This is a belated Christmas gift for my beautiful friend spoiled princez. I didn't exactly follow the request and it turned out a little more depressing than i planned, but i hope you like it~

"Can you pass the chips?"

Kano, hunkered down in the corner of the where the armrest met the backrest, sat up without complaint and passed the nearly empty bag over to his faithful companion.

Kido too the bag from in in silence, but the half an inch of space she closed between them was thanks enough. Her elbow brushed his arm lightly as she lifted a few of the remaining chips to her mouth, then went back to flipping through the magazine in her lap. The brief moment of contact was enough to settle his nerves for a brief moment, but no longer than that.

He had been on edge for days. It was bad enough that he was nervous enough at school - not his school even - but Ayano's, filling in for her absence liked she'd asked. Then it was even worse when he would get home and she wasn't there most of the time. He couldn't help the panic that stirred in his chest, but he'd turn on the TV, slump on the couch nearest the door, and wait, wait for her to come home. It seemed like he would never stop trembling till she did.

Sometimes, the night was even worse. Just the thought of sleeping in the same house as that snake and knowing that it wandered through the halls as his siblings slept, sent uncontrollable shivers down Kano's spine and he'd lay awake, wide eyed, always falling with the queasy, cold feeling of dread in his stomach. And then the process began all over in the morning.

Kido noticed only after day one. He never let anything show around Ayano. He wanted to proves to her he could handle this, that she'd put her trust in the right person. And Seto spent more and more time in the woods, going to see that girl who lived out there, so he never seemed to notice, too blissfully happy. But Kido didn't have anywhere to go, so, most of the time, it was only them alone in the house.

Kano could hide the trembling easy, the nervous glances he cast at the door and almost ever little out of place sound, and pretend to be his usual self. But there was only so much his powers could do, he knew, and the troubled aura that radiated from him was so strong it could have been tangible.

To his relief, Kido never asked him what was wrong, and he was glad. He didn't want to lie to her anymore than he had to.

Instead, Kido would comfort him merely with her presence and just be there with him. She would sit on the couch next to him, silent, reading a book, magazine, or just watching whatever channel he'd turned the TV to, only speaking when necessary, like asking for chips.

Kano was grateful for her company. It calmed him to have a steady presence there. He would have told her, thanked her for the support she probably didn't realize she was giving, but to say that would imply something was wrong, and Kano didn't want that.

"Here."

Kano blinked up owlishly where Kido was holding a can of juice out for him. He hadn't seen her get up, but he took the can gratefully, careful that she didn't notice his trembling hands, as Kido sat back down with her own and opened it with a metallic pop.

"Thank you."

The words held more meaning than she knew.

…

Ayano was dead…?

Ayano was dead…

Ayano was dead.

No matter how many times he thought it or tried to form the thought on his lips, it didn't seem real. None of it did.

Kano's throat hurt from screaming. His stomach lurched. He felt like a wire had been cut lose in his brain and was malfunctioning painfully. And he blacked out.

…

He woke up days later, after, again, another night of sleep that couldn't take the real life nightmare away.

Kano then flinched as a gentle hand placed itself on his head, but pulled away when it felt him move. For a moment he had a hopeless fantasy that everything over the passed few days had been some kind of sick dream due to his overwhelming paranoia, and that it was Ayano here, combing her fingers through his hair like she would sometimes when she came to wake him up. But when he looked, it was Kido.

…Kano remembered long ago - what seemed like a lifetime ago - when Kido used to cry. Back when she would wear her heart, fragile and paper thin, square on her sleeve. She would sob and scream and beg to be seen, to which he would always comply.

Now it was him, his paper heart - shredded, soaked with tears, and dirtied with a thousand million untruths - pouring it's contents onto her pajama pant leg.

She didn't say anything. She only wrapped her arms around him, cradling his head in her lap, and he felt so unworthy, like she was handing him her own paper heart as a tissue for his undeserved tears because-

It's my fault. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry Kido.

Yet he accepted it, feeling a little more justified as tears fell in his hair and he knew she was crying too. It was selfish to use her like this. He didn't deserve her love. But he wanted it, craved it, as twisted and heartbroken as he was.

And Kano wished he could have broken mirrors instead of promises, because a century of bad luck was better than his shatter conscience staring back at him now.

But he swore, right then and there, selfishly and unregretful, that he would protect her, so no one would ever take away anything he loved ever again.