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It still hurts. Of course it would. It was just a makeshift to patch up the mess that was once his tool to manifest, to create and nowadays to kill. But it was certainly not a sloppy attempt. It was something meant for him at heart, done out of their own kindness and desire to see him standing on his feet right by their sides, not just because it was their duty. The rag of cotton that was once a lovely shirt was double knotted that hugged his arm like a human hand grasping sweetly yet gently on his arm. Like how his mother did when he was only eight when he fell on the pavement and she helped relieving the pain like an angel. It was good times, the times when he had not to worry a single thing about life, the times he did not have to worry about getting shot, getting enough food, enough rest or enough shelter for himself and for others too. He was just playing around the house and the city everyday, going to school, being loved by his friends, and especially being taken cared of by someone he could still not differentiate with an angel in the heavenly sky. He wished he could come back any day, when the war is over. He'd have to survive the war first though. It had proven itself difficult, but he had only one direction now.

But as he was still remembering the angels in his life, he turned around to the sound of another one.

It was Lucia. Again with the intrusion it seemed. He had clearly closed the door anyway. But for after everything she had done for him, it would just be petty complaints. As Michael turned around, the close proximity of her eyes intertwining with his like fiber strands dancing around each other and braiding into a strong thick rope made him take a step back in surprise. Her soft, soaked yet still silky silver hair fell down on her small shoulders, so gently yet for some reasons, it never did reflect her the same way he did. She wasn't the Lucia Michael knew at Hill 58, yet it was the Lucia he had always known. It was simply beautiful, nothing less.

[color=bf00ff]"...But you still did a lot for me. Really much, I'll cherish this."[/color]

It did not slip his mind of how she had been so aggressive and determined to protect him, to the point that he began to feel abnormality in it, but it never came to his consciousness to make him ask. Not yet. For now, he was simply lost in thoughts just as Lucia wrapped her small palm around his wrist as she led him out of the room and onto his bed. Led but he never was not free. He just simply lent Lucia to her guidance. He didn't question one bit what she was going to do. He knew it, from holding his wrist to sliding her fingers and sewed it with his own, he knew it. He knew he was not going to go anywhere with this, nor did he want to go anywhere. His gentle descent into the dreamland did not come any longer after hers, and finally, for once in a while, he actually saw his cherished. Like Lucia said, he had arrived at his favorite place - nowhere further than his sweet home, his large yet cozy mansion, his favorite spot next to the fireplace in his study, on a nice comfy armchair with a book. But for today, that familiarity was broken. On that same spot, in front of his armchair was another one, and on it was a girl with long silver hair...
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