"Get the fuck off me, asshole!" His foot kicked out and he heard it connect hard, whoever had been grabbing him falling back and not even hesitating to twist and lash out at them again, head beginning to buzz like the scream of a wasps nest between his ears. His vision was blurring and faltering as he kept slamming his foot down, unable to hear anything, unable now to see anything but far too much red, feeling his leg tremble as it connected with soft flesh hard, solidly, breaking bones and grinding them into ash.
He didn't know how he managed to get out, up the flights of stairs, clinging onto the walls and swaying so madly he knew he fell a few times, tumbling down steps he'd just spent hours climbing, people walking past him laughing so loudly it made the walls crumble against his fingertips and his throat closed up. The terror of being buried alive was the only thing that kept him going, looking back and shapes of monsters, horrible things meeting his gaze, staring straight into him like he could shatter under those red burning eyes.
He wanted to scream but his jaw was wired shut and no amount of straining could force it open, making it outside and eyes watching everywhere as he tripped on nothing but then maybe something, falling straight down onto his face like a plank of wood.
He just lay there for a while, the world was spinning and everywhere he looked there was terror, in the buildings that were melting onto the pavement around him, the wet tarmac his cheek rested on sticking to his face like treacle and stretching up in long sticky strands when he managed to get onto his knees. Even the open mouth of his bag looked like the jaws of an animal, teeth of the zip razor sharp and only the furry head poking out of it seeming normal, unable to hear the words it spoke as anything more than a buzz of deep bass that distorted and contorted until it made him feel like the stars were vibrating.
Why he moved so quickly he didn't know, but it could have been due to looking back at the club he'd scrambled out of and watching as it tilted forwards dizzyingly, collapsing forwards and bricks scraping at his ankles as he set off at a run. His hair was like snakes when it whipped into his face and he was going in the wrong direction, utterly lost in unfamiliar streets and people he saw as wild animals attacking actually just partiers recoiling in alarm.
He couldn't quite breathe, the air he was sucking in was poisonous gas and he knew he couldn't stay in it, he needed to get somewhere safe where they hadn't tortured this island, stopping at a street corner and legs caving in, clawing at the wall that grabbed onto him and tore off a fingernail as he tried to get away and gravity pulled him back in.
The pavement was weighing him down and his jeans were like barbed wire around his legs, he barely knew where he was but he could hear the roar of a crowd following him, running as fast as he could but getting nowhere, bumping into something, some beast that stank of rot and pus, flying to the floor and staying there as it retreated and he still couldn't open his mouth to scream.
Then something he recognised, furry paws on his chest where he splayed across the ground, a pink tongue lolling out, unable to place the thing to a name or anything else, just knowing he knew it and feeling like it was a beacon of hope as he staggered upright on the second attempt and the sticky of the pavement dissolved against his cheek with a red smear.
But it was leaving, the thing he knew, the animal, smaller than the lampposts that blared their burning light at him, melting away his hair and tugging at each tiny pore on his body until he felt trapped beneath their acid yellow. So he followed, tripping and falling and stumbling and crashing into everything, walls of poison ivy and tables made of vine that entangled his legs and tore into his skin, loose shoe lace like a snake that trailed along behind, always one step away from biting into his ankle.
Then a door and he lost sight of his savior, turning to look for him and still running, hearing something snap as hard concrete stairs rushed up to meet him, dark eyes on him and distant words flickering as he felt unconsciousness try to claim him, managing somehow to shove him into his bag, losing him under piles of biting clothes and a shattered bottle that sliced his wrist.
But he was underground again, in a dark room where he couldn't breathe and he could feel the walls closing in, could see, even in the dark, the stalactites and stalagmites closing together, trying to skewer him, to trap him here until they could get him.
Stairs again but this time as he climbed each one the one below cracked and fell apart, crushing whatever might have been there and falling into an abyss, clawing his way up almost on his belly, reaching the top dizzily and breaking into a run, looking back at the growing blackness, hitting something hard that thudded and losing track of everything.
