A/N: thank you for reading. because there's no tagging system here for possible triggers, i guess i should put as a general warning that this fic is about a cult, more or less. it might get kinda dark.

ii. i'm not scared of death because death's all over me.

Natsume's childhood home had a single story, two bedrooms, one bath. Nothing luxurious.

He remembered going into Ruka's big house for the first time and feeling his mouth get dry.

Ruka hadn't thought much of it, hadn't commented on it. To him, it was normal. To Natsume, it was like something from a movie. One of those normal movies, where the kid's biggest problem was whether or not the cute girl across the street liked him back.

Natsume hadn't exactly been ashamed of his home. That's not why he kept Ruka away from it for two years. No, he hadn't minded it before he'd seen Ruka's house. It was just that he was suddenly aware of what normal was, what it perhaps should be, and his life and house and family did not align with that image at all.

It wasn't as though Ruka's life was perfect: he'd always been plagued by a deep loneliness and feeling of mediocrity that not even Natsume could help him heal from. But it remained a fact that staring hard at Ruka was much easier on the stomach than even a glance in Natsume's direction.

He and Aoi had always shared a room. Whenever somebody would find out, especially once they were both teenagers, there would be a heavy awkwardness and a hushed judgment. People would assume, rush to conclusions. They were way off; because of the necessity and lack of space, they had no choice but to share a room. But the judgment persevered.

Then there was the time the roof over Aoi's bed leaked and she had to share with Natsume.

She had mentioned the situation to a friend and suddenly the school was afire with horrible rumors about them, about Aoi, about what kind of a depraved family they were.

Messages left on her desk in the morning, anything from teases to taunts to threats, whispers hissed after her when she walked down the hall, laughter and giggles, other girls tripping her and even shoving her until it was usual for Aoi to come home with her arms and legs dotted with bruises.

And then Natsume got the reputation for being violent, and maybe he was. He'd gotten into some fights with Aoi's tormentors, started getting in trouble. Fights and detention.

Whatever. They'd made Aoi's life Hell, so Natsume would just pay the favor right back.

The worst thing he'd done was set a kid's lunch money on fire. He had no regrets, not even when he got suspended for it.

He perhaps wasn't normal, and neither was his house or his family. He loved them anyway.

But there was something about normalcy, like the kind Ruka lived in, that Natsume would almost feel himself wanting. Safety.

Nobody ever looked down on the nice kid, the smart kid, the successful kid. The kid who was like everyone else.

"How's school?" Natsume asked, leaning against his minifridge, sitting on the tiled floor. He was keeping his eye on what might have been a mousehole.

"Next quarter starts in two days," Aoi said. "I've been doing all the work on the syllabus ahead of time."

"Good," Natsume replied, narrowing his eyes at the possibility of movement in the dark hole.

"How about you?" she asked, voice soft and almost nervous. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You haven't been smoking, right?"

"No."

"No drugs?"

"No."

"Have you been sleeping?"

"Yeah," Natsume lied. "I've been a lot better lately."

"That's good," Aoi exhaled with relief. "I'm so happy for you."

"I sent you a check yesterday. You should be getting it soon, so check your mail."

"Thanks, Natsume."

Natsume let his head roll back until it hit the fridge. When he really thought about it, he didn't really care if there was a mouse in his apartment. Maybe he could catch it and give it to Ruka as a present or something.

"How's work?"

"It's good. It gives me something to do."

"That's great! Who knows-you might get a promotion soon!"

God, Natsume really hoped that wasn't the case. He imagined it: getting a promotion. The tiniest raise to match hundreds of new duties to complete. The promise that there was always a place for him there, at the post office, sitting behind the glass and telling people that their packages were in transit. The threat that he might have no choice but to stay put there forever.

"Yeah. Who knows."

"Things are going really good for us," Aoi said, her voice earnest. "Who'd have thought?"

"Nobody," Natsume murmured, but he always thought he'd end up like this: alone in a shitty apartment, a dim yellow light above him, his sister living a better life (which she deserved), and only one friend to speak of. This was expected.

