Tom took a sip of the tea and frowned. He swilled it around in his mouth a bit before setting the mug down on the counter surface and sighed.

Hal appeared behind him, his eyes sunken and his skin pale. But he felt better, even if he looked like shit. His head was clearer, he had hope.

"Just not the same, is it?" Tom said, staring at the wall, and Hal knew exactly what he meant without even needing to ask.

"No, it's not."

"I can't even make tea proper like! It just never tastes right."

Hal sighed and glanced at the mug before picking it up and draining it into the sink and flicking the kettle on.

"It might help if you actually washed the mugs out properly."

"See, I can't even wash a mug out properly!"

Hal washed out the mug, picked another from the draining rack and washed out that too for good measure before plucking two teabags from a cardboard box and putting them into the mugs. He got the milk out of the fridge, but that had to wait until the water was in and the tea had stewed for a while. he had a routine for everything. He lost himself in them to stop the aching in his stomach, calling out for blood.

"I miss Annie and baby Eve."

"So do I, Tom."

Hal glanced sideways at the boy (man) stood beside him, his features downcast, a far cry from the happy go lucky fella he'd met all those months ago (who was ready to stick a stake into his heart). The loss of Annie and Eve had hit him harder than the loss of George and Nina because they were all he had left of his original 'pack'. The loss had hit Hal hard too, but they didn't talk about it. They just let the grief wash over them in waves, sometimes dragging them down; sometimes letting them surface for air before another washed over them.

It was hard.

They were left together, and the bond that they'd had beforehand had strengthened even further through the loss. They didn't do much without each other since Tom had blurted out that one simple statement while Hal was tied to a chair – "Because you're my best mate" – and Hal was glad of it, glad of someone being there to ground him, to stop him becoming a monster again. He liked to think he'd helped Tom in the same way, even though Tom was a million times better than Hal could ever hope to be. And simple things like tea, breakfast and trips to the pub did help Tom, even for a little while.

If they could just catch each others eye and laugh about someone with a funny beard, or get over competitive guessing the price on Antiques Roadshow or Bargain Hunt, or quietly get drunk on the sofa forgetting the world around them through pure friendship, while Alex was out haunting her father and brothers while they grieved so that they no longer had to feel guilty it was enough. Just to make each other smile helped them through the day.

But it wasn't always that easy and times like that were rare.

And so Hal felt responsible for looking after Tom. He eyed him up and down and frowned.

"What?"

"You look wrecked."
"I am. Was full moon last night."
"I know. Have you eaten?"

Tom shrugged, "Nah."

"Would you like a bacon sandwich?"

Hal knew that the best way to counteract the moons effects was with meat, but he didn't fancy cooking up a steak this early in the morning and a burger would just be wrong.

"Yeah please."
"Pass the bacon then."

Tom opened the fridge and passed it over while Hal lit the hob and poured cooking oil into one of their old pans which, by now, had been scrubbed within an inch of its life. He dropped in six rashers and watched as they cooked.

"Hal?"

Hal tore his eyes away from the bacon bubbling upwards and shrinking and over to Tom.

"Hm?"
"We're gonna be alright, aren't we?"

Hal looked at Tom for a couple of seconds to make up his mind about his answer. He didn't lie to Tom, he couldn't bring himself to – it just wasn't worth it.

"Yes, Tom. I think we will be."