Collaboration with Glorifiedscapegoat

When Shion woke the next morning, only a trickle of early sunlight had managed to sneak through the blinds. It couldn't have been more than a half hour after dawn, and yet the spot next to him was empty. The blankets, though, were still warm when Shion laid a hand on them. He could hear clinking and water running in the bathroom, so he assumed Nezumi was already readying himself for the morning—for leaving this warm, comfy place and heading back into the wilderness.

Shion sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. He had slept poorly. The bed was perfect: firm mattress and clean, soft sheets. But every time it sucked him into sleep, Nezumi jarred him awake.

Nezumi was restless, even at rest. He woke at every creak and stiffened at every rattle. Shion blearily remembered waking at quarter past two to see Nezumi sitting up in bed, staring at the door. There were voices on the other side, but even half awake, Shion could tell it was nothing but a couple, or maybe two friends, returning to their room after a late night. Nezumi, though, watched the darkness like he expected the shadows to coalesce into monsters.

It was obvious that Nezumi's nighttime vigil was not reserved for this hotel; stillness and attention were wound into him like fine-springed clockwork. He must always be such a light sleeper and nervous sentry. Shion hadn't noticed the night before because they hadn't shared a space so close. On the dirt-packed forest floor, Shion couldn't feel the jounce as Nezumi hurtled out of sleep, but every movement carried on a mattress.

So he learned one thing about Nezumi, inadvertently: He was a light and restless sleeper. Guess that's worth something, Shion thought as he rubbed his shin where Nezumi had kicked it during the night. The skin was raised, but only just beginning to color.

Shion dragged his body off the side of the bed and stumbled to his feet. Coffee, his groggy mind pleaded, and he gravitated toward the small machine on the desk. It was one that used pods, which mildly offended Shion's tastes, but his desperation to feel alert lowered his standards. He inserted a French Vanilla pod and crossed the room to open the shades.

His coffee was not done when he walked back. In fact, the machine sat still and silent. Shion frowned and poked the power button. When that didn't work, he bent over to check whether it was plugged in. It was, but in spite of this, the machine refused to produce the fragrant, caffeinated beverage his brain desired.

"Come on..." Shion grumbled. He sighed loudly, but the noise of the hairdryer starting up in the bathroom drowned it out.

He probed the coffee machine—pushing buttons, removing and inserting the pod, blowing into the receptacle—as he considered whether or not it was pathetic to go down to the lobby to ask if they provided coffee. His stomach gave a saddened gurgle, and Shion decided it was worth the trip if it meant he could secure both food and beverages.

Nezumi stepped out of the bathroom. His hair had been blown out straight and hung like rivulets of dark ink over his shoulders. Shion had a few seconds to admire how much softer and more elegant Nezumi's face looked when his hair was loose before Nezumi swept his hair up to tie it back.

"Coffee?" Nezumi asked, his voice betraying a note of hopefulness.

"The machine is broken."

The corners of Nezumi's mouth tugged down, but he didn't say anything more.

"I'm going to go down to the lobby and see if we can get some from them."

Nezumi finished tying his hair up. He was once again a man of sharp angles—still beautiful, but with a cold, untouchable air, like a statue cordoned off in a museum. Shion experienced a twinge of lament at the transformation. He knew that Nezumi was the same person whether his hair was down or not, but he felt somehow that the Nezumi he saw last night and a moment before was one he had a chance of being friends with.

Nezumi arched an eyebrow at him. "You're going out like that?"

Shion looked down at his cardigan and jeans. The sweater and jeans he had started this journey in were now sweat-stained and mud-flecked, so he changed into this clean outfit to sleep in. He had only brought two spare sets of clothes; if this one was dirtied or damaged, he'd only have one more set to wear. Shion hoped they might be able to find a place to wash their clothes soon, but he didn't bother bringing the topic up now.

With the amount of judgement on Nezumi's face, Shion expected his cardigan to be torn or sullied, but he couldn't find anything amiss with it or his jeans. "Well… Yeah," Shion said at last with some confusion.

