Lyon couldn't really say he had gotten Gray to talk about whatever had been bothering him lately, and honestly, it was not from lack of trying. Yes, Gray was a big boy who could take care of himself, but he was also human and there were things that no one should have to handle alone and this stupid boy was just making things a thousand times worse for himself by not talking. Lyon was many things, but he wasn't blind. If Gray continued to pretend that he wasn't falling apart right in front of everyone's eyes...

"I'm back," Lyon called as he closed the door behind him. A flash of pale yellow light was the only warning Lyon got before lightning suddenly struck, bright and close and loud. So loud that he almost dropped the carefully-balanced grocery bag in his arms. He winced as the rain that had been pitter-pattering against the windows started to come down harder against the glass, completely blurring the town outside. "...Good grief. Gray? Where are you?"

"In the kitchen." It was something of a miracle that he could hear him with that apocalypse outside. "You shouldn't come in yet. I broke a plate, and there are glass shards everywhere."

Lyon frowned. "Why don't you turn the light on then? It's pretty dark in there."

"The power went off a little before you came in," Gray said after a short silence. "I'd have turned it on if I could. ...Not that it matters. I'm almost done, anyway."

Hm. An uncharacteristic display of clumsiness from Gray, but he supposed people who didn't sleep were clumsier than usual. He took off his coat to hang it with the others and abandoned the groceries near the sofa before flopping down on it with all his weight. To say he was simply tired would be a terrible understatement. His mission should only have taken him a couple hours to complete, but then that other guy came to fight too and he was ridiculously strong and it had taken him way too much magic to finally beat him. The knot in his back was finally starting to hurt a little less, and his heart wasn't as loud in his ears anymore. Maybe he would even be able to feel something in his feet again after a long, long nap.

...If only he could, though. All exhausted that he was, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep without having a discussion with the brat first. He had accepted to make a detour and go to the shop after his job because... well, because he did want to eat tonight, but also because he had hoped it would give him some time to think of a way to approach the situation before coming home. Now, thirty minutes later, he couldn't say he had made much progress about that.

Gray reached the sofa with a few trudging steps, barely audible above the storm, where he collapsed with a grace only rivalled by Lyon a few minutes ago. He was looking straight ahead of him, and while his expression looked detached and almost calm, if a little tired, his gaze was dull and dark, full of sorrow. The eyes of a weary man who had seen and felt a little too much, and Lyon couldn't help but think that someone his age shouldn't ever look like they had reached the end of their rope.

"Stop looking at me like that," Gray said, but his voice was weak. "...I told you I was fine."

Lyon rolled his eyes and huffed. "Sure you are. I'm not blind, for your information. Your team told me that you've been distracted around them lately, and I've barely seen you eat anything while I was there. Which I've been for five days. But I guess you are fine if we overlook all that."

That gave Gray pause. ...Almost a week, huh? He hadn't realized that much time had passed since the ceremony. And then Lyon continued to talk, to say that he couldn't do that to himself and that he was going to get hurt if that went on, but it was useless because no words in this world could be enough to melt all that ugly and heavy ice in him. It was too much, it was too late, and to know that he was going to stay like that forever kind of made him want to cry because Gods, it was so cold in there...

"...I'm fine," Gray repeated, because if he said it again and again then maybe it would happen. And also because he had a vague memory of Lyon asking him something, a few seconds ago. "You're making things worse than they are."

"That's not what I asked you, you idiot! What happened to your hand?"

That he hadn't noticed the wound in his palm equally confused and horrified Lyon, because he couldn't have been sitting for longer than five minutes and his hand had already bled enough to form a sad little puddle at their feet. And if seeing all that blood hadn't been a shock already, Lyon downright blanched when the idiot started to close his hand, as if that cut wasn't open and the size of his index. "What on Earth are you doing?! Stop that, you're going to-!"

"I told you I was fine." The sight of pale fingers hovering above the wound finally snapped something in the younger mage; a furious wave of heat that just had to go somewhere. So it went in his fingers. They closed over the wound like the metal teeth of a hunting trap, and whatever Lyon wanted to say died on his lips when his little brother glared at him with a face like thunder. "So mind your own business, Lyon."

The alarm and horror on Lyon's face immediately morphed into something hurt, and Gray's heart sank at the sight of what he had done. The ice mages stared at each other with wide eyes, both too shocked to talk, and the rain continued to beat down the roofs and umbrellas outside. Heavy. Merciless. As if it wouldn't stop before drowning the world.

