[Y/n] appeared to awaken to an argument. After briefly and succinctly checking her surroundings and affirming that she was still in Aytsa's room, she turned her gaze (her eyes only open to a slit so it seemed as though she were still sleeping) to the pair of bickering individuals by the doorframe.

"We've already been through this, Aytsa!" Mitzu snapped, "you can't keep holding onto her like this! Don't be such a fucking child."

"Says the guy who plays flute for the animals," Aytsa grinned amusedly, seeming entirely unbothered by Mitzu's appearance, "how about we make a deal? Whoever offers her the thing she likes the most gets to spend time with her."

"She's sleeping, she can't make decision, fuckwit." Aytsa raised a brow at Mitzu's claim.

"Is she? But I was sure she'd been awake for a minute and a half," he hummed, pulling a couple of pieces of paper from his workbench while the girl who'd been trying to pretend she was still asleep went rigid. Mitzu narrowed his eyes in her direction, before letting out a sigh. He turned to look at Aytsa again, who extended a pen and a piece of paper forwards for Mitzu to take. He did so.

"Alright. We write our offers on these pieces of paper and give them to her." He paused, looking over at [Y/n] with a smile. "Kitten, you can stop pretending now." Mitzu scrunched up his nose slightly at the nickname he'd given her but chose not to comment. [Y/n] slightly sat up in response to his words. Resentment was etched onto her expression. Mitzu couldn't help but wonder just what Aytsa had said or done to make her look so hateful towards him. Then again, it could just be existing. Aytsa was pretty shit in his opinion at least.

He pushed that thought away and took the paper in his hands, sitting down and resting it on his knee so he could write his proposal. Aytsa sat at his workbench and did the same. In no time, the pair gave their pieces of paper to [Y/n] - the only one who seemed to be enjoying themselves was Aytsa, but you could never really tell what hid behind his smiling facade.

[Y/n] slowly picked both pieces of paper up, unfolding them and reading each in turn.

'We could draw together or read a book, of your choosing of course. Maybe even play some games - just chill and put everything behind us for a while.' [Y/n] quickly assumed this was Aytsa's piece of paper, which admittedly made the offer less appealing. She picked up the other piece of paper.

'I'll take you to Nyais' apartment for a bit.'

"..." [Y/n] stared with no visible emotion on her face, processing for a while. She sucked in a breath and looked up at Mitzu, her brow furrowing. "Y-you'd really do that?" she questioned. Aytsa looked dumbfounded, snatching the piece of paper from [Y/n] to read whatever Mitzu had offered that had captivated her so quickly. His eyes skimmed over the page and he let out a groan of annoyance. He wanted to slam his head against the wall for not thinking of that.

"You sneaky bastard," Aytsa laughed, though the laugh was merely for appearances sake. He hid everything under a smile and a laugh, it seemed. Perhaps he felt vulnerable when showing his true self. [Y/n] couldn't tell. She looked up at Mitzu and nodded her head. The silver haired boy tried to suppress a triumphant smile, though his eyes definitely let on his happiness.

"When should we go?" [Y/n] questioned. Mitzu shrugged.

"Now?" he asked, and [Y/n] nodded her head in affirmation. After all, there was something she wanted to find.

* * *

The walk to Nyais' apartment was shorter than she remembered, but [Y/n] didn't care. It was likely her pace that made the walk seem so brief - she was so eager to get there, so eager to find the thing that she couldn't stop thinking about since her last visit. Well, she knew she wouldn't find that specific thing. Rayne burnt it to ashes. In fact, [Y/n] didn't exactly know what she was looking for. The only thing she knew was that, whatever it was, it would help her understand some of the questions she still had for Nyais.

The questions he could never answer.

"Mitzu, would you mind if we went into the library?" [Y/n] asked as they entered the place. Mitzu gave her a quizzical look.

"Nyais had a library?" he muttered, before rubbing the back of his neck, uttering "rich bastard" under his breath. [Y/n] figured he wouldn't give her a yes or no answer so she made her way over to it without another word. "If there's a specific book you're looking for, Seishin could probably find it for you... I don't see why you need to go to this library."

"O-oh, it was a special edition with some extra chapters here and there. I just wanted to see if I could find it," [Y/n] lied, climbing one of the far ladders to scan the top of the bookshelf, her finger trailing along dusty spines and faded covers. Mitzu watched blankly, eventually deciding to sit down on one of the sofas in the corner of the library.

After a while of climbing ladders and listening to Mitzu grumble about how annoying Nyais was, [Y/n] went up the mezzanine to see if she'd left anything there. She checked every cover. One thing she had noticed about all these books was that Nyais had a shocking amount of books written by Rayne. Albeit they were perhaps the dustiest of them all, completely faded, some even torn and battered. No doubt they were louse-eaten too.

Though it seemed that her search was probably fruitless, [Y/n] suddenly had an idea of where he might stow something regarding himself or his past.

The thought of invading his privacy in such a way made her feel slightly anxious, but surely... anything he didn't want her to find out about would be hidden somewhere safer. She looked to Mitzu and then to the door to insinuate that she was leaving the room, which she did without even waiting for his reaction. She heard him get up and follow after her but she wasn't overly bothered.

She pushed open the bedroom door. Mitzu looked around, before rubbing his forehead.