He was on alert the second something slammed into his door because he'd been broken into more than once before by small rival gangs with imagined grudges, so if the door were to suddenly fly off it's hinges he wasn't entirely sure he'd be so much as surprised. But still he slipped a butterfly knife he'd rather not use or admit to owning, into the pocket of his sweatpants and slid on some sturdy trainers since he was more the type to fight with kicks and punches that weaponry.
He was on the verge of messaging Tio and others for potential backup, knowing that even if it took them ten minutes to get there then it was better than nothing and the sheer noise from whatever had hit the door was loud enough that it had to be being kicked down. All he could really do was wait until it was, realising with a curse that his coil was charging in the bedroom and he knew being distracted from the door for even a second would be something more than just stupid.
So he waited for the next hit on the sturdy but not quite sturdy enough wood to come, five minutes passing, then ten with nothing happening but his palm starting to sweat on the warming metal he clutched in his pocket, praying he wouldn't have to use it. But this wasn't normal, usually when this happened, and he cursed the life choices that had led to him being able to say that, the hits would continue solidly until the door was off the hinges and whoever it was had come inside to try and murder or kidnap him or whatever.
So he did something he'd never had to do before, knife now unfolded neatly in his hand, small blade a minor reassurance as he opened the door in one wide movement and stepped into the hallway, looking right and left to try and work out who his assailant was this time. He really, really shouldn't have been surprised to see blue hair splayed out messily across the tile floor, nor should he have been surprised to see blood trailing up the corridor where he had presumably walked.
The knife went back into his pocket the second he saw him, because while Sly wasn't exactly the sweetest person he knew, he was also fairly certain he wasn't there to try to murder him, in fact definitely not given how still he was lying on the floor. So he just sighed and approached, wondering what the fuck he'd managed to do now, other than knock himself out by smashing into his door, rolling him over to see his face and deciding that yep, he was out cold.
He was too easy to pick up and he would have dragged him in by his arms if he wasn't aware he seemed to be injured, kicking his bag along the ground and inside, accidentally tumbling over a couple of times and sounding like it was full of broken glass, which also wouldn't surprise him. He eased the door shut with his foot, planning on heading back to lock it in a minute because one scare was enough to put him on guard, regarding all the blood then his pristine sofa and deciding to just put Sly on the floor instead, carefully lowering him down onto the carpet, leaving his side to get his bag.
He was drunk, that was certain, he stank of alcohol and smoke far more than normal, his clothes were absolutely filthy like he'd been trying to swim there across the ground, and his hair was matted with the same blood that stained his cheek. He didn't really know what to do, mildly annoyed that he'd turned up again, and in this bad a state, but guessing that maybe he hadn't known where else to go and he'd hate to turn him away if he'd come to him deliberately for help. He just stood, heading into the kitchen to get a glass of water for when he woke up, able to hear the sound of him moving over the running water and praying with an exasperated glare at his ceiling that he'd agree to just go to bed like a good boy.
But good boy Sly of course wasn't, leaning heavily against the wall Mizuki had propped him against without moving, which should have been his first clue that he was something more than just drunk, realising as he got nearer that his chest was heaving madly and his nostrils flaring. His eyes were so hugely dilated they were almost all black and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead, trying to stare everywhere at once, eyeballs like loose marbles in his head as they refused to stay still, locking on him for a second before whirring off again.
"Sly, you all right?" He didn't respond, just flinched at the noise and pressed a little further into the wall and he should have expected him to be drugged up too because he always was, crouching down at his side and offering out the water cautiously because something was wrong. "Come on, drink some of this, it'll help you feel better, you're probably really dehydrated."
He didn't respond, but he made a kind of unconscious whimper as he moved closer, leaving the glass on the floor instead and Sly staring at it like you might a poisonous snake or a scorpion's tail, Mizuki sliding it across the floor and his eyes growing wider.
Then Mizuki spoke again, or tried to, and Sly lashed out, kicking wildly and the glass smashing under his foot, at least one shard of glass in the skin, one white sock becoming bloodied but it wasn't that Mizuki noticed, it was his reaction to getting the water on him. He shot back like he'd been burned, like it was red hot acid burning into his skin, slapping and scratching at the skin so hard the shard of glass was slicing into him, deeper into his foot and pale skin of his palms becoming wet with blood.