"I'm proud of us!"

"I'm proud of you," Natsume said.

They hung up some time later, when Aoi said she had to get back to her homework.

Natsume didn't move from his place on the floor. He didn't have the energy. He just sat there and thought really hard about the cheap fridge, the grimy tiles, the yellowed counter. This was what he'd always expected from himself.

It was late and normal people went to sleep when it was late.

Natsume wasn't normal, not even in that way anymore.

Natsume did not go to the convenience store. He hadn't been there for a week, insistent on avoiding that shoplifter if at all possible.

That meant that he coped with his insomnia by laying on his bed in the dark and wishing there was a button he could press to turn his brain off.

Work was like usual. His annoyingly peppy manager, Narumi, had pulled him aside for a "chat", to tell Natsume that he needed to emote more, show the patrons how much fun he was having and how happy he was to help.

"You never smile, do you?" Narumi asked. "Such a shame. You'd be ten times the looker if you did."

Natsume did not listen. He only smiled when there was a reason, like when he had to convince his sister and best friend that he was just fine and wasn't absolutely miserable.

Really, when had been the last time he'd smiled because of actual joy? No… there just wasn't any joy to speak of.

Passing moments of calm, peace, sleepiness-sure. But not joy, not happiness, not warmth in the gut.

Ten times the looker if you did.

Natsume imagined that, being like the bad boy characters from John Hughes films. A cigarette hanging from the smirk on his lips, black sunglasses to hide how red his eyes were. He'd need a leather jacket or a blazer or a drug habit or an abusive dad to fit the bill though, even if could manage a smile. Not applicable.

He couldn't. It was too much effort.

All he could do at this point was survive. Make some money for Aoi and slowly drain himself until he entirely deflated, like a pierced tire on a car that simply does not stop going, no matter how much air it's losing.

Laying in bed was boring.

He was on his back one night, staring at the ceiling fan above him, a gadget that did not ever work for all the years Natsume had lived there. It was one of those nights where he could envision himself dying there. If he did, he probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference at all.

"I'm hungry," Natsume lied out loud. "I'm hungry and there's nothing to eat."

He pulled himself out of bed and put some converse on.

"I'm hungry. That's why. Because I'm hungry."

It was embarrassing, really.

Had it ever been the cigarettes he'd been addicted to? Or had the pull really been how they distracted from his inability to sleep?

Puff puff, out like a light.

The last time he'd smoked was followed by the best sleep he'd had since: nine full hours of rest. He woke up, didn't smoke, and never slept like that again.

He locked his apartment behind him, though it hardly mattered. He had nothing of value in there to steal. In fact, if someone took something, it would clear up some space and might make the place seem less cramped.

Maybe he should put up a sign on his door, "Please rob me"?

This time, Natsume was the one walking in after her.

Lemonade Thief was in the fridge section again, shoving a half gallon of milk under her armpit in the hoodie. This time, instead of a t-shirt and jeans, she was sporting a wrinkled floral-print sundress. There was a faded stain on it, like someone had spilled wine on the skirt.

Natsume opened a fridge door and grabbed a small bottle of orange juice.

The girl turned to him and grinned.

"You blew me off, Rumplestiltskin!"

He ignored her.

"I counted the days, you know. Nine whole days. That's how long you stayed away. Just to spite me, huh?"

"Why are you so obsessed with me?" Natsume sneered. "Don't you have something better to do? Anything better?"

"Of course not," she said cheerfully. "Excuse me for a second."

She disappeared into another aisle and then reappeared in front of him again, holding a ten-pack of instant ramen.

"You should go check out now," she said. "It'll distract him so I can sneak out."

"Why do I care about that?" Natsume asked, voice monotone. "I'm not done shopping."

"Oh, come on!" she cried. "You never buy anything serious. You just buy one thing and take off. Every time."

"How the fuck would you know?" Natsume spat, turning around in spite to slowly stroll down the first aisle in the store.

"Alright, so what else did you want, Rumplestiltskin?"

