Early mornings and back to that same apathetic stare, wet hair trailing down his bare chest where he'd not bothered to put a shirt back on, leaving the bathroom with a cigarette in his mouth already and sitting, legs tucked under him, on the couch. It should have been a domestic image, but something in his hollow spine seemed to be curved inwards and the bowls of his collar could have be filled with water or tears.

The apartment wasn't cold, summer was creeping in after all, but Sly was shivering, pretending not to be, trying to hide it with scowls and rubbing his arms as if he had an ache there and wasn't just trying to flatten down stubborn Goosebumps.

"Cold?"

"No."

He took a deep breath, then another two, and really felt no calmer, wondering what a better human being would do then realising that logic was flawed, because if he knew that would make him a better person to begin with. "Sure about that?"

"Positive." But Mizuki could see his body trembling and even before he'd lost weight he hadn't been the best at maintaining his temperature, turning to regard him and raising one shoulder passive aggressively even as ash fell into his lap where his hands wouldn't stay still in the warm air.

It was less a snap and more of a springing back, like an elastic band that had been made tighter and tighter, but finally Mizuki had allowed it to release before it just tore in two. It didn't stop his voice sound any less pissed off though. "Look, me trying to do what I think you need isn't working. Tell me what I can do, how can I help?"

"You really think you can help?" Not scornful, genuinely stunned that he might be so confident in his abilities to break a hole through the dark shroud he'd happily pulled around himself, to break through the barrier that was keeping reality and the truth separated.

"I can try. So, anything I can do to help?"

He contemplated this for a moment, a long moment, stretching into ten as Mizuki muttered he'd give him time to think, disappearing into the kitchen and returning maybe as long as twelve minutes later. Sly knew. He'd been counting, considering how long was quite long enough. Accepting the milkshake bottle pushed into his hand, because if he refused to eat he could at least get calories by drinking. Mizuki's words, not his.

"A distraction would be nice."

He nodded, debating this in his head, hearing the honest tone and glad he'd been able to think of something, running through movies and games and things that were physical enough to detach the brain from grief for just a short while. Better to clarify though, "what kind of distraction?"

"Use your imagination," those yellow eyes had tilted to meet his, body unmoving as if set in cold plastic, lips parting to exhale and moving jerkily for another cigarette to join the pile of their already dead brothers. No teasing or taunting in his words, just stating it as a clear fact, not an attempt to seduce but a blank, almost clinical demand for Mizuki to think about what he wanted.

"You think that'll help?"

"Probably." Of course it wouldn't, it would be a temporary respite at best, if anything he'd probably feel worse afterwards for letting himself feel anything but misery, that was what grieving people were meant to do, not fuck it all away in the vain hope they'd forget for a fleeting hour or so.

"You can't think of anything else?"

"You've never been this reluctant to fuck me before."

"I'm not reluctant now, I'm just," he stopped, unable to formulate the words, sighing and nudging at the bottle in Sly's hand, commanding him to drink instead of just staring into its caramel flavoured depths. "I'm making sure this isn't stupid."

"It's not."

He wasn't sure, but he'd asked and it would be cruel to get an answer then refuse it.

"Alright. So, right now?"

"I'm not doing anything else."

"Drink that first at least," Sly could agree to that, making renewed effort to finish it even as his stomach complained and he felt ill at the mere idea of consuming something that would keep himself going. Mizuki took a cigarette and like that a few moments passed, Sly handing the emptied bottle over for inspection and turning to face the bartender as he nodded in approval and regarded him with a small frown.

"You're going to give yourself wrinkles," Sly's hand had smoothed across the bartenders forehead instinctively, remembered his brother doing that in the stronger days when he could raise his arm, recalled trails of wires and tubes following the sallow skin.

But then Mizuki kissed him and he'd forgotten again.

He met him halfway, but then he'd always met him halfway so at least some things didn't have to change, not the hands on his sides or the familiar, reassuring weight pressing down on him, not the lips just a little too gentle on his neck. Nothing here had to change so he could close his eyes and relax into the sensations of it, the feeling of being taken away from this all to somewhere else where all that remained was the smell of coffee and ink and cheap deodorant when he could afford better.

