Setting: It's a peaceful island- that's why our little match-makers chose it. After the events on the slaver ship, neither of the infamous duo have been the same. Timor- regaining his humanity. Aoi- trying to align everything he learned with the mental image that he has of their relationship. The girls are determined to give these two the real final push they need. Hopefully, it'll go as they want. After all, not even we know what'll happen when you throw two, socially inept people a date.

Her strawberry hair whipped around her face as the girl attempted to steer a single individual towards the town square. Her hands were carefully settled securely on his shoulders- an attempt to keep from irritating his still, sensitive back- her face fixed in a bright smile. No matter how many times he dug his heels into the soft earth beneath their feet, she would simply push a knee into his, forcing his foot up and continuing to push him along.

His expression was far from welcoming, as he had no doubt that whatever she was attempting to drag him into would be trouble. That was the usual case with Kiyomi; he'd come to expect trouble from her over the years of their friendship. Today, he was not in the mood. To be fair, he never was, but today even less than usual. He simply wanted to go back to his room- a place that he's only just finished picking up after his grandmother had a fit over his "tantrum" that had left many objects in his room on the floor, in various states. He'd retorted that he hadn't broken anything valuable, which had in turn simply earned him a lecture on the definition of the word.

His mood was far from bright, to say the least.

"C'mon, Aoi-kun!" Kiyomi urged. "It'll be great! This is a really, really peaceful place! Nothing eeeeever happens here! Well, I heard that a lot of babies are born here, but when I asked about that everyone told me that I'd learn why when I was older!"

Aoi was tempted to drop his head into his hand. She really was an idiot.
"Anyways! You have to promise to wait in the square and not move! I've got to go get something, then we'll have our day of peaceful fun!"

He had to wonder how she thought anything that involved her and her definition of "fun" could ever be considered peaceful.

Raya, to her credit, was not deterred by the fact that she was practically dragging a full-grown man by his wrist because said man refused to cooperate like a petulant child. She was chipper, actually, which raised all sorts of Timor's alarms, hence why he was so reluctant to go along with her. She'd told him that they were meant to meet with Kiyomi and Aoi, but that was it. Her behavior suggested he should be worried, and this was close to worrying as he could get - so far.

Before she'd dragged him out here, Raya had managed to scrounge up a loose-fitting shirt for Timor's use, as she was conscious of the sensitivity of his back even if he wasn't. He looked... un-Timor-like, for lack of a better word, as she'd also swapped out his black slacks for a pair of Adriel's jeans and swiped a set of Zoro's boots for him to wear. She briefly thought that Aoi might not even recognize him.

"Raya."

"Yes, Timmy?"

"Why."

"Really? You're gonna question me when I'm doing something out of the kindness of my heart? For shame, Timmy, for shame."

"...Why."

Raya rolled her eyes, steering Timor down a side street, her gaze searching for any sign of her blonde-headed sister.

"I'm freaking out about you, that's why. Nothing I do seems to get through your thick-ass skull, so I'm taking desperate measures." She shot him a look, half teasing, half serious. "Savvy?"

Eventually, Kiyomi managed to get the irritable, white-haired, child (as he was acting like no less) to the town square. Satisfied, she forced him to sit on an open, stone bench and proceeded to inform him of all the "horrible" things she would do if he budged from where she'd stuck him. This was received with a simple, raised brow expression that questioned in what world someone could possibly find the girl threatening. She ignored his expression, however, finishing with the fact that Irie was really interested in knowing what was going on, and she really could share the information if she felt like it.

That, at least, got a frown out of Aoi.
Satisfied, she spun on a heel and proceeded to take off through the streets away from the square in search of a certain red-head. The moment she spotted her, she flung herself at the girl for a hug.

"Raya-chan! I got him to come!"

Her quick reflexes were all that kept Kiyomi from knocking the both of them to the ground in a tangle of limbs, her arms just barely coming around Kiyomi's waist to hold her steady while Raya shifted her weight to keep her balance from faltering. Letting loose a wild grin, she spun the girl around before setting her down gently, clapping her hands on Kiyomi's shoulders.

"You brought him?" A wicked gleam entered Raya's morganite eyes. "Nice work, sis! That was the hardest part, getting that little prick to show up..." Seeing the pout Kiyomi turned on her, she coughed, amending her statement. "I mean, this ain't his thing, ya know? I wasn't expecting him to willingly come with you."

She flicked Timor a glance.

"...You weren't so willing either, Timmy."

As a response, Timor only narrowed his eyes.

Kiyomi offered a cheery grin in response to Raya's statement.

"He didn't come willingly!" she announced. "I drugged his food, put him in the boat, told him we were having a nice day out when he woke up, and pushed him across town by kicking in his knees!"

All of this, she said with a cheery tone as if no part of it was as strange as it would have been to the average person. To Kiyomi, it was normal that she had to do all of that to make Aoi do as she wished. It also happened to be the reason that most people relied on when wondering why Aoi went along with so many of her hairbrained schemes- he had no choice really.

