[ It's fairly easy to steer Ganymede towards a more private section—incredibly easy. The blond isn't exactly all that difficult to pull along; even a light tug will ensure he follows easily, step after step.

He feels it's certain. That even in the rotten world out there, his brother cared. There is a place in Heaven for him—where those other men will not join. ]

I don't know. The world doesn't stop turning, even when people are cruel to you, and even when their actions have changed how you see it all forever. Even if I stopped moving, that fact wouldn't change. On those days, I can only try to force myself to have the wherewithal not to let it hold me back.

[ That he doesn't slip back into that state he was when he was in the hospital, recovering, after his escape. Even when he had managed to achieve freedom. He still would much rather prefer he has already gotten over it, but that is impossible to act like that in front of Michel. In retrospect, there's a burning question in his throat still, even if it might make things harder. Far more difficult. But, with their hands held tightly together, he has to ask anyway, even if it comes out clumsy. ]

...What about you?