Prince charming he might be, but Sly was certainly no princess trapped in a high tower, although Mizuki had to admit that he certainly had the hair for it, too much of it in fact, it kept escaping from the hat he'd shoved it into, blue strands whipping in the wind and far too tell-tale. He knew that without a doubt if he saw somebody he knew his cover would be blown immediately and he'd lose everything he'd worked so hard to build, all because of the suicidal bastard who lay still and cold in his arms.
His plan wasn't the best and he knew that, nor was it the most elaborate, consisting solely of wrapping him up in his own jacket and shoving a hat on his head to cover up the hair that gave his identity away even at a distance. Bundling his worryingly light load into his arms and taking a stupidly long route home just so he could avoid the most densely populated areas, because any guy from his team would enquire as to his cargo's identity and one look at his face would solidify it for them. Tio would be the worst yet somehow the best, because he suspected something already, had done for a while in fact, so he might be more understanding of why he was carrying Sly's unconscious body through the streets so cautiously. But then he'd also be the one who would have the most questions, who would have the same qualms Mizuki did, because he wasn't overwhelmed with hatred for him like the rest of the island, he just found him a pest.
But the streets were quiet as night began to set in, shadows beginning to grow and people heading home from work no doubt having already reached warm houses and hot meals even as Mizuki could do nothing but worry and curse his load in equal measure.
He felt a little like a spy, or perhaps a shady drug dealer trying to make sure the coast was clear before emerging into the street outside the bar which his apartment rested above, lights still blazing where he had, as usual, forgotten to turn them off. Emerging from the alleyway only a little at first, just poking his head out tentatively and looking right and left, reassured that there was nobody around, not right now at least, and half jogging half walking his way over to the gate that led into the alley where he stored the bins. Unlocking it with his hands full of unconscious teenager was a little difficult, but he managed eventually after quite a lot of cursing and muttering darkly under his breath, locking it behind him and finally able to breathe clearly.
Now it was just the matter of climbing up the stairs that led first to the empty corridor outside his apartment, through another locked door, but this one was easier because he could take his time and not need to worry about Sly being spotted, he was almost inside now. Gently lowering Sly down to the ground outside his apartment because the lock had always been a little fiddly and he knew he'd probably have to do his usual trick of both jiggling the handle and shoulder barging the door to get the swelled wood to open.
But already he was beginning to stir, eyes open the tiniest amount and fingers twitching where they rested limply by his side, seemingly on the verge on being conscious and not yet fully awake, which was a bonus for the bartender. As he picked up Sly again and carried him across the threshold, kicking the door shut behind him, he wondered how he'd react to this if he was fully alert, he had the horrible idea he'd probably get at least a punch for it if not worse. Most definitely he'd get a mouthful of abuse and another reminder that he didn't accept charity, as if he could ever forget that, undoubtedly offering no kind of gratitude for the fact that he had essentially saved his life.
Tio was right, his heart was too big, far too big, already packed full of love and warmth for his team, almost an overwhelming amount sometimes, and now Sly had begun to creep in at the edges, this fragile, fascinating teenager that so worried and excited him at the same time. It was at moments like this that he most questioned himself for allowing their relationship to continue along as it had, because surely events like this should just remind him why it was dangerous to associate with Sly. But then it wasn't the danger that enticed him, it was Sly himself, he was an enigma and Mizuki was determined to crack his hard shell, he was cold and warm and hard all at the same time and few other people could manage that much. But there was little he could do now, he'd let Sly have what he wanted and now he'd started to enjoy it too, to look forward to it in his own sick, twisted kind of way, he didn't much want it to end.
He looked so small lying on his couch, skin so white against the red material; and absolutely no colour in his cheeks, lips faded to a bluish-white colour that made Mizuki frown because it wasn't all that cold outside and he had definitely lost weight since he saw him last. He was almost annoyed in himself at how concerned he was for him, because he shouldn't have to worry like this, should never have needed to carry his fuckbuddy home because he'd had the shit kicked out of him. Standing in the kitchen and wondering what to do, to apply an ice-pack to the growing swelling of his eye or whether to warm him up first, to undress him and work out what it was that was dripping blood apart from his head and see what was wrong with his ankle. He knew that no matter what he did Sly would complain, say he didn't need looking after or babying although they both knew that couldn't be farther from the truth, because if anybody on the island needed looking after it was Sly Blue.