"Thanks for coming..." she began, eyes brightening as she caught onto what Raya had called him. "Timmy-kun! We're gonna make things all better!"

"Better how?" was the only thing Raya could understand from the rather complex expression Timor wore. She'd only just grown used to reading his face under normal circumstances. This hardly qualified as normal.

"Better," Raya said firmly, hooking arms with him and leading him back the way Kiyomi had come. "Hopefully better for you, for Aoi - for all of us, dammit," she added, mumbling the last bit under her breath. "Right, Kiyomi?"

"Right!" Kiyomi agreed cheerfully. "Just you wait and see!"

That said, she cheerfully took up her place at Timor's other side and pointed out directions when needed as to lead them back to the square she'd abandoned Aoi in. The moment that the bench she'd left him on came into view, she was satisfied to see Aoi hadn't moved beyond shifting so that his feet were pulled up on it as well, his head resting on his knees. It wasn't all that surprising of a position- she doubted he'd been getting much sleep recently between his tantrums and how many times he'd woken up and abandoned sleeping because of his back- or at least that's what she assumed when he suddenly appeared in her bedroom door demanding she cook something when everyone else was sleeping.

As all of this crossed her mind, she cocked her head thoughtfully and slipped around Timor to tap Raya's shoulder. Within a second of that action, she leaned in, hoping to speak quietly enough to get Raya's attention without startling the boy who had a shockingly strong ability to catch onto when Kiyomi was up to no good.

"Maybe we should just leave Timmy-kun here, that way we're not here when Aoi sees him!" she announced. "'cause, he's not gonna talk much with us here! We can watch from a distance."

Raya blinked, angling her head back enough that Kiyomi could see her admittedly devilish grin.

"Dunno why Aoi's always complaining about you, sis, you've got a great head on your shoulders!"

Spinning back around to face Timor, who'd been pointedly staring at Aoi since he caught sight of him, Raya stood with her hands on her hips, a cheerful, if misleading, expression coloring her features.

"Look, Timor, you're matching." She indicated Aoi with a jerk of her chin. "You've both got scars, bags under your eyes, civilian clothes - and you both look like you're ready to murder someone!"

This, strangely enough, did not sway Timor.

"I mean..." Raya sighed, crossing her arms under her chest in a gesture of solidarity. She wasn't giving up without a fight, and damn, was she a below-the-belt kind of girl. "He needs you, Timor. You need him. It's as simple as that, and whether you wanna or not, you know exactly what I'm talking about. So get in there, tiger, and let Shrimp 2.0 deal with your mental breakdown."

Raya then, without much more warning than a sharp whistle, grabbed Kiyomi by the hand and sped away from the scene, leaving Timor staring after her with a dull, unimpressed look in his eyes.

Nonetheless, he started towards Aoi, because he felt he had nothing else to do.

At the sound of the whistle- or perhaps it was simply the sound of someone approaching him- Aoi lifted his head from his legs and glanced around the square. He couldn't place how long it'd been since Kiyomi abandoned him there, but all thoughts on the matter disappeared the moment his eyes settled on a certain pink-haired male.

"... what are you...?"

The words escaped his lips without thought. Instantly he clamped his mouth shut, a scowl crossing his face. Of course. A day out with Kiyomi could never simply be a day out- she was far too annoying for that. Irritation- which even he was aware might have been unreasonable in this situation- surged to the front of his mind. Without much thought to the action, he shifted so that his feet were dangling over the edge of the stone bench, arms defensively shifting over his chest.

"I suppose you didn't die, then," he grumbled, his words much more harsh than they'd seemed in his head, not that he made an effort to check them.

From where she and Raya had ended up, Kiyomi sighed and dropped her head into her hands. Of course Aoi couldn't be nice.

Timor shook his head, pausing a good five feet from where Aoi sat. He considered it a reasonable distance, seeing how hostile Aoi was acting. He wasn't in any mood to stoke the flames of Aoi's temper any more than his presence alone did.

"Thank you," he said, because it was all thanks to Aoi that he was alive, in more ways than one. Raya and the others may have been the ones to carry him off the ship and treat his wounds, but without Aoi, he wouldn't have made it far enough for them to reach him in time.

Aoi hesitated, his initial reaction faltering somewhat when faced with a thanks. All the times he'd gone over the events in his head, he hadn't come across a single fact that he could think of himself being thanked for. To be completely honest, he'd decided that his presence there had been detrimental to everything that had happened. In his head, Timor would have a much easier job getting out without him, given that he'd decided Timor would have made it through the levels much quicker on his own and without as much need for confrontation.

Quickly pulling his scowl back into place to hide his thoughts, he dropped his eyes away from Timor as if that would stop the heat coming to his cheeks.

"Yeah... well... you're welcome," he mumbled.

Timor didn't respond, sliding his hands into his back pockets, rocking back on his heels a moment. He studied the square, his focus moving from the crowd gathered around what appeared to be a small stand advertising for baked goods to the couples milling around absently. Before he'd realized it, his hand had moved for his knife, only to pause as he remembered that Raya had confiscated it when she stole his clothes.