He knew he had to get the glass out, moving forwards quickly to do it and Sly not even reacting, just continuing to paw at his damp foot and leg, seeing god knew what in his messed up brain, chemicals reacting with whatever else he'd done that night and turning everything into a horrible hallucinogenic nightmare.
He threw the shard away, gathering the rest of the glass and sliding it across the carpet, out of his reach, ignoring the tiny shards piercing his own palms, trying to reassure a boy who couldn't hear him, didn't know who he was, "Sly it's just water! It's fine!"
He couldn't reply, he had his jaw clenched so tight Mizuki could hear his teeth grinding, wondering why he was doing that, why he had since he'd arrived, quite literally running straight into his door and ending up lying there on the floor, scrabbling at the tile as if on a climbing wall. He just pressed his hands over his ears suddenly, rocking forwards a little as he spoke like he was trying to drown out some horrible, terrifying din of noise, Mizuki feeling himself grow queasy as he watched because it was awful to see him like this, so out of it that he didn't even recognise a friendly voice.
"Sly come on, you're okay, you just took a bad pill or something. Sly jus- Ren, where's Ren?"
"Mizuki," the deep voice answered him from within the confines of Sly's bag and he abandoned the freaking out boy for a moment, digging him out and watching his pad over to his master, whining as he pawed at his knee, retreating as Sly almost hit him, shuffling backwards messily and gasping with a momentarily open mouth as his back hit the wall.
"Ren what happened, what did he take?"
"I did not see him take anything, I believe he has been spiked."
"Again?" If an Allmate could look curious, Ren sure managed it, head tilting to the side and eyes darting off to watch Sly shrink away from the wall he was against as if it might attack him, burying his head in between his knees and squeezing it so hard it had to hurt. "It was before he got you. Shit, what do I do?"
"You need to remain with him until the drugs leave his system."
"How long will that be?"
"Twelve to seventy-two hours."
"You're serious? He's going to be like this for twelve hours?"
"Unlikely, he will possibly vomit then pass out. He may require medical aid."
"He can't get medical aid nobody will treat him! Fuck! Let me get him a bucket, fucking hell Sly do you have to be so stupid?!" He didn't mean to be angry at him, he really didn't, because he was clearly having the worst trip of his whole life and that wasn't his fault, but it was because he'd gone out, presumably to Grime, gotten wasted and taken drugs of his own no doubt, wouldn't have kept an eye on his drink or even tried to keep himself safe.
So he returned with his washing up bowl and it was like he'd been fucking timing it, head escaping from his thighs the second it was there and sick only making it into the black bowl as Mizuki basically guided it, grimacing then paling and frowning.
"Ren, there's blood in his puke what the fuck does that mean?" He turned around for a second and that was a terrible idea because the second Sly realised he was standing over him, blocking him into the corner he freaked out, kicking the tub and lukewarm liquid splattering Mizuki's arm. To his great credit, he worked in a bar so it wasn't the first time it had happened, but he still didn't much like it, staring at the mess soaking into his carpet, spreading across an annoyingly large area, just yanking his shirt off and wiping his skin clean with it before dumping it atop the pile.
"Blood in vomit can have a number of causes," as helpful as Ren was, and right now his ability to run instant searches really was a life saver, his incredibly robotic, unemotional way of speaking was so infuriating Mizuki almost wanted to kick him. "Liver cirrhosis from alcohol abuse, a tear in the oesophagus, a stomach ulcer or other problems in the digestive system."
Mizuki just stared at him for a second, turning back to Sly as he whimpered and his mouth was open again, trail of dried blood and sick down one side of his cheek and so disgusting Mizuki nearly gagged despite his strong stomach. He'd somehow lost a shoe and his socked foot was pushing against the floor as if trying to ease himself upright, pressing into the dampness and smearing it about worse but his carpet was the least of his concerns right now.
Mizuki had been too focused on how psychotic he'd been acting to register his injuries, one of his cheeks had a long, deep graze on it, filled with chunks of gravel as if he'd been thrown across the pavement. His jeans were torn along one leg and there was blood oozing through the material, he wished he could get closer but as he did one hand reached out to push him away and his sleeve was pushed up enough that he could see a long, messy cut running diagonally across it.