After initially checking this was what he needed, what he wanted, Mizuki left him alone, only pausing once when his breath hitched too wetly to be anything but utterly desperate and he whispered into his ear, nuzzling at his neck.

"You okay?"

"Fine, don't stop." So he pressed a kiss onto his shoulder and a hand into his hair, and he didn't.

Sly fell asleep almost immediately after, and with how much he'd been tossing and turning the night before, Mizuki wasn't surprised, leaving him to his nap after another guilty glance at his face, lips parted and too pink. His hair was a mess where it trailed across the pillow and he wanted to comb it out but feared waking him. He feared a lot of things.

So he went into the gym instead, because if Sly needed to fuck to forget, then surely Mizuki could feel no guilt for using his own, home-grown coping mechanism, putting in a couple of sweaty hours on the treadmill, letting the pound of his feet and his own harsh breaths drown everything out.


Of all the questions to ask after sex, "How you feeling?" wasn't the one he'd expected to leave his lips, but somehow it had been and he guessed he could have asked a weirder one, wondering whether it had really helped at all and guessing it had a little as he rolled over and his incredulous stare was only half-hearted. He wondered if Sly had even realised he'd left the bed then returned, figured he didn't much care either way because he'd accepted his presence as easily as if it had always been there.

"Fine. How are you feeling?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not really," he shrugged, then he grinned and it was like a flickering lightbulb, Mizuki couldn't trust it when he knew it'd fizzle out any minute, just smiling back weakly as his voice turned silky and teasing, almost bragging. "But aren't you thrilled that I asked?"

"Only so we'd stop talking about you."

"Mm, and clever, too, you really are the full package." If he didn't know what was going on he'd say Sly was flirting with him, he'd always been like that after all, since the time they'd first met and he'd checked him out and been brazenly obvious about it too. But now, with the context of this and their desperate daytime fucking and the fatigue in Sly's sprawled out limbs and tangled hair, it sounds false, grating against his expanses of bare flesh and he can't take it anymore.

"Sly, look," his voice is too serious, stern like he's about to burst into a lecture and Sly's eyes are harder and glassier as they dart up to meet his, expression closing off in mere seconds and recoiling psychologically if not physically. "I am trying here, to… To help you. But it's not going to work if you're so shut off like this, what do you want me to do, pretend nothing happened? Pretend like your brother isn't dead and it didn't completely destroy you?"

"It didn't destroy me."

"You sure about that? You seem pretty torn apart to me."

"You know what would help? If you'd stop using this as a reason to attack me. I'm sorry if my brother dying made me a little unreasonable, I'll suck it up, shall I?" It was strange, that his words were tinted with anger but his face was hurt, pained every time his twin was brought up and even more now, knowing full well that Mizuki didn't know how to deal with this, knew he was making it worse. But he wasn't the kind to reassure somebody that their mistakes were okay.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"I never know what you mean." He rolls away but he's still in the bed beside him and there isn't much space between them when Mizuki shifts a little closer, sliding a hand into his hair and ignoring the shaky exhale of breath he hears as he begins combing it out like he's wanted to for a while now. It's easy to whisper an apology into the air between them and easier still to pretend the barb of Sly's acceptance isn't softer than it would be with anybody else.

It would be easier to kiss his shoulder and up to his neck, to flip him over for a belated round two. He knew Sly would let him. Harder though to just lie there, aware of yellow eyes staring at his reflection in the mirror opposite as he focuses on untangling the one thing he can, scratching at his skull and feeling his temple twitch with a smile as Amaya jumps up onto the bed to join the moment.


Frost had made a home behind his eyelids, slowing each exquisitely painful blink to a slow drag of lashes across yellow, heartbeats slow and shallow behind his mossy ribcage, soft sigh escaping like mist over dew dropped grass. An almost attractive illusion, this still serenity, unmoving as the world rushed around just beyond the reach of his grasping fingers, staring through the haze of pretence that embraced him. Soft and relaxed and going nowhere, pulse thrumming a staccato beat in his veins and each swallow loud as waterfalls as he cleared his parched throat. Tendrils of wisping, fleeting steam escaping into the pale atmosphere along with a heady scent that spoke of little sleep and vivid daydreams, everything around drifting into insignificance as his every sense honed in on warmth and familiarity.

