There were three options now, number one was to yell at his face, number two was to tell him to fuck off, and number three was to pretend nothing had happened and to just allow whatever would happen, to happen. He opted for number three solely because he was tired and he really couldn't deal with another assault on his character today.

So he opened the door and let him walk in, gestured vaguely towards the pizza on the coffee table and was surprised when he didn't steal any, muttering something about having already eaten and Mizuki only recognising the scent of baking on him when he sat beside him. He enquired about mixer in the same moment he pulled both Ren and a bottle of rum out of his bag, dumping one on the coffee table and gently placing the other on the couch beside him, difference in softness of movement speaking louder than he ever would.

So he just nodded silently and headed off to get some coke from the kitchen, returning with one glass and Sly frowning at him silently, as if asking what the fuck he thought he was doing even as he announced he'd quit drinking except for on special occasions.

He was remarkably surprised when Sly didn't respond, just rolled his eyes and muttered something he couldn't hear, pouring himself a drink anyway and then turning to regard the bartender's bedroom door with a frown.

"Has there been a zombie outbreak I'm not aware of, or do we have a guest?"

"Huh?"

He just rolled his eyes loudly, sighing as if exasperated but more curious than that, "something's scratching at your fucking door."

"Oh, yeah, I got a cat," he looked so infinitely pleased with the information that for a second Sly almost didn't hear him, but then he did and frowned because what the fuck was going on with the bartender?

"You got a cat?"

"Mm-hm," he smiled, obviously not registering Sly's utterly unimpressed look, just standing and opening the door to the bedroom, having slammed shut from the breeze the open windows caused, accidentally trapping his new pet in there. It darted out so fast Sly almost cringed, sudden lump of ginger fur at his side, pawing into his thigh and being utterly too familiar with him, bartender just laughing as he squirmed away from it.

"What the fuck is it doing?" 'It', was currently turning round in a circle by his thigh, settling herself next to him and sniffing with only mild caution at his scent, no doubt recognising it anyway given the frequency of his visits.

"She wants you to pet her."

"She? Jesus Christ, I don't want to fucking pet her!" He actually sounded horrified at the mere idea, and somehow the fact that Mizuki not only had a cat, but also a female cat, made the whole situation both worse and funnier, watching him be so cautious of the tamest animal he'd ever met.

"She's nice, and her names Amaya, by the way," he knew Sly didn't give a shit, but he'd chosen her name deliberately and nobody else had met her yet so he'd had nobody to tell. "Go on, just try and stroke her, she's a total attention whore."

"Guess we might have something in common then," he reached his hand out tentatively, looking more nervous than he did disgusted, despite his pretence Mizuki knew he liked animals, or Ren anyway, and he basically counted. But he was a little too abrupt, too rough, almost whacking her head and she hissed suddenly, yowling as he drew back too fast, alarmed, only making her jumpy, scratching at his hand but not quite drawing blood. "Fuck! I thought you said she was nice?"

"She is, you have to be gentle."

"I don't do gentle."

"Yeah, I know," and something in that sentence made him sad for more than just his cat, who was already purring and rubbing against Sly's leg, nuzzling her whiskers into his palm when he held it out again, seeming a little pleased when she didn't attack this time.

"So, let me get this straight, you've basically quit drinking, and bought a cat," he wasn't looking at him as he spoke, forehead the tiniest bit furrowed as he focused on running his hand softly down the warm flank of the feline whose eyes were half closed in satisfaction. It was remarkably endearing to watch and he almost forgot to respond.

"Yes."

"Jesus, bit young for a midlife crisis aren't you? Let me guess, you're quitting smoking too?"

"Well actually," he just pulled his e-cigarette out of his pocket then and Sly's expression was so hilarious he wished he could have snapped a picture of it to keep, mouth hanging open in both horror and disbelief and forehead lightly furrowed. To be honest, he looked a bit like a moron, just staring at him blankly, hand not even moving on Amaya's side now but the cat perfectly happy under his palm anyway, purring like the low grumble of a motorbike.

"Oh my fucking God, you are not serious?"

"Yep, deadly."

"You've got an e-cigarette you absolute fucking puff. You are no fun anymore."

