A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry it has been a little while longer than usual between updates—this week was a crazy week when it came to school work. I had four papers due today, as well as a statistics homework set. I won't spend too long prefacing this chapter with author's notes since you guys probably just want to get to the good stuff, but there is one thing I'd like to address.

A lot of reviewers have mentioned their interest to see the real reasons behind Hiro's terrible distress and nightmares, and I'm stoked that you guys are curious! I just want to do a little expectation management here though—there is not going to be some new overarching plot element that explains Hiro's feelings above and beyond the thematic elements that have already been introduced. That's not to say that you should understand Hiro's feelings entirely right now, because I definitely have not given you the tools to do so. And that's also not to say that nothing new will be coming up in this next couple of drabbles—quite the contrary, I would like to think!

Anyway, if you're like, "What is this girl talking about?", feel free to ignore me. This is probably just my sleep deprived brain providing answers to questions you don't really have, haha.

Chapter 10:

The next night, Tadashi came back from lab to find Hiro sitting on his bed, gazing out the window, mind a million miles away. Tadashi could instantly sense a sort of somberness to the room and to Hiro himself; Hiro's face was lit by a combination of the moonlight and the streetlamps outside, and he had an ethereal sort of look about him, almost as if he was glowing from the inside. His legs were pulled up against his chest and his arms were wrapped around them, lending him an air of insecurity. The sight was truly one to behold—Hiro was the perfect combination of godly beauty with childlike innocence to take Tadashi's breath away. He had to shake himself free of his thoughts, to reengage with reality.

Tadashi put down his bag, toed off his shoes, and murmured a soft "Hey," approaching Hiro from his side of the room. "You okay?"

Hiro started from where he sat, and when he turned to face Tadashi, Tadashi felt his heart clench. There were tears in Hiro's eyes, droplets clinging heavily to his eyelashes, but a moment from falling. Tadashi sat down on the bed next to him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong, Hiro?"

Hiro looked away, wiping his eyes to rid them of their tears. "It's… It's nothing," he said, seeming to choose his words carefully, "I just… I'm just thinking too much for my own good."

Tadashi took one of Hiro's hands from where they were wrapped around his knees and placed it between his own. The hand was cold to the touch, so he rubbed their hands together briskly to generate some heat. Tadashi tried to project a sense of calm through this simple gesture, hating to see Hiro upset. "Anything I can help you with?" he asked. "This brain of mine has to be good for something."

Hiro snorted a little waved his words away with his other hand, the attempt at humor not lost on him. His legs relaxed and then crossed again and he turned to face Tadashi more directly and Tadashi took that as permission to sit on the bed across from him. The two of them sat, mirror images of one another, just a few years apart, legs crossed and hands in their laps. Tadashi's hands wanted to take Hiro's again, warm them, but he stopped himself. He wanted Hiro to make this confession without being stuck in the mire of his affection, untainted by his words or his actions. He didn't know why he thought what Hiro was about it say was a confession; it just felt like one.

"Well," Hiro said finally, taking a deep breath. For a moment, Tadashi thought he seemed quite collected, but then Hiro's lip quivered and he took another breath, this time shaky. "It's sort of hard… to explain. It's…" Hiro averted his eyes just then, and then it came: "It's about you, Tadashi."

Tadashi felt like his blood had turned to ice—had he done something that had upset Hiro, and to have upset him this badly? Maybe Hiro wasn't okay with how things had gone yesterday morning? Maybe he felt neglected? Tadashi had spent a lot of time in the lab recently, he did know that. His thoughts were all in a jumble, but he didn't voice any of them because they didn't make any sense and he knew that they wouldn't help Hiro feel any better, which was all he cared about. All he managed was a meek, "About me?" He searched Hiro's eyes for the clue that would help him understand this.

Hiro chewed on his lip nervously, himself monitoring Tadashi's face for change. "It's…" he let out a little sound of frustration. "I don't… I can't…"

Tadashi was desperate to get somewhere, with this. He wanted Hiro to speak for himself, but he was so worried. He spoke quickly, a little flustered, "If this is about what happened yesterday, I am so—"

"No, no!" Hiro exclaimed, waving his hands in front of him. "It's not about that at all. Well, maybe… No, it's not really about that, that's not important…It's just… I just…" He groaned and threw his hands in the air, turning away from Tadashi. He hunched, his hands coming down and ruffling this hair, making it stand up in all directions. Tadashi was totally at a loss of what to say, especially when Hiro's shoulders started shaking, signaling that he was crying again. Tadashi's heart couldn't take it.

"Oh, Hiro," Tadashi whispered, coming up behind his brother and wrapping his arms around him. Tadashi uncrossed his legs and placed them on either side of Hiro's body, arms hooked under Hiro's, pulling him closer as his hands splayed out across his chest and stomach. He placed his cheek against Hiro's back, but Hiro continued to cry, his tears unmoved by Tadashi's closeness or comfort. "Oh, Hiro, I know you been having a hard time lately, but… I can't help you unless you tell me what's going on."