"What about your hair?"

"What about it?"

Shion raised a hand to his head. His hair felt a bit spiky on top, and he guessed it was messy where he had slept on it while it was still damp. Shion finger-combed the strands for a few seconds, trying to tame his unruly mop into something presentable without the luxury of a mirror.

"Better?" he asked.

Nezumi's face twisted in a combination of amusement and disgust. He shook his head. "What are you doing? Just get over here."

Shion obeyed Nezumi's beckons and stood in the bathroom entrance. He saw himself in the mirror over the sink. "Ah," he said, voice as flat as the hair on the side of his head. His finger combing had done nothing but muss it into further disarray. Shion fixed what he could with the use of the mirror and water. When he had finished, he approached the door.

"Wait."

Shion paused in the midst of releasing the lock and turned. Nezumi hovered in the center of the room. He looked…uncertain. Nezumi's expression wasn't much different from his usual suspicious squinting, but Shion recognized something in his posture that translated into unease. An accomplished burst of energy filled Shion's chest at being familiar enough with Nezumi to recognize the nuances of his emotions.

Nezumi frowned at him, likely because a small smile started to tug on Shion's lips, seemingly for no reason. "I don't know if I trust you by yourself."

The warmth in Shion's chest extinguished. A moment later, he realized that Nezumi didn't mean he didn't trust him not to explode, but rather that he didn't like the idea that they'd be separated. But even that realization was enough to turn Shion cold. It was a reminder that they were still hunted, no matter how far away the danger seemed.

The smile forming on Shion's face dissipated.

"I'll be fine," he said in response to all the insinuations Nezumi could be making. "I'll be quick. Do you want a coffee too?"

Nezumi crossed his arms and pressed his lips into a hard line. His eyes remained locked on Shion's for a long moment. The grey in their depths glittered like moonlight on a restive lake surface.

Finally, Nezumi clicked his tongue. "Make sure you're quick," he relented. "Don't sit around chatting with anyone. And, no, I don't need coffee."

"You sound like you do." Nezumi grunted. Shion tilted his head at him. "You could come, too, if you're worried."

"It should be fine. We should be OK in this town." Nezumi turned his face away as he said this, though. "And if we're not, it's probably best I'm not seen. The Lab's been chasing me longer and," a note of smug amusement slipped into his voice as he glanced over at Shion, "my face is more memorable than yours. You're safer on your own."

Shion felt he should be offended, but he really wasn't. His looks were homely compared to Nezumi's. Shion gnawed his lip, but he unlocked the door and stepped into the hall. "I'll be back soon. I promise."

Shion headed down the stairs, rather than taking the elevator. The building only had three floors in addition to the lobby, but he supposed three was enough to warrant an elevator. Shion preferred the stairs, however, whenever the hike was feasible. He liked to do things himself, to use his body to complete work rather than falling back on what was easiest. His mother said he got this compulsion from her side of the family. They were doers. It was part of what drew them to baking: the work never ended, and there was no artificial substitute for bread and sweets crafted with loving care by human hands.

The lobby was quiet. The fire had faded on the hearth and was nothing but sleepy black embers now. The sun had risen enough that the cool amber glow spilled over the wooden floor through the glass of the lobby entrance. Like the night before, a single female attendant manned the front desk, though this was a different, younger woman.

"Hello," Shion greeted as he approached her.

The woman looked up from her computer. Her eyes were glazed from staring at the glowing screen and she had dark circles beneath them that spoke to chronic sleep issues. With only four or so hours in his sleep bank that morning, Shion felt an immediate kinship with her.

He offered the attendant a light smile. "Um, my coffee maker seems to be broken, so I was wondering if there was anywhere down here to get coffee?"

The woman squinted at him, as if he was too bright a thing to behold at this ungodly hour. "Yeah, we have a…container? Dispenser?" She paused and shot him a guilty half-smile. "Whatever you call the thing that holds the coffee. My brain is fried this morning. Anyway, it's over there."

