Oz knew this probably wasn't good for him, but he was intrigued by "Gilbert Nightray," the very assassin that had been sent to kill him. Interestingly enough, the man hadn't seemed like much of an assassin, but Oz had sensed something on edge within him—some sort of twisted determination—that seemed off. Still, he was strangely intrigued by the stranger. It was ridiculous that Gilbert hadn't just killed him right there—not only was he completely vulnerable, he'd literally been begging for death. The blonde-haired teenager couldn't help but wonder how Gilbert had succeeded at being an assassin with that kind of attitude.

Before he knew it, he'd been spouting questions, acting giddy around a stranger like he was his best friend. Oz hadn't even been thinking, really, but he wanted to see Gilbert again. He still couldn't believe he'd given an assassin his phone number and invited him back. He'd gotten himself into a fine mess. It would be difficult to hide this from Oscar and Ada, and if they managed to find out, what would he say? Certainly not, this is Gilbert. He came into the house the other day and tried to kill me, because he's an assassin. But he spared me and he seemed nice, so now he visits me!

It occurred to him that he didn't even know if Gilbert would visit again or call him. Although he'd blatantly failed, Gilbert had appeared to have been resisting some sort of pull he felt towards Oz. Oz couldn't help but be slightly excited at the idea that Gilbert felt the same way he did. He still had no idea what this was, but it fascinated him and he couldn't help but wonder.

Oz found himself hoping desperately that Gilbert would come back. Gilbert had made him feel...unexpectedly happy and carefree. Despite the fact that Oz was happy sometimes without having to fake it, he was never, ever carefree. He'd relished that feeling being with Gilbert had given him without thinking about it. And he also realized that the fact that someone he didn't even know had been the only one to ever give him that feeling was ludicrous. But he wanted to feel that way again, and if it meant taking some risks and putting his life on the line...

Well, he didn't even feel like he was putting his life on the line. Sure, establishing some sort of relationship with Gilbert was risky, but he got the strong feeling that he wouldn't kill him. Gilbert was too...soft. Oz was sure Gilbert wasn't that way with everyone—after all, during his barrage of questions Gilbert had said he'd done this many times before—but he was with him.

Frowning, Oz walked over to a wooden nightstand in his bedroom and unplugged his phone, checking to see if anyone had texted or called him. His heart lifted a little as he heard the ping that indicated someone had texted him, but it fell again when he saw it was just Oscar.

I'm going to be out late tonight. Okay with you?

Oz hastily texted back okay before plugging his phone back in. He climbed onto his bed and fell onto his back, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Good. This would give him more time to think things over.

Due to the current situation he was in, Gilbert figured he'd stay in a hotel for a while until things fit into place. He also wanted to stay in Oz's neighborhood so that he'd be able to easily see him again—although he hated to admit it.

Gilbert bit his lip, flipping the slip of paper with the teenage boy's phone number on it repeatedly in his hands. He was debating whether or not he should call Oz now. He probably shouldn't, considering Oz was the person he'd been hired to kill. He probably shouldn't call Oz ever. But he really wanted to, and he couldn't even comprehend why. Oz had interested him in ways he couldn't put into words. Even though he'd tried to deny it and brush Oz off, he couldn't get that green-eyed gaze off his mind, or the sound of the golden-haired boy's voice.

There was something fascinating about a depressed teenage boy who would beg for death and then, when not getting it, attempt to befriend the very person trying to murder him. Gilbert found himself wanting to know more about Oz, wanting to know more about this child who defied everything he knew.

And so he called.

It wasn't even a conscious decision, really. If he'd been thinking, surely he wouldn't have dialed the number on the slip of paper and put his phone up to his ear, waiting to hear the ringing, clear voice of Oz Vessalius. Indeed, when Gilbert realized what he was doing he wanted smack himself in the face, but he couldn't bring himself to hang up before he heard the voice he was anticipating.

"Oz Vessalius. Who is this?"

"Uh...um," Gilbert stuttered. He couldn't seem to figure out how to form words.

And yet, it didn't matter. "Gilbert? Is that you? You called!"

Oz sounded so incredibly happy compared to when he was weeping and talking about suicide that Gilbert couldn't admit he hadn't consciously called him.

"Yeah, it's...it's me." Gilbert was still contemplating hanging up on the boy, damn the cruelty. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

Oz laughed gently. "No. My life is less interesting than it seems—although with your appearance, that might change."

Gilbert bit his lip. What was this kid expecting to happen? He couldn't possibly be thinking they were going to become best buddies and go get ice cream or something. That was insane. Gilbert was supposed to kill him.

"Look. Kid, what do you want?" Gilbert sighed, trying very hard to sound exhausted by the teenager when really he wanted to know more about him. Why did he have to be so enraptured by Oz? "This isn't going to go anywhere. We might as well distance ourselves now."

Oh dear God. Gilbert could practically hear the pout that was, no doubt, on Oz's face at that moment. "I don't appreciate people calling me kid. And anyway, what're you talking about? Can't you just tell the person you're working with that you can't kill me?"

Gilbert's jaw fell open in a gape. He couldn't believe that question even had to be asked. Did this child think before he spoke? The answer to that was obvious!

