And so the days went like that. It was the last few weeks of summer and Crona was often alone. He moved back into his apartment with Kid's help.

He had visited Maka and Tsubaki at the library that they volunteered at. He preferred the girls company to the boys; they were much more mild and soft-spoken than Soul or BlackStar. He spent a good portion of his time reading various books- everything from fantasy to science-fiction to biographies to science textbooks, he stuck in his little corner and just read.

It was the only way he knew of that he could get off his mind what he had done to the others. Kid was not happy about Crona moving back into his old place. Even though Kid tried to hide his fear behind a mask of apathy, Crona could tell he was still scared that Crona would vanish before his very eyes forever.

But who could he go to for help? He couldn't afford a therapist or a formal diagnosis for anything, even though he had a very strong suspicion he was suffering from PTSD. Miss Marie was gone and every other teacher terrified him.

He didn't deserve all this love. He was a murderer. He was mentally unstable. But, for some reason, he was loved, anyway. And he wasn't going to hurt his friends by doubting them, again.

He stumbled on a dusty old book on anxiety. With bubbling curiosity, he dragged his finger down the spine before he grabbed it and flipped through it.

He flipped through the pages. For a library book, it sure had a lot of notes written inside. There was highlighting and color coding, underlining, and small words in the margins of the page."This paragraph isn't symmetrical," the note read. "I can't make it stop bothering me."

Crona gasped and almost dropped it.

'Has Kid read this, before?' Crona thought to himself, wide-eyed with his hands shaking. 'These are his private notes. I shouldn't read them.'

But he couldn't bring himself to put it back. Here was Kid's vulnerable side. Here, in Crona's hands, was his thoughts and his insecurities. Crona might never get the chance, again. And it was here in the library. Kid must have known someone was going to pick it up at some point...right?

So, Crona continued to flip through it, pausing whenever he read some of Kid's neat handwriting- words he probably spent hours on just to make them perfect.

"I can't make my obsession go away."
"Why isn't this working?"
"My obsessions are interfering with my life."
"I almost killed myself because I hate my stripes so much."
"This book is worthless."
"My father doesn't understand my obsession. I feel as though he's disappointed in me."
"I had to skip a mission today because my room wasn't straight. I can't be a grim reaper like this."
"Someone help me."

Crona brought his hand to his open mouth and sniffled. He felt the pain, the confusion, the anger and the sadness jump off the page. Kid had always acted like he just knew his OCD was part of him and he didn't care enough to try to fix it, but Crona was wrong. Kid cared. He cared very much. His need for perfection had almost killed him. He felt isolated from everyone, including his own dad. He felt unfit to do his job.

Tucking the book under his armpit, Crona rushed out of the library, much to the confusion of the other girls. He bolted through the streets to get to mansion where Kid and his weapons lived, ignoring the confused stares from the other citizens.

He frantically banged on the door, calling Kid's name.

Liz opened the door, confusion and concern etched on her face. "What's wrong?"

"Where's Kid?" Crona replied, taking the book and cradling it in his hands.

Liz looked behind her. "He's doing his homework in the study. Why?"

Ignoring her, Crona sped by her and pushed his way into the study.

Kid, startled, almost dropped his papers as he saw the pink-haired boy put his hands on his knees and pant, holding a book in his hands. Frowning, Kid pushed his chair back and stood up. "Crona, what's wrong?" He asked, bending down to see Crona eye-to-eye.

Responding with deep pants, Crona just gave him to book in the library. Confused, Kid took it and examined it. He blushed and looked away. He stood back up and put it on a bookshelf beside him.

He felt arms wrap around his waist and pull him close. "I'm so sorry," Crona said, mumbled into his jacket. "I didn't know you were in so much pain."

Kid didn't reply. He had always just tried to pass it off as a quirk he just had. He had never told anyone, not even his own dad, how much it actually killed him inside to be afflicted with such crippling anxiety. Crona was the last person he hoped would find that book filled with his tortured thoughts as he desperately tried to find a way to quell his obsessions.

But Kid could say the same about Crona. Crona couldn't mask his emotions like Kid could, but Crona always tried to pass off his problems like they were no big deal. He had never gone into detail about Medusa's abuse. He had very rarely mentioned any nightmares he might have had. He never told them how little schooling he had before the DWMA and how his grades suffered as a result.

Both of them gave off the illusion that they were strong and they could handle themselves. In reality, though, they were ill and they needed someone.

Kid, his hair covering his tear-filled eyes, turned around and pulled Crona into a tight hug in return. "I'm sorry, too," he mumbled.