"You're meant to drink that."

He jerked back to reality so fast it was like the idealistic mirror he'd been staring into had been smashed over his head, suddenly catching himself as if he'd been on the verge of falling all this time without noticing, gasp leaving immediately mobile lips. There was a moment of sheer confusion as reality trickled back and there was a large, rough palm on his face, pushing his fringe back and bringing reassurance along with it.

"You okay? I didn't mean to make you jump," it seemed he'd had no choice, whether he'd wanted to make him or not he could have approached with the utmost of care and he still would have recoiled like he'd woken abruptly from a nightmare. He just blinked, clearing his throat and pulling himself up into the chair better, wincing as his legs adjusted position finally and not moving to take the hand away, it was grounding him. He closed his eyes as it shifted to his cheek, tucking hair behind one ear and trailing across his jaw carefully, ears so sensitive after the time in stoic silence, hearing every soft exhale and the drag of skin across skin.

"Zoned out."

"Hm, you back now?" His eyes eased open stiffly, as if the very notion were new to him, and it really was like he'd been in another place altogether, stare so very open and wide that his slow nod didn't really register. He sighed then, as if exhaling tension out of his very being, still vulnerable and distant under his hand, tilting his face into the touch and swallowing thickly, registering then why this whole thing had happened. His hand looked weirdly foreign where it curled up against his mug, angled so there was a dip in the flesh where his thumb ended and his hand began, flexing the fingers idly and wondering when they'd become so bony and pale.

Mizuki knew better than to speak, to ask why he was behaving as if his hand was foreign to him, watching his grip increase although he made no move to lift the mug, carefully twisting three fingers around the handle, pinkie turning red from the residual heat. He just lowered his hand to his shoulder, playing with a lock of hair, twisting it between his fingertips as Sly blinked again, a film of confusion being torn aside every time yellow met the world again.

Mizuki shifted then, to move away because Sly looked conscious now and was sure to bat his hand away soon, jumping himself when cold fingers wrapped around his wrist in quiet disapproval, pulling until he sat beside him on the couch. Toes tucked up under his thigh as Sly curled up small and serene, head seconds away from resting on his shoulder but not quite, mug left behind and eyes closed, breathing slow and shallow.

"You okay?"

"Be quiet." He could follow that instruction easily enough, shuffling about a little to be comfortable, Sly all but leaning on his side, an insignificant weight he could almost feel seeping the heat out of him, not minding much. Easier to do what he asked when his voice was tinged with nothing but detached warmth, softly asking him to do something that would help, bedding down beside him almost like Amaya, toes curling under his legs and falling flat again.

He assumed he'd fallen asleep and busied himself with his coil, checking customer email enquiries and noting his schedule was open until his shift later that night, debating something for a good ten minutes before nodding resolutely and putting in his wireless earphones.

The ringing sound carried on for too long and he almost wanted to hang up, but then he remembered easy acceptance and reluctant pride in a familiar voice and held on a little longer instead, Amaya sitting neatly on his feet as if insisting he did this.

Tio picked up on what had to be the ninth ring, answering with such a distracted tone Mizuki wondered if he'd interrupted something, wondering what time it was and wanting to twist to look at the clock but worried he'd irritate Sly, or scare him again, not sure which was worse.

"Yo."

"Hey, I'm going to the hospital later to see Koujaku, thought you might want to come?" He hadn't thought that at all, he'd seen the nervousness in Tio's eyes the last time, the waves of discomfort rolling off him as they'd sat there next to his unconscious body, his inability to do anything but look distressed had shown clear reluctance to return again. But duty called, he supposed.

"Sure, what time?"

He hadn't thought about that, glancing to where Sly seemingly slept at his side, knowing that if he moved, he would certainly wake and this time he wouldn't be as gracious with his behaviour, debating this before speaking. "Hm, not for an hour or so probably. We could go for a run first? I doubt he'd mind us showing up all sweaty."

He should have laughed at that, or at least chuckled uncomfortably, but he didn't, just agreed and yawned as if it wasn't nearly noon, words casual and passive enough to not seem odd, "yeah, sounds good to me, meet at yours?"

