It's remarkably okay at first, being away from Mizuki again, he can go back to what he's used to, wandering the streets for the day, snacking on the biscuits in his bag and basically making a nuisance of himself in the most innocent way he can. He's forgotten that beyond the four walls of the bartender's apartment, he commands power just by existing, that people see him and divert routes, or glare or spit insults that bounce right off him.
He's thicker skinned than he was, and none of their comments so much as scrape the surface, ignoring the father who pulls his children away from the wall he leans on, blinking blankly into the face of one youth dumb enough to demand they fight. His cold stare is enough to deter him from his idiotic plan and he jogs back to his friends with his tail between his legs, suitably put in his place by Sly's mere presence. It's nice, he decides, to be somewhere people are afraid of him, take him as something serious instead of actually acting like he's worth knowing.
But he can't stay on the streets forever and despite the air still being warm as summer transfers into autumn, he knows he needs to find a place to sleep and after weeks of being in a memory foam, king-size bed, he doesn't want to end up back in his warehouse.
She isn't expecting him, and he forgets he's unwelcome. But she lets him in anyway, warms them up leftovers from the fridge and they both watch each other when the other isn't looking.
She's seems smaller, like she's lost weight, her hair is fading to pastel and grey infringes around her wrinkled temple. When she stands up it takes a longer than it used to. Her hip clicks.
She winces and rubs at it but Sly pretends not to notice. It's then he remembers that he shouldn't be here, that his features belong to another, that all he'd have to do was grow out and dye his hair and speak softly and wear different clothes and he could be someone else entirely. Someone that she actually wants.
He can't stay there long, and after two nights of avoiding each other and her choosing not to question why he suddenly doesn't have a place to stay anymore, he decides it's time to quit being in a house where he's not wanted, and leaves before she wakes up.
That day passes much the same as his first day since they'd ended things, and really Sly would like to say since Mizuki ended things, but honestly his fucking Noiz had been a significant cause for their eternal break, so they are both to blame.
He contemplates what he's going to do now as he sits atop one of his favourite rooftops, perched right on the highest point, some kind of ventilation duct, made of metal that has been warmed by the days sun and is a little too hot on his thighs. It makes sense to just continue life as he had been, enjoying every day for whatever it was, finding a dealer to get back to a sense of normality that involves being high about 80% of the time.
The issue is, he doesn't have any money, Mizuki had given him a fair bit of food, a farewell gift as well as reassurance for him that he won't starve to death while trying to forge his own way again, and that is all well and good but really, a wad of cash would have been far preferable.
Every solution to his problem turns his stomach and he really begins to hate Mizuki, because before they ever met he wouldn't have hesitated to find an illicit way to make some money down a back alley. But now? Now the idea makes him feel a bit sick which is admittedly normal, but for him it means he's without any means of making money to support himself in the tentative way he always has, and it is entirely Mizuki's fault.
He still has one option though, and with irritation bubbling in his gut, he shoulders his bag and makes his way back down into civilisation, and another memory foam bed.
"Sly, back for round two?"
He rolls his eyes and shoulders past, because he knew Noiz wouldn't be tactful enough to not mention their rather abrupt lunge from tentative friends to people who fucked sometimes, his bag ends up on the floor and he turns Ren on for the first time in what feels like months. It's been at least one, and he supposes hard logic might be useful now he's back to street living and mooching off his rich acquaintance.
"Haha," his laugh is derisive and he heads towards the kitchen in his open-plan apartment space, soft, bouncy carpet cushioning his bare feet before transitioning into cold tile, socks and trainers left abandoned by the couch, regarding the lack of food with no surprise and getting a beer instead. "You got an opener for this?"
"Top drawer, get me one too," he does as he's told, uncapping both and not stooping to dig one lost cap out from under the washing machine where it's rolled. "Haven't seen you around for a bit, even went by your warehouse a couple times. Where you been staying?"
"Mizuki's. He said I could for a bit, something happened."
"What?" There's no way he doesn't already know, he's an information broker after all, and a good one too, so he just tells him simply and takes a long swig of his beer. It's frothy and he's always hated the bitterness it leaves on his tongue.
"Brother died."