Peaceful island or not, in his current state of mind, Timor felt vulnerable for the first time in what felt like ages.

"...I'll leave," he said shortly.

Aoi's scowl shifted into a furrowed brow, frowning expression. At the same moment, his eyes shifted back to where Timor stood.

"Why?" he questioned.

Did he even have to ask?

"You're uncomfortable," Timor explained bluntly, and left it at that.

Aoi bristled.

"Reasonably," he retorted. "What person wouldn't be?"

The simple comment had hit a sore spot, unsurprisingly. Aoi had many sore spots, this one just happening to be one of the more recent ones to appear. In his head, Timor's presence brought up those annoying, utterly impossible, words that Raya had spoken to him, then he had confirmed by a few others.

It was frustrating at the very least.

"What do you want me to do, then?"

It was a simple question with a not-so-simple implication. If Aoi wanted him to stay, he would; he'd do the same if he asked him to leave regardless of what he'd just said. Timor was still reeling from all that had occurred, and orders - orders of any kind, from any source - were all that he trusted himself with right then.

If anything, that only seemed to irritate him further.

"Don't ask me what you should do," he snapped. "You stay if you want to, leave if you want to, but don't leave just because you think I'm uncomfortable."

It wasn't as if he could make the word "stay" leave his lips. While that impossible phrase was running through his mind, there was some part of him that viewed that single word as holding far too many implications. Implications that he wasn't sure how to handle. He'd spent far too much time recently thinking it over- and still there was no good answer.

Damn that demon.

That did not help him. At all.

Timor rolled his eyes before he turned around and took off for the baked goods stand. He might as well eat until the girls came to pick them up, which he figured they'd do at some point if the realized no "progress" was being made. But even the insignificant decision to walk away in search of food cost him.

He allowed himself to wince the moment he'd turned from Aoi, gripping his upper arm with the opposite hand, nails curling into flesh. His back ached with a vengeance, and any movements that strained the muscles of his shoulders ripped through him like a knife.

Somehow, he was convincing himself that any free will at all was a burden.

It was as if he moved before the thought was in his head. The instant that Timor grabbed his arm having Aoi on his feet. He bit his lip in response to the protest his back put up, and simply frowned in Timor's directly. Reason told him to sit his ass back down and just let whatever was going on just run itself out. Eventually, Kiyomi would come back. Then he could demand they leave- perhaps claim that he was in pain, she might respond to that. The other part of him wanted to question Timor on the action- the last time he had seen the man was when he was stretched out after having stitches put in the back of his head.

How had everything gone after that?

Pursing his lips, he shoved his hands in his pockets and started after Timor, his mind pulling up a compromise on its own accord. Without waiting for any questioning look he knew he was bound to get, he drew even with the man, shoving the pain racking his back to the back of his mind and speaking the first words that came to mind.

"I'm hungry."

He just looked at him, expressionless. No raised brow, no frown. Nothing. Because at this point, he was questioning why Aoi still bothered with him. Timor just barely recalled asking Aoi that very same question - albeit likely phrased differently - a week ago when they were struggling to escape together.

He didn't remember the answer.

"...I'll pay," was all he said, though he knew well enough that Aoi wouldn't stand for being treated to something, especially by Timor, especially now.

Aoi narrowed his eyes, a quick retort on his lips about where exactly Timor could put that offer. It'd died even before he'd opened his mouth, however, and he simply looked away with a scowl coloring his expression.

"Do whatever you want," he grumbled. "I don't have money on me anyways."

That was the partial truth- he wasn't sure if he had enough on him for food, Kiyomi hadn't exactly warned him they were going out. At the same time, there wasn't actually a part of him that was hungry, his stomach churning uncomfortably at the idea of food in the first place. Why, he wasn't certain. There was no reason for him to be so tense, for the strange feeling that had his stomach tied in knots.

That earned something of a reaction from Timor, though it was more internal than external. That wasn't like Aoi, and that alone stirred something inside him. What, he didn't know, but he was bothered all the same.

Timor waited silently with Aoi until they're reached the front of the line. He ordered something for himself, falling into silence again to let Aoi choose what he wanted.

Aoi eyed the stand uncertainly for a moment before sourly pointing out something that looked somewhat appetizing. The moment it was in his hands, however, he gave it just as a sour expression as the tone he'd used to order it. Without waiting to see if Timor would follow, or saying a word, he started back to the the bench he'd been seated on previously. It was a habit he'd fallen into, honestly. When they were together, he didn't look to see if Timor would still be there, because it just seemed normal that he was.

Suddenly, that idea irritated him. Why was that such an easy assumption?

Timor, glancing back to see where Aoi had gone, laid the money down for their food, ignoring the cheeky look the baker gave him as he was leaving. Halfway to meeting Aoi, though, he stopped, the warm dough burning against his palm.

What would he gain by staying, really? An irritable Aoi, more questions about the state of his sanity, more flashbacks to his chat with Echo. Was there anything good?

Some part of him, some forgotten part, begged him to reconsider, promising he'd find something he wanted desperately if he remained with Aoi.