But then a long, drawn out groan met his ears and he ducked out of the kitchen remarkably fast, not entirely surprised when he saw Sly struggling to sit up despite having been out cold literally seconds ago, wondering how he could be so stupidly stubborn even now. Walking over with a frown on his face and pushing him back down, albeit trying to be gentle since he must be bruised as hell and remarkably sore too, moving was the last thing he should be doing.
"Lie down would you? Fucking hell," he knew he should probably be nicer, but then he thought again and realised that Sly wouldn't appreciate that much, thinking that being rough and maybe even a little pissed off would somehow put him at ease. "What did you do this time?"
He opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a croak, glaring at himself and trying again with minimal effect, voice croaky and raspy from where handprints still lingered on his slim throat, turning to bruises already. "Stole something, didn't run fast enough."
He just rolled his eyes, grabbing the first aid kit out of his desk drawer and sitting down in front of him, "and what were you stealing?"
Instead of answering with words like any normal person would, instead he reached into the pocket of his jacket, looking confused for a moment as to why there was another layer of clothing on him but working it out fast and scowling. Removing the most crumpled packet of cigarettes Mizuki had ever seen and trying to wave them in the air with furiously shaking fingers, arm losing strength fast and just falling onto his chest which rose and fell slowly.
Maybe he was trying to save his voice, or perhaps he just wanted to get his point across more succinctly, not stopping the bartender when he reached for the packet, opening it and watching in amusement as the entire top piece of cardboard broke off, removing the white tubes carefully. "Half of these are broken," he remarked, counting at least seven that were snapped or on the verge of being so, useless to most people though he was sure Sly would smoke them even without their filters. "And didn't you steal a pack of mine yesterday?"
"Smoked 'em all," and if Mizuki didn't know why his voice was so mangled he'd think the cigarettes were to blame, because he sounded like forty a day smoker right now, voice hollow and rasping against his throat, eyes crinkling in pain as his swollen vocal chords strained.
"Course you did," he rolled his eyes again, opening the first aid kit and glancing through its supplies, he was most worried about the cut on his head, it looked pretty deep and though it had stopped bleeding now the streaks of brown down his face weren't too reassuring. "You get into some fucking trouble, huh? Now stay still, shut the fuck up and let me clean you up, you're a mess."
The attempt at a chuckle just made him cough, effort of it making his whole frame shake and Mizuki couldn't help but wonder whether he was deliberately aiming to die young, but he supposed if that was true he wouldn't have bothered running from Bug Bomb. Once it had subsided, and it took a while for his breathing to become anything but a dull wheeze, Mizuki began the seemingly arduous task of cleaning and dressing his many wounds, starting with the one on his forehead. It was pretty deep as he'd anticipated, but not very long and he wondered what had caused it, a knife? Because if so slashing or indeed stabbing at his face seemed a little ridiculously over the top for just one stolen packet of cigarettes, deciding he'd ask after he was done, distracting Sly was a sure fire way to ensure he never got to finish bandaging him.
He wiped it clean with a cotton pad covered in sterile saline solution, pouring it out of a small bottle he knew he'd soon have to replace if things like this kept happening, trying to ignore the way he attempted to hide his pain in scowls and grunts rather than just admitting he was hurt.
"They did a job on you, huh?" He wasn't really expecting an answer, nor did he get one, leaning in slightly closer to see if it needed any stitches and deeming it to be okay, wondering how to go about bandaging it and eventually deciding on a gauze pad secured with strips of medical tape. It looked remarkably stupid but it did the job and that was all that mattered, as for the rest of his face there was little he could do, blood already carefully cleaned away and his eye and cheekbone already turning black and purple, too late to ice them now. As for his lips, and they looked painfully stretched every time he spoke, all he could really recommend was lip balm, and he hardly thought Sly was the type to use anything like that, seemingly uncaring that he looked like a famine victim more than a normal human. "What d'you think would have happened if they caught you?"
"Would've killed me," he didn't sound at all bothered, just easing himself upright despite Mizuki's protestations and reaching for one of the intact cigarettes on the coffee table, finding a lighter in his jeans pocket and igniting it, ignoring Mizuki's rather loud sigh of exasperation. He most certainly had a death wish, but the bartenders eyes narrowed as he shoved the lighter roughly back into his pocket and a flash of pain shot across his face, too obvious to be ignored.
"You were limping before, what's wrong with your leg?"
He didn't expect him to answer with the truth, so when his face hardened and his shoulders stiffened he immediately ignored his response, "Nothing, landed funny on it is all."
"Bullshit, show me," he didn't leave him any opportunity to argue, but of course this was Sly and he'd never do anything without being nearly forced, so when he growled and shoved his cigarette between his lips moodily, he really didn't expect him to unbuckle his jeans so easily.