"Huh. That's shitty."
"Yeah, it is pretty shitty." But they clink bottles anyway and Noiz seems intelligent enough to not mention it again, accepting him into his home with remarkable nonchalance and ordering enough food for about six people when it begins to get late. The leftovers go into the fridge and it seems they'll be living on them for the considerable future, and really, the arrangement might just be perfect. There's food and drink on tap because Noiz is like a millionaire or something, hell, there's probably sex on tap too, though he's not entirely sure how he feels about going down that road.
Not again, at any rate.
It's at about the two week mark that Sly slowly begins to realise that he gets no pleasure in taunting people anymore, in going to Grime and having messy nights, in staggering back to his warehouse or Noiz's, whichever is closest, with blood on his nose and the beginnings of an awful hangover. It's quite a big issue considering that is all his life consists of, and there isn't really much else he can do other than stay at Noiz's constantly and never go outside. So he does that instead.
It's another couple weeks after that, that he starts to feel honestly weird, unsatisfied with everything and unable to concentrate, his chest feels heavy sometimes or tight with anger he doesn't have energy or desire to express. He sits and doesn't do anything but listen to the weird American game Noiz has been playing, some confusing shit about a photographer who can rewind time or some fuckery, something he doesn't care to watch or get invested in. He just lets the music wash over him where he's curled into himself on an expensive couch, and his eyelids feel heavy, and he thinks of his brother a lot and of Mizuki sometimes.
It's about this time that Noiz finally asks too, and he's surprised that it took this long, and at the ease with which he replies.
"If you were crashing at Mizuki's for so long, how come you're not at his still?"
He exhales a huff of air, an amused scoff, tapping ash into the stupidly fancy tray before he responds with a shrug. It feels like the most he's moved in a while. "I fucked him off. I'm a free agent again."
"How come?"
"Wasn't gunna work. Of course it wasn't. Better to end it now."
"I guess. Did you like him?" The question wasn't blunt like Noiz could be, but it wasn't soft either because heaven knows he wasn't good at that either, he just wanted to know, perhaps even needed to know.
"Yeah, I really liked him," he replies, and the crinkled, confused expression that earns makes him want to cry because fuck he'd really, really liked him, and he'd ruined everything.
Grief is a strange emotion. Most days Sly doesn't really feel much of it, or any at all, but there are seconds where it floods him and he has to swallow wetly to fight back the threatening wetness of his eyes. He tries not to let himself dwell on it, at least not when Noiz is around, but then sometimes he'll see something, or hear something, or smell something that reminds him of his brother, and his chest gets tight and he feels like he's going to burst with sadness.
He misses him often, stands in the shower feeling lonely and guilty for not spending more time with him when he could. He remembers how much he loved everyone around him, selflessly, unconditionally, remembered turning up at the house in the better days with a black eye and a bust lip and not receiving any judgement whatsoever.
Or turning up with bites on his neck and a turned up collar in a weak attempt to hide them, bites from Mizuki, though he ignores that for now because the memory of his twin in the hospital is far stronger, seeing the marks and teasing him about them in such a good-natured, calm way that Sly knew he cast no bad thoughts upon him.
It's hard, because his throat tightens and it's often very abrupt, coming from absolutely nowhere and he can't breathe for a second as his chest stutters and his eyes shimmer with wetness. It's hard to think of somebody so kind, so loving, being now gone, and harder still to think of his body in that box. It doesn't feel like a fitting enough end for somebody so utterly gentle, and selfless and considerate. He tries not to think about it, about how he'd felt seeing the funeral procession go off from his house, to not think of that plain pine box that had held the only person who has ever loved him so fully, so without condition.
Some days he lets the feeling take over for an hour or two, sits quietly on the couch while Noiz is out gathering intel or whatever he does, and lets the heavy feeling of loss, of sorrow, just overwhelm him until his eyes feel sore and puffy and his face is sticky with tears that fall down completely unbidden.