"...Sorry."

Lyon didn't try to reach for his hand again, which... which Gray guessed that he deserved, after being such a jerk to someone who was just trying to help. He hadn't even thought he would snap like that. He just couldn't help it. It was almost scary. Why was it that it was either nothing, either that? He was losing it, he was definitely losing it, maybe he should just lock himself somewhere he wouldn't ever be able to hurt people again and-

"No, it's fine," Lyon said quietly as he carefully - reluctantly - lowered his hands. "I panicked too. Sorry. ...It doesn't look like it's hurting you, but a cut really shouldn't bleed that much. It's okay if you don't want me to do it, but it still needs to be taken care of, Gray."

"You can do it," the younger mage mumbled. "I just... I overreacted. I'm sorry."

After a moment of hesitation, Lyon brought his friend's hand closer and gently uncurled his fingers to get a better look at the wound. It was really a bad cut; deep enough to see bone at the right angle, under the flesh and the nerves and all the blood. He couldn't say exactly how much this little inattention would cost him, but daily tasks and molding would definitely be a problem for a while.

He didn't know exactly where the bandages and cotton pads and antiseptic he had bought earlier were in that grocery bag, but they couldn't be far. Hopefully they would be enough to treat that troublesome wound. "You should have been more careful."

"Yeah, I know." Pale fingers started to wipe the torn skin, mindful of any bloody shards of porcelain that could be stuck in there. Gray looked at him work without a word and wavered a second, wondering if it was a good idea to speak up or not, but then decided that it wasn't like it was that big of a deal anyway and that Lyon deserved to know. So he said simply, "It's true that I've been a little out of sorts since that funeral anyway."

The gentle caress of wet cotton against his skin stopped.

"...You went to a funeral?"

"It was an old friend I had in Isvan," he murmured. "Her grandfather found my address and sent me a letter. He asked me if I wanted to assist to the ceremony since we were friends before. I thought she had died with all the others, but apparently not. She... She survived, just like me. And she died two weeks ago."

People usually gave their condolences in this situation, but Lyon was almost certain that they wouldn't be taken well right now. He had expected another lie, to be honest. Another promise that things weren't as bad as they seemed to be, that he was imagining things and that everything was fine, as usual. Not...

Not this terrible answer.

The thought of that someone other than Gray had survived this tragedy seemed odd at first glance, but the more he thought about it, and the more sense it made. Gray was the only person Ur and he had found alive, buried under the rubble of his former town, but perhaps some survivors weren't even in Isvan when the disaster happened. After all, the day Deliora attacked was a day like any other, and people had plenty of reasons to be out of their town. Learning what happened must have been a pretty big shock to her when she came back, though. And if she had been around Gray's age...

"And what happened there?" Lyon asked, because he had a feeling that there was something more.

"Nothing important. It was just a funeral. We were... We must have been around fifty people there. It took a little longer than expected, though. Her grandfather started to read the speech he had prepared for her, but then he broke into tears in the middle of it and we had to take a break. When he said Deliora had murdered his granddaughter after taking his son away from him. I knew her and I know she was a strong girl, but... I don't know. Some things he said made me think that maybe she just couldn't take it anymore."

Which sounded like a terribly depressing thing to witness. Definitely not 'Nothing important.'

Lyon gulped and continued his work in silence. He didn't know exactly what Gray was feeling under that mask of nonchalance since his gaze wasn't letting any emotion pass through, but he doubted there was something other than sadness or doubt or grief in there. Gray had that bad habit of dwelling on the past, and... He knew that he had to be careful now.

Beads of blood rolled down Gray's skin like red, shiny tears that Lyon quietly wiped off. "...I think you should have told someone you were going to assist to that."

"I shouldn't have had to tell that to anyone. It happened days ago, and I should have snapped out of it already," Gray said, as if it was an answer. "...I'm so stupid to have let it upset me like that."

"Snap out of it?" Lyon repeated hotly. He couldn't believe his ears. "Are you serious? You don't just snap out of a funeral, Gray. You lost a friend and it's not..." It was barely perceptible, the way Gray flinched when he heard the word 'friend', but Lyon saw it. He wondered what his friend was hiding from him this time. "What's wrong?"