The rest of him - the sensible, former-assassin part - very much doubted that.

The moment Aoi- who had been staring at the suddenly unappetizing bread in his hand- realized that Timor hadn't rejoined him he looked up with a frown. Once he'd spotted where Timor had paused, his brow knitted.

"What the hell are you doing?" he questioned. "Are you coming over here or not?"

"Should I?" Timor shot back instantly, looking up to meet Aoi's stare.

He really didn't know at this point - all his instincts were scrambled, his thoughts were a mess, and every damnable emotion they'd spent so much time and effort on to lock away inside of him was rushing to the surface.

He was a mess, put simply, a broken, muddled mess. And he wasn't sure he was even capable of considering himself as alright again. He didn't know if he ever had in the first place.

Aoi's frown faltered. For just a moment, the mixture of emotions that was flooding through him appeared on his face. There was weight to that single question- even he knew it. In that single second, it felt as if the answer would shift things. He was the one ot drop his gaze, heat invading his cheeks once more as he attempted to shift through his scattered thoughts for an answer, any answer as he wasn't sure what the right one was at this point.

"... I wouldn't complain," Aoi muttered, never looking away from the ground which seemed to becoming more interesting by the second, as that heat in his cheeks grew. "I mean, about you coming over. You bought the food, you know. It's only right you come over here to eat it."

Perhaps that wasn't the most logical answer in the world, but it was the one he had.

That wasn't what Timor needed to hear. He didn't actually know what that magical something was, or how it might fix something, anything, but he knew it wasn't that. Still, it was better than nothing. It gave him something to focus on, if nothing else.

He crossed the square, carefully lowering himself onto the bench beside Aoi. This time he didn't care about much space he put between them - Aoi would be uncomfortable either way, so what did it matter?

Aoi tensed, but didn't say a word when Timor sat down. Rather, he pinched a piece of the bread between his fingers, tearing off just a small bit to drop in his mouth. His stomach churned in protest, his lips pursing into a firm line. He couldn't focus on that, though, his mind focused on Timor at his side. Unbidden, memories of the ship came to his mind, of being crushed together a horrible number of times ( to be fair it was only two, his mind having blown the small number out of proportion as usual) and sending heat to his cheeks for what had to have been far too often since his arrival on the island.

"... why are you here?" he finally asked.

It wasn't like Timor to suddenly show up, he realized only then. Usually, there was a reason. Usually that reason was that it wasn't by choice and something was going on. Beyond the hell of emotions swirling through him, there was no "something" going on at the moment.

"Raya. And Kiyomi."

That was answer enough, in his opinion. Aoi had received the same treatment (well, not quite the same) from Kiyomi as he had from Raya, so he should understand.

Timor stared at his bread for a moment, swallowing thickly. He hadn't eaten in two days, too unsettled and too distracted to care for himself. Sanji had, at some point, tried to shove food at him because he was "upsetting the goddesses" but Raya nailed him a kick to the groin, which ultimately stopped him for the rest of the day. Even so, he was mildly surprised when, not even thirty seconds later, the bread was gone from his hand and he was wiping crumbs from his cheeks.

Aoi swore under his breath, the situation making more sense once those two names were spoken together. Rather than add anything to the simple topic, however, he eyed Timor's now empty hands, then the bread in his own that had barely a bite missing from it. Without putting much thought to the matter, he offered it to Timor.

"Here."

Timor took the offered bread without thinking, and it soon went the same way as his first. He ran the back of his hand across his mouth, looking away.

"Sorry."

He wasn't even sure what he was apologizing for, or if he should be apologizing. He had nothing else to say.

A scowl touched Aoi's lips.

"Don't apologize," he grumbled. "I didn't want it anyways. So, don't."

Perhaps there was more meaning to the words- there seemed to be a deeper meaning to everything said at the moment- but he pushed it aside. Rather, he simply studied the man next to him. The situation was strange- why was it so damn hard for them to talk right now? It'd never been that way.

Well, he had a good idea of the answer to that question. It came to his mind easily- as that damning phrase had yet to leave his thoughts, even if he'd pushed it to the back of his mind.

'He loves ya, Aoi.'

Or, for some reason the words that were even harder to cast away.

'I'd hoped.'

None of it would leave his thoughts, and it was driving him insane.

Timor lapsed into silence, staring out at the square. He went from couple to couple, picking out traits and quirks as he went, just something to occupy his mind. He was trained to read people, among other things, but - frustratingly - as easily as he could decipher the expressions of complete strangers, he couldn't make sense of Aoi. Or himself, for that matter.

The longer the silence stretched, the more the irritation stirring within him grew. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his frame turning tenser than it already had, which only caused his back to protest in response. Eventually, he let out an irritable sigh and stood, shifting so he was standing in front of Timor and putting his hands over his chest in that defensive motion that seemed to appear whenever some uncomfortable topic was about to be broached.

"It's not fair, dammit," he declared. "Not a damn bit."

There were a lot of things that were unfair just then. Aoi was going to have to be more specific.