His Grandma had told him he might not be around for much longer, to say his goodbyes, so he'd gone to see him one last time, left the hospital room and said he'd see him later, knowing that probably wasn't true, but not wanting to make things so final with a solid word of farewell. An 'I love you,' had slipped out, tacked on like it was as natural as breathing, like it was something they always said to each other rather than being something silent but known by the both of them. He hadn't replied, so maybe he hadn't even heard, but knowing that he'd at least been able to say it makes the memory somehow more painful and more relieving at the same time. He's glad he said it, he'd regret it if he hadn't, but just remembering how much he really did love him, his only brother, his twin, makes the loss somehow even more raw.
"Noiz."
"Mm?"
"Come here," it was strange, to be somewhere completely different now, to be once again greeting somebody whose clothes he wore, who could walk about in his apartment feeling safe in just a t-shirt and some sweatpants he nearly stood on the hems of. But he was here, with Noiz now and the foreigner hadn't so much as mentioned that he was staying, had just let it happen and occasionally thrusted a take-out box of pasta or an Xbox controller his way. He knew something was wrong of course, he wasn't dense enough to believe Sly and Mizuki had gone their own ways with no animosity, and even he wasn't emotionally stunted enough to not know something was wrong.
He also wasn't the best person at supplying comfort, which somehow might make it easier for Sly to take what he needed. Noiz had a particularly lax grasp of personal space, and a tendency for unintentional skinship, something Sly couldn't bring himself to mind right now when he wanted closeness more than anything else, to drown out the incessantly annoying pounding of his heart.
So Noiz silently obeyed, sinking onto the couch with coil in hand, yawning as if none of this bothered him even as Sly shuffled close enough to rest his head on his shoulder, arms coming to encircle him because he needed something to hold onto.
"Wanna watch a movie?"
"Sure."
He acted like none of this was weird, messing about on the device until the TV sparked neatly into life and title sequences appeared on the screen, none Sly cared much to read, jostling him as he tucked knees under his chin and an arm came to rest around his shoulder, bare skin blocked from his neck by the finest sheet of hair.
He's remarkably okay with it all, and when Sly sniffs he awkwardly pats his hair and doesn't mention it, doesn't ask whether he just has a cold or whether something is wrong, and Sly prefers it that way.
"What do you want?"
Sly pauses for entirely too long, way longer than he should have even after he noticed the take-out menu in Noiz's hand and realised that the question is not as broad or as deep as he'd initially mistaken it to be.
"Whatever." He answers quietly, his mind is elsewhere now.
He'd like to see the ocean from the shore, feel sand between his toes, he wants Ren to be there too, to tell him about the fish and the creatures in the rock pools. He wants a place of his own, nothing too impressive, a couple of rooms and maybe a balcony he can smoke on. A cat too, a friendly one who'll curl up in his lap and rub against his legs when he stands to cook actual food, food that maybe he even paid for himself. He wants carpet, and a bathtub, and clean bedding, and somewhere to put his shoes, ones that perhaps wouldn't be years old and full of holes. He wants to buy a bunch of flowers, put all but one on a gravestone under a mid-day sky and keep the other for himself. A bookshelf, not too full, with room for more if he deems anything interesting and readable enough.
It's a nice picture, a quiet life where he can keep to himself and not be bothered, where thinking wouldn't always be a bad thing, but it feels so far away when he comes back to reality with the usual, harsh thud of somebody speaking.
"We're getting pizza."
"Cool," he replies, but pizza really isn't what he wants.
"Are you living the dream?"
Noiz looks at him with the usual blank stare, eyes flickering over his expression to try and read him, shrugging as he turns back to the screen and his latest game, "nah, is anyone?"
Sly doesn't understand, it's a weirdly vague answer, as well as an unsatisfying one considering he spends every day thinking that Noiz really has it all. "You've got all this money, you can hack whatever you want, what other dream could you have?"
"You know I'm not from here, right?" He doesn't leave time to respond, but he's so obviously foreign that he doesn't need to wait, "maybe I wanna go home sometimes."
"That's the dream? Leaving here?" This at least, is understandable, Sly spends a lot of time in general, and a lot of time lately, staring at the line of the horizon where the island ends and the rest of the world begins, and wishes himself anywhere but where he is.
"One of 'em."
"How many are there?"