The woman pointed to a corner of the lobby half obscured by a trellis of plants. Shion had passed right by it and hadn't even realized.

"Oh, thanks," Shion laughed.

"No problem. There's also a few granola bars, if you're interested. Breakfast opens in," she glanced down at her computer screen, "twenty minutes, but it's not the most imaginative thing, so…." She shrugged.

Shion wasn't sure what that meant, but he thanked her again and moved toward the coffee area. The coffee was only warm, and they had no milk or cream to put in it, but Shion refused to let these failings discourage him. He added three sugars to mask the taste of burnt beans and tried to feel grateful as he took a few sips from his takeaway cup.

Shion picked through the granola bars and settled on chocolate chip and peanut butter flavored ones for himself. And for Nezumi… He guessed the same. If Nezumi didn't like them, Shion would happily eat the surplus. Although he couldn't imagine Nezumi wasting food, even if he hated it.

Shion crammed the bars into his pockets and turned for the stairs.

The lobby door opened and Shion glanced instinctively toward the noise. Two men entered, both clean-cut and dressed in dark suits. They looked wildly out of place amidst the soft country vibe of the lobby.

Shion's stomach swooped. He shifted so he would be obscured by the trellis, but could still see the men through the gaps between the potted plants. He felt silly and paranoid the next moment, but he had spent too many hours with Nezumi to not practice caution when faced with sober-suited strangers.

One of the men had a hawkish severity to his face, and the languid posture of a predator. The other man was bald and unassuming, but thickset and uncomfortably tall. He towered like a mountain over the hawkish man and absentmindedly cracked his finger knuckles with his thumbs as they sauntered together to the front desk.

"Can I help you?" the front desk attendant asked. Shion couldn't see her face past the newcomers' bulk, but he could hear the guarded tone in her voice, and he knew she must be sizing them up as potential troublemakers.

Shion swallowed his slow-building fear and tried to reason with himself. Don't judge a book by its cover. They look scary, but they're probably just guests. Just wait it out.

Hawk leaned his elbow on the desk and bared his teeth in a neat, perfectly white grin. "Yes, ma'am, I hope so. Me and my friend," he gestured to the large man beside him, "are trying to track down our sons. Some townsfolk said they saw them headed this way."

"...I see," intoned the desk attendant.

Hawk was not deterred by her obvious distrust. "The one's dark-haired, a real pretty boy—you'd remember a face like his. Likes leather jackets and scowling. Goes by the name Nezumi?" His smile ratcheted up a few degrees, revealing his sharp canines. "He's mine."

Shion's stomach dropped. Sweat had begun to gather on his back, but his body felt frozen solid. He hardly dared to breathe, knowing who and what was standing just a few feet from him.

Hawk pushed back off the counter and jabbed a thumb at his alleged friend. "The other's his kid. A kinda mousy-looking boy with brown hair. Real skinny. Eh…" He frowned and turned to the other man. "Sean, was it?"

"Shion," corrected Mountain.

Shion's heart rabbited. The coffee in his hand seared his palm through the thin paper cup, but he was too terrified to move. The Lab had figured out he and Nezumi were traveling together, and they had already tracked them down. Shion's head pounded as his panic mounted. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to lessen his anxiety by removing the visual stimuli.

I will not lose control. Not now. Relax and breathe. You can do this. He chanted these thoughts over and over again, scrambling to calm his shivering lungs.

"He's normally a good kid, but he's fallen in with the wrong sort," Mountain said without much emotion.

Hawk snorted. "I'll say. Anyway," he turned his snarling grin back on the woman at the desk, "think you could point us in the right direction?"

Shion peeked one eye open. With Hawk now stepped away from the desk, he could see a sliver of the woman's face. Would she tell the men? What would they do if she refused?

"There's no one under those names here," the attendant said. Her voice was strong, despite her obvious intimidation.

"You sure?" asked Hawk. "You didn't even look in your computer."

