Kingdom


Later that Night

Time seemed to act differently between worlds. When Neirah lingered in the mortal world that had initially rejected her, it seemed to multiply in length. Every minute was an hour, every hour a day. That was what made Nagasaki seem to last a lifetime. But as soon as she walked through the fire, time seemed to half, and there was never enough of it. The afternoon had vanished in what felt like seconds, and the only reason she knew that any time had passed was the memories left in her heart with the smiles of her dearest friends. Just catching up with the crazy stories of their shenanigans was enough to chew up most of the day, so it was a relief when not a soul asked her about her stay across the country. She wasn't ready to talk about it just yet.

Soon, but not quite yet.

The superhuman hour was late, and the moment that the front door to their apartment opened by Tatara's command, Neirah bolted through the threshold like a bullet train darting straight towards her bedroom. "I'm hooome!" With arms wide open, and a relieved smile, she leapt into the air before flopping face-first on her neatly arranged sheets. A delighted squeal hitched in her aching throat as she nuzzled her face against her pillow and kicked her feet out behind her. She couldn't remember ever feeling so thrilled to see a bed in all her life, and she'd spent the majority of her middle school days on the streets.

Her heart was racing, and an appreciative tear tickled her eyes as her excited squeal threatened to congest her with the sentimentality. "I'm home! I'm home! I'm home!" The longer she spoke, the more choked her voice sounded with appreciation. "Oh, Tatara. I swear I don't know why I ever left."

She had spent too long in empty hotel rooms, too long away from the comfort of the only family she felt an attachment to. Maybe she had desensitized to things like death thanks to time spent on her own in a cold world, but she couldn't consider it a scar just yet. She didn't think it was fair to tag herself soulless simply because she couldn't cry over the loss of a man she'd barely known. Factually, if it weren't for Himari's stories, she might not have known anything about the man who was supposed to raise her.

Tears that day would have been selfish, because the moment he laid tired eyes on her, she was her mother. The last thing he would want to see was tears on the face of his angel. Instead, she felt comforted that, even if it wasn't his daughter who held his hand in passing, she brought him peace. If nothing more, she was grateful that he lifted her curse the moment they said goodbye. The weight that left her heart that day opened up another valley in her ever-changing and expanding new world. With sky and earth boundless, she was overwhelmed with a freedom that she'd never dreamed achievable.

Her sheets smelled fresh, and after being gone for so long, she also took notice of the way Tatara's musk had taken over their apartment. The woodsy cedar notes made her nose twist with a discontented calm. It was too soothing. In her opinion, they needed a sweet little flair to put spring into their steps as they roamed the rooms. So, like a territorial beast, she wriggled in her blankets to spread her honied sakura scent. Their home wasn't home unless it felt like an enchanted forest.

Neirah's room had always been the smaller of the two because, even after Tatara had offered years prior, she assured him that she didn't mind. He had more belongings to store anyways, and since then, they just began to spill over into their shared quarters. The entire interaction was entertaining, though, considering that she tended to feel claustrophobic in tight spaces. But within that constricted area where she laid her head down at night, the faces of all her friends watched over her with welcome smiles, smiles that she had missed for the entire month she was away.

When she tipped her head in her pillow to scan the mural on the partition, her cheeks dusted pink, and her beam grew genuine with endearment. Almost all of the images that she had shared with Asuka were there in small 4x6 sheets climbing from floor to ceiling. It was just a matter of filling in the blanks now, as the years ticked on.

A giddy mewl sounded in her throat as she flipped the flap of her shoulder bag over and pulled out a new face to add to the wall. She didn't have a tack, but when she stretched her arm out, she was able to slide the photo between a cluster of three more. The image featured two lively, laughing faces, Neirah's head pulled into Asuka's chest as they overlooked Nagasaki's capital from Inasa-yama Park. The skyscape was beautiful that evening. Not red, but beautiful. Her feet began to hasten in their pace as they struck the mattress beneath. One day she would force Tatara to come with her so he could see it too. He had an eye for such lovely sights.

Suddenly, both of Neirah's feet flopped dully against her bed, and she silenced with her face in her pillow. Her heart rate had begun to quicken as she slowly raised her head to recheck her surroundings. It was just as she thought she'd noticed in her cursory examination. Not only had her bedding been cleaned, but her room had been organized. That typically wouldn't have stricken her as strange, but her thoughts thundered on a wild stampeded to the sound of her heart as it sank to a painful suspicion.