"A few," he leaves it at that, and both of them are fine to let the conversation die there. There's no need for either of them to share more, there is no intimacy here, they barely know each other and somehow that works out best for both of them, even if Sly does feel a little lonely sometimes as he stares at the blond head and wonders why he allows this.
He doesn't go out a lot, or at all, he hits up Grime a couple of times but the crowd there never gave him the respect he deserved anyway and with his long period of absence he blends into the collection of wall-leaners too easily.
A couple approach him, with alcohol breath and leering eyes, ask him if he wants a drink as if that is their real intention with him, and he considers it for about five seconds, but something isn't right about it now and he shakes his head and tells them to fuck off, waves them in someone else's direction. They take it remarkably well, and when he leaves about an hour later, nobody spares him a second glance.
He's beginning to enjoy being invisible, even as it suffocates him.
He especially, deliberately, stays out of Dry Juice territory, he doesn't want to see anybody he knows, or even somebody he doesn't who is marked with that stupid tattoo, that symbol of everything he is leaving behind.
It's difficult, though, to leave things behind when they've been keeping up with him so long, and even a run in with Virus and Trip isn't able to build the same rage in him it would once have.
"Sly-san," he beams like he's thrilled to see him and even Trip looks weirdly enthusiastic about this apparent chance encounter, offering a wave and ditching his cigarette to focus his full attention on him. "We haven't seen you since the funeral."
His breath stutters a little and he almost chokes on smoke, exhaling messily through his nose and straightening his back as if he isn't freaked out to know they're not only aware of his brother's death, but also had somehow seen him watching the first steps of his burial process. Had witnessed him watching secretly from the rafters of his Grandmother's house. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised, they seem to know everything.
"Didn't see you there."
"Naturally we remained inconspicuous. But we couldn't let our biggest fans twin be laid to rest without paying our respects."
"Generous of you," but all of them are smiling too thinly and Sly feels lightheaded when he decides he doesn't want to hear any more, when he concedes defeat to them and heads for the safe haven of Noiz's home.
He throws up when he gets there, and blames the force of it on the warmth trickling down his face as he hunches over cold porcelain feeling utterly, utterly alone.
Mizuki doesn't tell anybody what happened, there'd be no point, only Kin and Tio know about Sly in the first place, and he doesn't want to have to prove his best friend right and admit that things went south and that this was all a terrible idea to begin with.
He doesn't want to prove him right, even though it's more childish pride than anything else that keeps him from letting anyone know.
He doesn't want to admit that he'd naively thought maybe it might actually work. He supposes he's proven his own stupidity now.
The first week passes without comment nor any kind of ceremony, Mizuki's life is remarkably the same, there's no dramatic Sly shaped hole in his apartment, and Amaya is fine to curl up on his lap and provide company that isn't harsh and snapping. She doesn't seem to notice Sly's absence either, and takes to curling up on the empty sides of the bed at night, her soft breathing lulling Mizuki into a sleep that is surprisingly peaceful.
It's kinda nice, in all honesty, to have his space back, to be able to get home from a long day and just do whatever he wants and not have to deal with anyone else's shit, to be able to watch a movie without derogatory comments, to be able to listen to embarrassing music without being labelled a sap.
It's nice, for a while, being alone again. But he slowly starts to throw himself into work more without even noticing it, and he's pulling twelve hour shifts before he even realises that something has to be wrong. He's in his apartment to sleep, eat, shower and shit, and that's really it. He starts jogging again, with Tio or sometimes one of the others at his side, and they share casual, friendly conversation as they pound the streets of Midorijima at early morning light or the start of dusk just before the sun sinks down below the mountains.
He books too many appointments and he's still there, inking intently or talking through designs with customers long after their official closing hours, some nights finishing up right as the bar opens for the night and he's off his stool and serving people perched on their own.
His back aches and his eyes struggle to focus and he collapses into bed every night and sleeps like a baby until his alarm screams him awake and he's back to it all again. He starts accepting the occasional tattoo appointment on a Sunday which is the only day where neither the bar nor the studio opens, and really he thinks everything is fine until there's outside interference and somebody else has to let him know something's wrong.
"Hey, I'm clocking off for the day. Don't stay too late, alright?"