It was a while before Gray spoke again. His voice was small and unsure and utterly miserable, just like his expression, and it kind of made Lyon want to hug him so that he wouldn't ever look so broken again.

"You... If you learnt that I had died one day, you would cry, right?"

Lyon said nothing.

"I think you would cry. I mean, it's normal to cry when you learn that a friend died, right?" he whispered as his gaze slowly slid to the floor. With his brows brought together like that and the shadows casted by the dim light outside, Gray looked like a confused child. "I know that you're not like- You're a good person. Even if you're surely not going to cry like her grandfather cried, you'll surely be teary-eyed when you'll tell everyone what a terrible apprentice I've been or..."

He couldn't say it. He couldn't say it, there was no way he couldn't admit that, and it was stupid to seek reassurance like that anyway because it wasn't like there was a doubt about whether he had done something wrong or not that day. Criminals deserved their punishment, they deserved to suffer, so he pretended that his eyes weren't burning and that he didn't hate himself. "...No, it's nothing. Forget it."

Forget it. Yes, of course. As if he was going to ignore that horrifying example. Gray bothering to open up about whatever he might be feeling happened once in a blue moon, and now that he had said all that, now that he had trusted him with these words, Lyon would be damned if he didn't understand what he had tried to say. He pretended that he had dropped the conversation and carefully wrapped white, clean bandages over the wound, but inside, he was confused and thinking and worrying because Gray couldn't think things like that and he must have said something that-

Oh.

...Oh.

"Is it because you didn't cry?"

He mustn't have done a good job at sounding collected, because when Gray bowed his head, Lyon saw something dark and fragile glistening in his gaze. The rain and the thunder had considerably lightened while they had been talking, and thick sombre clouds were covering the sky. Hardly an ideal weather, but a bearable one. If he missed his chance, Gray might make up an excuse and leave the room, since it wasn't raining anymore. "Gray," Lyon insisted, "did you cry at that funeral or not?"

"Does it even matter?"

"Of course it matters, Gray," Lyon whispered. "Not crying at a funeral doesn't make you someone abnormal or-"

"Yeah? Well, if the reaction I had as her friend is the same reaction a perfect stranger would have had, then maybe it means that something's wrong with me," Gray cut him, bitter and cold. "I've been to plenty of funerals, Lyon. And I've celebrated many anniversaries too. I've always cried before, and- but for some reason, on that day, I just... I just couldn't. And believe me, I tried to. We spent a lot of time together and I cared so much about her and I promise I never forgot about her but I couldn't even show it and now she's dead and...

"She didn't... She didn't deserve to go through that," Gray finished in a brittle voice. When he wiped a tear, two more rolled down his cheeks. When he clenched his hands into fists, the trembling didn't stop. It wouldn't stop. Everything about Gray seemed to indicate that a loud, ugly breakdown was coming, from his trembling body to the way he was shaking his head and whispering the same words over and over again.

Lyon would die before letting that happen.

"Gray?" Lyon moved closer to try to be heard. "...Listen to me. It's okay, you know. If you feel that you need to cry, then cry."

"L-Lyon, I can't," Gray choked out between two barely suppressed sobs. "You don't- I was- It's too late now. I'm... I'm not the one w-who went through hell since Deliora's massacre. I'm not- I-I'm not going to cry because I'm messed up and didn't feel anything at a funeral where everyone was- was sobbing their eyes out because all this time, she pretended to b-be happy so that she wouldn't worry anyone. I... Th-That's the last thing I can do to respect h-her and not to feel like a fucking monster who pretends to care about others while wearing a human skin."

"That's probably the last word I would use to qualify you," Lyon murmured sadly. Which was funny, because for the life of him, Gray couldn't see any other word to use there. Lyon posed a hand on his back, a little below his neck. "Calm down a little bit. And take your hands off your face. You're not making it any easier to breathe."

Easy to say. It wasn't like Lyon was the one who had nightmares of his friends dying because he killed everything he touched and then not being able to even cry for them. Lyon couldn't understand how it felt. He hadn't been there. All that noise as people wailed and screamed and asked why this tragedy had to happen, the sight of all those crying faces, their despair, their tears, and... And he had just stood there. Strong and straight, silent and alone, unable to shed even a single tear.

A cruel, vicious, stone-hearted monster among grieving men.