The smell hit him first and he recoiled instinctively, eyes widening because he knew that smell and he already felt a little sick even before he leaned in and was just glad the smell of smoke masked it a little. The wound wasn't very big, more like a sizeable graze than anything, but of course a fair bit deeper, like the top few layers of skin had been torn off in a messy chunk, right thigh marred by it. He didn't know how new it was, but it had to be relatively new because it sure as hell hadn't been there two weeks ago, but then maybe this was why Sly hadn't been around for such a long time, he'd gotten hurt and been recovering, or hiding because he couldn't deal with Mizuki's scolding.
"Holy shit, Sly…" He whispered, trying to ignore the smell of rotten flesh, because it was infected and there was no doubt about that, leaning in a little closer so he could see small beads of green pus surrounding the edge. It had an almost shiny quality about it, where it had bled until it could bleed no more, then plasma had oozed out and been allowed to set there, crusted brown flakes around the edge showing he'd made no attempt to even clean it. "When did this happen?"
"Couple weeks ago," he shrugged as it was no big deal, but the skin round it was red and hot to the touch and he flinched hard, sucking in a noisy breath when Mizuki tentatively pressed down at one edge, more disgustingly gungy fluid coming to the surface and making him fight back the urge to retch.
"It's infected."
"I know that."
He was infuriating, and he'd already known that, but he was even more irritating now, because how on earth had he pulled his jeans on over this, fabric wet where he glanced down at it, let alone been walking around with it like this? Even now with Mizuki gently pressing at the edges, feeling it's unpleasant heat and trying to be careful, his face was deathly white and he was breathing noisily through his nose, not doing a good job of hiding how much agony he must be in with an injury as tender as this. There was an unpleasant yellowish tinge to it and Mizuki didn't even know how to begin with this, because he needed to drain it of pus but that would be agony for Sly, not to mention that he most definitely needed antibiotics, if he wasn't careful he could end up with gangrene then he'd most likely die, no doctor would help him after all.
"Ugh… This is really bad, Sly. You realise that right?"
He shrugged and if he wasn't already in terrible condition Mizuki swore he would have hit him, it was hard to hold back even with the knowledge that another good whack might end him, just dragging on his cigarette and not caring as ash fell horribly close to his wound.
"I need to clean this but it's going to hurt, a lot."
"I can handle it," he remarked calmly, and Mizuki decided just to take his word for it, because he was certain he was just bragging so as to not seem weak, he knew the second he began to squeeze out the pus he'd wish he hadn't been so cocky.
"Fine, have it your way," he sighed grumpily, because he wasn't looking forward to this either, taking an extra precaution and cleaning his hands again with the antibacterial liquid and grabbing a dry gauze pad. Wincing even though he wasn't going to be the one in pain and pressing down gently but firmly at one side of the wound, not even surprised when Sly gasped in pain and all but whined, clenching his teeth together hard and cigarette completely forgotten. Swiping away yellow-green fluid and folding the cloth in half, pressing down a little more to make sure he'd got it all and trying to not let Sly's gasps and hard breaths get to him as he continued round each side.
When he was done Sly's mouth was open and he was all but panting, fingers wound hard into the front of his shirt and horribly white, almost looking light headed, "sorry, that's the worst of it over now. You okay?"
"Just hurry the fuck up and get it done," as he expected, no gratitude whatsoever, blinking hard and pupils blown huge with pain, watching as he ditched the, frankly disgusting, cotton pad and got another, covering it in the sterile solution and holding it to the side of the wound, squirting the solution straight from the bottle onto the wound to flush it out. He grunted and turned his head away and for a brief moment Mizuki thought he was going to faint like he had once, a long time ago when he'd been stitching him up. But he was okay, a quick glance upwards showing him taking a shaky drag of the cigarette and trying to ignore the bartender as he got another pad and began wiping it across the wound, dragging motion making his head swim and his fingertips tingle because over everything else he felt horribly queasy.
"That's it, I just need to bandage it now," his voice seemed to be coming from a very long way away, or even underwater, strained and distant as he just managed a nod and took the final drag of his cigarette, trying to pretend he didn't feel as unpleasantly out of it as he did.
Whether he blacked out or just lost focus he didn't know, but the next moment he registered there was a glass of water pressed into his hand and four round, white tablets, glancing down with a frown because his leg was neatly bandaged in white cloth now.
"What is it?"
"Painkillers."