But the cut was scabbed up already so it wasn't as worrying as the floppy movements of his hand, unable to push him away and entire wrist bending at an unnatural angle as if it was broken, ignoring his wet, queasy gulp as he gripped the limb further down his forearm to examine it.
"I think he broke his wrist, Jesus Ren what was he doing?"
"He went to Grime, somebody spiked his drink then was dancing with him, he assaulted them severely then left. His motor skills have been compromised."
"In Japanese, please."
"He kept falling, into things and onto the ground. He fell into your stairs, I believe that is where he gained the fracture, he also cut his legs on a table he became tangled in."
"How did he cut his wrist? Was that deliberate?"
"I do not believe so but I did not see."
"How did he get here?"
"I led him, he seemed to recognise me and followed me. I am sorry to impose but I did not know where else to go, he needed help which I could not provide."
"No, it's, you did the right thing, Ren. Jesus, your master is a mess, huh?"
"He does seem to get into dangerous situations."
"You don't say," he muttered a little darkly, aware of Sly just staring at him, particularly at his chest though his gaze was blurry and not even slightly lecherous, head lolling occasionally, and slipping off its perch on the wall, just letting him hold the limb but panicking and pulling back harshly on his damaged arm when he dared rub a thumb over his bloodied skin.
"N-No- I- Ren, where's Ren? Ren! Ren!"
Somehow it was worse now he was talking, suddenly grabbing onto Mizuki instead of pushing him away, voice high pitched and panicking and demanding all at once, like he had him, like he'd been taken prisoner, not even calming down when the dog nuzzled at the hand he'd wrapped round Mizuki's ankle. He released him but when he grabbed the dog and the bartender stepped forwards the muttering began again, a steady messy chorus of 'no no no no no' that he couldn't make stop, trying to move away on his broken wrist and falling to the floor instead, hitting his head hard against a bookshelf.
"You're going to knock yourself out, Sly, Jesus," he'd reached for his head before he registered it, and it his hand hadn't been between it and the bookshelf he probably would have been unconscious by this stage, as it was Mizuki's fingers ended up being whacked off the sharp side and the yelp of pain he made only seemed to scare him further.
It was a mess, Mizuki was clutching his hand and knowing it would bruise like fuck, at a total loss of what to do, Ren was pawing at Sly's face and neck ineffectually, whining and barking in alarm, nothing he could search for helping him now. And Sly, well he was crying now, quietly admittedly, burying his face into Ren's fur and entire body trembling horribly, legs shaking and bouncing on the floor erratically, unable to stop their movement even if he'd been coherent enough to. He was terrified, it was obvious, but Mizuki didn't know what to do, wondering whether to just leave him there, clinging to Ren for a couple of hours, to observe him until he passed out which was apparently likely giving his racing pulse.
He just covered him lightly with a blanket, shuddering hard once as it draped over his knees before curling into the fabric, consciousness returning to him a little, though maybe just having his eyes shut helped whatever monstrous things he was seeing.
"Ren, I need you to look after him while I clean up, okay?"
"Understood," his voice was muffled but Mizuki knew even the oldest Allmates could track bodily functions, so if anything happened he'd be able to report it straight away and hopefully it wouldn't be something like a heart attack, because if it was they'd both be unable to help him.
"Good boy," that was probably condescending but he didn't really care right now, wiping a hand down his face then remembering it was bloody and probably covered in dried sick and groaning, feeling a little queasy himself and wondering when he'd be safe to shower.
So the next half hour, probably more like an hour actually, was spent sweeping up broken glass smeared with the blood of two people, wiping up sick that made him gag, spraying the entire place with air freshener and the carpet with febreeze, and heading into the hallway to clean up the blood with a damp cloth. When he returned, tired, sweaty and covered in too many bodily fluids to even think about, Ren was waiting for him, padding over and allowing himself to be scooped up and fussed over.
"He has been asleep for ten minutes, his heart rate has slowed down. I think he will be okay now."