"There is no right reaction to have at a funeral, you know. I mean..." Lyon pressed his lips in a tight line before shrugging and pressing on. "I don't remember it that well since it was a long time ago, but I remember that my aunt didn't cry at my parents' funeral."

The hand on his back moved to his shoulder and brought him a little closer. Gray didn't object when his head landed on Lyon's shoulder because even if it felt a little weird, because it made him feel warmer than he ever remembered being recently. A warmth that could melt ice, if given enough time. He remembered one aunt, but... What he tried to say came out as a shaky whisper, so he wiped his eyes and breathed deeply and tried again. "T-The one who eats i-insects?"

"The one who-" Lyon immediately had a flashback of being offered a big plate full of... of brown, small, shrivelled little things that smelled like curry. With antennae and legs sticking out everywhere. Looking back, maybe it had been a bet between his father and his aunt. Or a prank. Maybe it was why his father had told him that, before he dropped him off for the day; that while his big sister did prepare weird foods at times, he had to eat, because it wasn't like she was going to make him eat insects, right?

And Lyon found out later that day that the brown, small, shrivelled little things that smelled like curry actually were insects. Grasshoppers, to be precise. His father had laughed for a whole hour, and his mother had tried to coax him out of his bedroom with promises of ice-cream and chocolate cake. It hadn't worked.

"...Ah." It was clear by his tone of voice that Lyon didn't have fond memories of that experience. He didn't know if he would ever find it in him to forgive his aunt for feeding his innocent, dupe four-years-old self such terrible food. If it could be called food. "No, not that one."

"...It looks like a lot happened," Gray said, a faint note of amusement in his voice. Lyon was happy to know that seeing him grimacing at this clearly traumatic memory was so funny, apparently. Why was he trying to comfort him again? "You don't say. But I wasn't talking about her there. I was talking about my mother's big sister, not my father's.

"She never cried on the day of the funeral." Gray's light smile disappeared as Lyon continued to talk. "Not once, and I couldn't understand why at the time. I was... I had cried so much that day. And even after that, I kept having nightmares and I didn't understand why all this was happening whereas everything was perfect not even a day ago, and she was just... She kept telling me that things would be okay, and nothing was okay, and... I was such a mess, really.

"I ended up snapping at her. I screamed every single thing I could think of until I couldn't breathe at all, and then she picked me up and hugged me while I cried. She said that she was sad too and that it wasn't because she hadn't cried that she didn't care. She told me that she loved my mother more than anyone else on Earth, and I... I knew, somehow. I knew she was sincere and that she cared when I saw her face, even if she hadn't cried."

"...I'm sorry."

"The way she reacted on that day wasn't wrong," Lyon continued as if Gray hadn't spoken at all. His voice was a little distant, but he didn't sound sad at all. A little nostalgic and distant, sure, but not sad. Gray couldn't help but admire him at that moment. To be able to look back at these memories and still be so strong. He wondered if he would be like that too, if he healed one day. "And how you reacted wasn't wrong either. Really, Gray, there are no wrong reactions to have when you're faced with death.

"You hadn't seen her in a while; you hadn't even thought that she might still be alive. Maybe you didn't cry because you were confused, I can't say for sure, but it's certainly not because you didn't care, so don't say that. You're not pretending to care about anyone, you know. Give yourself some time to mourn."

...Now that he thought about it, Gray didn't remember Lyon ever talking about his parents. He just knew that they had died at some point, and that he had left his town to find Ur and grow stronger. That she was like a second mother to him, caring and kind, a second mother that Gray had killed. An apology sprung to his lips, but now the numbness was creeping back again and he didn't even know what he would even be apologizing for. Too many things, really.

"My parents died protecting me," Gray mumbled after a while. Since Lyon had opened up about such a hard subject, he supposed the least he could do was to do the same. "I still relive that night, sometimes. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget. I see blood and fire everywhere and I remember my mother's voice telling me to run away, and ever since my friend's funeral, I've thought that maybe... When you found me under the rubble and that I was crying, I've been wondering if I was even crying for them. They suffered a terrible death so that I would live, but... but maybe I was just crying for myself in the end."

"And it would be normal."

Lyon sighed when Gray looked up at him with surprised eyes. "An event doesn't just affect one person, you know. Your parents did suffer on that day, but you did too. Just in another way. Just because it's different doesn't mean that it isn't important.