She quickly turned to face the small corner desk she'd kept in her room for quiet studying, noticing that its contents had been rearranged as well. With a nervous gasp, she threw her head over her shoulder the moment she saw Tatara's shadow block the light filtering through her open bedroom door. The once-lively and optimistic glistening of sapphire gems began to fade as her wild gaze observed him carefully. His smile remained like it always had, but his brow was creased with hints of heartache. She was instantly filled with regret.

When Tatara's sad eyes met hers, he knew that she'd already realized what he'd seen. Even still, a soft hum filled with pride for her keen senses slipped past tight lips as he tried to force a brighter smile, something to reassure her that it wasn't as bad as she thought. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done when he had spent so long harbouring his feelings of dread. "Ah, I hope you don't mind, Nei-chan," he started bashfully. "The other day, I was so excited for you to come home that I cleaned up your room so everything would be fresh for when you got off the plane." His tone softened when he began to comprehend that she wasn't taking his bait. "I'm sure… you'll sleep really well tonight after all the excitement."

Neirah slowly sat up in the centre of her mattress, folding her legs beneath her without looking away from him. "Tat-chan… did you happen to clean up some books on my desk."

Guilt began to stir within him as he diverted his gaze away from the tenderly illuminated room. "It was dusty," he whispered. "I didn't want it to look like you hadn't been there for a month…"

After unfurling her legs, Neirah quietly tucked them against her chest with a gentle sigh. She stared into the sheets she'd disturbed, familiar heat flooding her face as she waited for the right words to come to her and broach the subject. "I was going to tell you," she meekly settled on. "It was just hard to find the right time." Hating how uncomfortable the silence had become, she quickly raised her head, a pleading expression on her face begging his understanding. "And, I mean, there's no guarantee that I'll even be able to maintain marks eligible for enrollment. It's… it's not going to be easy this late in my studies…"

Even though his heart was heavy, Tatara forced his feet to move to her bedside. He reached over and flicked on the lamp on the side table and made himself comfortable in preparation to hear her out. "You're acting so guilty all of a sudden. Last time that happened, I found out you were sent to kill me," he teased positively. His demeanour humbled when he realized that she wasn't finding his dark humour amusing this time. "But you know, I think Kusanagi-san would be proud if he knew. Have you told him yet?"

She quietly shook her head in denial. "I only just told him today that I think I've finally figured out what I want to do when I attend university, not that I'm thinking of studying overseas."

Tatara let out a soft chortle and curiously tilted his head to one side. "I see, but why England?"

The flush in Neirah's cheeks darkened as she folded her arms over her knees and buried the lower half of her face to muffle her words. "I don't really have an answer for that," she whispered nervously. "It was just a thought..."

Leaning his hands behind him on the blankets by her front caused him to startle. His fingers touched her socked feet as her toes curled into one another and reminded him of her discomfort. With a knowing smile, he reached out and took one set of toes into his lap, starting to work out the aches of being on her feet all day. He wasn't brave enough to rouse the subject while she was irritable. "I don't think it's entirely impossible. You speak English really well, maybe even better than Kusanagi-san."

Neirah remained quiet, but he could feel her contentment as his fingers worked against the sole of her foot. Maybe it was a little naïve of him to consider the language barrier her only pending obstacle.

"You know, he's been to England," he continued softly. "Kusanagi-san has travelled to lots of places in Europe. France, Germany… Did you know his bar is actually imported from-" Suddenly, Tatara felt Neirah snatch her toes away so that she could curl into a little ball in the centre of her bed. That was when he heard her first delicate sniffle, and his guilt escalated. "Ah, Nei-chan, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snooped."

She shook her head, gently at first, but that very quickly accelerated. "No, it's my fault. I don't even know why I was looking at such ridiculous things," she grumbled in a tone battling dismay. She wasn't going to let it get the best of her this time. "I wouldn't even be able to apply without taking my SAT and IELTS. I'm almost in my third year already, and I've never even considered studying for something like that. I'm so far behind. And then there's the thought of spending so much time away from Tokyo-"

A small moan slipped past her lips as she unsteadied her ball-form enough that it could topple into Tatara's lap. "No… From right here," she corrected. "Just spending a month away from this place was almost too much. Can you imagine… years?"