The truth was, Tadashi felt like his heart was being ripped out. It killed him inside to know that somehow, he was the cause of all this anguish, but what hurt even more was not knowing what he did. If only he knew how he had wronged Hiro, he would do anything and everything in his power to make it right and make Hiro feel better. If the teen never told him that, what was he supposed to do?

Hiro just continued to cry, whispering a soft, "I can't tell… I'm not… I'm not ready—"

"Shhh, shhh, that's okay," Tadashi said, even though he would have given an arm and a leg to know what was troubling Hiro just then. But he didn't want to push Hiro, or push him away. What had he done wrong? If it wasn't what had happened the previous morning, what could it be?

So Tadashi said the only thing he thought might help in this situation: "Do you want to go to bed?" Hiro needed him right now, and Tadashi thought that lying down in the dark would be the perfect scenario to remind his brother that he was there for him. In the cover of night, they could be honest.

"Okay," Hiro said, although he made no motion to get up. He placed his hands over Tadashi's larger ones, slotting their fingers together and squeezing. There was that desperation again, the same kind that Tadashi had felt the night Hiro had his worst nightmare yet, and that scared Tadashi, it scared him to his very core. There was something tormenting Hiro, and there was nothing that he could do about it.

He felt totally helpless.

They stayed like that for another minute before Hiro squirmed out of his hold. He turned to face Tadashi and gave a wobbly smile, a smile that meant the world to Tadashi at that moment because he just felt so damn lost. They each started changing for bed before Hiro met him on his side of the room. He was fiddling with the hem of his shirt while he waited for Tadashi to come out of the bathroom. That gesture told Tadashi that that small smile on Hiro's bed had been purely for his benefit, and that Hiro was still troubled. Tadashi felt a weight being placed on his shoulders, a pull under his eyes and pressure behind his temples at the thought. It was a heavy burden to bear, feeling like the only person Hiro had in this world. It didn't matter whether it was actually true—it was how Tadashi had always felt, and he felt it especially strongly in that moment, when he wished he could have passed this problem onto his mother or father, anyone more capable than he. As hard as it was to accept, and as much as Tadashi fought it, he knew that he wasn't enough for Hiro. He didn't always know what to do—he was only one person.

"You can get in bed," he told Hiro around a mouthful of toothpaste, and that's what Hiro did. He laid down and waited for Tadashi to join him, looking uncertain and confused and lonely. Tadashi watched him out of the corner of his eye before spitting out his toothpaste, washing out his mouth, and looking at himself in the mirror. He felt suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin, as if this situation would be a whole lot easier to deal with if he just wasn't himself, wasn't who he was. Tadashi thought that he probably could have handled this if he hadn't had so many other things to deal with already in life.

Sighing deeply, he wiped his mouth on his towel and walked over to the bed where Hiro laid. He gave Hiro a little smile, the brightest he could manage given the circumstances, hoping to lighten the mood. He saw the sides of Hiro's mouth twitch into an almost-smile and knew the effort had been worth it—the effort was always worth it to see Hiro smile. Smile aside, Tadashi still had a million troubled thoughts running through his mind, most of them nonsensical and clouded by worry.

Hiro snuggled in close to him, hands grasping his sleep shirt in loose fists. That was different, but Tadashi didn't feel the need point it out, lest Hiro feel even more emotionally vulnerable than he already did. Tadashi turned off the light, the room was shrouded in darkness, and Tadashi waited. Whenever Hiro turned to face him in bed these days, it meant there was something big coming—and after that something big was shared, then he would turn around and fall asleep, the weight lifted off his shoulders. He waited and waited, watching the digital clock change from minute to minute, until ten minutes had passed.

And then he felt it—tears on his shirt collar. Oh god, Tadashi thought, stomach tying itself into knots at the realization of what was happening. Instead of weight being lifted off Hiro's shoulders, it seemed like the pressure was just increasing. Tadashi felt that same kind of weight crushing him, and Tadashi tightened his hold on Hiro's waist, pulling him impossibly closer—so that their bodies were touching almost from head to toe. He felt Hiro tremble a little in his arms, but the tears didn't stop, each tiny droplet on his neck like a cut to the jugular. Tadashi couldn't help but tremble himself at the intensity of emotions he was feeling.

He knew Hiro was awake from his unsteady breathing. "Hiro, please," he all but begged. "Let me help."

He didn't really know what he was offering, because he really didn't know what he could do to help. Tadashi waited and waited, but Hiro never said anything—but he never turned away from Tadashi either, which just seemed like the perfect metaphor for this situation as a whole. As long as Hiro faced him, Tadashi would know that he was needed, and that was comforting—but until Hiro explained everything, Tadashi would know that he was hiding something from him, and that was torture.

Twenty more minutes had passed and Hiro had fallen asleep as Tadashi watched the time pass. If Hiro had still been awake, he might have felt Tadashi bury his face in Hiro's hair, or felt the tears that fell down into it, or heard the strangled little breath of Tadashi's helplessness. They were close together, but Tadashi felt like they might as well have been worlds apart. To make matters worse, he knew this reaction wasn't normal—he knew that none of this was normal: the dreams, the sleeping together, the depth of emotional feeling between the two of them—but he just couldn't help himself.

Hiro slept on ignorantly; Tadashi felt very alone.