"What isn't fair?" Timor questioned, linking his hands together as they dangled between his knees.

"Everything, dammit," Aoi swore, kicking the earth beneath his feet as that irritation, that anger, pulsing through him seemed to surge to the surface all at once. "Every damn bit of it. How the hell can you sit there, not knowing? It's not fair."

As the words started falling from his lips, they stopped crossing his mind. It was as if everything had been building up suddenly boiled over. The silence had made it worse- how his mind was in shambles yet it seemed as if Timor's expression was as calm as ever. No, calm wasn't the right word. There was something different, but it was impossible for it to be the same thing- as far as he knew at least.

And it wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair that Timor hadn't heard everything. It wasn't fair, those words were stuck in his head alone. It. Wasn't. Fair.

"Dammit. She said that... and you..."

Perhaps he wasn't making sense at that moment, but it didn't seem to matter.

"Dammit."

Now an outburst. That was satisfyingly Aoi-like, enough that Timor could bring himself to focus properly on the white-haired boy seething in front of him.

"Life's not fair," he said with a shrug, leaning back on the bench. "But you knew that. Slow down. Who's she?"

If he'd thought that speaking would lessen the anger in the slightest, Aoi had been dead wrong If anything, the reaction his words had earned him only made it worse. The fact that Timor had to ask, that he'd been unconscious and had no way of knowing, that he'd been so far out of it that entire time, acting barely anything like the Timor Aoi knew, it pissed him off.

"Raya, dammit!" he snapped. "Raya... and you don't know."

Perhaps the smart thing at that moment would have been to explain, to say what was so irritating, but the thought didn't cross his mind. Rather, he simply clenched his fists tighter, nails digging into the skin of his palms.

Timor's eyes dropped to Aoi's hands. As he spoke, he reached forward, trying (without much hope for success) to uncurl the boy's fingers so that he didn't draw blood.

"No. I don't know. Tell me."

He wasn't sure if what Aoi eventually revealed to him would help or simply make things worse between them, but he wanted to know. With Aoi in distress as he was, practicality reigned in Timor's mind. He could think, though the scope of his thoughts was limited to the matter at hand.

Aoi's eyes dropped to their hands, his temper flaring as he almost ripped them away, yet the part of him that had taken Timor's hand on the ship forcing him to leave them in place. Whatever the reason, his eyes couldn't tear away from where his fingers unfurled in just the slightest degree at Timor's attempt.

"... dammit."

How was he supposed to just say something like that? Perhaps the other thing would be easier, the phrase that was just as hard to cast from his thoughts. His eyes narrowed, still focused on their hands. His frame only grew tenser, mind scrambling to work past his anger to put a sentence together that didn't involve a string of curses.

"... what do you know?" he demanded eventually, the words coming out much harsher than they might have done at any other time. "That day. What do you know?"

Timor's hands froze, still in the process of prying Aoi's fingers away from his palm.

"...I don't remember everything," he admitted, eyes downcast. "Bits and pieces. What's distinct... is that - more than anything - I didn't want you to die."

That was the heart of it, Timor knew. The heart of everything that was currently plaguing him. But he couldn't go past that - he lacked the confidence, something he hadn't experienced in quite a long time. So he was distressingly ignorant as to why he currently felt like his world had imploded that day on the slaver ship.

Yet another wave of anger surged through him.

It. Wasn't. Fair.

Without an ounce of thought to the action, Aoi ripped his hands away. Within seconds he'd turned his back to the man, running his hands irritably through his hair,stopping when they caught, unable to go further due to how his tie pulled his hair against the top of his head.

"That's it?" he grumbled, the words soft for a moment.

It was a lot, he knew. But in that moment, it didn't seem like it. So much more happened- so much that Aoi couldn't think straight. All of those damn words. With his back to Timor, not having to look at him, not touching him, the next words were easier to say. Still, it felt like he was tearing them from his chest, as if letting go of those thoughts were harder than anything.

"You said... dammit. You said... you said..." a hiss of frustration escaped his lips. "You said you ... you hoped I cared, dammit. You don't remember... and it's... dammit!"

Timor stiffened, head snapping up to stare at Aoi.

He'd said something like that?

That... was an Echo desire, not one from Timor. Something from his past life, his past self. From the selfish, cowardly boy who yearned for others' attention because his parents didn't see him, not as their son - they saw him as a continuation of their own story, where the ending was already predetermined. So Echo wanted affection and love, he needed them.

But Echo died the moment Timor was born. He should have died. They'd assured him of that.

Yet... Aoi's words rang true for him.

Timor curled both hands into his hair, hissing a curse beneath his breath. Why did this have to be so damn confusing? Hadn't things been simpler before? Hadn't they been better?

...Hadn't they?

Silence.

Damned silence.

Aoi spun around to face the man then, his face as bright a scarlette as ever.

"Nothing?" he demanded. "She says that... and you're... nothing?"

His thoughts were scattered, but stuck on that one, single detail at the same time. Timor wasn't saying a word. That, more than anything, made uneasiness, perhaps even nervousness, surge through him. Which, of course, only showed itself through his anger.