Neirah closed her eyes when Tatara slid his fingers through her roots, and even if she felt pitiful for finding comfort in being pet, she didn't chase him away. "Please don't worry about it, Tat-chan," she whispered. "Actually, I think it's pretty funny that I had to consider studying abroad to have any hope of being as capable as you are at helping people."

"You say that, but I know that you've always wanted to make Kusanagi-san proud," he tenderly teased. "Can you imagine the look on his face if you showed him an acceptance letter from all the way across the world? And you could still come to visit during your breaks."

"It was just a silly suggestion," she reiterated sternly with a furrowed pout. "I doubt I'd be able to keep my marks high enough for acceptance and worry about keeping King-sama's territory in order. Priorities, Tat-chan."

"Well… maybe Kusanagi-san is right."

To the sound of Tatara's reassuring tone, Neirah raised from his lap and connected their gazes with a sinking heart. Typically, he was. Izumo was an intelligent individual, but something about Tatara's insinuation worried her.

"Maybe Nei-chan is better than that. Maybe she's destined for bigger things."

"Please don't say that." Neirah had barely heard her own words as she spoke them swiftly to deny him. "This is my place. This is where I belong."

"And that doesn't have to change just because you go away for a little while." A soft sigh crossed Tatara's lips as he turned his vacant gaze towards the decorated wall across from him in the small room. She'd lined her walls with photographs that she'd gathered from all sources so that she never felt alone. She had always been more comfortable when she was surrounded by the people she loved. "But you said you wanted to help King, right?" His tone lowered as his lashes dipped tenderly over his soft brown eyes. "What if this could do just that?"

Neirah seemed staggered by his suspicious suggestion. "What… do you mean by that?"

"I know you're teasing when you say that you think you need to study abroad to help people like I do, but I'm far from perfect." He turned his optimistic expression back towards her enquiry. "I still worry about King, sometimes," he murmured softly in admittance. "He has nightmares about his powers taking over, and I know it's hard for him to face the things he sees." Tatara's spirits dropped to consider his greatest failure. "And he does it alone. It's so hard to get him to just open up about it."

His voice seemed to crack with disappointment when he considered how helpless he felt to take the pain away. "No matter how hard I try, it just doesn't seem to matter what I do. I can't help him face those demons. But maybe if you go through with this and can learn to understand these types of things, maybe you can finally make the nightmares stop for him."

"W-wait," she whimpered mildly. "A-are you suggesting… that I try to apply?"

Tatara was quick to throw his hands out and wave them wildly between them. "Well, I'd certainly prefer if you picked a school on this continent, but that's completely up to you, not me." He reached out and gently apprehended a lock of her hair that had fallen over her shoulder. It was soft, and Masaomi was right, it was quite a bit shorter than he'd remembered it. It made a nice distraction from his roving thoughts. "Besides, you know that no matter how far you go, I'll always be here waiting for you to come back."

He knew that Neirah had caught the falter in his fidgety touch on her hair when his thumb dusted fiery highlights. He watched her eyes flicker alertly, scouring his expression for sincerity, but no matter how badly he wanted to reassure her, he felt helpless to do so. He felt defeated, and it was his turn to ask her for help. "I really believe that you and King were meant to find each other, Lion-chan," he whispered. "And I know you can do better things for him than I ever could. That's why it's my job to support you no matter what, so you can help him in ways that I can't."

The sound of her palm cracking against his cheek was loud in the cluttered room, and in the silence of the evening hours, his suffering seemed to echo. Neither of them made a sound outside of their skin connecting, but as Neirah stared at the sight of her handprint reddening his face, her hands began to shake with regret. "Don't say those things." Her words were so weak that she knew he hadn't heard her first trembling whisper. "Don't you dare talk like that. Not you." She reached out and took his face between her hands and held it tight to keep his head steady, his gaze locked with hers. "I'm sorry that I left you for so long, but don't you dare talk like you're somehow inferior to anyone here."

His face hurt, but not nearly as bad as his pride. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't feel significant enough to make a difference in their king's life, not like the others. Finally, his smile faded, and he lingered limply between the warmth of Neirah's soft palms. Sometimes, it was the place he felt safest. "He deserves better…"

Neirah shook her head a couple of times before leaning forward and touching their brows together. This time, their roles were reversed, and she was the one who needed to comfort him. "He doesn't want better," she whispered lovingly. "He wants us."

