A/N: It's generally really short because nothing's going on in his life for a while. I'll get back to you guys soon. That's a promise. There are alot of things going on so far in my life. I'm always on deviantart if you need to ask me something. The theme was generally boredom. Remember: I love you all!

I'd finally received the call I was waiting for or so I thought. I believed I would have been more excited to get a call from Mr. Valentine but I wasn't. Incredibly relaxed I listened to his voice. It was the same; as if the long silence which he's accustomed to had burned his throat; any other time I would have savored it and made it last with endless questions and teasing. He brought me bad news. Something had come up. Somehow I was sure that I dissevered it.

The news settled slowly into my mind at first. Then I began to think. I hoped Tseng wouldn't be popping by anytime soon while I took a trip into space. Losing myself into the depths of my head; I came to the conclusion that I might have been wrong to push the subject of his attire. The missing emotions swooped in for the kill within seconds. Guilt, the strongest, taunted me repetitively. Self-loathing accompanied it as an instigating right hand man. Who knows how that really worked?

Obviously I'd been trying to change him. I could try to justify my actions however many times I desired but it didn't change the fact that I was suppressing him. The silence at my desk grew thick and boring. "Fashion as art", I thought. Knowing the language of music qualified me as an artist but I didn't know anything about fashion. I had to visit a professional on many occasions to help me. It just wasn't a priority to me. Nevertheless thinking of an artist as a creator and thinking of art as creating or a creation I was sure fashion was an art. If that was so then, "it should be a liberal practice and rules shouldn't be applied." It went on like this for a while until I noticed that I'd fallen behind on my statistical analysis. Of course I would go back to it. It was such a boring day at work. It was imminent that I would fall again into the train of thought.

We often suppress those we love even if we don't notice. It's a subconscious action that bites us back when we least expect. Often justifying our wrongs to ourselves we become blind of that. My defenses were: "I thought that a change of clothes would do him well. The change would hopefully make him more vulnerable to a change of heart. Maybe he'd forgive himself because a small boost of confidence would make him notice how great he really is." I never stopped to think about how his usual look made him feel. I was almost certain that his outfit was symbolic to him. Everything we really do is a selfish action but sometimes it's best not to consider it so. I didn't consider that my simple suggestion could have been less selfless than I made it out to be. That change of heart which I expected was supposed to lead him closer to me somehow. There's always something in it for us, whether it's the overwhelming satisfaction that we could help someone out or that we've made life a bit easier for ourselves.

After I'd toiled my day's worth I called Vincent back and got the machine.

"This is Vincent. Leave your message."

"Vincent, hey, it's Reno. I guess you knew that. You know- I'll just call you back." I did call him after that day. I called multiple times. Each time I got the machine. I gave in after the sixth call. Of course something had come up and I'd just have to wait until it went down. I'd have to pay him the same respect he paid me when I'd bail on him.

I had always been a lonesome stray but that day I was feeling the solitude of those who walk with nothing but a shadow underneath their feet. With my hands in my pant's pockets I strolled through Edge. My head was held high inside the clouds. The red scarf around my neck billowed playfully behind me like my hair. Brisk breezes traced the scars on my cheeks, slowly. For some reason I was also concentrating a lot on the rhythm of my feet and the way the heels of my boots stabbed the concrete. Steady, the days went steady from then on. My outlook on things was generally peaceable as if my demons were on a long coffee break.