oh my goshes. I haven't updated this in at least a year! Well, it's a short chapter, because this whole story's made up of small chapters... but, I hope this is at least a start to a project I might pick up again.

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Run Away- Zakuyoe
Chapter VI

Please still be nearby… Not much left I’m hoping for Steven...I don’t want you to feel saddened over this… it’s not something you should run away over… These things can be fixed. Don’t abandon your life because of this…

Perhaps I came around this the wrong way. I’ve been wanted, asking you, to tell me. You wouldn’t tell me; you even lied to me. But that doesn’t matter now. I just want you to come back. I want… you.

I don’t know what I mean by that, nor do I want to think about it. I want to see your face, see your smile. Just see you, Steven. Seeing you once more, but not as the way you left me. Smile… laugh… be there at the hill… be right where I left you…

Steven wasn’t there.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A breeze blew by, but he couldn’t feel it. The sounds of leaves, but he couldn’t hear it. The smell of a crisp autumn, but he couldn’t smell it. The closeness of winter’s crisp touch, but he couldn’t taste it.

Yet he could see where he had left Steven. It was the only sensation that seemed to be working.

He wanted to believe that Steven would be nearby. He knew Steven meant every word he said when he was leaving the area, yet Jonathan still wanted to believe that Steven was close. He looked around, trying to recognize any faces he knew, though he was only met with a clump of trees. Breathing quickened, pace quickened, but still to no avail. He was the only one moving. No familiar face watching him, no teenage boy hiding behind the trees—no best friend taking back what he said.

“Why?” Jonathan asked the silence, and he only continued to run further. “Why was I so stupid…? Why hadn’t I persisted? I knew he had problems—I could’ve done something about this!” Jonathan growled in anger, striking a fist into a tree, but the only result he got in return was a brusied knuckle.

“Damnit!” Jonathan yelled, and he wrapped the injured finger with his free hand. It hurt like hell, yet Jonathan only continued to search for Steven. He wouldn’t let

Almost like…

“You punched another wall?” A pair of blue eyes nodded, and as Jonathan checked his fingers Steven winced. “You’ve got some bruising going on there…”

“Yeah, dude,” said Steven, holding his breath. “I can feel it, dude.”

“Sorry for getting you involved in this,” Jonathan muttered, looking away. “It’s a brand new dog, and it’s Ike’s too… I shouldn’t have let the door open.”

“Dude, don’t—“

“But it was my fault! I shouldn’t have asked you to look for it with me…”

“Stop,” Steven said again, and as Jonathan looked into Steven’s eyes he did as he was asked. “I’m the one being radical here, not you. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.” Steven removed his hand from Jonathan’s grip, and as he walked away, bracing his hand with his other hand, Jonathan stared at him in shock and surprise. “Besides… I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

“But—but—STEVEN!” Jonathan called out. “What the hell are you doing, dude? You’ve got an injured hand, damnit!” Steven turned around, chuckling at Jonathan’s shocked face, and as Jonathan gaped at him Steven smiled.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” Steven asked. “I’ve got a dog to find.” Jonathan sighed, recalling what Steven had done that day, and as he realized how similar his own actions had reminded him of Steven, he hobbled over to a tree, burying his face in the roughness of the tree’s trunk. Jonathan had admired Steven’s persistence that day; Steven had ignored the pain in his hand, and continued searching for the dog behind thorny bushes and other wildlife.

Were Jonathan’s actions similar? Would Steven admire Jonathan’s efforts, or would he be angry for trying to find him? He could almost imagine Steven’s dialect now: finding him in a small cave, and the twisted frown of his mouth saying, “What the hell are you doing do? I told you I was running away!”

“But I want to find him!” Jonathan muttered, pushing his head onto the trunk. He didn’t realize it hurt so much, to want to do something so much yet have it hated by the person it involves. To do what was right, or to do what was wanted?

“I couldn’t get you much,” Jonathan muttered, handing Steven a card. His head was hung low, not even wanting to look at the birthday celebrant as he handed him his pathetic gift.

“No, no, it’s fine,” muttered Steven softly, taking it from Jonathan. “I didn’t exactly receive many presents…”

“But it’s so lame!” Jonathan protested. “I think I should be giving something better than a card, being your best friend and all.”

“No,” muttered Steven, opening it. “I love this present just the way it is.” He smiled, patting Jonathan on the back lightly. “It’s the thought that counts, no?”

“The thought that counts…” That had been so long ago, of course, back before any of this had ever started, but the words that Steven had said were resounding in his head. Why was it that Steven seemed to be answering Jonathan’s problems for him? Was it ironic that Steven was the problem? Still, it seemed like a logical answer, and as Jonathan wiped his eyes off with his uninjured hand, he smiled.

“What’s it look like I’m doing…” muttered Jonathan, finishing off his imagination from before. “I’ve got a Steven to find.”