"Sure thing mum, I'll go up after I finish this sketch."
Tio continues to watch him but Mizuki is too focused in his drawing to even notice the eyes boring a hole into his back, "I saw your diary, you've got somebody coming in at five, and another at seven for a three hour session."
"Mm?"
"You were here at nine, Mizuki, you didn't even go home for lunch."
"I brought a sandwich."
"That's still in the fridge. Have you even been drinking?"
"Yeah, got a bottle on the side over there," the bottle he gestures to is a metal flask, so Tio can't tell if any of its contents have been drunk, what the contents are, or if it's been refilled during the day, but considering he hasn't noticed Mizuki going to the bathroom either, he guesses that's a lie too.
"Hm," he doesn't respond other than a quiet, contemplative hum, and Mizuki presumably expects him to leave, maybe he thinks he's already gone considering how little attention he's paying him. But he's concerned so he steps into the room properly, no longer lingering on the threshold and putting a hand on Mizuki's shoulder so he'll finally look up at him, hand squeezing as he narrows his eyes at him.
He looks okay, he doesn't seem exhausted or stressed or run down, sure, his hair is a little messier than usual and could maybe do with a trim, but other than that he seems to be alright in himself, and one missed lunch isn't that big a deal. "You've been working a lot lately, is everything okay? With you? Sly?"
"Yeah man, everything's great, just got a lot of inspiration, y'know?" He nods, because he does know, he can't count on both hands the amount of times inspiration had suddenly hit Mizuki and he'd been doodling onto serviettes or whatever paper he could lay his hands on. But that's the problem, because Mizuki is always inspired, but never to the extent where he does nothing but work, in fact usually his inspiration makes him less eager to work until he's gotten his idea down and then can go back to projects he's less passionate about.
"Yeah, I get that. Don't burn yourself out though, we need you here," Mizuki seems pleased at that, lightly patting the hand on his shoulder in appreciation and smiling up at him, seemingly feeling reassured by the genuine concern he's being shown.
"I know, don't worry, I'll have a big tea, alright? And tomorrow I won't bartend so I can get an early night instead."
"Alright, I guess that'll do," he's joking, but he realises his earlier question hadn't really been answered, in fact Mizuki's response, while suitably distracting, had been a little hedging too. "So, everything okay with Sly? You guys didn't fight or anything?"
"Nah, he moved out a few days back, wasn't working for him," he's back to his design and Tio's hand is back in it's pocket again, so Mizuki doesn't see his eyebrows furrow and him frown at how calmly he's spoken.
"Oh. So, what, you guys are just, over?"
"Mm-hm, it was a mutual thing. It wasn't going to work out, I mean seriously, Sly Blue? Man, what was I thinking?" He laughs and Tio lightly exhales along, a puff of humour escaping his nose but nothing more than that because he can feel sick unease building in his gut.
"You're okay about it?"
"Yeah, no point being upset about it, it was bound to happen. Besides, now I can do what I like doing without having to look after him all the time."
But you liked looking after him, Tio thinks and doesn't say, you love having people to look after and who needed looking after more than Sly?
"Yeah that's true, must be a relief, huh?"
"Oh you have no idea," he laughs and Tio wants to say that no, he doesn't. But he puts his hand back on Mizuki's shoulder instead.
"You know I'm always here if you wanna talk, right?"
"I know dude," he smiles again, and this is more genuine, slipping an arm around his waist to pull him into a messy kind of hug, and Tio knows if he wasn't sitting he would absolutely have ruffled his hair to lessen the comfort of the moment, the intimacy. "You'll be my first port of call."
"Good, don't strain your eyes, alright? I'll see you in the morning."
"Yeah, yeah, see you tomorrow."
"You alright?"
"Yeah, um, yeah I think so."
"Did something happen?" His question is too specific and Tio wonders again just what happened to make him so wary of Mizuki, so weirdly aware of him at all times, like he considers him a threat.
"No. But, what do you know about him and Sly, you haven't heard anything lately, have you?"
"They were arguing a couple of weeks ago, sounded pretty serious, but they argue all the time, so I dunno. Why?"
"They broke up."