Unfamiliar anger flickered in his chest.

Aoi was - as he always was - a brat, selfish beyond a fault. He had his reasoning, Timor knew that, but he wasn't the only one in turmoil.

"Shut up, Aoi," he muttered, holding his head between his hands, eyes squeezed shut. The anger - just a tiny, glimmering flame - felt as if it might swell at any moment, and he'd had so little practice controlling actual emotions over the last few years, he wasn't sure how he'd react if something set him off. "Let me think for five minutes and just shut up."

A childish, mutinous expression sparked on Aoi's face.

"If I don't?" he demanded.

"Shut. Up."

That was all he could say, the only thing he could possibly say that would convey a strong enough warning to Aoi. And at the same time, he knew it was useless.

If anything, that mutinous emotion only grew.

"No."

A single, challenging word.

"No, dammit. I'm not shutting up. I can't shut up. Don't tell me to, because I'm fucking tired of shutting up."

Perhaps it made little sense to those who knew him- Aoi always spoke his mind. At the same, he rarely did. He didn't say what he meant. He didn't say the words plaguing his thoughts. He had, and that was it. He wasn't going to simply wait, as childish as it was.

Then, there was that single part of him that wanted to know what would happen if he didn't. If he pressed- what would Timor do?

Without even a breath of warning, Timor surged to his feet, curling his hand around a fistful of Aoi's collar and dragging him inches off the ground. Timor, his face a mask of pure, unbridled rage (the result of all the bottled up emotions he'd unknowingly carried around for years), stared down at Aoi, lips curling back in the makings of a snarl.

"I'll make you," he all but growled. "And you won't win, Aoi. I'm stronger, I'm faster, I'm--"

His eyes widened slightly.

What had he been about to say? That he was better than Aoi?

He didn't think he'd ever told a lie that inconceivable.

Hissing something to himself, he released Aoi unceremoniously, once again holding his head with both hands as he spun around, looking to walk away, because he really did not want to explode. Not again. He wasn't Echo anymore - he wasn't. The days when his anger got the best of him, they were supposed to be over - that was his consolation prize for having his soul stolen from him.

If he couldn't even keep himself in check now... what was the point of Angelus Timor?

Aoi narrowed his gaze, not hesitating in the slightest when he leaned forward to snatch the back of Timor's shirt.

He wasn't leaving. Not now.

Not when he'd finally shown something- something that showed he was just as frustrated, just as messed-up, as Aoi was in that second.

"You can't leave. You asked if you should stay, and you can't leave."

The words left his lips, his hand curling into the fabric. At that second, he didn't even berate himself for allowing them to escape. He couldn't- his mind was too focused on what might happen next. On whether or not he'd stay.

If he'd stay, or leave.

That's all that mattered.

He shot a glare over his shoulder, incredulous.

"You want this" - he gestured vaguely to himself with a trembling hand - "to stay? I'm more a monster than I ever was, Aoi, because I am out of control. This isn't Timor, this isn't Echo. I don't know who the hell I am right now - and that's terrifying."

Aoi didn't release the fabric, if anything, he gripped it tighter. His knuckles turned white and a faint, absent thought in the back of his mind wondered at the fact that it didn't tear in his grip.

"All of it is you," he snapped. "Every bit of it, and dammit, you're not leaving. You can't leave. She said that and you ... you can't!"

Frustration surged through him, the words he needed not coming close to his lips. He knew what he was saying didn't cut it, but in that moment he couldn't find the words that would.

"Echo is you. Timor is you. You're you, dammit. So be terrified, be scared to fucking death, just stay here."

"You don't get to say that!"

Timor wrenched himself free of Aoi's grip, uncaring if his shirt ripped in the process. His eyes burned, his heart raced. He felt like he was going to die. Something inside him was so horribly, irrevocably broken, and nothing could force back the tide of conflicting emotions flooding his body.

"You don't get to say that," he snapped again, more Echo than Timor in his furious expression. "You don't understand. I never wanted this. I told you that, Aoi, I told you I didn't want this. What happily ever after could I possibly get, with all the sins under my belt, all the lives I've taken? I was fine, being numb to it all, perfectly fine! But then you... you bratty little..."

Mid-rant, he touched his cheek, bewildered at the dampness he felt trailing down his face.

He was crying. Oh God.

"...I didn't want this, Aoi..." He looked down at the white-haired boy, teary-eyed. "I..."

The sight of tears on Timor's cheeks stole away every angry word that had bubbled to Aoi's lips. For a second, he could only stare, unable to comprehend what his eyes were seeing. The second passed, however, and he stepped forward, pulling himself up on the tips of his toes, to grab Timor's face with both hands.

"I have a right," he retorted, each word slow, and forceful. "I have a damn right. You don't want it. But if I'm a brat, if I'm a brat... then I get to ignore that, just at this moment. Because she said... she said you ... you... dammit, she said you loved me and that gives me a damn right! So, you're staying. You're staying, dammit, and it'll work, because..."

He lost his words, unable to finish the sentence.