They were his pride, and she could feel that. Sometimes, communicating meant more than what language could convey. It was the thoughts, feelings, and actions of their friends that reassured her when she was down, not what they said. "Ever since I met you, King-sama has been your world like you've been mine. I promise you he can see that. Because I've seen it." Since the night she'd faced her ex-employer, she'd noticed the way Tatara's smile was able to tame restless hearts. And it wasn't just their king's. It was their entire clan. "You're such a beautiful fool," she gently reprimanded. "You have no idea how important you are to us."

Being able to open up to his best friend waived the burden from his heart that was keeping him hesitant during her time way. Just like their king, he had a front to maintain in the eyes of their friends that only came down around her. Maybe that's why he had such faith in her; because she understood that he and his king were more alike than anyone else would have ever had the chance to notice. "I missed you." His words were weak, but his smile had finally returned as he took comfort in the lost familiarity.

"Baka," she whispered fondly through a cracking grin. "I'm the drama queen around here, not you. Fushimi-san said so."

"If Fushimi-san said it, then it must be true." A couple of entertained snorts exchanged between them before their hiccups were becoming faint sounds of laugher. He was relieved when they were able to share a laugh even through the mushiness. "I guess this is the maiming that you always warned me about, huh?"

"Tat-chan, this is nothing compared to what you deserve some days," she teased. Even as she fondly ribbed him, her tone remained tender and slightly rueful. Desperation finally settled on Neirah's humiliated face as she pulled away from him and gently stroked his wounded cheek. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit you, but you startled me. This just isn't like you." Her heart warmed to the sight of appreciation on his face for snapping him free of his delusion. "Still, you don't deserve that kind of abuse."

His goofy smile spread as he reached under his left arm and gave his side a reminiscent rub. "It's certainly better than a knife to the ribs."

Neirah's face twisted into a humiliated pout, and she began to slam her balled fists against his chest repeatedly. "Don't remind me! You know that was a bad time for me!" She continued to pound away, but the mock assault was gentle and whimsical in approach. "Prepare for that maiming that I've always promised!"

With a knowing smile, Tatara caught her flailing wrists and settled her raving. "I know, I know. It's fine," he kindly reassured her. "I'm fine."

Her heart fluttered and broadened her appreciative grin a moment later. "Yay! You're right again!" she serenaded. "And you've given me hope that if I ever have to maim Chitose-kun, it might actually fix him!"

"Oops! Sorry, Chitose!" After sharing a mild laugh with his roommate, his cheeks warmed with bashful heat as he released her to raise one hand to the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Nei-chan. I didn't mean to make you sad on your first day back. That was pretty selfish."

"Tat-chan is not selfish. He is the exact opposite. Haven't we been over this already?" Neirah leaned behind her seat and grabbed her pillow, clutching its malleable form between her arms in her lap. "Just don't let it happen again. Tat-chan is my whole world and taking away that smile he keeps in my heart would be bad for your health."

Sweat beaded on his brow when he turned his sunny smile to face her. "You remember everything, don't you?"

She swung her nose up into the air snootily. "Yep. That's why it's bad for your health to make me angry. I can go from kitten to lion in ten seconds flat."

Tatara's expression flattened with his skepticism as he reached out and poked the tip of her high nose. "And right back down to kitten just as fast," he teased. "Nei-chan sure is interesting."

Wild eyes locked on his innocence, a fire burning behind them that betrayed her true intentions. "Are you calling me strange?! The nerve! Your insolence shall not go unpunished!"

Tatara yelped when she grabbed her pillow and whacked him with it a couple of times, both of his arms raising to defend against the battering. "Ah! My apologies, fair valkyrie! I'm not worthy! Please spare me your wrath!"

"Lies!" she barked. She raised to her knees and continued to thwap him into her mattress with her weaponized cushion. The edge had fallen out of her voice as the snuggly kitten returned in force. "Take it back! My prince is the most handsome and kindest prince in the entire world! He's perfect, I say! PerfectPerfectPerfect!"

Laughter began to make Tatara's sides ache as he defended against her hysteric assault. "Okay! Okay, I take it back! I take it back!"

His entertained baying was quickly silenced by the rush of air to escape his lungs when Neirah tossed herself against him next, in place of her pillow. The pair collapsed onto the bedding, and when he stopped laughing, he noticed that Neirah's expression against his chest had grown sombre once more. "Neirah…?"

