The corner store Cavil was making his way to wasn't his corner store. He knew if he wanted his location to remain a secret, he was going to have to take trains. Buses. He was going to have to weave through side streets miles away from his apartment. Take the long way. The inconvenient way. Even today in his sleep-deprived haze, he took a subway and walked another mile and a half, sticking to his old plans in all his stubbornness. When he squinted ahead in the early morning darkness and saw Kiryu on the opposite end of the cross walk, then, it wasn't the tragedy it could have been.

Was that him? Yes. Yes, it was him, and it made his stomach tense and his face flush with the boiling hatred he felt, even with the pressure of sleep behind his eyelids. It was the first time he had seen Kiryu since that agonizing night in the motel, curled up on the ground, hoping for death and mercy all at once. But the death wasn't what bothered him. It was what came after. The hole in his mind. The memories missing. His plan skewed, almost meaningless.

His fault.

But he didn't move to attack. He didn't do anything. As the traffic light flashed red and the crosswalk flicked on, he just waited. The way he had his hands in his pockets, he could almost be nonchalant, but his eyes, bloodshot with a lack of sleep, didn't leave the other once.