"Was this his room?" he asked. [Y/n] nodded. "Where did you sleep?" he asked. [Y/n] pointed to the bed. Mitzu stood in silence for a moment, nodding his head, before suddenly a wave of realisation hit him.

"You shared a bed?!" he yelled, stepping back a pace. [Y/n] nodded and walked over to the left side of the bed (where Nyais would always sleep). She looked over at his bedside table, her gaze fixed to the the drawer. Slowly, hesitantly, she pulled it open, ignoring the raging male behind her.

The first thing she saw was a drawing. A beautiful girl, mid-dance, wearing a skintight dress and pointe shoes. Her hair flowed freely and tailed off in wisps. Her face wasn't detailed.



[Y/n] held it up, uncaring to the boy who was now staring at it over her shoulder with a quizzical expression. She noticed that she could see some writing on the back of the paper thanks to the light, so she turned it over.

'I can never get her face right, no matter how hard I try. She's an amazing dancer, but each time I try to draw her face I make her look square or unpleasant. I simply cannot capture her. That sounded more sinister than I intended it to. If you're reading this, Leya, please forgive me. Rayne tells me I made you look fat in this drawing. Do you think so too? I know something's definitely not right. You're so perfect... yet my drawing skills are anything but. I'll work on it. Maybe someday I'll be able to portray you the way you deserve to be portrayed. My pure, beautiful wife.'

"That man's fucking batshit crazy," Mitzu grumbled.

"Says you," [Y/n] retorted, earning a disgruntled huff from the boy as she placed the drawing back in the drawer.

"Is that what you were actually looking for?" he questioned.

"I don't know," [Y/n] sighed. "I have a feeling I'll never find out."

* * *

Tapping away at his computer, Damien turned to look at his clock. 3:20am. He had school tomorrow, too. He'd stayed up way too late, but he still had something to do.

"Sorry guys, got to go," he whispered apologetically into his headset. The guys he was on call with said their farewells and wished him a good night. He wished them good days and evenings, depending on their time zones, before leaving the call and exiting the game they had been playing. He shut down his computer and walked over to his bed, but instead of getting in it he pulled on his coat and shoes and, as quietly as he could, tiptoed his way through his council flat, careful not to wake the neighbours as people lived below him and the walls beside him were paper thin. He may have been aloof, but he was a respectful man.

Every evening he went swimming in hope that [Y/n] would miraculously appear. Every lunch he bought his food at the same shop in hope that she would be behind the till as she used to be, making funny remarks about his choice of food and awkwardly going through the lines that she was obligated to say whilst Damien jokingly mimicked her. Every morning he'd walk the same scenic route to school past her house, hoping that maybe he'd see her come from her door and join him. And every night he went on a run — less in hopes of bumping into her, and more in the painfully realistic ambition of catching any suspicious activity that may surround her sudden disappearance.

Though now? Now it was mostly a paranoid habit. He and Sally had both reached the conclusion that [Y/n] was probably dead. Tara always spoke optimistically, giving them lines like "any day now" and "I hope she hasn't forgotten us!" Though Damien knew that Tara may have been hurting more than he and Sally combined, he envied her ability to stay optimistic, even if it was just for show.

"Hey! You! Stop!" a voice sounded from behind Damien, barely after he started running. He pulled down his jacket hood and turned to look at whoever was chasing after him, clearly unbothered, even if it was a serial killer. Not much bothered him anymore.

"What are you doing out so late at night?" the man muttered. Damien tilted his head.

"Same goes for you, buddy. I'm running. Why?" he returned, not seeming too happy about being stopped, especially by a random guy who looked 15.

"Gimmie back my fucking wallet. I know it was you who took it!" he snapped. It was now that Damien noticed the man was swaying from side to side slightly. He was drunk, or high, or both. Probably both. Damien didn't live in the most privileged part of town, unfortunately.

"I ain't got no wallet," Damien huffed, pushing the smaller man off him as he grabbed his arm. He took a few steps away but the other party seemed insistent on following. "Would you just fuck off already? I haven't got your wallet! Leave me alone," Damien yelled. The man then pulled his phone from his pocket.

"I'm calling the police!" he snapped.

"Sure. Have fun getting fined for wasting police time with your "stolen wallet". Have you checked your pockets?" he deadpanned. The boy yelled some more abuse at him so Damien let out a frustrated groan and leaned against the wall in annoyance. If this guy really was intending to call the police then running would be stupid, so he could calmly explain to them upon arrival that this stupid kid was making stupid spineless allegations under the influence of something that he probably shouldn't have.

What he hadn't been expecting was for the kid to have a knife. And sadly he only spotted it when it was driven into his side.

Damien let out a choked grunt — his hands pressed against his side and he held his wound. It seemed the boy who stabbed him had only done it as a spur of the moment thing as he immediately let go and staggered back.

"Th-that's what you get for s-stealing my shit! Bastard!" he yelled, though he sounded just as scared as Damien was. Thank god he hadn't pulled the knife out, but Damien could've had better luck tonight. The boy scampered off in a startled hurry - Damien pulled his phone from his pocket and took a quick few photos of him as he was escaping to use as evidence, before tapping the emergency services number into his phone with his bloody hands.

Maybe no more 3am runs from now on.