"He's the very best," she mumbled possessively. "And I love him so much…" She kept her eyes diverted as she fisted the front of his shirt to steady herself. "I won't ever leave again until I make him understand that…"

Tatara immediately humbled, craning his head to watch her silently bury her face against the shirt that she clenched in both hands. Soon, his reassuring smile returned, and he laid his palm against her crown to comb her tousled waves away from her rosy face. "There, there… I thought we were trying to make King feel better, not me?"

"I'll do both," she defended childishly. "Somehow, I'll make you both realize that you need each other as much as I need both of you, and we're going to smile and laugh forever and ever. Who needs some fancy school in England when I have my Tat-chan and King-sama?"

"What about Kusanagi-san?"

"Onii-chan doesn't count. He yells at me when I sit on his bar."

A relieved sigh escaped him when he laid his head back on the blankets and closed his eyes. Everything was right again since his partner returned, and they prepared to face the world without fear. "Lion-chan? Would you be angry with me if we… talked about King for a bit?"

Nothing had changed. No matter what, they would always complete each other, and Neirah couldn't be any happier. "Tat-chan, I've never been able to stop you before."

His smile broadened peacefully as they just lingered in the soft lighting of the room, enjoying each other's company. "Well, when you were away…"


The room was dark, which was normal during the hours where the night flirted with the morning. It was that awkward state where nobody really knew what to say. Those who were just waking for work would call it the morning. Those who were still awake would refer to it as night. Misaki was one of the later. Even though the room was dim, he kept his half-lidded gaze locked on the sight of his hat between his fingers. It was raised above his head as he laid on his back against his disarrayed sheets. What little lighting there was to be had revealed the dark silhouette, and it was the only inclination he had that it was there.

But it was funny, the more he stared at it, catching the faint cherry scent from its fibres, the more he stopped seeing it as a hat. It was a promise, and he supposed that was what he'd intended all along. But something about Neirah's lingering scent and his tired train of thought warned him that his promise was meant to endure.

She was still nervous, and he could see that the moment he took back the article in his hands that night. Her life was changing, and although she put on a brave face, he could see the apprehension in her smile when she looked at him that day. Something about the weight of that moment felt important to him, but of course, he'd be the last one capable of deciphering a woman's intents. Still, as far as he was concerned, she spoke the words as clear as day straight from her heart.

Wait for me.

He wasn't sure what she meant by that, but he certainly didn't need a hat to tell him what to do. Then, he had to consider whether she was speaking to their clan as a collective, or if the unspoken words were meant just for him. It was utterly absurd to think that HOMRA's hunter was begging for protection, but he couldn't help feeling like the test of their faith wasn't over.

Then, if he ignored the cryptic message that he'd received from her that afternoon, he'd stumble upon something even more disturbing. Since the day he had first cowered behind Saruhiko to avoid her piercing leer, things had changed. He'd actually managed to consider her a friend that he'd give anything to defend whether she needed him or not. That was the part that he tried to avoid. It was hard to ignore society's expectations when she looked at him so vulnerably, but he was sure she'd done that with the others at some point or another too. It frustrated him to think that he was the only one of them that didn't know how to deal with it, though.

After shuffling for the umpteenth time, Misaki dropped the hat against his face to muffle his dull groan before slapping his arms limply down by his sides. Something about her springtime aroma was comforting in a way that was simpler than the philosophies he struggled to comprehend, and maybe a part of him believed that he didn't need to understand it. With a humbled expression displaying, he gently dragged the soft material away from his brow to consider it, and then after a moment of silence, he closed his eyes and touched the weave to his lips. For a quiet moment, he was just grateful to have her in his life.

"You're kidding, right? She just got back. Quit acting like she died."

When Misaki diverted to face the sight of Saruhiko flopped upsidedown over the top bunk and glowering at him without exhausting the effort to put his glasses back on, he panicked. At first, he wanted to pitch the accessory at his head, but the part of him that tried to hide it and pretend that he hadn't been caught red-handed was more influential. "Stupid Saruhiko! Don't scare me like that!"

"Trust me. You don't know stupid until you've seen your face when you're thinking about Tsukiyo."

