Oz was still crying. Sometimes he did this for hours. He'd turned off all the lights—it made him feel better, with the tears streaming down his face. It made him feel like he belonged.

Oz had been wishing, for a long time, that something amazing would happen in his life to turn the tables around. He'd took it upon himself to believe in miracles—or at least try to. He hadn't decided to do that because he actually believed in miracles, but because if he didn't believe in them or didn't at least pretend to, his life would just stay the same.

At one time, Oz was actually succeeding in convincing himself miracles were real. He heard about them every day. They happened to lucky people, big or small, and absolutely changed their lives. But although Oz was one of the people who needed a miracle the most, naturally, he never got one.

And so his hope had basically disintegrated by now. He couldn't tell himself that a miracle would fly into his life and make him happy for the first time in what seemed like forever. Without hope, how could you live? You just went around, thinking—knowing—that everything was going to end up badly, that nothing you did would make a difference. That was how Oz Vessalius lived. It was awful, and he hoped that nobody else lived this way, despite the fact that he knew for certain some people did.

The reason Oz cared so much about falling in love was because he'd heard it was the one thing that could bring hope when everything seemed hopeless. Mentions of love and the beauty and miracles it brought with it were everywhere—coming from books, TV shows, and other peoples' mouths, whether they're adults or not. If love was really as amazing as everyone said, it could lighten Oz's life with happiness again. It could wash away the misery that had been with him for an eternity.

But Oz had long decided all this "true love" stuff was absolute crap. If it existed, it would have presented itself to him already....just like he'd decided about God and angels and most good things.

Gilbert had finally arrived at the address he'd been given by Justin. He'd parked near Oz's home.

There was nothing spectacular about the house of Oz Vessalius, and Gilbert suspected it was because the Vessaliuses had been getting along only as well as the average person until Cherry Blossom had hit it off. The house was a moderate size and nothing looked new and shiny about it besides the paint job.

Gilbert was mildly surprised that Oz hadn't spent all his money by now, being a teenager and all, and gotten himself a mansion or something. But that was beside the point. If Oz was here, this mission would be all too easy. He'd kill the kid way, way before the deadline, and he'd finally get to see if there was any appreciation or joy in Justin Pyre.

Sneaking along the side of the house and making sure he either ducked below or darted by any windows, Gilbert searched for any sign on life within the house. None of the lights were on, and he wasn't able to hear any noises. He'd just gotten there, too, so it was impossible for anyone to suspect his presence yet.

Just my luck, Gilbert thought bitterly. However, he figured he should probably check inside just in case. He walked up the front door and promptly picked the lock and opened the door. Sometimes he wondered why we were still even using locks instead of something more secure, considering how easy they were to pick.

Gilbert slipped through the door, only opening it so that he could squeeze his body through. He didn't want to make too much noise. He also looked down, taking great care of how much pressure he put into his feet with each step and making sure he avoided any sketchy-looking floorboards.

Interestingly enough, Gilbert was sure he heard the distant, quiet noises of crying. It was kind of creepy since he was skulking through a dark, seemingly-empty house, but if the crying person was Oz, he'd be lucky.

As the crying noises got nearer and more distinct, Gilbert finally pinpointed what room they were coming from. He peeked into the room, only to immediately take a few hasty steps away from the doorway and huddle against the wall.

It was Oz.

Gilbert practically sighed in relief. He was still working it all out in his head, but if he did it quick enough and without being noticed until it was too late, Oz could be dead in a matter of minutes—and Gilbert could be paid and ready for another mission in less than two hours.

Then the crying stopped.

"Uncle Oscar? I know you're there. Just come in. It's not funny."

Gilbert bit his lip. How did he know someone was here? I didn't make a sound, and he didn't see me...

"Uncle, just come in. Stop pretending like you're not there. You know I can sense it whenever someone's trying to creep up on me."

Great, Gilbert growled in his mind. He knew most people got a certain sense that someone was there if someone was trying to creep up on them, but this kid must've been special. He'd dealt with a whole lot of people before, and he never went noticed until it was far too late for them to do anything.

"Good grief, why aren't you coming in? Is that even you? Uncle...?"

If he comes outside, I'll just shoot him right away, and this will all be over with, Gilbert thought coldly. He wasn't going to let some lousy teenager give him more trouble than any of his victims had in the past.

Oz stepped outside. The moment is eyes fixed on Gilbert, he froze up. That was Gilbert's chance—but he was paralyzed.

Why can't I move?!

Oz narrowed his eyes coldly and dropped into the lousy fighting stance of a teenager who had never needed to use, much less was taught, a fighting stance. "Who the hell are you? Why are you in my house? Moreover, how did you get in?"