"Sure."

They said their goodbyes without ceremony, there was background noise in Tio's snap that sounded like more than one person, and Mizuki wondered if maybe he was out somewhere until the second before he hung up with an alarmed but good humoured remark to 'get the hell off my plant, pervert.' He just blinked his surprise at the coil, lowering it down into his lap and sighing, eyes closing as he eased himself into the couch, Sly's hair tickling his shoulder and little more to see than his blank ceiling when his eyes reopened. He felt heavy and he wondered if perhaps Sly's sadness was rubbing off onto him, it was difficult to remain positive with somebody so mournful around, and Mizuki wasn't exactly a beam of light himself most days.

A voice broke through his thoughts though, a small smile in it accompanied by an attention seeking meow from his feet and the sudden, alarming feeling of his cat walking across his crotch. "I'm awake by the way."

"I swear you're the best person at faking sleep I know." He sounded more impressed than he'd intended and Sly's lip twitched up as if he was proud at the indirect compliment, expression present and eyes sharp for the first time in days, canines gleaming as he teased him.

"Watch a lot of people sleep, do you?"

"Nah, just you."

"I feel honoured. And hungry."

Mizuki actually smiled then, the displeased frown/pout on Sly's face too innocent and normal for him to feel anything but relieved, he'd admitted that he was hungry, that he needed food to survive and that today he was willing to accept that. "I'll make you something."

He just ignored him and held his hand out to Amaya as if she'd ever refuse him.


He wasn't stupid, but forgetful perhaps, knocking and entering immediately after a voice from within yelled that it was open, eyes flashing towards movement and locking with Sly's where he sat on the couch munching what looked like a cereal bar. The silence stretched on for an awkward minute as he lingered in the doorway, evaluating the situation to be one of little risk considering he could hear Mizuki in his bedroom, available to step in if things got nasty. Instead he cleared his throat, closed the door behind him and offered a polite, if not stilted, "afternoon," accompanied by a weak smile.

"Yo," he answered a lot more lazily but a significant amount more genuinely too, not bothered much by Tio's presence in the apartment, just continuing with his mission to free his lap from Amaya before disappearing for a few hours, being cooped up inside all day was

making him feel crazy. "Your boyfriend not with you?"
"I don't have a boyfriend." Not stupid again, but forgetful, actually confused for a moment as to the place this conversation was heading, frowning and watching Sly try to extricate himself from under the cats green eyed stare. He just clenched a fist as realisation crept in and he felt his hackles rise again, sick of always being teased using somebody else and about to open his mouth to tell him to fuck off or something similar, pleased as Amaya hissed and dug claws into Sly's arm. He tried to hold back a laugh of incredulity as Sly hissed back, twice as intimidatingly, teeth bared and seemingly unaware of how insane he looked, arguing with a cat like this, managing to shove her off his lap only to tangle between his feet.

"Fine, fine, that guy you're always with then, I forget his name."

"Kin."

"That's the one, so, where's he at then?"

"He's got work."

A raised eyebrow in his direction, an expression that stated he thought he was being stupid, but somehow still not as mean as he normally was, pushing a foot into a ginger flank with a glare he didn't mean. "In a bar at two in the afternoon?"

"He has another job."

"Hm, saving up for your engagement ring, is he?" He was being taunted again, but something about this was just joking enough for him to not get riled up about it, or not a lot anyway, just rolling his eyes and refusing to play into his game. He got bored soon enough, Amaya meowing up at him pitifully and earning a rather blank, yellow-eyed stare before he padded into the kitchen with her close behind, sound of dry food being poured out seconds later the only sign that he harboured secret affection for the feline.

"Hey, Tio, sorry, couldn't find clean socks, Sly keeps stealing them all." He smiled warmly enough but he couldn't help notice the strained expression he received, the sound of the fridge slamming in the kitchen and the kettle croaking into life. Lowering his voice so the subject of their conversation wouldn't overhear, "he isn't being a dick again, is he?"

"When isn't he," but the bartenders face had fallen into disappointment and despite his disapproval of this entire odd union, he wanted to try and support him in what he did, even if that was Sly Blue. "But not as bad as normal, no."

