If Aoba were to compare them to anything, it would be children. Children who, when they saw the newest, funnest thing, would drop their current toy immediately to go buy the new one. They would forget the old toy. They would leave it to gather dust and to rot until it was too pitiful to be looked at, and so then it would be discarded. It was garbage, after all.

God.

He wanted to be broken. If that was the only way to get them to despise him, get rid of him, anything, then that was what he wanted.

If only his mind wasn't the way it was. If only his mind was weaker. He might have been broken more easily. But after all the years the three of them had been together, his mind was still as strong as ever.

He hated it.

"Aoba."

He was taken out of his thoughts quickly, and his breath hitched from the sudden contact. Virus was sitting to his left (when had he gotten up?), hand on Aoba's, (he hadn't even felt the bed move), and staring at him. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was frowning. Trip was on his other side (had he even walked into the room?), fingers curled into Aoba's.

"Aoba?" Virus said again. "Have you been listening to us?"

Aoba nodded quickly and breathed out an apology.

"I'm sorry, Aoba, would you please repeat yourself?"

Aoba nodded again.

"I'm sorry, Virus."

"Huh? What about me, Aoba? Don't I deserve an apology too?" Trip put on a pouty face, and Virus gave Aoba a closed mouthed smile and nodded.

"I'm sorry, Trip."

The two blonds grinned at each other. "That's alright, Aoba."

From anyone else's perspective, the name sounded like nothing coming from Trip and Virus' lips. It sounded like no more than a name. Just a word that was said and thrown around.

To Aoba, it sounded somehow worse. It didn't just sound like a name. Well, it was a name, sure, but it wasn't a name you would call a person. It was more like a name you would call a pet. A pet that would never disobey or leave you. Each time the word was said, Aoba could feel his dignity ebbing away. As if there was any part of him that had dignity left.

Please don't say my name.

Virus continued on in a playful speaking manner, which wasn't at all playful to Aoba's ears.

"So, Aoba, what were you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

Don't ask that. Please.

"I think we all know that that's not true, Aoba," Trip said.

"It's really nothing."

Please stop saying my name.

Virus quirked an eyebrow up. He and Trip were no longer smiling.

"Aoba. I really mean it when I say that we want you to tell us."

"It's nothing."

I won't admit anything.

"I wouldn't want to have to bring in anything that could disrupt our time together, Aoba." Virus' voice became low and predatory. And although Aoba had heard this voice millions of times, it still sent a shiver down his spine.

Please.

"Please what?"

"Please stop. Please stop saying my name."

Shit.

Virus smiled again. Trip outright laughed.

"Of course, Aoba." Virus leaned in and littered Aoba's face with kisses. He finally brought his lips to Aoba's and gave him a long kiss.

"We're sorry, Aoba." Trip also gave Aoba a few kisses to his face. He made a trail of kisses to the nape of his neck, and then up to his ear. "We're sorry if we say your name too much, Aoba."

Virus detached himself from Aoba's mouth, and kissed his cheek. "We realize now that it's you who should be saying ours."

Aoba desperately hoped that something new would come along. He hoped that they would be done with him, that all the entertainment he provided them would soon become boring, and that he would be garbage. He wanted to be garbage. He wanted to be discarded and thrown away. He felt like garbage, and he hoped that they would see him as such.

But all the sickly sweet "I love you"'s they always said to him told him that that would never happen. They would love him even if something new did come along. They would love him if we was old and rotting. They would always love him. He was the exception.