"Oh, screw you!" He quickly sat up in the dark and watched Saruhiko disappear back over the ledge again, his trademark dissatisfaction marked in the clicking of his tongue. He didn't even know how it was possible for Saruhiko to see what his face looked like from on his perch, in the dark, and without his glasses on. It made him question the man's credibility. "You're right. She did just get back. Aren't you happy?"

From above, Saruhiko's tone flattened as he hoisted his comforter back around his shoulders and turned his nose into the wall. "I was happy when she left."

Misaki closed his eyes and snorted his derision. "Ch' yeah, you were," he mocked. "I still gotta kick your ass for that too."

"Go to sleep, Misaki."

Twisting his face up into a sheepish knot, Misaki opened one eye and watched the edge of Saruhiko's bunk for his return. When he didn't show, his tone softened with his suggestion. "Hey, since you're up-"

An exasperated sigh heaved past Saruhiko's lips to interrupt the prattling below. "The only reason I'm awake is because every six and a half minutes, I hear you sighing all starry-eyed over Tsukiyo."

"Oi! What d' ya mean six and a half? Are you fucking timing me up there or somethin'?!" The crimson pigment in Misaki's cheeks deepened as he sensed the blood-chilling effort of Saruhiko rolling his eyes topside. "Creepy bastard," he muttered under his breath.

Surrendering to the silence, Misaki flopped onto his side against his pillow, his eyes falling back on the hat he'd stuffed away from Saruhiko's judgment. When he watched his fingers move to touch the knit pattern again, he growled lowly and confidently snatched the comfort. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he rolled onto his opposing side and addressed his irritable companion. "You know what? Fuck you. I know you're awake anyway."

Saruhiko's eyes flew open, and just as he was about to open his mouth, he heard Misaki's hands and feet clicking against the rungs of the ladder leading his way. "Misaki, don't you dare come up-" He whirled just in time to face his other half's irritable expression defiantly popping up over the edge of his sleeping arrangements. "Geez, even a dog would listen better…"

He immediately flopped onto his back and dropped his forearm over his eyes. "I spent a lot of time fixing that watch for you. Why don't you do me a favour and check what time it is."

"Late," Misaki snapped without indulging him. "Or early, whatever."

"You spent all that time missing her, and now that she's back, what?" Saruhiko growled lowly and rolled back onto his side to avoid Misaki's persistence. "It's like I'm stuck in a bad rerun of my worst nightmare."

His friend's dull groan actually caused a devilish snicker to escape Misaki as he folded his arms over the top of the ladder and laid his head in them. "Really? Tsukiyo's your worst nightmare?" he sassed. "She's pretty harmless if you're on her good side." Which Saruhiko was, for one reason or another.

As Saruhiko stared into the wall by his nose, his chest expanded with the subtle heaving of breath marking his frustrations. "If only you could hear how ridiculous you sound," he mumbled impatiently. "Back when you first met her, she might as well have been a demon. She was no more than a vicious animal good for nothing but killing."

After a disgruntled snort, Misaki's edge returned in force to conceal his bashful guilt. "Yeah? Well, I got over it."

"Lucky me," he droned in retort.

"Why do you have to be like that?" Misaki instigated dryly. "Didn't you see how happy she was when you said something to her today? Even after you made a complete ass of yourself the night before she left."

"Yeah, that kind of backfired, didn't it?"

"Idiot! Tsukiyo really cares about you! Why can't you see that?" When Saruhiko didn't respond, Misaki groaned lightly with impatience. There was still a hint of bitterness in his tone as he continued. "Or do you just not give a shit?" It was clear that if he wanted to carry on the conversation, he would have to alter his approach. One thing remained factual about his friend, no matter how much time had passed. If he didn't want to talk about something, he didn't. So, to avoid being stonewalled, Misaki softened his tone and altered his approach.

After ignoring his tired friend's negative attitude, Misaki settled a bit and proceeded to express his thoughts. "Say, Saruhiko? What do you think it would have been like if she really never came back?"

Even if Saruhiko had realized that his clumsy comrade was trying to trick him into opening his mouth again, he couldn't help but let the snide remark roll of his tongue. "Quiet."

With a weighted expression, Misaki cut his impatient leer towards the raven-haired instigator. "Are you saying it'd be quiet without her here, or are you telling me to be quiet?"

It took everything Saruhiko had to pretend to be mad and stifle the amused snort that almost broke his cover. "Whatever makes you go back to sleep."