"Oh, okay, cool. You want lime or blackcurrant?"

"Lime." He asked the same question before every run so it wasn't hard to decide, debating mentioning that Sly looked as if he needed the sugary drink more than him, deciding Mizuki wasn't blind enough to not take one look at him and think anything but sick.

"Alright," he disappeared into the kitchen and he tried to ignore the sounds of soft conversation and an almost spat demand to stop being such a fucking queer already, feeling intrusive and surprised things were going as well as they were.


"Spill, what happened?" It wasn't too fast a pace to not be able to have a conversation, and they were out of the town centre enough now to not be overheard, Tio wondering if maybe Mizuki would tell him now what was going on instead of being evasive.

"With what?"

"Sly. He agreed to stay with you pretty fast, and he's… Different too, nicer. That's not the right word. But something must have happened, people don't switch 180 overnight."

"Oh. Well, yeah, something did happen. But I still don't think I can tell you? I mean, it's not… Okay maybe it is kinda none of your business, it's just, personal? To him?"

"Did something happen again? Like Scratch?"

"Nothing that bad. Well…" He exhaled a huff and there was no way he was tired already, Tio glancing sideways at him, turning the next corner and splitting apart for a moment to allow a man with a wheeled trolley to pass between them. "But nothing happened to him, nothing physical anyway."

"Hm, okay, be cryptic, see if I care."

"I want to tell you. But… Not my news to tell."

"You could be vague, I'm hardly going to speak to him about it." He knew it wouldn't take much, just a little gentle poking and prodding and all would be revealed, he just wanted to know, he couldn't exactly try to help if he didn't know what was going on. But then he considered that Mizuki had helped Kin without knowing his problems, sure that throwing money at this almost certainly wouldn't fix things as easily as it had for their coworker.

"No, that's true. Er," Tio could see the exact moment he gave up on the ruse of keeping this secret, turning to him and absently playing with the bottle in his hand, adjusting his grip too much, holding the lid before switching to the side and back again. "Somebody died. Somebody he knew."

A list of things Tio had expected; maybe he was really sick, perhaps he was in big trouble this time and people were out for blood, maybe he'd gotten hurt badly. But that hadn't been on the list, which had been a lot more extensive than his mind could concoct in that moment, remark coming out a little emotionless with surprise.

"Oh. Like a friend?"

"No. I-" That moment of hesitation again, feeling bizarrely pleased that to Tio at least, the idea of Sly having friends wasn't so bizarre, making a noise of exasperation before deciding that fuck it, trusting each other was something that friends did. "Okay, I'll tell you but you can't tell anyone, especially not him, he'd kill me if he knew I'd told you."

"Pinky promise." Mizuki raised his hand to mirror the action easily, not even laughing at the childishness of it, pinkie promises were, to him at least, legally binding, and he knew that even without the action, Tio would keep this to himself. There'd be little to gain by spilling anyway.

"He had a twin," eyebrows raised in surprise first, then lowering as he realized what that meant and his lips parted, frowning down at the black and blue trainers that pounded the uneven pavements. "He died a couple weeks back, his lungs flooded or something. I'm not sure, it sounded horrible though."

"Oh wow, that's awful."

"You might have noticed, but he's not very good with emotions," reluctant smiles then, Tio inclining his head with a puff of breathy laughter because he had noticed exactly that, it wasn't exactly hard to miss. "So I asked him to try living with me at the worst possible time and he won't even admit he's mourning or whatever, he's just… I dunno, I don't like it."

He took a moment to consider this all, the deluge of information washing over him, feeling intrinsically bad for Sly despite the fact that he still wasn't his favorite person, figuring at least that he deserved basic human empathy. To lose a brother, a twin, and in such a horrible, traumatizing sounding way, wondering how he could even hope to help with this, he was no grief counsellor, and when he momentarily considered losing his sister his throat closed up so he couldn't speak words even if he'd had any. All he had to say was that he had nothing to say, considering Sly once again, as the hard, spiteful boy who'd taunted him in alleyways and then suddenly appeared in Mizuki's apartment and been nothing short of civil with him. "Hm, I guess there's not much you can do if he doesn't want to be helped."