"No! That's not how it works. He—he'll probably end my life himself if I go back to them and say that. He'll find some way to ruin me, at least." Gilbert shuddered violently at the thought. "I'd have to have some excuse—some good excuse. And to be honest, I'm not in the mood to spent time coming up with excuses, nor am I in the mood to get in trouble with this man."

"I don't think you want to kill me, though." Oz said, shocking Gilbert silent. When the blonde received no reply, he continued. "You seem like a good guy, Gilbert. I mean, on the inside. Being an assassin kind of gets in the way of being a good guy, right? Anyway...don't let people make you do things you don't want to do. Why are you even an assassin in the first place?"

Gilbert laughed darkly. "I just met you. I don't trust you. Plus, how do you know I don't want to kill you?"

Oz snorted indignantly. Gilbert gritted his teeth, feeling fairly annoyed at this notion. "It's easy to tell, really. You'd have killed me already if you wanted to kill me. But when I started talking to you, it was obvious this isn't what you want to be doing, right? And something tells me that you aren't going to kill me, no matter what the owner of Timmy's says—that's who you're working for, isn't it?"

And at that second, Gilbert hated this boy for being so smart. Oz had already figured out that someone wanted to get rid of Cherry Blossom, and there wasn't much to figure out from there, but...still. His intelligence was making Gilbert's job a whole lot harder.

Gilbert hadn't answered, so Oz spoke again. "What's that guy's name, anyway? I never paid much attention to Timmy's. Didn't think I needed to..." His voice took on a darker, heavier tone. "...but apparently I was wrong."

"Kid—I mean, Oz—in this world, you have to stop and expect the worst for everything." Gilbert said bitterly, ignoring how strange Oz's name felt on his tongue. He wanted to continue using distant, cold words in place of the youth's name, but something in his heart—a heavy, burdening feeling that made him feel sick—made him call Oz by his true name.

"Yeah, Gilbert," Oz said tartly. "I already expect the worst for everything anyway. And whenever I let in hope or anything like that, something terrible happens, and I go back to normal. It's better to accept everything as it happens. We're just tiny pieces in life. We have no chance anyway, do we?"

Gilbert, stunned into silence yet again, was speechless. It was terrifying to him that this sort of dark pessimism could be going on in a teenager's head, but then he remembered how when he was younger, he used to think it was annoying when people tried to protect his innocence—because he wasn't innocent. Children are always less innocent than adults think. And now Gilbert was one of those irritating adults who was shocked upon finding out a child wasn't innocent, when really they weren't ever, were they?

Oz didn't say anything for a while, refusing to fill the silence, until about five minutes later. His voice sounding deafeningly loud after the quiet, Oz spoke, "I have to go, Gilbert. I just saw my uncle's car park outside. Promise you'll call me back or answer if I call, okay?"

Gilbert let out a sigh that sounded far less annoyed than it should have. Why am I even trying anymore? "Fine...I promise."

Oz let out a barely-audible sigh as he heard the jingling of his uncle's keys and the sound of the opening door. He had wanted to talk to Gilbert more—and he could tell that, the more they spoke, the more Gilbert's act of fake agitation with him cracked. He barely knew Gilbert, and Gilbert was definitely a danger to him, but that was exhilarating to a teenager, and he craved the day the assassin's act would finally fall to pieces.

"I'm home! You still awake?" Oscar boomed, blatantly disregarding the fact that anyone sleeping certainly would be awake after such a loud exclamation.

"I'm still awake, Uncle!" Oz rushed out from his bedroom to see his uncle. A bunch of the feelings from when Gilbert had first broken in rushed back to him—his depression came to him at random, which was severely inconvenient. In his head he thought that speaking to Gilbert would remedy him, but he banished that thought immediately, knowing he couldn't. So he did the one thing he was most familiar with. The one thing he almost always did.

He put on a fake smile.

The smile wasn't even the least bit real, but after faking smiles for so long, Oz was an expert. He could make anyone buy his fake smiles. It was rare Ada or Oscar would see through them, and anyone besides Ada or Oscar would never see through them.

As expected, Oscar bought it. "How're you doing, champ? Have a good time alone?" He winked. "You didn't have any girls over, did you?"

Oz rolled his eyes. "No, Uncle, I didn't have any girls over. You know I don't do that."

"You enjoy flirting with them a whole lot though, don't you?" Oscar let out a hearty laugh. Oz rolled his eyes again. He did like flirting with girls, but he wasn't ever serious; it was just having a little fun. He'd never been in a serious relationship with a girl—or, as a matter of fact, a boy—and doubted he ever would be. "Well, you should be getting to bed. You'll probably sleep through the whole day tomorrow if you don't."

Oz bit his lip. It wasn't that he didn't feel tired; it was just that he felt restless as well, and so he knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep, regardless. Despite that, Oz obeyed and got ready for bed, and, after a hasty goodnight to Oscar, he slipped under the covers of his bed and closed his eyes.

As he'd anticipated, sleep didn't seem to be an option for him. An image of Gilbert Nightray haunted him whenever he closed his eyes. He wanted to get up and call Gilbert, but what good would that do?

Oz didn't know that, similarly, his bright green eyes were burned into Gilbert's mind as well, and Gilbert wasn't going to get any sleep that night, either.