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Sep. 19th, 2014 08:56 pmHe hates his cell phone, hates carrying it. It reminds him too much of the ID bracelets in No. 6 that the citizens had worn without complaint, letting the city track and own them. He barely turns it on, ever, but today he checks it and frowns, noticing the date.
September 19.
He's eighteen today.
In some cultures, that means he's a man grown, though he's been one for years it seems.
Shion would have called it a momentous occasion and put together something sentimental. Rat finds himself feeling hollow for that lack, which is stupid and weak. He doesn't know if he has the right to long for Shion, not when Rat was the one who chose to leave. But miss Shion he does and that, more than anything else, is what sends him to a local bakery to buy a small cake and then to the bookstore for a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo.
September 19.
He's eighteen today.
In some cultures, that means he's a man grown, though he's been one for years it seems.
Shion would have called it a momentous occasion and put together something sentimental. Rat finds himself feeling hollow for that lack, which is stupid and weak. He doesn't know if he has the right to long for Shion, not when Rat was the one who chose to leave. But miss Shion he does and that, more than anything else, is what sends him to a local bakery to buy a small cake and then to the bookstore for a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo.