But despite his words, he stayed, drinking and smoking alone, although after some whining Mizuki conceded to only smoke in Sly's presence and to quit the rest of the time, cold turkey wasn't really his thing after all.


"Where's your cat gone?" Immediately in the front door that was what he asked, almost as if he'd wanted to see her again, though the bartender was not quite dumb enough to voice that idea.

"Out, exploring I guess, she'll be back for food later," he explained calmly and for some odd reason that struck Sly wrong, imagining Amaya torn apart by dogs or having her tail pulled by asshole kids. It was utterly illogical that he was more concerned for Mizuki's pet than he was.

His nose wrinkled as he sat down and Mizuki just regarded him absently as he smelled the air around him rather like a dog, Ren vaguely shifting on his owners lap as if he wanted to try too, yipping in alarm as Sly jerked away in disgust.

"You smell weird." He looked so offended that Mizuki almost couldn't be, just blinking at him blankly and then glancing down at himself as if expecting to see some kind of filth matted into his shirt.

"Oh, wow, really a master of seduction, aren't you?"

"You stink of hospital."

"How do you know what the hospital smells like?" Sly didn't respond, but he moved back abruptly, displeased scowl sagging and lips parting nervously, as if some great secret of his had been revealed, Mizuki just staring as he shrugged and a false smile made its way to his lips.

"I'm guessing."

"Sure you are." He was going to leave it there, he was, but then he remembered what he'd heard Ken saying a couple of days back, lowering his tone so it was softer in the exact way he knew Sly hated. "Did something happen, you've been kinda… Weird lately?"

"Weird how?"

"You're avoiding the question. I've heard rumours you've been at the hospital, did something happen to your Granny?"

"How the fuck do you know about her?" He was suddenly livid and Mizuki wondered if maybe she was the one thing he refused to have used against him, eyes sparkling with danger as if daring him to say a single word against her. Mizuki just raised his hands to defend himself because it was Sly who'd informed him of her existence, or at least said she'd existed once, but to him it didn't sound much like she was dead.

"You yelled it at me a few weeks back."

He stuttered for a second then, because he suddenly realised they were talking about the argument, the one where Sly had let too much slip and apparently informed him not only of his absent parents but also of his quasi-present Granny. He debated not answering then, or of lying and saying she was dead but that was a heavy claim to make and the word had been lingering in his mind for weeks already without him associating it to somebody he didn't need to quite yet. "She's fine, the old cow'll never croak, she needs to stay around and judge me."

"So why were you at the hospital? One of my guys is dating the receptionist, says she's seen you twice."

"None of your fucking business. You really need to know that to fuck me?" There'd been no mention of fucking thus far, though Sly had just arrived and demanded to know where his cat was so he could be leading up to it, but his argument made little sense. But ignoring things was their forte, so Mizuki did what he knew best and shrugged.

"No, but usually you tell your friends shit like that."

"We're barely friends as it is. But fine, I was visiting an acquaintance of mine, that good enough?"

"I suppose." But it wasn't and they both knew it.


He was getting soft again and he knew it, but there was a deep seated terror in his chest that got worse every time his coil chimed even if he knew it was usually just some dumb notification about how much internet he was using. It would ping from his wrist and dread would travel up him so fast his fingers grew stiff and cold as he reached for it, breathing shallow and sensing the ground open up beneath him. But then he'd read the message and he'd exhale so deeply he'd get light headed and stagger into whatever wall he was nearest to, seeming to actually deflate and lose the use of his legs for a second.

Every time he went to sleep he had this sudden crushing, horrible feeling that tonight was the night where everything would go wrong, where he'd be forced to see what he'd done, to live with his mistakes even as somebody else didn't. His eyes would snap open and he'd suck in a sharp breath, falling sensation dropping off abruptly like he'd smashed into the ground below, lying back down with twitching limbs and afraid to shut his eyes again.

He knew it had been a bad idea to visit, had wanted to remember him as he'd always been, but he'd felt strangely like he couldn't leave things the way they were, he needed closure and he didn't have much time to get it now.

It was ironic, that the day after he visited he fell into a coma, as if he'd been waiting for him, knowing he'd show up and wanting to let things be settled between them even if he never had been the sort to hold a grudge. So he'd smiled that warm smile that made Sly's insides wither, and had reached for his hand and been allowed to hold it, to lazily run a tired thumb over torn flesh, had spoken to him in quiet, breathy sentences.

