The farther you run, the more you feel undefined, for what you have left undone, and more, what you've left behind.

Kinda sorta written for a prompt given to me by a friend: "A petal softly falls onto my shoulder / When I take it in my hand and close my eyes, you're by my side". I took the title from the 31 Days theme for March 22, 2007.

Jomy's dreams of Keith took place in rooms full of shadows and candlelight, in places that were disconcertingly similar to the chamber Soldier Blue had once occupied, and the chambers he now slept in as Blue's successor. He dreamt of the feel of silk sheets on his skin, of large hands holding his wrists and hot lips bruising his own, of weight pressing him down, pressing him in places that he tried very hard to ignore when he was out there, serving as the Mu's beloved leader. Given the vividness of the dreams and the fact that he woke up to wet and sticky sheets every single time, he was vaguely surprised that none of the Elders had inadvertently received feedback of him having rape fantasies with their greatest enemy. Jomy always went to Physis the morning after, to bask in the silence of the questions she would never dare to ask him.

Keith's dreams of Jomy took place in vast forests and endless fields, in blinding sunlight and under wild blue skies. He dreamt of golden hair, soft blue eyes and butterfly-light kisses on his cheeks, across his jawline and down to his neck, of a boyish voice whispering his name into his ear, over and over again, as he pressed himself deeper within the warmth inside of the slim body beneath him and thought of home, whatever home really was for him. He'd wake up from those nights irate and restless, and he'd call for Matsuka to give him tea and end up taking more than that, but it never satisfied him. He would always lie down in the evening, and wish, vaguely, for the dream to return, if only to have some sort of release.

After running away and fighting without fighting each other for so long, they would die together, lying on the steps of a crumbling world, close enough to touch but too far gone to reach out for each other's hands.