The woman pushed a smile onto her face. "It's a small hotel. I remember who checks in."

"Aw, well…" Hawk made a show of frowning in confusion and looking worriedly at Mountain. "They might have used different names. Nezumi and I had a… A disagreement, you see, so he packed up and left. But his mama's worried sick, so I've got to bring him home." Hawk pouted at her. "Come on, ma'am, can't you help us? You've seen boys like that here, haven't you? Just let us know that, at least."

"I'm sorry, sir, but there are confidentiality laws protecting our guests. I can't confirm whether your sons are here or not. Maybe you could try calling them?" The attendant turned her smile on Mountain, but it faltered in the face of such a stark man. She cleared her throat and repeated, "Sorry, but I can't help you."

"I see," sighed Hawk. He exchanged another look with Mountain.

The large man slipped a yellow and black gun from his suit's inside pocket and fired before the young woman had a chance to blink. Two thin, glimmering wires shot out of the muzzle and embedded themselves into her chest. Shion gasped, but the choked noise from the woman, and the clatter she made as she spasmed and fell from her chair, masked the sound of his shock. Mountain grunted, a satisfied smirk curling his lips.

Shion's skin crawled.

"Nice one," Hawk chuckled. He hopped over the front desk and began rummaging around.

Mountain returned the TASER gun to his inside pocket and fiddled with something at the side of his head. Some kind of earpiece, Shion guessed, though he was too far to see it clearly.

Hawk shot his partner a look. "Leave that alone. Unless you want what little brain you have melted."

The large man stopped messing with his earpiece and scowled. He mumbled something, and from the irritated expression on his face, Shion imagined it involved curse words.

"Jump on the computer and get searching," Hawk barked at Mountain. "Check 'Eve.' The kid uses that alias sometimes when he has to give a name."

Mountain moved around the front desk. "I don't see anything familiar," he huffed after a few minutes of tapping and clicking. "I think we're going to have to do this the old-fashioned way."

"Fan-fucking-tastic." Hawk slammed a drawer. "I can't wait to act like a fucking Jehovah's Witness. Come on." He skulked toward the elevator.

Shion's heart pressed into the back of his throat as he watched the men file into the elevator. His joints unlocked only once the door closed on the two.

He abandoned the coffee on the counter and rushed for the stairs. Shion took them by twos, ignoring the burn in his legs and his ragged breathing. He thanked the powers that be that he and Nezumi had a room on the second floor, and not the first. They had a chance, if only he could get there fast enough.

Shion burst onto the second floor landing and sprinted down the hall, grateful for the faded green carpet's help in muffling his footfalls. At 262, he fumbled in his pockets for a few seconds before he realized he had forgotten to take a key.

Shion risked three hard, sharp raps on the door. "Nezumi!" he whisper-yelled.

The door swung open instantly and Shion was yanked into the room. The door closed quickly, but silently, behind him.

"Nezumi," Shion gasped through the terror and exhaustion, trying and failing to get the rest of the words out.

Nezumi's eyes flashed. "They're here," he said, correctly interpreting Shion's fluster, and then, "Did anyone see you?"

Shion shook his head even as he said, "The woman at the desk, but she's unconscious. Tasered, I think. There's two of them; they're checking doors. We have to go."

Nezumi snatched Shion's backpack and pulled it over his shoulders. He forced the sticky window as wide open as it would go and twisted through the gap and onto the fire escape. The actions had the smooth assurance of habit, and Shion struggled to execute them with as much athleticism. Fortunately, he managed to slip out of the window with minimal difficulty.

Nezumi warned him to stay close and navigated down the stairway. He peered around the back alley for lookouts or traps. The alley was bare apart from dumpsters and a few pieces of refuse rolling around the asphalt in the wind, but Shion trusted Nezumi to know what to look for.

Nezumi gestured that they were going to make a run for the other side of the street. Shion swallowed and nodded. Nezumi gave the signal and they sprinted out of the alley and into the sparkling sunlight of the main street.