Izuki wakes to the sound of emptiness and images of blood. People who dreamshare for too long don't sleep well. People who dreamshare for too long and have the guilt of leaving someone behind in Limbo – people like that can never sleep well again.

The time on his cellphone is 1.30 in the morning. He could try sleeping again, let the red overwhelm him and drown in his own guilt. Or he could go to the kitchen, where the other sleepless members of their little group are sure to have gathered.

Izuki chooses the third option. Turning the tap on in the bathroom sink and scrubbing his face vigorously. It doesn't help the insomnia, but at least he doesn't feel like he's still drowning in the blood of his dreams anymore.

"So stupid," Izuki tells his reflection in the mirror. "It's not like there was any blood." There wasn't. Just Kiyoshi's stupid smile as he kicks them out of the crumbling dream. There's no reason why falling into Limbo would make you bleed in the first place. It's all metaphors and symbolism. What dreams are made of.

Izuki turns at the feeling of a presence at his back. Mitobe leans against the doorway, a compassionate smile on his face. It's not his fault that it looks just like Kiyoshi's smile.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Izuki knows the answer is no. But he asks. It's important to do so, to remember these little courtesies.

Mitobe shakes his head, then tilts it in the direction of Izuki's room. Izuki is no Koganei, he has no direct link into Mitobe's head. But he doesn't need one for a question so obvious. "Yes, I'm going back to bed. Sorry for disturbing you."

Mitobe's forehead furrows slightly. He turns towards the kitchen with its friendly warm light and the cosy sounds people moving, then turns back to Izuki.

Izuki shakes his head. "No thank you. Not tonight." He smiles helplessly. Meeting up in the kitchen after a restless night is a time-honoured tradition among the Seirin Dream Security Corp. It's a tradition Izuki hadn't had the heart to participate in since Kiyoshi fell into Limbo.

Mitobe twists the corners of his mouth down, but the hand that comes up to ruffle Izuki's hair is soft and kind.

"Thank you," Izuki says again. He heads to his room without a backward glance. He has no right to feel responsible for what Kiyoshi did. No right to feel so betrayed. No right to feel like he should have stopped Kiyoshi somehow. In his bones, he knows that Kiyoshi's actions were for the good of the team. Nevertheless. There should have been something he could have done.