"Oh." He obviously isn't expecting that, and his tone of questioning is far too casual, Tio knows it's fake. "Why's that?"
"He didn't say." They walk along in silence for a little while, but then the skirting around the issue that Kin knows something is beginning to drive him mad and he throws everything to the wind and asks. "You know something about it, don't you? You heard something."
"What do you mean?"
"When you heard them arguing, you heard something that's making you be weird with Mizuki."
He laughs a little, "I don-"
"No, no, don't say you don't know what I'm on about, or that you and Mizuki are just peachy, you heard something. You're watching Mizuki like a hawk, like he's going to swoop down and… I don't know, carry me off or something."
"It's not like that."
"Then what is it like? You've been being so possessive whenever he's around, something has to be wrong."
"I'm not possessive."
"You don't think standing right next to me and touching me every five seconds is possessive?"
"Tio, you're blowing this way out of proportion."
"Tell me what you heard."
They're actually arguing now, and as usual, it's because of somebody else, first it was Kurosawa, and now it's Mizuki, Tio is beginning to wonder if they're both just inherently jealous people.
"No."
"So you admit you heard something?"
"I'm not admitting anything, Tio, why are you interrogating me?"
Okay, scratch that, Tio is arguing, and Kin is trying to do anything but.
"Just tell me, what you heard. Please, Kin?"
"Sly said-" It's obvious he doesn't want to say it, and they've stopped in the middle of an empty street to have a disagreement. He sighs and he actually looks pretty pissed off as he grinds his jaw and finally speaks, "Sly said something about you and Mizuki."
"Wow, that's real specific, thanks, Kin, super helpful."
"God, fine, I'll fucking tell you then since you can never just leave anything be," Tio thinks he's offended by that, though he's not sure what it means, he recognises it as a personal attack. "Sly said he knows Mizuki thinks about you when they fuck."
He's stunned into silence, and that doesn't happen a lot, so he opens his mouth and all that spills out is a surprised little, "oh."
"Are you happy now? I wasn't going to tell you, because you know, maybe it's not true but they broke up over it so maybe it is. Are you content, now you've fucking dragged it out of me? Do you feel better now that you've got your way, like you always do?"
"I'm sorry, I always get my way?"
"You don't like my ex, and suddenly he's gone. You don't think that's you getting your way?"
"You said he was a mistake, you told me that yourself, don't put your stupid decisions on me, alright?"
"You string me along like a puppet on a fucking… String! Everything's always at your pace, what you want. Maybe for once I wanted to be the one with some level of control."
"This is your control? Hiding something like that from me? I'm tempted to fuck him just to spite you." That's not even true, but his mouth blurts the first thing his brain thinks of, the thing he knows will hurt him most and he knows he loses his filter so fast when he gets angry, he's so indignant and furious right now that he barely even registers what he's saying.
"Go ahead, I don't give a fuck, I'm so done with you, nothing I do is good enough for you. So fine, if Mizuki's what you actually want then go the fuck ahead. Hell, call me and let me know how good it was, we both know that I could never compare."
"Don't be so self-pitying."
"Hard when you spend all your time pitying me. I'm going back to my shitty apartment to watch my shitty TV and eat cheap ramen noodles without you judging me, you can walk yourself home."
"I'm sorry." He starts the call with that, and his voice is so small he's surprised Kin has even heard him, but he hears a sigh and the shuffling of papers, and carries on. "I shouldn't have said any of that."
"No, you shouldn't," his voice is hard and for a second Tio's breath catches and he realises he absolutely isn't going to be forgiven for this any time soon. He hears a swallow and what might be a groan of irritation, and braces himself for whatever there is to come, certain he won't survive it with all his feelings intact. "But neither should I. Shit, I'm sorry, Tio. I should have just told you."
"I know why you didn't. But, I mean, I get it now. Why you've been like that around Mizuki." Silence falls on both sides of the line and it's not a comfortable one, Kin feels embarrassed at having acted so protectively, and Tio isn't sure if he's flattered or offended by the implications. "You know you don't have anything to worry about, right? We're just friends."
He sighs again, and every time he does that Tio winces, waiting for things to blow up in his face and pretty sure he'll deserve everything he gets, "I know. I know that. It's not that I don't trust you."