"That's the problem. He does want to be helped, I just don't know how." He looked so horribly conflicted that Tio didn't know what to say, sucking in warm breath and wishing he hadn't worn a hoodie, mind leaving the topic so fast he should have been ashamed at his selfishness. But then a wide grin he hadn't expected, glinting against the shop window they padded past, long since shattered into pieces, "pick up the pace, we're not gunna get anything done like this."

A burst of acceleration, a quick tensing of muscles to leap forwards to an actual run, and Tio was left behind again, staring at his back and wondering why things always ended like this.


There's a doctor leaving the room when they approach, clipboard tucked under his arm and lab coat impossibly white even while everything else seems chipped and subdued with age, Mizuki jogging to catch up to him.

"Hey, how's he doing?"

They speak in clear enough voices but Tio's mind is elsewhere, with a woman a couple of floors above, or more truthfully, with her son, thinking about freckles and the lack thereof, figuring they must be from his father. Wondering if he resents them.

"Tio?"

"Hm?" He's snatched back from the brink of a hole he's been trying not to tumble into, toes stopping right before the gaping chasm his wandering thoughts had brought him dangerously close to, Mizuki looking concerned in a way he doesn't like. The hand on his bicep is a little too firm, as if knowing he needed to be grounded suddenly like this, not releasing even as he smiles weakly and explains his behavior away as tiredness.

"Sure you're okay?" He just nods, he doesn't feel much like talking and he can smell the faint traces of death floating down from above where the hopeless cases live, feels lightheaded suddenly as Mizuki just narrows his eyes and retreats out of his space, oxygen flooding back in and making him pale. "Alright, maybe we overdid the run a bit."

But that's not what's wrong and they both know it, the issue is that neither of them know what is.

"He should wake up soon, apparently, they've already taken away the artificial oxygen, now he just needs a week or so and they said he might be conscious," this is good news, it definitely is, but something in the lack of detail leaves them both aware that things are rarely this simple, managing a smile nonetheless as they swing the door open and step inside.

Despite good news there's a sense of deep, foreboding doom that settles thick into Tio's spine as he sinks into the seat, cushioning his body and swallowing him down at the same time so he feels like he'll never be able to stand again. It's a familiar, yet foreign feeling, this heavy melancholy that's seeping into his bones, he recognizes it all too well, how easy it seems to allow it to take over him, to shut his eyes and let Mizuki's voice wash over and the beep of the monitor drown out everything else.

But he's there to see Koujaku even as he can't hear them, so he tries to push the feeling off even though it's hit him so hard and wormed so deep it's like struggling up from under miles of heavy water, barely breaking through even as they're leaving and he hasn't spoken a word.

His lips are dry and the idea of parting them to speak suddenly seems like it would take an impossible amount of effort, finally managing to split them and the sensation of skin peeling apart is so grotesque he slams them shut again and lets Mizuki fill the silence with casual remarks that need no response.

They reach the bar almost too soon and he's fixed with a gaze that says Mizuki knows something neither of them are willing to admit yet, expression changing from worried to something softer as he tells him he's going to check on Sly and to sit down.

He looks like he's going to pass out apparently and he realizes only when he sits down just how light headed he feels, hearing Mizuki leave the bar and then little else, exhaling deep and feeling his chest concave and collapse in on itself.


He'd done the usual tactic to get his attention, nudging playfully at his shin with the side of his sneaker, jostling the limb, normally a gesture that would earn a smile and a halfhearted protest to get off, but that today he didn't feel very inclined to respond.

"Everyone seems miserable today, something happen?"

He just shrugged, he didn't know who Kin meant by everyone, he couldn't quite explain the atmosphere of heavy melancholy that had settled across the bar and its occupants since they'd returned from the hospital. But he needed to say something because Kin's body was still blocking out the light where he towered over him, head tilted to the side and gaze intense if not curious, "Koujaku might wake up soon."

"That's great!" His enthusiasm isn't faked and Tio only wishes he'd felt the same flood of earnest happiness when he'd heard the news, felt it more firmly than ever that he was a bad person for only seeing the negativity in this.

