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If there’s anything you have learnt about Number 6, it is that he is a man of many random talents, none of them connecting to one another. Still, you don’t expect to find him perched on the balcony of your shared apartment with a guitar after coming home from a long day of work. Now that’s certainly a sight to see.
As you slide the door open to step onto the overhang, he freezes up completely for a second, before turning and recognizing it’s you.
“... Oi, buddy,” he says, before returning to what is actually mindless strumming of random chords.
“... Hi,” you reply, stepping outside. His golden eyes track you with what seems to be curiosity as you come to sit in the crappy lawn chair next to his own.
“You wanting something outta me?” 6 asks quietly.
“Oh, nothing at all!” you quickly exclaim and dismiss. “I just didn’t know that you could play guitar.”
“I am one of supposedly many talents,” he says with a cocky grin. “I didn’t think you would forget, [y/n], with how we met.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” you tell him softly, recalling how you met him under one of his many aliases.
“Also, I actually can play this instrument. I’m not lying about this one, swear on my constantly regenerating heart.”
“But where’d you get it from?”
“Does that really matter?”
“6!” you exclaim.
“Acoustics were on sale at a local shop. I legally bought the guitar, I just didn’t legally earn the money. Don’t try to execute me though, all roads lead to failure for you.”
There is silence between the two of you after that. Even though you’ve been together for months, the man’s paranoia hasn’t faded that you’ll stab him in the back. No matter how many promises you make, no matter how many times you comfort him, it never fades.
“You wanna hear something?” he spits out, trying to change the tense subject.
“Oh, sure.”
“Anything in particular?”
“Give me your best,” you tell him in a soft tone. He looks at you and gives a toothy grin, before focusing back onto the guitar.
“So shine, my ship’s adrift in the night,” he begins. Shockingly, Number 6 has a great voice. It’s not going to win him any competition, but it’s far nicer than you expected. “Need the flame only you have inside. When I’m stuck out on the darkest side, only you reignite me.”
Your heart skips a beat. It doesn’t seem like 6 for him to play a song seemingly about love. Sure, the two of you are kinda together, but it’s always seemed clear that your relationship is more of a means to an end for Number 6’s desperate desire to have somebody notice him.
“Shine your love, show your light, pull me out from the endless night. It’s something cosmic, it’s symbiotic. Take my hate, take my fight, take away all the pain I hide. ‘Cause I can’t stop it, it’s symbiotic…"
Once the last of the sound from the guitar fades away, you watch as he tenses up and looks away from you.
With a bout of hesitation, you reach out and lay a hand on his shoulder. He stays put, refusing to meet your gaze.
“I really liked that,” you state. “I didn’t expect you to actually be able to sing.”
“Oh, shut up,” insists 6. His cheeks are glowing, and he’s failing to hold back a smile. “I have modifiable vocal cords.”
“I don’t think you modified them there.”
“Whatever!” he exclaims, getting up. He hands the guitar to you, and heads to the door.
“Really? Leaving now?”
“I’m gonna take a shower, it’s getting late anyway,” 6 tells you. It’s an obvious excuse to not go any deeper into his feelings, but prodding further into those feelings isn’t something you want to do right now.
“See you around, 6,” you say. He smiles back at you, before entering the apartment. Hopefully he’ll be in a better mood later tonight.
“Hey.”
You’re just about to turn off the lights and settle down for the night when Number 6 slowly cracks open the door to your room. He’s in his default form that most would call monstrous, his skin color now a deep blue that’s almost black. You watch his prehensile tail swish side-to-side under the blanket he’s wrapped himself up in, holding on tightly to it with his claws. He bites his lip in distress, the blank canvas of skin across his face still expressing nervousness.
“Hey,” you repeat back to him. “What’s up?”
“Can’t sleep,” he says. Before you can reply, he’s already laying on your bed, pulling his blanket over himself.
“What’s wrong?” you inquire, while turning off the lights.
“Dunno.”
“Really, you lack any and all ideas of what’s plaguing your thoughts?”
“Yup.”
With a sigh, you come to sit down on what’s now your side of the bed. As you’ve learnt, if Number 6 desires to be cuddled, then he’s going to be cuddled, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
“Really?”
“... Lonely,” 6 states.
You proceed to lay down next to him, and find him shoving his head in the crook of your neck immediately as he wraps his arms around your lower torso. You proceed to run a hand through his soft and still slightly damp hair, stopping to grab onto the hair tie he hasn’t bothered to take out yet and undo his low ponytail. 6 proceeds to start purring as you circle back to strumming through his hair, his hold on you tightening.
“It’s alright,” you reassure him. “I’m here.”
Upon those words, you sense that the area underneath where his arms are locked onto you is all of a sudden… wet? Reaching your hand down to feel whatever’s going on, you find that Number 6’s body is now merged with yours, and flinch.
“6, is this, uh-”
“Stay with me,” he mumbles, beginning to melt into you faster.
“You’ll let go, right?”
“No.”
“There’s no way either of us can get around like this, 6.”
“Then we’ll merge differently. Stay with me, [y/n]. I like it when you’re here.”
“... I like it when you’re here too,” is all you say as you relax your body into the hold of Number 6, and proceed to plant a kiss on the top of his head. He mumbles something inaudible, and squirms around a bit to find a more comfortable way to curl up with you. And you’ll wait forever, should it take that long, for him to be comfortable. Because that’s what you’re here for - to love him.
The two of you drift off, curled up in an awkward position, refusing to let one another go.