Something in Tio rears an ugly head and he wants to remark that it sure seemed that way when he watched him like a hawk for days on end every time Mizuki so much as shared the same oxygen. "I don't trust Mizuki. I know he's your friend and he wouldn't do anything to mess that up, but I don't know him that well. And besides, Sly's…"
"Sly's what?" He doesn't know where Kin was going with that, but he knows not to trust a single thing Mizuki's ex (if he can be counted as that), says, "he's a liar, a stirrer, Kin. He would have said anything in an argument to get the reaction he wanted, even ridiculous stuff like that."
"Yeah, you're right," he concedes and forces a smile Tio can't even see, but he doesn't agree nor believe what he's saying, there's definitely some truth in Sly's words, well timed though they may have been. He trusts Mizuki as far as he can throw him, and he's really been slacking at the gym lately.
But still, him and Tio have made up and that is good at least, Tio is smart enough not to mention any of the nasty things he'd accused him of, and in return Kin decides to drop his own grudge about the while situation, and things are largely fine again.
Or they are, until Tio decides its due time he goes to see his mother and sister, to ask the prior some awkward questions about things they've all left buried deep in their pasts.
His mother purses her lips when he says why he's really there and his sister is suddenly withdrawn as she excuses herself to her room with the excuse of having a project to finish even though it's the summer holidays and he's pretty sure she's not the type to study more than she needs to. She might even have graduated already, he doesn't really keep in touch with them as much as he should and the reasons become obvious as his mother relents and pulls down an old, dust covered photo album from the top of a kitchen cabinet.
"Why are you suddenly so interested?"
"I dunno, I grew up, I guess. I'm old enough to know now, I think, about what happened."
"Mm," she nods, and her face softens a little bit as she supposes he has every right to know, fully aware that this talk is long overdue and that one day she imagines herself and her daughter sitting down for the very same talk. "Well, I guess I should start from the beginning."
"Yeah, that's what I want to know. I think, what changed."
"Alright, drink your tea, and I'll tell you what I can."
"Thank you."
He's there for almost two hours, his sister remains a ghost until he leaves but her room has been so silent he thinks she might have been eavesdropping, he's not sure he'd blame her, this runs deep for all of them, even if she was too young to remember a lot of it.
He smiles and hugs his mum in thanks, and pretends he was just curious for the sake of it, but he leaves and he's felt steadily sicker and sicker as she'd explained what had happened, just when things had gone wrong. It's a pattern he can see in himself, he shares features with another in the album under his arm and he'd never noticed before just how like him he looks.
He covers up the mirror in his bathroom, and repeats his mantra to himself, and he's so filled with conflict that he feels like he's tearing in two.
One thing he knows though, is that he has to talk to Kin. After all, he deserves better.
"Kin, we talked about this."
He pauses, frowning down at the cocktail he's mixing and feeling like he's just been scolded by his mother, a thought he doesn't really appreciate since she isn't in a fit state to scold anyone these days. Not certain what he's done wrong, he regards his workstation and supposes it is a bit of a mess, there are a few bottles without tops and he hasn't been cleaning up as he goes along, mint leaves crumpled behind a scattering of salt from a mojito drunk over an hour ago now.
"Being tidy?"
Tio laughs and it should be reassuring but if it isn't his messiness he's referencing then really Kin isn't sure what he's talking about, and that could spell trouble, "no, but you still need to work on that. I meant the Mizuki thing."
"Oh. You mean the whole, me being protective thing?" He feels embarrassed saying it and he can feel the tips of his ears getting hot, with the house lights up now their shift is over and they just linger to clean and enjoy a free drink of their choice, perks of the job, Tio can probably see them glowing red under his hair.
"Mm-hm," Tio clearly feels uncomfortable too, sighing and stepping closer to put a hand on his arm, resting right between where his shirt sleeve ends and his skin begins, warm against his flesh and enough of a distraction that he forgets his childish mortification for a minute and just focuses on Tio's thumb leaving goose bumps in its wake. "He's not going to steal me from you."