"Relax, kid, I didn't break anything." Gilbert growled. Why am I answering to this kid? I could shoot him right now and this would be over! He hastily grabbed for his gun, but after his hand wrapped around it, he couldn't aim it at Oz.

All the guilt about having to murder an adolescent came flooding back to Gilbert in one extremely conflicted moment. He knew what he was supposed to do, but that didn't mean it was what he should do...

Being a sensitive guy on the inside got in the way of being an assassin, and at that moment Gilbert wished he could curl up and die. He felt ashamed of himself.

There's still time. Calm yourself. When you're ready, just pretend Oz is an adult. Pretend he's like all the other people you've killed.

That train of thought really wasn't helping.

"I don't care if you broke anything. Just get out! You have a Goddamn gun and you're obviously here to hurt me, so if you're not going to do it, get out!" Gilbert was shocked to see tears flowing down Oz's face. "Hurt me if you want to. Just get it over with. I was going to kill myself sometime anyway."

Gilbert bit his lip so hard he wouldn't be surprised if it started bleeding. It didn't though—or maybe he just didn't notice. He was terrified and guilt-stricken from the teenager's words. Justin hadn't told him Oz already wanted to die. The whole point of being an assassin was killing people who weren't supposed to die.

No. The point of being an assassin was to kill who you were paid to kill and find another mission after you complete one. Feeling bad wasn't an option. Mercy wasn't an option.

"Come on! Are you going to shoot me? Stop making me wait! Get it the hell over with!"

Oz was crying harder now, and Gilbert's poor, overemotional heart was struggling to numb itself. It was pathetic, but it was Gilbert, and Gilbert was pathetic.

"What kind of person wants to die, huh? Most people know that life isn't a given!" Gilbert didn't know what made that come out of his mouth, and he knew he shouldn't have said it when Oz gave him a death glare through his tears.

"I know life isn't a given. I just want to die anyway. I don't care if life is a given or not. My life has been a pool of misery thus far, so kill me!" Oz screamed the final three words of that last sentence. "Do you just go around killing people? You came here to kill me. I'm not stupid. Do you know why I want to die? It's not just because I'm miserable. I'm selfish, but only to a point." He shook his head violently, as if ridding himself of some disturbing thought or memory. "I'm only a burden to the people around me. Father hates me. He doesn't want me. I live with my uncle and sister, but I only weigh them down. I'm not an asset. I tear everything down without even trying. So you kill me or I kill myself—it's one of them! And it's all the same. One of them is just more delayed."

The hopelessness in Oz's voice was something that Gilbert should never have heard come out of a youth's mouth. Gilbert couldn't comprehend why Oz was telling him all this. He was a perfect stranger, and he came there to kill Oz, but Oz seemed completely comfortable with that. He wanted to die.

Gilbert had never gone on a mission to eliminate someone who was already contemplating suicide.

It was so lame that Gilbert was feeling bad for this sorry excuse of an angst-ridden teenager. It was so lame that he couldn't just pull the trigger and go back to Justin—mission completed.

"I'm not going to kill you."

Gilbert didn't even think about saying the words before they slipped out of his mouth. But both his body and his heart seemed to be working against him today, as he dropped his gun and kicked it to the other side of the room.

"Why?" Oz snarled. "Are you scared? How could you be scared of me? That's just stupid."

"No, I don't kill suicidal, dramatic adolescents," Gilbert groused. "Until now, I've killed people who actually wanted to live."

Oz gritted his teeth, trying to prevent more tears from spilling out. He was obviously disappointed that Gilbert wasn't going to kill him, and it almost killed Gilbert. The older one of the two didn't understand someone who wanted to die so badly, and more than anything, he felt bad for someone like that.

"So you're, like, a hit man or something?" Oz demanded, sniffling and wiping his eyes.

"I prefer 'assassin.' It sounds better." Gilbert said pointedly.

"Does it? Well, as far as I know, experienced assassins don't stoop to petty teenagers who are ready and willing to die." Bitterness spilled out of Oz's words. Oddly enough, though, there also seemed to be a great deal of weakness there.

"Yeah, well, I'm not like other assassins." Gilbert turned his back on the boy, ready to leave. If he wasn't going to complete his mission here and now, he had no reason to stay. He'd figure out complications—such as how he was ever going to complete his mission now—later.

"Wait! Don't...don't leave yet."

Gilbert turned around sharply, not quite understanding why he was obeying Oz but obeying him nonetheless. This teenager put him in some sort of strange bind.

Oz was staring at the ground, looking horribly embarrassed. "Uh...I've always been interested in...assassins and stuff. I mean, how...how do you live like that?"

"What're you hinting at?" Gilbert grumbled. His patience was beginning to run out.