He'd told him he looked well, asked if something had happened in that hopeful voice of his, the one that always made guilt grow heavy and acidic in his throat, and he'd just shrugged him off, not wanting to answer but those gleaming eyes imploring him to.

"Yeah, I um, made a friend."

"You did?"

"Mm, a couple, actually."

"Oh, that's good," he had the warmest smile, he always had, so fond and affectionate, it made Sly's chest ache even as he craved it, gripping his fingers a little tighter as he continued breathlessly. "That's really good, Aoba. Do you like them?"

"Yeah. Guess I do."

He'd opened his mouth to speak again but all that came out was a rattle. Then he started coughing.

The terror was back and he was calling for a nurse and pressing the button and standing up abruptly on stiff legs and not knowing what to do. Then he was ushered out by a nurse who looked like she hated him, who stared at him like this was entirely his fault, shutting the door almost in his face and not bothering to tell him anything more, just saying that perhaps he should leave in a tone that implied he had no choice.


'If you're wondering where your cat is, she followed me home' He hadn't even noticed that was true until he'd heard more meows than was normal for his stalk home from the hospital, turning round to see the familiar ginger feline and frowning even as he allowed her into his warehouse where she lay down quite comfortably.

'Oh okay, I thought she'd just gone out. How does Ren feel about this?'

The message took a little longer to come through and when it did there was a photograph attached, two in fact, one of Amaya sniffing Ren tentatively when they'd first met, then another of them both asleep, one robotic, one real, curled up together on his pillow.

'He likes her, traitor'

Mizuki replied with something, probably a dumb remark that it was cute, and Sly just knew he would have saved the photographs to coo over, wondering if he'd somehow sent his cat to keep an eye on him, waving that away as exhausted delusions as he decided to head to bed himself. Waking up Ren so he'd vacate his pillow was easy, he just rubbed his head and he shifted to the side, the cat however, was an asshole just like its owner, and wouldn't budge until Ren nudged at her and she disapprovingly stood.

He'd thought that maybe she'd leave now, but instead when Sly blew out his candle for the night, he felt not one, but two fuzzy forms cuddle into him, Ren curled into his neck the way he always was and Amaya a new addition under his arm. She was warm in the way Ren would never be and Sly cuddled closer to her instinctively, warmth seeping into his chest and softness of her fur a lovely contrast to his worn sleeping bag.


'Your cat fucked off.'

'I know, she's right here.' Sly snorted at the picture that came through, the rather spoilt cat standing on Mizuki's shoulders as if that was a safe perch, tail wrapped halfway across his face and concealing one of his eyes. It was cute. Or at least he thought that for a second before the realisation that ew, that wasn't an acceptable thought filled him, and he filed it away as evidence of Mizuki's increasingly obvious midlife crisis.

He didn't have much time to think of Ayako or her owner though, he'd promised to see his Granny today, she'd messaged him the day before and his insides had frozen then thawed in the second he opened it and realised all was okay. He was half tempted to yell at her for scaring him like that the instant he saw her, but he wouldn't admit fear and she looked so old and tired when she opened the door that he just threw his cigarette away and stepped inside silently.

They sat down at the dining table together and there was a pot of tea there already, still warm, a sign he'd not been as late as normal, her initial statement making him choke on the softly floral water.

"Will you come to the funeral?"

"He's not dead yet." She didn't respond and he could feel the fear in his chest morph into anger and this was exactly what he hadn't wanted to happen, holding the handle of the stupid teacup too hard and knowing how easily he could snap it off, noting the use of her least favourite china. "Don't plan a funeral for someone who isn't dead."

"Aoba, he's-"

"No! You told me weeks ago, that he only had two weeks left but he's still here! He could live for months yet, don't you dare try to bury him before he's even gone!"

She didn't even react to his yelling, to the panic, the sudden obvious wave of lack of acceptance that had covered him, the denial that made his eyes burn even as he refused to be sad about this before he had to be. She just sighed and apologised in the only way she could, not bothering to try and comfort him with her words, she just laid out the facts and they cut through him like daggers. "That's not what I'm trying to do. He's getting worse every day, Aoba. He's been having fits and they've had to drain his chest twice, last time they barely saved him. His heart is giving out, and his lungs."