"I'm not in pain," stubborn to a fault, that was how Mizuki would describe Sly, too proud and stupid to admit when he needed help or was suffering, just trying to hand the pills back and being ignored as the bartender packed up the first aid kit.
"You're white and shaking, take the fucking pills."
There was a moment where he just stared at him and Mizuki stared back, face hard because he wasn't going to listen to any shit from him after he'd just gone to all this trouble to look after him, the least he could do was take them and start looking after himself at least a little.
"You really got a thing for bossing me around, huh?" He asked, familiar smirk coming back onto his destroyed lips, Mizuki wondering silently how he could go from being so pretty to like this in days and thinking that there had to be something wrong with him, because he still looked kinda hot even like this. But still he rolled his eyes and swallowed the pills in one mouthful, finishing the rest of the glass almost greedily, dry lips seemingly as parched as the rest of him, trying to place it on the coffee table but fingers faltering and nearly dropping it instead.
"When did you last eat?"
"What's it to you?"
"Maybe I don't want my fuckbuddy dead," that wasn't the reason and he was sure Sly knew it too, fuckbuddy or not, he was concerned about the other, he was so reckless and stupid that he had no choice but to be.
"Few days ago," he relented, shrugging, once again, like it was no big deal, Mizuki raising his eyes heavenward and wondering just what kind of cruel god had dumped him with Sly, because at times like this he wasn't even sure the sex made up for how infuriating he was.
"Food's in the kitchen, grab whatever, I don't give a fuck," he was tired and frustrated and he couldn't be bothered with Sly's childish refusal to look after himself, just watching as he stood, thankfully a damn sight less shakily than before, pulling his disgustingly dirty jeans up over his neatly bandaged thigh and walking into his kitchen, admittedly picking up his cigarettes first.
Now Mizuki was alone he could finally heave an exasperated sigh, wondering if it was just years of bad treatment and street loving that had made him so resilient or if he was just made tough enough to handle the most horrific of situations and injuries. Lighting a cigarette of his own and glancing down at the mess of Sly's stolen box, wondering if he considered his pathetic winnings worth the beating he had received, then a thought coming to him a second later and jaw tightening.
"You stole cigarettes over food?" He called into the kitchen, only registering now how unnervingly silent his guest was being and walking in to see just what he was doing, seeing him leaning against his counters with his eyes pressed shut and frowning for only a second. The moment he became aware Mizuki was there he straightened up and was strong and cold again, showing no sign of pain or weakness and instead managing a smug smirk and a shrug of his shoulders. "What can I say, I'd rat-"
What he'd rather do, Mizuki never did find out, because a rap on the front door broke through his words and silenced both of them remarkably effectively, Mizuki's heart stopping in his chest for a moment then resuming beating twice as fast as it should. He just stood there for a little too long, frozen in panic because how was he meant to answer the fucking door with Sly Blue in his kitchen? Whoever it was knocked again, a polite, triple-rap against the wood, seemingly whatever they wanted was urgent enough that they had the patience to wait, which meant it could only be a Dry Juice member and that could be disastrous.
"You gunna answer that?" Sly asked, taking another drag of his cigarette and raising one blue eyebrow, hair stuck together in bloody clumps that brushed his forehead and bandage unpleasantly, looking too battered for words but somehow almost soft in the kitchens blue tinged light.
He snapped back to reality at his words, raising a warning finger towards him and tone stern, almost like a teacher might be with a particularly irritating student, "stay in here and for fucks sakes be quiet."
He just rolled his eyes, pretty yellow teasing and not entirely reassuring, but then neither were his words, "I wouldn't dare."
His eyes narrowed and he knew that revealing himself was the exact sort of thing Sly would do, he was an asshole through and through and Mizuki didn't trust him as far as he could throw him, although that would probably be a significant distance.
"Scouts honour," he remarked, raising his empty hand in a mangled attempt at a salute and just smirking widely, lip tearing open and red blood trickling down his chin fast, as Mizuki just rolled his eyes, wishing his kitchen had a door he could shut.
But he had no choice but to answer because he could hear keys jangling and that could mean only one thing.
"Oh, Tio, hey," he was able to fake his surprise remarkably well, though he was still more than a little alarmed when he answered the door and saw his right hand man stood there with a friendly grin, raising a hand in greeting.
"Hey, um, I did message you but I didn't get a reply. I was just wondering if I left my hoodie here the other night?" His tone was warm as ever but Mizuki could tell there was something wrong with his expression, because his blue eyes narrowed a little, crinkles appearing at the corner as his smile faltered.