Timor would stay, because Aoi would fix it, somehow. He'd make it work.

It wasn't as if he could say that. Those sort of words... where did they even come from? It wasn't him.

"She said I... love you...?"

Timor - or Echo - whoever he was right then couldn't bring himself to do anything beyond look at Aoi. Aoi was a constant. When he'd become one, Timor didn't know, but the fact remained that he was. In Timor's world where everything changed because that was easiest for him, constants were dangerous. Ace was a constant, Whitebeard was a constant - now Aoi.

And Raya said Timor loved him.

His knees gave out, and Timor fell onto his ass, hands braced against the stonework on either side of him. He was crying harder now, on the verge of sobbing, because goddamn everything was unfair.

He really felt like he was going to die, and nothing was okay.

His hands never left the man's cheeks.

Aoi stared at him, emotions twisting and raging in his head.

How had it come to this? Nothing about the situation felt right. Aoi was the one who blew up. Aoi was the one who had fits. He was the one who others had to figure out to handle- not Timor. Timor was steady, calm. Echo, he knew who Echo was. This wasn't that, either. From the moment Timor had said he didn't know who he was, it had struck Aoi as true that something was different. He'd spoken those words, but it wasn't really until that moment that it all sunk in.

Timor was crying.

Aoi... Aoi had probably caused it.

Slowly, with an expression of utter defeat, Aoi slowly shifted his hands so he could wipe away the tears with his thumbs. He dropped to a crouching position, eyes studying Timor as if trying to detangle what to do about this situation- how to fix it. He couldn't do nothing. There had to be a way. There had to be.

"... she did."

The words escaped his lips, unbidden.

"... she said I... she said... the same. Me. That is. The same for me."

"..."

Timor hiccuped, dragging up the collar of his shirt to dry his cheeks.

None of this was making sense.

For nineteen years, nineteen, incredibly long years, Echo - who, against all odds - had survived in Timor's shadow, had only wanted one thing. For someone to care for him - him, not his potential, or what he represented. Just him, and all his faults.

Timor hadn't cared if he died alone, because it was better that way. Hurting people was practically his job, but not like that. He wasn't a burden, he'd changed that about himself.

But Echo wasn't Timor, not at all.

He looked up at Aoi, and he could only think of one thing to say:

"...I'd hoped."

It was one of the few times in Aoi's life that there was nothing he could say- nothing that he could manage to make leave his lips. He studied Timor, those words echoing through his mind.

'I'd hoped.'

The same words that had been driving him insane all this time. They were there again, only this time, it was as if they'd torn something free. Something that he'd buried far, far too deep to even be certain if he knew what it was. He couldn't move his hands from Timor's cheeks, only continue to clasp them, his mind churning.

"... now you know."

And Timor smiled. A real smile, not induced by severe drunkenness or out of the necessity to charm someone. A real smile that meant more than Timor could ever say.

Aoi stared at the expression with wonder. One hand finally shifted from where it was clasping Timor's cheek, brushing the smile as if to check that Aoi wasn't imagining it.

"... you know..."

The words were mumbled this time, escaping his lips again as if to confirm that he'd really said that.

He'd said it- he'd all but said he loved him.

Aoi didn't say things like that. He didn't care like that. He didn't.

Yet, he did.

"... its..."

Whatever he was going to say, died on his lips as he slowly dropped his hands away. His own expression in that moment was simply, utterly bewildered.

It was the truth, and that was the strangest thing of all.

His smile disappeared for a moment as he worked on stopping up his damnable tears. God, the crying was the worst. And the anger. Even the happiness unhinged him. Everything was wrong, he was positive, because he was more broken than ever.

He thought back to the Echo who'd been able to grow up, become happy of his own free will. And he realized he could never be that, no matter how hard he worked from here on out. His emotions were back, his soul had been restored, but look what it did? Shatter him into a million little volatile pieces.

"...Aoi..." His voice was barely more than a croak. "You... shouldn't.... I'm... not... I'm not good enough. I mean... look at me..."

Aoi scowled.

"I am looking. And you should damn well know, you can't tell me what the hell to do. If I want to, I'm going to, no matter what you think."

Timor pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes, staring at Aoi, incredulously, with the other.

"Brat," was all he managed to say.

Aoi couldn't help the smug smile that flashed across his face at the single word. It was if something had fallen into place with that- as if he'd won something, although he wasn't sure exactly what.

"Idiot."

Timor shook his head, sighing. For now, he seemed to be somewhat stable. Everything had rushed out so quickly he'd run himself dry just as fast. For now.

Reaching up, Timor hooked his hand around the back of Aoi's neck and brought him down so that he could place a kiss on his forehead.

"Good luck," he said, pulling away. "You're going to need it."

The moment that Timor had touched his neck, Aoi had froze. The result of that single action was mystifying, and irritating.

After everything that had happened, everything that had been said, that was what turned his entire face up to his ears a bright scarlette. That single, kiss on the forehead.

"Dammit," he grumbled, pressing his hands to his face as if to hide the color, looking away the moment he could. "Dammit, I'll be fine."

