"Sig?"

Nothing.

"Hey, Sig?"

Zilch.

Placing a palm on one of Sig's shoulders, Klug gingerly shook the unconscious body. That act elicited a barely audible murmur in protest.

"Do you want something to eat or are you just going to lie here and starve?"

Mumble. A sliver of red iris peaked from behind a heavy eyelid. Its owner began the laborious process of sitting upright. Brushing wild strands of cyan out of his eyes, Sig yawned, blinked and let out a contented little hum, "hi. Got sleepy. Sorry."

If it wasn't textbook narcolepsy Sig suffered from, well, it had to be close. At least this time his eyes were closed. Klug shuddered. The first time Sig had fallen asleep with his eyes open, Amitie was convinced the somnolist had died and tried to resuscitate the kid by dropping puyo on him. Lots of them. To be fair, it had worked.

"Muffins?" Sig half-asked, half-yawned.

"Kitchen. You can't eat on the furniture. It'll get crumbs everywhere. Here, come on," the scholar extended an open hand, "unless you expect me to carry you or something."

Although the hand was readily accepted, Sig peered at him curiously, the little wheels in his mind turning. Coming to a conclusion, he spoke candidly, "not sure that would work. Probably could pick you up, though. Wanna try?"

"... No."

"Aww," the still dozy bug-lover sounded just a little disappointed, "maybe later?"

"It was a joke, Sig." A joke Klug was already regretting having made as he led the short way to the kitchen.

Sig just shrugged, not particularly put off even as his hand was released. "Doesn't mean you can't tr-"

"Pull up a seat," Klug interrupted, eager to change the subject, "take what you like. I didn't expect company so it's the best I could do."

The table spread wasn't grand, but was fully respectable. In addition to the fabled nut muffins there was a small bowl of mixed fruit and a smaller one with candies. The student mage figured water was a safe enough bet, so he'd set a couple of glasses out. Still, he couldn't help but think he'd forgotten something.

"Oh! Maybe you'd like to wash your-," Klug was a little on the late side. His guest was already masticating a good half of one muffin. Was he part squirrel or something?

"Thfif ghoff," Sig struggled to speak through a full but thankfully closed mouth, "thnfk."

At least he had some table manners?

"You're... welcome? Maybe try swallowing before talking. That generally helps." The mage waved dismissively, then returned to peeling and sectioning an orange.

"Ofth," his classmate finished consuming the muffin half and smiled wanly, "sorry. Kinda hungry. This's good. Where'd you get it?"

Swallowing a couple of orange pieces, Klug suddenly turned subdued and mumbled, "I didn't 'get' them. I... I made them myself. It's not like it's a big deal or anything." Suddenly feeling defensive, he puffed his chest out a little. "And will you please stop grinning like that?"

Shrugging, Sig took a reasonably-sized bite out of his half-eaten baked treat. "Not making it a big deal, but it's cool. Bookworm's good at lots of things."

"Yes, yes, I'm great, but more to the point," Klug babbled, trying to change the subject, "what about you and that arm? Has it always been like that?"

The positive atmosphere audibly broke, shattering into pieces.

Placing the remaining muffin back on the dish, Sig seemed to shrink back, rubbing his bare red forearm absentmindedly. "No. Used to look like this," he offered up his perfectly normal right hand for scrutiny, "not anymore. Eye's always been red, though. Weird."

Maybe this direct approach had been a mistake. Yes, it was a mistake, the studious one realized. He'd have to deal with it, try to ply what he could without making his compatriot shut down. He attempted to smile, his unease twisting it into a warped grimace. "It's just that the timing could be important. I mean, if you remember, that could help..."

"Sorta. Moved here, kinda had lots happening. Stuff settled down. Then," with a flat sigh, he set his head down on the table, "it was like this."

Interesting. If something of that nature could manifest in such a short time... well, being worried was the only natural reaction. It just seemed to take longer to register in this case because, well, Sig was Sig. Klug tried to offer some form of reassurance, reaching across the table and tousling the despondent boy's hair, "hey, it's okay. I do want to help. Knowing more might make that easier."

Sig made a small noise, but lapsed into silence again. If it weren't for his periodic blinking, Klug could've sworn his classmate was asleep. Failing anything else, the mage kept stroking the mess of aquamarine that passed as Sig's hair. Soft, he idly mused.

"H-hey, you're worried about it spreading, right?" of course he is, his brain screamed, he told you that already! "Maybe it's kind of like having a scar. It almost always seems worse to whoever has it. Like, you look in the mirror and it's all you can see, but nobody else really notices..."

A lake-blue eye peered from between messy strands, its owner mumbling, "a scar?.."

"It was just an example, I mea-"

"You have a scar?" The idea seemed to pique the entomophile's curiosity.

"No! I mean, yes. I mean," Klug floundered, "a small one. Doesn't everyone?"

"Show me."

More screeched protests. "Tch! It was just an example!"

"Show me," he asked plaintively, getting to his feet and plodding to the opposite side of the table, now standing next to Klug, "please?"

It was less the old wound but how it had been obtained that stoked Klug's reluctance. The two mismatched eyes that bore into him just looked so, so sorrowful. Fine, what the hell was his dignity worth anyway? He sighed, sweeping the bangs above his left temple to one side. "Here, see?"

Very...unimpressive. It was a clean, horizontal line roughly an inch in length, ending abruptly where the ear began.

"Does it hurt?" Sig's hushed tone bordered on reverence, his fingers hovering just shy of the mark as though he wanted to touch it.

"What? No. Of course not. It's, well," he tried to explain, ignoring the wavering hand, "I got it as a little kid. I was... I was being stupid."

"How?"