"Good," he murmured it quietly, scratching at Ren's head and wondering how exactly one treated a robotic dog, he could hardly give him a treat after all, just figuring that plenty of belly rubs would be in order once Sly was safely sorted out and in bed. "Do you think he'll wake up if I undress him and clean him up?"
"It is doubtful."
"Okay cool," he nodded slowly, lowering Ren onto his dining table with one last appreciative rub, sighing heavily before heading into the bathroom to grab his first aid kit again, wondering when the last time was it had been used for anybody but Sly and not able to remember.
None of his injuries were too bad, he started with his face, cleaning the gravel out of the bad graze and wiping it clean with antiseptic that must sting, glad he was out for the count as he decided to leave it unbandaged, slipping him carefully out of his shirt next. His broken wrist would have to wait, he had no idea how to deal with it, so he cleaned up the messy cut along the length of it, handling it with care and blinking sleep out of his own eyes, bandaging it and heading over to the other hand, checking it for glass before cleaning it with so much skill it barely look five minutes to have it cleaned and wrapped in sterile white.
"Do you think he has a death wish, Ren?" It was an absent question, and he half expected the Allmate to have gone into sleep mode a while ago, surprised when he answered, Mizuki just listening as he lay Sly gently on the floor and worked down his jeans, frowning at how big they were on him, hipbones sharp where his fingers grazed over them.
"I believe he does not care for his own life. As for being suicidal I do not know."
"Hm, that's what I thought," they didn't speak after that, he just worked into the morning hours, cleaning his torn up leg where apparently a broken table had 'trapped him', whatever that meant, and wincing as he saw how deep the glass had gone into his foot, taking a while to stop bleeding. He almost wanted to wash him, to run a warm, soapy cloth along his grubby limbs and to wipe the dirt off his face, but he knew he needed to sleep and that was more than he was willing to do, just carrying him into his bedroom and Ren trotting along behind, managing to scramble onto the bed to pull the covers back in his tiny teeth.
"Can you still monitor him while you sleep?"
"Yes."
"Okay, wake me if anything changes, okay?"
"Understood," he walked around in a circle a couple of times before settling down in the crook of his neck, eyes open as Mizuki pulled the covers carefully over him and made sure he was tucked in, touching his forehead and glad it was less clammy. Then he lay down, and any idea to lie awake and look after him was gone, robotic eyes closing and his own following suit, consciousness slipping away like his common sense seemed to every time Sly was near.
"Oh, I'm here again," it was more of a groan than anything, eyes fluttering open and mind feeling so heavy he couldn't move, taking only a few seconds before pain overcame him and he winced, trying to sit up only for his hand to give way underneath him with a stab of pain that made his grit his teeth hard. He felt like his head weighed a million pounds, flopping back into the sheets and raising his hand shakily to regard it, gripping his arm with the other hand and watching with some amusement as his fingers swayed about bonelessly. A break then, not the first one he'd had, glancing at the bandage on his wrist and realising in the same moment that he was naked but boxers, able to feel the sheets against aching legs, blinking absently before turning to regard his company.
Ren was curled up beside his neck as always and he spared him an exclusively fond smile before his eyes landed on the bartender, who looked as wrecked as he felt, he was splayed out on his front, blankets barely covering him and still in his sweatpants. There was blood on his fingers and something unpleasant was crusted up his arm, Sly cringing as he realised the taste in his mouth could explain that
He managed to get upright eventually, glad Ren and Mizuki stayed asleep as he wormed his way out of the sheets, standing and his legs like jelly underneath him, stabbing pain running through his foot the moment he rested weight on it and using the walls to drag himself to the living room, bandaged shin confusing to say the least. But finally, finally he arrived at the couch, sinking onto it heavily and so pleased when there was both a bottle of water and a packet of cigarettes there, leaning forwards with a pounding head to open the drawers and rooting through their contents without care until he found a lighter.
The smoke didn't really hurt as much as it normally would and he took a swig of water, swishing it around his mouth and swallowing with a grimace because he could taste blood and he absently ran his tongue over his teeth, pleased he hadn't lost any because that would be a pain. He just sat back, leaning into the soft material and closing his eyes, letting ash fall onto his chest or wherever it might choose to land, trying to remember the evening, getting to Grime was a given, then drinking, dancing, heading to the toilets a few times. Some guy trying to dance on him, but then it all faded into nothingness and he wondered if he'd drunk more than he thought, not even sure how he'd gotten to the bartenders let alone why it looked like he'd been beaten half to death.
