someone waiting for me back home. She has suffered too much just to give me the luxury of existence."[/color] Michael said, his eyes locking onto Lucia's. [color=bf00ff]"I fear everyday, every sleepless night. I fear that I would screw up and a bullet would be in my head. That she would then be living the nights alone without me in this world."[/color]

And something began to well beneath his vision. Without his conscious awareness.

[color=bf00ff]"We're both scared. But perhaps we won't when we're together."[/color]

Anytime. Anywhere...
[@LetMeDoStuff]