"Oh, um, yeah you did yeah. Just give me a second and I'll grab it," the only issue with it being Tio as opposed to any other Dry Juice member was that he'd be more than willing to invite himself in and close the front door behind him, lingering in his living room and glancing around causally. He hoped the nervousness in his voice wasn't obvious, nor the speed with which he headed to his room to grab said jacket, having folded it and put it atop his chest of drawers, hoping he'd see it one morning and remember, though thus far that plan had failed.
"You hurt yourself or something?" He asked just as Mizuki re-entered the room, jacket in hand, only mild concern in his voice as he nodded towards the first aid kit, neatly re-packed but still surrounded by bloody cotton pads and looking significantly worrying to say the least.
"Oh, um, yeah just caught myself on some metal pipe earlier, ripped right through my jeans. I should have looked where I was going," the lie came easily and he wasn't sure that he liked that because he didn't usually lie to Tio, painfully aware of the intruder who was still in his kitchen.
"Sounds nasty," he sucked in a sympathetic breath through his teeth and Mizuki was glad he'd believed him, though he supposed that he had no reason not to. He wished he had some legitimate excuse to make him leave, but he didn't and there was no way to hurry him out without it seeming suspicious, because normally Tio would have just let himself in and grabbed it himself, that had probably been his plan right up to the moment when Mizuki answered. "Um, are you cooking by any chance?"
His forehead creased in confusion, sniffing the air as if trying to find the scent that must have led Tio to believe that, chuckling in a little amusement, because his apartment didn't smell of much, not to him anyway, raising a confused eyebrow and shaking his head, "um, no."
"There's smoke coming out of your kitchen," he looked mildly concerned for a moment, then his face broke into a suggestive grin and he crossed his arms with amusement. "Or do you have company?"
He was cheering internally, because this was his excuse, the perfect excuse, if Tio thought he had somebody over for less than friendly reasons he'd be sure to leave the minute he handed over his jacket, which he had yet to do, still holding it abnormally tight in his hand. But then what if he wasn't implying that the guest was some kind of sex thing and he thought it was just a friend, what if he wanted to meet them?
"No, I must not have put my cigarette out properly, I don't have anyone over. Just me," his lies were painfully obvious and he could feel bile rising in his throat because he thought he might have gotten away with this thing with Sly for a little while longer at least, but it seemed he'd been rumbled. He was just glad he was being quiet, whatever he was doing, or he was until the fucking fridge slammed and he could have easily, willingly murdered him and saved Bug Bomb the job, squeezing his eyes shit and grimacing in annoyance as Tio just raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
Then there was blue in his eye-line and he prayed Tio wouldn't be able to see but his face had already turned hard and confused and betrayed all at once and Mizuki was either going to throw up or murder Sly, or maybe both.
"I'm eating this," he remarked, despite the fact that it was obvious, pizza box in his hand already opened and mouth full of the cold foodstuff, just glancing at Tio and eyes narrowing almost as if he recognised him from that time they'd met in the bar.
There was silence and he didn't know what to do, stuck between the two of them and his face stuck in a silent scream of horror, eyes wider than they should be and skin feeling cold and clammy even as Tio just stared at his uninvited guest.
"What the fuck is he doing here?" His voice had hardened in seconds and for a moment Mizuki was afraid he might attack him, eyebrows furrowing as he turned and glared at Sly, who offered a wave and a smug grin.
"Oh, he broke in then passed out." He tried to explain it away, as if that would work and Tio would just be like, 'oh okay', and leave, aware he was kidding himself even as he tried to distract his friend. "This is your hoodie right?"
"I… Um… Yeah." He was taken aback, it was obvious, and of course he fucking was, he'd gone to see his friend, grab his jacket and maybe hang out for a little while, only to find Sly Blue, scum of Midorijima eating his food and looking quite comfortable if not a little beaten up. "Wait, what do you mean he broke in?"
"Climbed through the window, very bad security here," Sly replied, mouthful of pizza not stopping him from speaking, just watching as a piece of ham flew out of his mouth onto the floor and shrugging, it wasn't his house after all, he really didn't have any fucks to give.
"Right…" Tio murmured, but it was obvious he was more than a little confused, turning to Mizuki with his mouth open before closing it again to sigh through his nose, "And you're letting him eat your food because..?"
"He hasn't eaten in a few days and it was leftover," he explained, though he could feel nervous sweat breaking out on his forehead because this was not normal behaviour, Tio knew it, Sly knew it, and Mizuki knew it from the first minute he made his uninvited guest breakfast. "It's no big deal, saves him stealing it, right?"