Natsume shrugged and continued to walk as slowly as he could down the aisle.

He reached the end of it after a few minutes and then proceeded down the next one with just as much energy.

"You're horrible."

"Go steal that milk. I don't care."

She did not. She trailed after him down every aisle, keeping her back to the cashier when he was in view so that the milk and ramen remained hidden out of his sight.

Natsume went down each aisle, and Lemonade Thief followed.

By the time he got to the last aisle, he was well and truly exhausted and the game had gotten boring.

"Fine." He walked to the front counter with just his orange juice and waited for the cashier, not sparing Lemonade Thief another glance.

He didn't even notice if she had left. While the cashier was opening up the register and getting his change, Natsume resisted the urge to scan the store. If she got out, she got out. If she didn't, that was her problem.

He emerged from the store and took a sip of the juice, keeping his gaze stuck to the ground so he didn't look for her.

"Rumplestiltskin!" the thief called from the same bumper she'd sat on the last time.

The ramen was next to her on the bumper, the milk on the ground between her ankles, covered slightly by the stained skirt of her dress.

"You don't do laundry?" Natsume asked.

"When you thought of that question, did it occur to you at all that it would be rude to actually ask it?"

"No."

"Well, it is." She was smiling anyway, so it must not have been all that offensive. "Come here." She scooted over on the bumper and moved the milk and ramen so they were out of the way. "Come sit with me so I can guess your name and you can spin some gold for me."

Natsume's stupid brain came up with instant rejoinders to play along with her little folktale game, but he bit his tongue.

He sat by her, as far from her as he could on the bumper. He sipped at his juice and avoided eye contact.

"Haru?" Lemonade Thief said, and it took a moment for Natsume to realize she was attempting to guess his name.

"No."

"Daiki? Kenji? Akira?"

"No."

"You'll tell me eventually."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Natsume dismissed.

"Hiro?"

"No."

"Okay, okay. I give up for tonight."

"Cool." Natsume made to get off the bumper, but she grabbed his shoulder and forced him back down.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, eyes wide and affronted. "We haven't seen each other in nine whole days! We have some catching up to do!"

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Where do you live?"

"Not telling you, stalker."

"Okay. Rude. Anyway, we live ten blocks in that direction." She dramatically pointed her whole arm to her right, in front of Natsume's face. "We're staying somewhere temporary for now. Not too shabby, but not quite what we need."

"Is that so."

"Well, it has the room, this house. But it doesn't have the warmth a good proper home is supposed to have. Anyway, Kuonji told me I was supposed to pick the place when we first came here. He's gonna find us somewhere much nicer, because of course he is." She sighed happily and leaned back, her palms against the asphalt. "I'm just glad he trusted me. I think I did a pretty good job."

"That your boyfriend?" Natsume asked without thinking, only to instantly berate himself for how that must have sounded.

"No!" Lemonade Thief squealed. "As if!"

"Okay."

She squirmed in her seat for a moment, obviously impatient for him to ask something else. She gave in, naturally. "You live alone?"

"Nope," Natsume said, drinking some more juice. "I live with my wife and two kids."

Her jaw dropped. "Whoa. I really didn't peg you for the marriage type…"

Natsume scoffed and then Lemonade Thief snapped her mouth shut angrily.

"Oh, I see! You're pulling my leg!"

"Yup."

"So you do live alone?"

"None of your business."

"That just sucks, being on your own. You don't have anybody around to take care of you."

"I'm a grown man," Natsume argued. "I don't need someone taking care of me."

"Everyone needs someone taking care of them," she rebuffed. "Even grown men and even losers who drink orange juice at three in the morning."

"Not me."

"Yes, you're very special. Very manly. Very cool." She nodded her head sarcastically. "I have people who take care of me. We take care of each other. That's what people are supposed to do: take care of each other."

"That Kenji guy?" Natsume asked, bored.

"Kuonji," she corrected firmly. "And I meant all of us."

"Okay."

"I think you'd like them."

"Doubt it."

"You kinda remind me of Tsubasa, a little. You could look like him a bit if I squint really hard."