Misaki pouted impatiently. "I'm being serious…"

Saruhiko flopped onto his back again and dramatically dropped his arms by his sides. "This again? I can literally feel you suffocating her with this conversation. And you wonder why I didn't try to stop her."

"Don't push it!" Misaki warned him sternly. "Don't forget that I heard what you said that night. You did more than just not stop her." His tone softened again once he tilted his gaze at the sight of his toque balled up in his hand. "I'm just curious what you think it'd be like. It doesn't have to be Tsukiyo. What if it was me? What if I just left HOMRA and never came back?"

"I thought you said you were serious?"

"Okay," Misaki ground out bitterly. "What about Kamamoto or Chitose?"

"I don't know." He said the words, but what he really wanted to say was good riddance.

Misaki's tone elevated again with his annoyance. "How do you not know? You always have an opinion about everything else."

"What do you want me to say, Misaki?" Saruhiko whinged intolerantly. "She left. She came back. Just give it up already."

Despite Saruhiko's diverted expression, Misaki's lips warped into an entertained smile. "I want you to say that you'd miss her."

"Fine, I'd miss her."

The sheer detachment in Saruhiko's void attitude made Misaki's fists clench with the harsh remark. "Like you mean it," he nagged.

Maybe it was the inhuman hour at which they conversed, but when Saruhiko suddenly sat up in bed, he'd nearly startled his cohort right off the edge of the ladder. "Okay, I'd miss her." He could feel the pressure of hazel eyes watching him, and the longer the silence pressed, the harder his molars ground against each other. He said it, and even if Saruhiko wished Misaki couldn't, he knew his comrade would pick up the sincerity that he wasn't expecting to accompany the remark. Partially with shame, Saruhiko lowered his voice like he initially wasn't intending on adding anything else. "And I… don't know why."

The silence continued, and the pressure was making Saruhiko uneasy. He didn't mean to blurt out something so condemning all of a sudden, but he couldn't take it back. All he could do was pray that Misaki didn't press the issue. The truth was, if it were anyone else, he wouldn't have cared in the slightest. But Neirah wasn't anyone else. In a way, she'd always had a tendency to complicate things.

When he comprehended how incriminating his statement was, he immediately gathered his blankets and dropped back onto his side, turning away from Misaki's prying stare. "There, I said it," he grumbled bitterly. "Don't ask me why."

Misaki's expression softened as his grip relaxed on his hat. "Because you're friends."

Saruhiko's grip on his comforter tightened as he burrowed deeper into its coziness. "I don't need any more friends..." he muttered distantly.

Satisfied with his nuisance, Misaki rolled his head to one side and looked out over their modest apartment. He was okay with dropping the subject. He was satisfied with the response he'd received. "Still, it's kinda weird to think about it," he murmured thoughtfully. "It's different from when we were kids. Kamamoto and I were friends when we were growing up, but I feel like it'd be different if one of us left now."

Stop talking, Saruhiko mused despondently. But in the end, his partially agitated tone came out softly with his warning. "Just go to sleep..."

"I wonder what Mikoto-san would do," Misaki pressed. "I mean, he practically hand-picked all of us-"

"Shut up!"

Misaki flinched, slowly turning his distracted gaze towards the sudden outburst of his usually monotonous friend. He had rarely heard him raise his voice, and for him to erupt so suddenly had Misaki's brow furrowing inquisitively. He must have been drained. "Uh, okay sure."

Saruhiko pinched his eyes tightly together. Of course, now he listens. In the end, he managed to look like the villain. Misaki didn't understand, and he wouldn't. There were times that Saruhiko doubted he even had the capacity to. In a lot of ways, Neirah and Mikoto were the same, but they were different, and they left him with two very distinct feelings in his heart, just like they'd left two very separate loves in Misaki's.

He buried his face up to his nose, his chest aching with how rapidly his heart began to race with violent impatience. He lowered his tone, but he made sure his words still rumbled like a command off his tongue. "Just go to sleep, Misaki."

"Okay, yeah." Conceding defeat, Misaki started to climb back down the ladder towards the floor, passing only momentarily to address the cocoon of blankets once more. "Goodnight, Saru, or… morning. Whatever."

Saruhiko lowered his tone, feeling empty the moment he realized that Misaki had departed towards his own nest below. He wasn't sure whether he was addressing Misaki's question or returning his sentiment, but he muttered his rebuttal all the same. "Night…"