"Right, well. I mean… Er… What?" He had paused again, taking the hoodie Mizuki handed over but not really registering it, material almost sliding through his hands and catching it at the last minute, taking in Sly's amused smirk and feeling remarkably irritated. "You… You do know who he is, right?"
"Can't say I do, what was your name again?" He was joking, and Sly knew, mouth twitching into a smirk at one corner because this was very funny, and if he was going to get caught here, he'd at least like to see Mizuki crash and burn because of him, now that would be true entertainment.
"Sly Blue," he responded, helping himself to another slice of pizza and watching the black eyebrow of Mizuki's guest twitch unconsciously at how comfortable he seemed to be there, chilling in the entrance to his kitchen in all his hated glory, alternating between messily eating pizza and puffing on his cigarette, ash tumbling to the ground.
"Oh that's right, I do know who he is after all," he was almost offended at the fact that Tio would think he'd be stupid enough to let some random person into his house without even knowing their name, let alone anything about them, even if that was what had initially happened.
"Exactly! He's Sly Blue, Mizuki! He's…. I told you about him!" He paused, realisation dawning on his face as he sighed disbelievingly, face twisting into an expression of disappointment. "That's why you asked me about him, you already knew who he was, didn't you?"
"I might have done," he responded, and both their voices had turned icy, he didn't much like it. "Look, I got in, the door was open and he was passed out on the floor, what was I meant to do?"
"Kick him out?!" It was neither the nicest response, nor one he would have expected from Tio, but he understood that he was coming from a place of confusion, disgust and misapprehension resulting from the rumours that were flung around this island.
"Is that what you would have done?"
"Well, no but..." He was trying to defend himself now, knowing what he had said wasn't exactly true or nice, frowning as he tried to work out how to explain his objections to this when he realised they were all based on rumours that might not even be true. "Mizuki!"
"Look, he hasn't done any harm, he got beaten up by Bug Bomb and was looking for someplace to hide, ended up in here. I mean he shouldn't have broken in but they would have killed him otherwise, you know they're capable of it." Tio's face hardened the moment he mentioned Bug Bomb, because if Sly was the islands most hated person then they were definitely the most hated team, and Tio knew as well as Mizuki that they were ruthless and power hungry to a fault. It softened a little a second later as he looked across the room to where Sly stood calmly eating pizza, the first thing he'd eaten in days, clearly trying not to inhale it, box clutched to himself almost protectively and looking rather frail. It was like he was seeing him the way Mizuki did for the first time, as a lost teenager who'd had a shit start to life and didn't really know how to do things properly, or how to look at himself. Just saw a young boy, covered in bruises and with blood caked hair he probably didn't deserve, sighing quietly and shaking his head, hand on his jacket twitching a little, whether in annoyance or not, Mizuki wasn't quite sure.
"I just felt a bit sorry for him, I guess," he half expected Sly to object, because nobody liked being talked about even in front of their face, let alone being shown such blatant pity, even if it wasn't entirely real. But as he'd expected, that was all it took for Tio to understand, because Mizuki had always been kind hearted to a fault, able to see the best in nearly everyone, and Tio got that, just nodding slowly, eyes scanning over Sly, who was polite enough to restrain his glare just a little.
He frowned again as he regarded his friend, eyes still swirling with distrust because it was like he knew Mizuki was hiding something, but then why would he be? "This is dangerous, Mizuki. You can't do this again."
He knew that, he'd known that from the first time he'd realised his reputation, the hatred everybody had for him and the trouble that followed him wherever he went, but somehow he didn't want to stop either. So he just nodded and lied, and god he'd been doing that a lot lately and somewhere in his chest he knew he'd live to regret this, this lie and this kindness he was showing to him, or at least what the surface showed. Knowing that if Tio knew they'd been fucking he'd react a hell of a lot worse, Mizuki would lose all of his respect and probably lose him as a friend too, swallowing thickly against the truth that sat in his throat. He could sense eyes on him, vivid, burning yellow and blue as calm as the ocean but twice as choppy today, just managing a sheepish smile.
"I know, it's just this once. Nobody deserves that bad a beating, y'know? He's only a kid after all."
It was good enough for now, but it wasn't only the beating he didn't deserve and he and Sly both knew the truth behind his lips, lingering there like a bad taste, saying that he didn't deserve Tio's defensiveness and suspicion, didn't deserve anything he got. But then, when was life ever fair to the people who deserved it the most?