"I don't care."

Natsume took one last sip of his juice. The bottle was now empty. He didn't have any reason left to linger around.

"Alright, that's enough for me, creep," he said, standing up. He threw his bottle in the trash and started walking.

"Sanosuke?" the thief shouted after him. "Haruki?"

Natsume couldn't help it. "You owe me your first born," he said, then kept walking.

"The labs are getting tough," Ruka complained. "We're onto cadavers and I know this is what I want to do, but it's gonna be really hard getting used to cutting animals up."

They were at Ruka's apartment, both leaning against each other while half-laying down, playing a particularly gory first-person shooter. Natsume's idea, of course. Ruka's suggestion had been MarioKart.

"If anyone can do it, it's you," Natsume affirmed. "It's hard but you'll get through it."

"Yeah. How's your work going?"

"I'd be ten times the looker if I smiled more," Natsume replied smoothly, mimicking Narumi's exact tone of voice.

"Is that his advice of the week?" Ruka laughed knowingly. He knew what a nuisance Naru was, knew all the little nuggets of wisdom he bestowed upon Natsume unprompted. "You might want to take it to heart. I mean, he has a point. You always look like you're at your wife's funeral."

Natsume clicked his tongue.

"Anything new?" Ruka prompted, his character striking down three zombies with one blow.

"Just a frequent shoplifter at the store across the street."

"A shoplifter?" Ruka straightened a little. "Is it you?"

"Shut up. It's a girl."

"Oh. That's sad."

"Why?"

Ruka guffawed. "What's not inherently tragic about a little girl shoplifting? I mean, you can only imagine her home life-"

"She's not a little girl," Natsume muttered. "She's perfectly adult. She just acts like a kid."

"Is she your new friend?" Ruka teased. "Have you finally met someone as scummy as you?"

"Have I ever shoplifted?"

"No, but still. It makes perfect sense to me that you'd click with a thief."

"We haven't clicked. She's just obsessed with me."

Ruka scoffed.

"What?" Natsume demanded, looking away from the game to glare at his best friend, who was shaking his head and smiling, a little twinkle of understanding in his eye. "What?"

"You always think every girl is obsessed with you," Ruka replied. "Just because you've got a pretty face doesn't mean everyone who sees you is in love with you."

"She counted the days I hadn't gone to the store and keeps trying to talk to me, even though we've only met three times," Natsume said. "Is that not obsession?"

"Or maybe she has a crush?" Ruka offered. "Or maybe she just needs a friend! Heck, I counted the days between seeing you when we first met, just because of how desperate I was to finally have a friend."

"I don't think that's it." Natsume's character had been decapitated during the time he'd looked at Ruka, so now he had to respawn. "I don't know how to put it but… she's wrong, somehow. Creepy. Weird. There's something really off about her."

"Or maybe you're just a judgmental prick."

Natsume elbowed Ruka in the gut.

"Aw, come on! You totally are! You always see the worst in everyone!"

"That's 'cause everyone's the worst."

"Not true," Ruka said.

"I have the best taste in people," Natsume boasted. "You. You and Aoi are the only good people left in this world. I'm just lucky I found you. Everyone else is a waste of time."

"God, you're a misanthrope."

"Easy for you to say," Natsume argued. "You work with animals all day. You work with animal lovers and nice people like you. You don't see regular people, like I do. They're all around me, all the time, and they suck. Most people are horrible."

"You're projecting," Ruka said.

"No."

"I bet you you're wrong about this shoplifter," Ruka challenged. "I bet you she's great and you're judging her too fast."

"Whatever."

After one more hour of gameplay, Ruka passed out with his head on Natsume's shoulder. Natsume was able to turn off the TV screen this time, cut the blue light from the room and bathe it all in darkness.

She wasn't normal, that girl. Natsume knew this. He could tell. She was wrong in some severe way he couldn't quite pin down yet, but there was something.

She wasn't normal.

He wasn't normal either, of course. But the fact that they had this in common probably wasn't a good sign.