Yuri cackles.

Immediately Flynn's head lifts from the pan of frying food to look at him, eyes looking for the signs. But the TV flashes, and Yuri laughs again along with the crowd on the screen as the comedian gets back to his feet. Flynn feels his heart slowly return to normal and he turns back to the pan, stirring the food around.

It was only a couple days after his most recent hospitalization, and despite the reassurance everything was back to normal, Flynn can't help but feel apprehensive. It was hard to think normal again after this last stunt, and even if he knows Yuri can't help it, Flynn still feels an inkling of disappointment toward him. Disappointment, fear, apprehension…

"This guy is a dipshit," Yuri calls from the living room. "He has to hurt himself to make people laugh."

"It's working, isn't it?" Flynn answers idly, adding a sprinkle of salt to the sizzling pan.

"Because it's so damn sad." There's a quiet click before the TV turns off, and Flynn hears Yuri enter the kitchen.

His heart starts to pound faster as Yuri comes slower, his shoulders tensing. He immediately turns the heat off on the stove just as Yuri reaches out to him, wrapping his arms around Flynn's waist and leaning in closer to his ear, breathing over it in that way that sends little shivers down Flynn's spine.

"Yuri." Flynn warns, leaning away, but Yuri only tucks closer to him.

"You're tense." Yuri notes, his eyes slowly looking from Flynn's face to the way he holds the spatula. "You're scared of me."

Flynn scoffs. "Me? Scared of you? Please."

"You know, you should be." Carefully, Yuri pulls his arms away from Flynn, his eyes narrowing a bit. "I hurt you."

"Since we were kids we've gotten into fights." Flynn rationalizes, giving the food one more stir around before finally looking at Yuri. "If you think a black eye is going to scare me off, you don't know me anymore."

"Maybe I don't. Maybe you don't know me anymore." Yuri brings his arms up behind his head. "I don't even know me sometimes. I wouldn't blame you if you left, you know."

"Yes you would." Flynn says immediately, even though he regrets it as soon as the words spill out. Yuri can't help that. People with disorders can't help that.

Yuri smirks crookedly. "A part of me would, probably, yes." he admits. "But the better part would understand."

Flynn wonders why he can't see that 'better part' more often. Why it only lasts for about a month before it fails. Was the better part the real Yuri? Flynn from years ago would have said yes—Flynn from now, after so long of dealing with this, wasn't so sure anymore.

"Food's done." Flynn says after a moment, reaching for a plate from above him.

"I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat, Yuri. I didn't take cooking classes to improve my cooking just for you to be a brat over it still."

Yuri frowns, but after Flynn piles the food on the plate and hands it to him, he does take it. Flynn remains tense, ready to move, until Yuri turns and heads for the dining room with the plate of hot food.

It was going to be a while before Flynn was okay with him again. It always takes a while…

Angrily Flynn adjusts his tie for the fourth time, glaring at himself over the rims of his glasses in the mirror. Every time, he says never again. Every time he says it's the last time. Every time he says that was over.

But Yuri reaches for him, whispers all the right words, gives him that look and touches and kisses him; Flynn falls apart every time.

He adjusts his collar, trying to hide the developing hickey on his neck. If he's careful it won't be easy to see. If worse comes to worse, he'll snatch Sodia's compact and try to cover it up, but he hopes it doesn't come to that.

Flynn doesn't want to leave Yuri by himself. Even is the neighbors were aware of what to watch for, he doesn't want to come home to another suicide attempt in the making. He doesn't want to come home to their house trashed, with Yuri throwing up in the bathroom from too much alcohol. He doesn't want to come home to strangers with questionable items or motives. He doesn't want to come home to police officers waiting for him because Yuri ran away again, did some minor crime again.

Sometimes, Flynn doesn't want to come home.

But ever since Yuri's parents died, since all of his other friends dropped him since the development of his disorders, Flynn swore to him he'd stay. Yuri takes advantage of that, ridicules that, trashes it and throws it all in Flynn's face.

But one the good days… on the days it seems the therapy gets to him, that the medications work, that Yuri is rightly observant of the law and doesn't want to go back to the hospital. Those days Yuri is normal, when he is more appreciative, calmer. Yuri takes time to thank Flynn, every good day.

The good days keep Flynn here, keep him from completely rejecting Yuri's advances, his words. Good days keep Flynn from feeling too heartbroken over their 'break ups.' Good days keep Flynn happy he was seeing through with his promise.

Flynn hopes today, when he comes home, it's a good day.

"They aren't going to like that face in the office."

Flynn whirls around, seeing Yuri stark naked in the doorway of the bathroom, arm up and leaning against it in such a way his body was displayed in a seductive way. The muscles were just barely contracted to give that chiseled look, and Flynn's face flush as he can't help but look him over. Finger-sized bruises highlight Yuri's hips, his own neck and collar covered in lovebites.

It was funny knowing Yuri was the calm one in bed. Maybe Flynn was developing his own mental disorder.

"But I do like that one," Yuri purrs, stepping forward with obvious intent.

"Yuri." Flynn warns, but he doesn't stop him. He lets Yuri saunter up to him, drape his arms over his shoulders and lean in close.

"Have a good day at work." Yuri snickers, giving him a light little kiss.

Long ago, Yuri used to finish that statement with a much more important one. But when he doesn't, as usual, Flynn tries not to show how much that pains him. By now he should be used to the fact they slept together just because no one else would bother with either of them, because Yuri couldn't help his impulses and better Flynn than anyone else.

"Yeah." Flynn mutters, keeping his hands away from Yuri's skin, keeping his urge to kiss him again in check. "You behave."

There was a look in Yuri's eyes—brief, dark and sad. Flynn's heart, covered in scars and cuts still, aches at the reminder. Maybe Flynn hurts from this arrangement, but so does Yuri. He can't help what he does, what he feels, and he knows there's something wrong with him. But there's barely a thing he can do about it.

"Remember we have a visit today." Yuri reminds him softly.

Little things like this made it a good day. And it was the good days Flynn was living for now.

"I will." Flynn leans in, giving him a light kiss, watching Yuri's face light up at the contact. "You be ready by then."

"Yep." Yuri steps away from him and heads out of the bathroom without another look or word, wandering back to the bedroom. To get dressed or sleep, Flynn wasn't sure.

Please, let today be a good day…