He usually wouldn't be the type to make it obvious what a hole he was in, but this was Kin and he was somewhat of an exception, just looking up to meet his eye, head flopping to lean limply against the back of the padded booth. "You're not that naive."

"No, and you're not normally this anxious. Something else is wrong, I can tell," he sighed down the urge to ask how exactly he could claim to know that, just shifting over in the seat so Kin could join him, thighs almost pressing together on a bench that would allow perfect personal space.

They sit in silence for a while, Tio very aware how close they're cutting it, that there won't be much time to set up before they officially open, almost debating telling Mizuki to just not open for one night, customers wouldn't mind, they might understand. But that was selfish and he didn't want to be, heaving another sigh, exasperation mixed with a nasty hollowness in his chest.

"You don't have to tell me."

"I can't anyway. I just feel crappy, there's no reason for it."

"Hm," Kin's voice is both considering and considerate and Tio is infinitely thankful that he hasn't gotten offended at his lack of willingness to share, just nodding in understanding the way he always did and toning down his prior concern to become gentle empathy. "I get that, happens to the best of us. Anything I can do to help?"

"No. But thanks for offering." He was the kind of person, Tio thought, that his mother would meet and immediately like, whom she would continue smiling about after he said goodbye, who would make her turn to Tio and remark in that motherly tone, 'he seems like a sweet boy.' Tio would be able to do nothing but agree and he smiled at the thought of it, remembered faintly running into his mother on the street while with Yuu, recalled her raised eyebrows and good natured smile that silently said he was a bit of a handful.

"Sure, that's what friends do. Come on, let's get set up while we wait for Mizuki, might take your mind off it."

His growing feeling that this sudden low of mood would pass was wiped away in an instant, hand hesitating in Kin's grip a fraction too long as he pulled him up off the couch to get to productivity instead of moping.

"Yes," he said, but his voice was a little too hollow. "I suppose it is."


When he gets back from the hospital, Sly is curled in the middle of the living room floor, arm tucked neatly against his chest and cigarette smoking in the ashtray almost hidden between his feet. It's a defensive pose, one that suggests he's trying to stay hidden away even though he'd been alone until seconds ago, assuming, of course, he hadn't heard the bartender heading up the stairs.

There seems to be nothing abnormal about it considering how he's been recently, and Mizuki barely glances over, calling out softly that he's home and receiving a low mumble that could have been a welcome but could have been almost anything else too.

He's pulling off his jacket when he hears him unfold, gentle sound of his bare feet shuffling on the thick carpet and faltering for a second, turning with confusion in his brow and spying what he's been hiding. He pauses then, considering that while he's kinda hiding it, he's also sat in full view of him, right in front of the door as if he wanted to be the first thing Mizuki saw when he came through the door. That alone is what encourages him to speak, contemplating his words and figuring that there's little he could say which Sly wouldn't have some kind of objection to, crossing the room silently to kneel in front of him.

"Sly," his voice was soft but he could hear unintentional disappointment in it and the addressed curled into himself further where he'd reclaimed his spot on the floor, staring stubbornly off at the wall behind him as he allowed the bartender to take his arm and tut lowly at the marks slashed across it, thumb rubbing at his red streaked wrist. "Are you okay?"

He shakes his head and for the briefest, most naive second Mizuki's had in a while, he thinks it's an actual response to his question, thinks that perhaps Sly will open up and explain why he felt the need to do this to himself, but then he continues and he honestly didn't know what he'd expected. "I just need some bandages. I'm fine."

"You don't just need bandages, you need a hug."

"What the fuck is that gunna do?"

"Might help you feel better." A long shot, but an attempt, nonetheless.

"Doubt it. Just get me the first aid kit," he pauses for a moment, smoking the last of his cigarette and extinguishing it neatly, averting his gaze as he says something that is almost a compromise. "I'll hug your damn cat if it makes you feel better."

"That'll do, I guess," he sighs, pausing before he gets up to offer the only comfort he can, tucking the long strands of hair that are obscuring his face behind his ears, fingers lingering on his cheeks where the skin feels chilled and clammy. It's instinct when he reaches forward to kiss his forehead, and as he stands to fetch the first aid kit, they're both tactful enough to pretend they don't see Sly's eyes flood with water that rapidly spills down his face.