"You're not really mine to steal," he doesn't mean it as a jab, he even smiles as he says it, and honestly that is half of the problem here, that there would be no stealing involved, no cheating, no tangible reason why Mizuki shouldn't get back with Tio if that's what they both want. But as Tio's thumb stops rubbing circles into his bicep he realises how it sounds, even with his tone of voice being perfectly reasonable and almost dismissing of Tio's statement, trying to placate things, it sounds bad.
Tio isn't looking at him now and his expression is drawn, regarding the floor blankly and lips downturned at the corner in what could be a frown or anger, Kin can't really tell which.
"Not- I didn't mean it like that."
"Then how did you mean it? I know I string you along, okay? I didn't need you to tell me because I already knew," he sighs and the initial snap of his voice has faded and it is small and quiet and guilty. He's still touching him. "I've just- I've got some shit to deal with, just- To work through, I guess. I didn't want to drag you into it but you just turned up and suddenly I'm remembering all this stuff and all these reasons why it won't work and it can't work and it's just- It's-"
Kin isn't sure how he'd describe the change in Tio, but his hand grows tighter around his arm, words getting faster, more frantic, like he's panicking and blurting stuff but Kin can't see any reason to panic. It's like he's trying to convince himself of his words more than anyone else, like he's got this weird, ingrained idea and he's repeating it until he believes it again.
Kin doesn't know what's going on, but he can see when somebody is in need of comfort, when somebody is working themselves into a state and needs to be stopped, when he needs him to be quiet and stop talking because these words don't seem entirely voluntary and Tio is sure to forget them.
"Tio," he doesn't look up at him even as he calls his name and he looks suddenly so distressed that he pulls his arm away and back into himself and he's still muttering under his breath that it won't work and it'll never work and his words are vehement. "Hey, hey. Relax, okay?"
Kin has to basically shake him to get any sense out of him and he snaps back into reality with shaking fingers and eyes darting around as if expecting to see the ghost of somebody long since removed from his existence.
"You okay?"
"Mm, sorry, I sorta went off on one there, huh? I-" He pauses to swallow and gather himself, "I got a lot on my mind."
"That's cool," he shakes his head to assuage Tio that all is well, hands moving to rest on his shoulders and feeling so much tension there he's honestly surprised because Tio is striking him increasingly as being neurotic and he'd always seemed pretty chilled out before. "Deal with your shit, okay? I'm here if you ever need help with it."
"Thanks."
"No problem," it's his turn to sigh now because he doesn't know what's going on and he's trying his best to work out the issue with only half-truths and accidental slips of the tongue to guide him in the right direction. He's walking blind. "The shit you've got going on, does the way I am around you with Mizuki make it worse?"
He purses his lips to consider this, there's something frightened in his eyes and Kin definitely doesn't like it that the look is turned his way, that he might be causing it somehow, "yes and no. It's really complicated. I'll tell you some day, promise."
"Okay," Tio has sagged under his palms and he looks tired, Kin is about to suggest they drink their cocktails, do a quick clean up and head to their respective homes, but Tio raises his voice first and there's a weird undertone to it that he can't quite place.
"You don't remind me of anyone."
Is that good? He really doesn't know if that's good, it doesn't sound good, but then Kin has to admit that right now he has no idea what's going through Tio's head because they're having a conversation about a secret only one of them is party to.
He's debating what the fuck he's meant to read from that and feeling baffled and possibly a little insulted, but it seems that is pre-emptive and unnecessary because instead of explaining Tio kisses him and he guesses he can't have meant it badly.
He's cupping his face protectively and his mouth is soft and slow and fuck, Kin wants to know everything about him, all his secrets and insecurities and thoughts, wants to know what it is that makes him hold back. They're dating, he tells himself as Tio cradles his face in his hands and he easily spans the width of his hips to nestle Tio closer, palms snug on the small of his back.
They're dating, he tells himself as Tio scratches at the hair on the nape of his neck and smiles against his mouth and sucks on his bottom lip.
They're dating, he tells himself later, as he lies in bed staring up at his ceiling and unable to sleep.
They're dating, he reminds himself, but really, it doesn't feel that way at all.
They're in love, he considers, and that seems far more accurate.