"You had everything taken away from you in the blink of an eye. You were scared and alone, and all those you knew and loved were dead. You have a right to cry for yourself too, Gray. It's not selfish. Grief is complicated and it takes time, really, so don't..." He sighed and shook his head, just to himself. "You're probably not going to be back on your feet for a while, and that's okay. We'll figure that out."

"...Yeah," Gray murmured. While he had known right away that it wasn't going to be a happy day, he hadn't expected that a new death in his life would have such devastating consequences. But still, he wanted to trust Lyon when he said that things were going to be alright, eventually. "You're right. I... I'm sorry I worried you."

"...Okay."

Lyon let go, and Gray moved back from the half-hug his friend had pulled him in with one last sniffle. He still couldn't feel the cut when he tried flexing his hand, but at least it wasn't bleeding so much. Lyon had done a good work. "...Ask Wendy if she can take of it next time you see her. To be sure it doesn't reopen again."

Gray nodded slowly. He felt slightly better now than before, not as nauseous or pathetic, but he didn't think he'd make more progress than that today. He swayed on his feet a second when he stood up, but he didn't fall. "I think I- I think I need to go outside for a bit. Just... The time to clear my head."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Gray didn't say yes, but something like relief flashed in his eyes and he looked so tired and Lyon realized that today had been a bad day for Gray and that he had barely been there at all. "...You've been outside all day, though. You can rest if you want to."

"It's fine, I don't mind." Gray was about to deny this, but Lyon didn't show any sign of being tired or sore or anything when he stood up. ...Maybe he wasn't as tired as Gray had thought he was and he really didn't mind. "I aged seven years, not seventy. Don't treat me like an old man."

A small smile slid on Gray's lips, slow and soft. "...Sorry."

"I know that you don't have to tell me everything all the time," Lyon continued, "but you have to reach out to someone if you start thinking things like that. And don't say that I... I wouldn't- It would kill me if I ever were to assist to your funeral because you're like a little brother to me and I love you and it makes me happy when I see you. ...Try to remember that."

These words were probably the most uncomfortable words Lyon had ever said. And maybe the most important ones too.

After a silence that felt longer than it actually was to Lyon, Gray nodded. A small nod, as if he didn't fully believe these words, but Lyon wasn't worried anymore. It would take him some time. "I... Since electricity probably isn't going to come back before a while, I thought about going to the restaurant tonight. I know a place that opened up last week. If it's... If that's okay with you."

"Yes, why not?" Honestly, Lyon couldn't say that the proposition to change scenery was unwelcome. He was more than glad to leave all that talk about mourning and sad memories and funerals behind, not only because it was never good to dwell on the past for too long, but also because they were reunited after seven years. They were both here, breathing, alive, and he hadn't really been able to fully appreciate what a wonderful thing it was before. "Lead the way."

"Okay. It's not that far, don't worry. And also, make sure you have your wallet with you. I mean," Gray waited that Lyon had followed him out of the door to frown at his feet, "since, like... since you're offering and all that."

"Excuse me?" Lyon said with a scowl, punctuating his displeasure with a firm snap of the wrist. The key turned and locked the door in the silence of the corridor. "Do I look like a bank to you? We're each paying for our part, thank you very much."

Gray said nothing for a moment. He wiped his eyes that were still a little too red not to raise questions and sniffled. "...And here I was thinking that after all that, my big brother would pay dinner for me. That's too bad."

Lyon did not miss the discreet smug smile on Gray's face while his cheeks heated up ridiculously. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did that idiot really think that he could just throw these words around like it was nothing? And he was the best big brother that brat could ever hope to have, for his information. "Well, if you're not paying, then I'm going to need my keys. I mean, my wallet isn't in that coat, so I'd have to go back and look where I..."

"That's it, forget it," he grumbled as he shoved his brother's keys deep in his pocket, pointedly avoiding his gaze. And to think Gray had the gall to actually look surprised when he did that. Were all little brothers that annoying, or was it just him? "I'll pay, but only for this time. Let's go now. I'm hungry."

Gray smiled again when Lyon passed by him - he thought about telling him that he was too old to sulk like that, but then Lyon would strangle him and he wouldn't eat, which would be too bad - and spun on his heels to follow his brother outside. Surely it would take him more time to fully come to terms with her death and everything it meant, but he had good hope that this day would come sooner than later.

Maybe one day, his friend's bright smile would stop hurting and become a fond memory of his past instead. A proof of good times gone forever, but never forgotten.