Klug fought the reflex to flinch when the hand brushed his face. "Don't share it, but," wearily, he reminisced, "I smacked it on the edge of the table. I was running around, didn't listen, and wound up with a gaping headwound. Needed a couple of stitches, even." With a slight smirk, he added, "not exactly my proudest moment."

Seemingly grasping the point, Sig stated, "you notice it the most."

"Exactly. So what you need is an outside opinion."

"Um," his face scrunched as he recalled, "already asked you."

"I didn't have a point for comparison. So, we need to make one."

"... Don't really get it. Sorry."

Clasping his hands in self-satisfied glee, Klug smiled and laughed, "oh, that won't be difficult. Finish eating, I'll explain everything. Trust me, it'll work!"

An exasperated sigh, "it'd be easier if you didn't squirm so much."

"Trying not to," spoken in an even monotone, "haven't done this before."

"And you think I have?! Sig, please!"

"Sorry. Just feels kind of cold."

"Oh. Well, I'll find a different one for next ti-"

"Not that. Your hands. They're cold."

"I-is that so? Well, there's not much I can do about that. I can't understand how someone who isn't even fazed by junk puyo concussions could be so... so... well, fidgety!" Klug groused, plucking a pencil from the corner of his mouth to jot something into a notebook," just try to keep still!"

"Trying to," the cyan-haired boy grumbled, "just feels weird."

For the past ten minutes or so Klug had been kneeling on the sofa, poking and prodding a very shirtless Sig with a metal ruler. The idea was sound enough: record where the foreign-looking growth was now, then repeat the process as many times as necessary to gauge its spread (or lack thereof). Simple! Or it would have been if the subject of study could resist the urge to move around quite so much.

"Done yet?"

"No, I'm not! Do I have to pin you to the cushions?! Just stay still!" It wasn't as though the academic was doing this for fun. It was interesting, sure, but who would scoff at having the chance to observe such a unique phenomena? It certainly didn't hurt that the subject of study was one-of-a-kind.

"... Your face looks scary."

Blinking, Klug realized he'd been staring while his train of thought derailed. He was supposed to be an impartial observer. The texture of Sig's skin as it transitioned from its native state into the reddish hide left of the shoulder shouldn't have been his concern, nor the particular way the musculature built up gradually the further down the arm one traveled. There was also the sliver of carmine that seemed to highlight the first couple of ribs, almost artful-

"Klug?"

Stopping to think hadn't helped at all. Feeling trapped and more than slightly out-of-sorts, he resorted to intentional misdirection.

Bap. A metal ruler tapped the end of the bug catcher's nose. Bap. Bap.

"Great, so now I have cold hands and I look scary." Klug slumped onto the couch next to the still very, very shirtless Sig, idly tapping the measuring stick against whatever it happened to touch. Hopefully that kept his classmate distracted while the flushing in his cheeks faded.

Bap.

"Umm..."

Bap.

"Glasses..."

Bap. The nickname was met by a genuinely irritated scowl that the lenses did nothing to conceal. "Don't call me that. Please."

Bap.

"Okay, Klug," the young man emphasized, "stop hitting me."

Ba-

The ruler-hand was caught mid-swing at the wrist by Sig's menacing left. Dropping the metallic stick, Klug just... stared at his trapped hand. There was enough raw strength in his classmate's odd limb to effortlessly snap the wrist it was clutching. He wasn't afraid, though. Sig was, well, Sig.

Sig was... well...

Sig was staring at him, small furrows gathered on the boy's brow. Frustrated, Klug went to turn his face away and couldn't. How long had his friend's palm been resting on his cheek? Why hadn't he noticed?

"You okay? You're acting weird." The voice, the palm on his cheek, even the claws restraining his wrist were gentle.

The mage's heart leapt into his chest. Oh the love of everything celestial, if he hadn't been blushing before he certainly had to be now. He tried to stammer out something, anything, but all he could manage was a timid squeak.

It hadn't helped. The sound only seemed to agitate Sig even more. There was a nervous quaver as he asked for a second time, "h-hey, Klug? You're okay?"

Talking was off the table for now, but Klug was able to manage the stiffest of stiff nods. It wasn't much, but apparently it was enough to earn his release.

... Temporarily.

Seconds later he was swept into an enthusiastically apologetic black hole of a hug from which there was no chance of escape. No light and certainly no mage could resist its pull.

"Didn't know it bothered you so much," his benevolent captor admonished, "should've said something."

The edges of Klug's vision started to blur, little pinpricks of light flashing like stars in the hazy periphery. Pulse racing, he wondered if this was how he was going to die. He'd survived being possessed just to have his heart explode and/ or be crushed to death by an oblivious but well-meaning friend. It seemed typical of his life up to this point.

An easy, merciful release was not to be had. He had to live with... whatever this was.

On the bright side, the pressure from the hug had leveled and he didn't hear any ribs snapping under the strain. Eventually he even started to breathe again which worked wonders for his perception. Things could be worse.

Worse? No, that implied the situation was entirely negative. This was atypical and far outside his usual zone of comfort but it wasn't necessarily bad. Disruptive? Would that work? He'd have to think about it.

Trying to impose some order on the loose thoughts rattling away inside his head, Klug finally started to calm down. He'd always been highly strung by nature, prone to panicking whenever things went awry. It was just... there. It was a constant companion that no amount of forced bravado could ever fully banish, and so little had gone according to plan today. Being overwhelmed was expected.

He was too preoccupied with introspection to notice the tension in his body gradually ease. His head rested against Sig's chest, which rose and fell steadily with every breath. There was something reassuring about it, a living creature's metronome.

For a time, he just stayed like that, even after being let go.