Timor wondered about it, whether either of them would really be fine. But he refrained my speaking his thoughts aloud. He'd scarred Aoi enough for one day with his theatrics, there wasn't a need to take it any further with unneeded commentary.

He looked down, studying the shabby state of dress he was in. It shouldn't have mattered - it really didn't - but in that moment, he wished he was wearing his vest. Something from Timor - the man who was so sure of himself, who questioned nothing - something to ground him. But he was foreign right now, every single thing about him wasn't his.

He wasn't Echo, he wasn't Timor. Aoi had said they were both him, but that's not how he felt.

He was foreign, at the worst possible time.

After a moment, when he was half-way certain that the color in his cheek had died away- or was at least less noticeable- he looked back. Instantly, that frown was on his lips. The one that came with a furrowed brow, the one that appeared whenever his expression was almost bordering concern. He studied him, that strange understanding that had almost always- or at this point it seemed that way- to exist between them flooding through him.

On an impulse, he shifted a hand to grab Timor's chin, to tilt his face so he had to look at Aoi.

"It doesn't matter," he declared. "If you're staying, it doesn't. Because if you're staying... if you're staying then..."

The impulsive words almost died away a surge of irritation- at what he wasn't certain- surging through him and forcing the rest of the words out. The words that felt strange in his mouth, but somehow fit this. Something had changed, and perhaps that's what caused it. For those words to appear.

"If you're staying, then your my Timor, Echo, whatever. And that's what matters. So, stop thinking."

Timor blinked.

"Yours?"

That was honestly the first thing that made sense to him.

He'd said it before - his life belonged to Aoi, and that hadn't changed, despite everything.

"Then I'm yours," he agreed, a half-smile curling his lips.

Aoi released Timor's chin, somewhat satisfied by that response, even as the heat flooded his face once more.

"... good."

Drawing in a deep breath, one of the many identity crises he'd likely suffer from solved, Timor pushed himself to his feet, instinctively pulling Aoi up with him.

People were staring. He was aware of that, but strangely, he still didn't care. He thought Aoi might, though, and said nothing of it, knowing sooner or later Aoi would discover for himself that they'd become the center of the whole square's attention.

"...We should go," he said. "Home."

The idea- as reasonable as it was- had a sour feeling in Aoi's mind. He frowned, that childish, mutinous feeling resurfacing.

"I don't want to."

Going home meant this... whatever it was would be over, Timor would be elsewhere, and he'd be left to his thoughts. A far, far from appealing idea.

He cocked his head, not fully understanding Aoi's reasoning. The concept of distance hadn't meant anything to him for so long, it was difficult dredging up the memory.

"...We should still leave," he said eventually. "I don't feel like being ambushed by Raya or Kiyomi later."

That idea got through-- the thought of being caught by Kiyomi sending his lips even further into a frown than they'd already been. She'd be annoying.

"... fine."

He could think again, which was a relief.

Nodding, Timor half-reached to take Aoi's arm, then withdrew his hand. He didn't need to drag the boy around. Instead, he waved a hand, ushering Aoi across the square while he glanced over his shoulder, narrowed eyes just able to make out the sight of a young redhead sprawled out on the ground, apparently hyperventilating, with a strawberry-blonde haired girl fussing over her.

He almost sighed. He also almost cried, but he chalked that up to residual... emotional crap.

Aoi, satisfied that leaving didn't actually mean separation at this point, simply followed along with the ushering. For once, he didn't feel argumentative, he simply felt.. he wasn't sure there wasn't a word for it.

Content?

No, that wasn't right. Perhaps there really wasn't one. Either way, he simply glanced up at the man as he walked, studying him as he'd been doing this entire time.

His.

He could live with that.

Even if he might never, without strong reason, speak those words aloud again. Too embarrassing. Too... hell, too everything he'd pushed away about himself. Still, they both knew it... so that was good enough.

"Where do you want to go?"

Timor considered that the only important question left, so he gave it to Aoi.

Aoi considered the question for a moment, furrowing his brow in thought.

"... somewhere..."

A thousand possibilities flashed through his mind and slowly, his lips twisted almost into an amused expression.

"They won't look."

That was the best payback in his mind, a matter that had only begun to dawn on him following Timor's warning about them showing up. Everything that had happened... there would be questions. Questions he doubted either one of them wanted to face. So, they'd have to work to get the answers- that much was at least a just reward for tricking the two males into talking.

Timor considered their options, ruffling up the hair on the back of his head, fingers absently brushing off his stitches. He wracked his brain, then rattled off a list of islands he knew he could reach from here, all of which he was sure Raya knew nothing about, though he couldn't speak for Kiyomi.

A/N: If only you could have seen our reactions while writing this... Oh God. We were dying from feels... Hehe, and sorry it cuts off a little suddenly. The ending's meant to be ambiguous - sort of. Well, anyway, tell us what you thought! We loved, loved, loved writing this, so we hope you guys liked reading it at least half as much!

Also.... uh, sorry for, um, breaking Timor a bit in the process...