"Sly," but the familiar deep voice of his allmate broke through his hazy recollections of what might have been, managing to lean down and scoop him up messily, plopping upside down onto the couch and stubby legs wriggling as he wormed himself upright. "How do you feel?"
"Mm, like shit, what happened? Why am I here again?" His hands were in Ren's fur again, working out a knot on his back and stroking over his spine as he settled down comfortably, lying on his stomach and large eyes regarding him with the lack of emotion he always had.
"I believe you were spiked, I was worried for your safety after you left Grime so I guided you here. I knew Mizuki was a friend of yours and hoped you would be looked after here."
"You led me, huh?" He nodded then, tongue lolling out a little unsurely, as if he might snap and yell, which if his brain was a little less scrambled he might, but he just let his head tip back onto the couch and blinked smoke out of his eye, scratching his head affectionately. "Thank you."
They lay there for a little while, Sly drifting in and out of sleep but only for a few seconds every time, taking a drag of his cigarette whenever he forgot and lighting a new one when he knew he couldn't try and return to unconsciousness anymore, wishing he could remember and knowing there was only one way he could hope to.
"So, what did he do? I mean, what happened?"
Ren recounted the tale the way he liked, straight to the point and without any additional, unnecessary comments, without trying to make him feel guilty or showing worry about him even though he knew it had been there. He just listened silently, nodding occasionally as he relayed the information emotionlessly, tail drooping occasionally but Sly's fingertips along his back encouraging him to continue, strokes of his hands almost therapeutic for him as well as the allmate.
So he listened and heard he'd been bandaged, thrown up all over him and basically been a complete and utter mess of a human again, heard how Mizuki had stripped him down and cleaned the blood and dirt off him, carried him to bed and tucked him in next to Ren. Tried to silently judge how that made him feel and not managing even a little bit, feeling strangely absent, as if none of that had happened to him and Ren was mistaking him for somebody else.
By the time he was done it had to be midday, light coming through the chinks in the blinds doing nothing but warming his skin pleasantly, almost wanting to stand and open the glass, to let the summer breeze wash in and to savour this moment of peace.
But then Mizuki woke up and he knew even as he rolled his eyes that the chance of being left alone now was completely gone, doubting even himself when he emerged from his bedroom looking confused and just regarded him silently for too long for him to feel anything but uncomfortable.
"Enjoying the view?"
"Something like that," everybody around him was being cold today, and with Mizuki's arrival even Ren seemed reluctant to be on his side, squirming away from under his palm and curling into his side instead, creating distance between them that hurt more than it should. "I'm guessing you feel terrible?"
"I'm fine," he answered shortly, spitting it out and just as frosty as Mizuki had been, the irony between his apparently gentle treatment the night before and now making fresh bile rise in his throat. "You need to fucking shower, there's shit all up your arm."
"That would be your vomit, and you're welcome."
"I didn't thank you."
"No, you never do," he certainly wasn't meant to hear it, but Ren obviously had too, ears flattening to his head as if he had been told off too, Sly somehow more annoyed that his allmate had been upset than he was at the almost disappointed words. It was strange, of all the tones he was ever addressed with, disappointment always stung the most, whether it was his Grandma or Mizuki or a total stranger, he'd rather be screamed at than have that let down expression focused on him for a single second.
He'd already turned to leave as he spoke, bare back retreating into the bathroom and door closing firmly behind him, hearing the bolt slide into place and frowning because he was certain he'd never locked the door before when he'd been there. He contemplated his words for a moment, formulating a thought and making it audible a little too fast, voice thoughtful and distracted, "am I ungrateful, Ren?"
He didn't know how to answer but then of course he didn't, his master was barely fit to be called that and he was all too aware of how fast he could snap, AI or not, he was programmed with emotions and he wanted to be truthful as much as he wanted to avoid angering the boy whose side he pawed at nervously.
