...From apparent calm to the opposite. Albedo straightened, staring at Nigredo. If they were still here. Did he want his things? Both pieces of the statement came as something to reject; something to push against fiercely. Something that caused the wound in his chest to spread further.

His hand moved with knowledge to Nigredo's thigh, fingertips pressing. "I don't need things," he answered somewhat harshly. And he hadn't. Ever and always. Despite dolls to play with (break and throw away), Albedo had never been materialistic. What was important was simply... All there was was only.... It caught in his throat, unable to be voiced. Too easily seen were the weakness of bonds. "If we're still here tomorrow," he started again. "I just want you where I can see you."