Disclaimer: Toei's, not mine
Warnings: Mild spoilers for Case 8
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Domon wasn't sure how much more of it he could take.
It wasn't the fighting. Fighting was the one thing he was good at. It wasn't the low-paying odd jobs he had to work if he wanted to eat. It was the nagging feeling in the back of his head that grew a little stronger with each day that he was lost, and would never find his way back home.
And he had no idea how to even talk about it, much less do anything about it.
If he was home, his grandfather or his baby sister would've picked up on one of the signs that meant he was depressed (he had no idea what they were, but they obviously did), and wouldn't let him leave the house until he felt better. But now he was surrounded by near strangers, in a place he barely knew...
He had to find some way to let it go; otherwise he'd go crazy again. He just didn't know how.
Domon didn't speak or look at anyone as he trudged inside, plopping down on the couch.
How Sion sat down next to him that quickly, Domon would never know. Tatsuya was there almost as quickly; joking about had been this close to going out to look for him after Domon had missed dinner that night as he served him the leftovers. Ayase was silent, but clapped a hand on his shoulder as he escaped into the bedroom.
Bewildered at the sudden attention, he glanced at Yuuri, who was going over some reports with Tekku. She mouthed at him silently, we were worried about you.
He wanted to say something, tell them how much it meant to him. But for now, Domon decided to simply enjoy Sion and Tatsuya prattling on about their day, while Yuuri worked nearby.