"It is a possibility that you may be regarded that way, yes."
He would have laughed at the answer if the vagueness didn't make something in his chest hurt, if his clear avoidance didn't make him realise his opinion as clear as day, just changing tactic, "Do you think I'm ungrateful?"
"I could not formulate an opinion. You should ask Mizuki," if it was possible, his stare would be a little knowing, as if certain that he had asked Ren if only to avoid asking Mizuki, since they were the closest two people to him, which was sad considering one of them wasn't even a person.
He emerged later than he normally would, scrubbing a towel through his hair and completely ignoring him, disappearing silently into the kitchen and emerging about half an hour later, thrusting a plate of toast and bacon into his hands. He didn't quite have the heart to complain the bread was burned and the bacon was soggy, just choking it down quietly and finishing the bottle of water, nodding his thanks silently as he yanked his plate back roughly.
"You're in a good mood," it was a little sarcastic and he regretted it the second he turned around to face him, having eaten his own bacon already, with much more loud crunching than he felt was necessary. He just raised his hands in apology and rolled his eyes, able to feel the waves of annoyance coming from him and squirming a little under the unusually distant treatment, having been prepared for a telling off and concerned words, not this apathy.
"Yeah, getting woken up by what I thought was somebody breaking in then discovering you unconscious and covered in blood instead really was the highlight of my evening," the sheer amount of attitude in his voice was honestly ridiculous, sarcasm biting and cutting into his skin, swallowing hard as he spoke reluctantly.
"So, how bad was I?"
"You want the truth?" he shrugged then, because a lie was fine if he wanted to tell one, Ren had filled him in anyway, just listening to Mizuki sigh and turn away, knowing he'd been sick of this for a while. "You were completely off your face and thought I was an evil monster or something, you threw up into a bucket then kicked it over the floor and me and you injured yourself about twenty different ways."
"Hm, sounds like I had a good night."
"This isn't funny, Sly!"
"I never said it was," he was glaring now but weakly, movement hurting his head and stopping easily, rubbing at his forehead and wincing as a sharp pain shot through the base of his neck, hiding his face, albeit unintentionally. "You looked after me again."
"Of course I did, you never exactly give me a choice," that tone again, that disappointed, defeated way of speaking that made his stomach shrivel up and all his childish objections die in his throat, his obnoxious attitude retreating under a wash of cool guilt.
"You didn't have to, I- I mean, nobody else would, so," he hadn't meant to say that, he'd meant to say thank you but that had slipped out instead and it was equally true so he supposed he didn't mind much.
He sighed then, exasperated and sounding angry with himself if nothing else, "how many times will I have to say this? I care about you, Sly."
"How inconvenient," he just picked at his nails, staring at the bandaged one with confusion before realising he was utterly covered in bandages so it was pointless to question just one, thinking he must have been as bad as Mizuki said to get this hurt and not remember any of it.
"You really need to start looking after yourself, you'll get yourself killed or attacked again or something," that had been a low blow and Sly's gaze was more hurt than angry, a weak scowl given the harsh nature of the words and the memory they referenced, the one he'd been trying to avoid repeating this time only to mess up. His voice softened automatically, apologetically, saying something he didn't know he believed and almost surprising himself, "I won't always be here to help."
"I don't need your help."
"Yes you do!" His head jerked up as Mizuki raised his voice, shouting because he made everything so difficult and he was so ungrateful that he hated him a little, acting like a selfish child, not once saying thank you or showing any appreciation for everything he did for him. "I don't have to fucking help you!"
"Then don't! I don't need you!"
"Then get out, don't come crawling back like you always do. Leave and stay gone for once and stop messing up my life! Go and get drugged and raped and bleed to death in some alley somewhere, or overdose in some grimy club, because you know that's how it'll end, you can't look after yourself and you don't even try. Don't you care about your life at all?"
"Not really."
He'd been planning on continuing to yell, but with those easily spoken words his anger changed and he'd advanced on him, crowding him against the back of the couch and not sure he was bothered when he winced as he tried to move back only to be trapped in place. Grabbing him by the shoulder and seeing fresh blood oozing from the bandage on his wrist as he tried to push him away weakly, eyes narrowing in pain and actually crying out as his stupid broken bone failed to do anything.