"Nothing..." Oz looked up at Gilbert, smiling slyly. You would never have guessed he was crying and screaming about his desire to die just a few minutes ago. Gilbert wondered briefly if this was how, presumably, nobody knew about Oz's depression. "It's just, you go around killing people. Your career is literally killing people. Do you, like, feel guilt? How can you live with yourselves? Are you completely apathetic somehow?"

"No, twerp, I'm not apathetic." Gilbert held back a satisfied smile that was threatening to come over him as Oz pouted. "Are you trying to get me to stay here and talk to you about murdering people? Because if so, you're a really weird kid..."

"I sure am." Oz said, almost sounding prideful about it. He grinned. "So? If you're not going to kill me, I assume you have nothing better to do."

"This is so weird..." Gilbert muttered a bit begrudgingly before following Oz to the dining room and sitting down.

What am I doing? Gilbert had no time to ponder this question as Oz started shooting him with questions about life as an assassin. Do you feel bad after you kill someone? Do you have another job? How much money does being an assassin make you? How many people have you killed? Do you like being an assassin? And there were countless more. Oz now seemed chipper and fascinated—albeit by something he definitely shouldn't have been fascinated by, but still.

Is this the same Oz who was yelling and weeping?

"Look, Oz...I should go. You shouldn't even be talking to me. Didn't your parents ever tell you about talking to strangers?" Gilbert put on his best glower, but it definitely wasn't effective. In fact, he felt more like smiling than glowering, which made absolutely no sense.

Oz visibly flinched at the mention of his parents. "My father never tells me anything. And my mother is dead."

Gilbert blinked rapidly, unsure of what to make of this new information—or what to say. He always thought that when people said I'm sorry during situations like this it sounded heartless and insincere, something you'd say because you had nothing else to say. So he stayed silent.

"I live with my uncle and my big sister. And they're always busy. I suppose maybe they told me about talking to strangers, but they also might not have." Oz's smile was back and bordering on a smirk now. "Who knows? I probably wasn't even listening."

"Either way, I'm sure one of them will be back soon." Gilbert looked away. Privately he wanted to find out more about Oz—about his life, his father, how he ran a company when he was so young—but he knew he shouldn't. He was already getting enraptured by Oz when he was supposed to be killing him. "I'll go."

Gilbert tried to stand up, but he only got off the seat about two inches, because Oz wrapped his hands around Gilbert's wrist and fixed him with a determined stare.

"No, you won't." Oz deadpanned. Gilbert bit his lip. "There are still things I want to know about you."

"How about we talk about you for a change?" Gilbert spat, knowing he probably shouldn't have said that but not taking it back.

Oz gave Gilbert a slightly annoyed, slightly sharp stare. This kid's mood swings came and went so fast that Gilbert was starting to wonder if there was something wrong with him.

Oz is depressed, so...I guess he probably has a lot of practice acting happy and stuff so that nobody can tell...? Maybe...

"I told you. I live with my uncle and big sister, my father doesn't tell me anything, and my mother is dead. And obviously you know I run Cherry Blossom. That's probably the reason you were called over to kill me, right? Somebody wants to get rid of Cherry Blossom or some crap like that." Oz said, ignoring the astonishment that washed over Gilbert's face. "Yeah, I'm not stupid. Anyway, that's all you need to know. For now...what's your name?"

"My name...?" Gilbert was caught off-guard. He started debating in his head whether or not he should give Oz is real name. The truth would be easier than a lie. "Uh, it's Gilbert."

"Gilbert." Oz said, testing the name out. He beamed. "Come around again, okay? Or if you need to be places—you know what I mean—then...here."

Oz put his hand in his pocket and dug out a small strip of paper and a pencil. He hastily wrote a bunch of numbers down and handed it to Gilbert.

"What's this?" Gilbert asked, although he already knew. He tried to make his voice sound distasteful but failed miserably.

"It's my phone number, obviously. Call me." Oz smile turned less enthusiastic and just turned sweet. "I'd like to talk to you again...Gilbert."

Gilbert took the slip of paper with the younger male's phone number on it hesitantly. He was truly unsure of what he was doing. He slipped the paper into his own pocket and got up to leave. Quickly, Oz ran away to get something, coming back almost as quickly as he'd disappeared.

"Here! Your gun," Oz happily handed Gilbert his gun, his eyes sparkling.

Gilbert took his gun and stared at the adolescent boy with disbelief. Then he shook his head. "You're a strange kid."

Oz didn't reply. He just smiled, his bright green eyes sparkling even more than they were before.

When Gilbert got into his car, he just sat there for a long time, staring into space with a blank expression on his face. He had no idea what had happened. He'd completely screwed up his mission. Still...he wanted to see Oz again.

No, no, no! He couldn't see Oz again. He had to make money for his family, and to do that he had to complete this mission. But he had a long time left before the deadline...so...Gilbert would have a long time before he had to worry about a cover story or anything...

Yeah, he'd be seeing Oz again.