"God you make me so fucking angr-"
"So what are you going to do, beat me up? Cause It'd be easy enough, maybe you'd even win, is that what you want? Are you so angry with me not looking after myself that you're going to knock me the fuck out? I'm sorry, okay, is that what you want to hear?" He didn't want to hear it, didn't want to hear himself saying what he wanted, to admit that he wished sometimes Mizuki would put his hands on him and just hurt him, would treat him the same as everybody else would. "I'm sorry but this time it wasn't my fault! And last time it wasn't either and it never is but even you can't see that anymore!"
He'd managed to shove him off then, scrambling messily for the other end of the couch, hating that Mizuki wouldn't let go of him, grabbing his arm hard, right over the bandage, fingers digging into the wound.
"God, you're supposed to be fucking nice to me! Like you always are! That's why Ren led me here! You're not meant to yell at me like this is my fault when I had nothing to do with it this time! I was as scared as you, alright? I get scared too I'm not some fucking monster!"
Then it was silent, Ren was whining at his foot and Mizuki's fingers were getting wet with his blood, teeth baring angrily as he wouldn't even fucking respond and yanking his hand back so hard it hurt more, "get the fuck off me, you're making me bleed again. What's the point in fucking bandaging me only to try and mess me up again?"
"That's not what I was trying to do." Calmer now, but not to be trusted, like the sea right before a storm that came in two parts, the waves coming first to drown him in anger then the wind to tear him apart from the inside out, to make his eyes water with tears he couldn't help and to leave him chilled all the way to the middle.
"Then what are you trying to do?"
"I'm trying to look after you! I'm trying to make you realise you're worth something and that you don't deserve any of this! I know this isn't your fault but maybe it wouldn't have happened if you weren't such an idiotic slut!"
"You think I'm a slut?"
"Why were you even at Grime? Because it sure wasn't for a fun night out with friends, was it? You probably got down on your knees for anybody who waved a couple hundred yen at you! You'd probably do it for free you love it so much!" Spite, malice, a strange hint of jealousy neither of them would ever deem worthy of acknowledging, spitting into his face even after he'd released him, pushing Ren away as he growled and bared his teeth the way he never had before, seeing Mizuki as a threat now.
"I'm not listening to this, where are my fucking clothes?"
"They were covered in blood, I binned them, maybe you can buy more with the money you earned."
He ignored him, pushing away from his rage and stalking into his bedroom, knowing he was being followed but not caring, tearing open the wardrobe and stealing clothes at random because he knew Mizuki would have been giving him them anyway. He'd only just managed to pull a shirt on before he'd grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him round and knocking him off balance, fabric almost tearing where it pooled over his chest, one arm trapped in the material as Mizuki shoved him back onto the bed.
His hands were curled around his wrists and it hurt but he ignored that, feeling the warmth of fear beginning to flood him even though he knew this man and this place, had slept and fucked in this bed before, swallowing hard and glare flickering and fading. "What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to get you to see sense, if you weren't such a stupid, seducing whore nobody would dream of spiking you but you can't keep your stupid fucking legs closed for one-"
He'd yanked him down by the neck then, and of course, as he'd anticipated, he was as bad as the rest of them, resisting his kiss for maybe a few seconds before his angry grip turned possessive and he was pinning his hips down hard, ignoring his injuries and if Sly could have smiled it would have been thin, reflecting Mizuki's favourite emotion, disappointment.
But then it was over, and they were lying there in silence that Sly didn't like for once, sweat cooling on them and regret heavy in both their bones, Mizuki's arm slung over his waist and pressed too close into him, blood streaked on his sheets.
"I really fucking hate you," he whispered, but it wasn't true and they both knew it, Sly rolling onto his side and realising as his legs ached what a stupid idea that had been, that he should just have left, wiping himself clean with dirty boxers and yanking open one of Mizuki's drawers, finding sweatpants and pulling them on. The shirt from before followed, bartender actually offering up a hoodie himself, sitting up and watching as he yanked it on, keeping the hood over his head and not turning round to face him.
"I know."