Ironic, that somebody with such a big heart would die because of exactly that, sinking back into his seat and letting his anger seep out into the tea, seeming cloudier now with emptied rage even as she continued and he didn't have the guts to let it return.

"It's inevitable. You need to accept it."

"Yeah well, you might have done that but I can't," he didn't understand how she could, because he wasn't stupid enough to believe there could be some miracle recovery, he knew he would die sooner or later, he accepted that, but it didn't mean he was okay with it. It was painful to discuss it like it was no big deal, like it was just procedure to plan the funeral instead of something that should shred her to pieces the way it did Sly. He took another mouthful of tea, barely warm but tasting so much of home, of the past, that it made him feel a little scared, swallowing fast and answering calmly. "No, I won't go to any funeral, would you even want me to?"

"He would."

"Like fuck he would, he'd want to be alive and well, not lying in some fucking box." He didn't mention that she'd avoided the question, there was no point because there'd been no point in her asking in the first place. How could he go to a funeral with people who knew his Granny? How could he identify himself as her Grandson, as a relative of the one who lay dead, as a mourner when people would see him and immediately think he was there to cause trouble and mock their loss. "I'm leaving. Let me know. If it happens."

Her lips parted to say when, but even she wasn't so cruel and she directed her sad nod towards the leaves left in her cup.


From one disaster into another, the stench of the hospital to the elderly scent of 'home' and now into the reek of uncertainty that surrounded the apartment he arrived at neatly, knocking on the door a bit impatiently and standing there too long in silence when the door was answered. It was odd, because it wasn't like he didn't have words to say, he just didn't want to be the one that spoke them, he'd rather keep everything a secret until he had to spill over like an overflowing sink. His gaze didn't even move from smooth wood to the t-shirted chest of the bartender he was here to see, blinking absently and only realising how fucking weird he was being when the voice spoke and it was so different to the others he'd heard today.

"What's wrong?" He hadn't used his name and his tone wasn't careful, he knew something was wrong, he'd known for a while now that something had changed, almost as big as the Scratch incident but he knew if it was that he'd have heard the rumours by now.

"Nothing! Why does something always have to be wrong?"

"It doesn't, you just look like something is bothering-"

He interrupted, no time for Mizuki to finish that thought because something was bothering him, that wasn't even a strong enough way to say it, it was all encompassing and suffocating him even as he pushed it out with words from the past. "You said I'm not a bad person."

"You're not, you just do bad things." He didn't even miss a beat and Sly hated it because lies took a second to formulate but the truth was always easier to speak and he hated the truth because there was no escaping it, no argument would ever win against it.

"That's the same thing."

"It's not." He wasn't even inside yet, still stood just outside the door and only realising when Mizuki's back turned to him and he'd entered his home again, dressed like he'd been relaxing, comfortable and warm in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. It was homely and he felt weirdly left out as he stepped inside and ruined the image with his ugly words, his street clothes dirty and impractical, too outside all of this.

"Stop talking in fucking riddles! What the fuck do you mean? Why do you care if I'm a bad person or not? Why do you keep reminding me I'm not? Say what you fucking mean for once!"

"What I mean is that I love you."

"Stop saying that." His eyes were doing that aggravating blinking thing again, like they couldn't stop fast enough, like they were trying to drive away something he refused to show, tone hard but fingers twitching lazily at his sides, wanting to shut him up though he didn't quite know how.

"No, I love you, Sly, you yelling at me isn't going to change that."

"Then what will? Do I have to kill somebody? Myself? You? What do I have to do to make you fucking stop?" He wasn't going to kill anybody, they both knew that, they might be the only people that did, but they did and Sly hated it. Mizuki didn't even fucking react, he just turned back to face him and frowned as if he hadn't just poured more sickly sweet love into the air between them, regarding him quietly, how hunched into himself he seemed, how tired and worn down, and changed the subject.

"Sly, are you sure nothing happened? You were at the hospital again on-"

"Would you shut the fuck up about the fucking hospital?! It's got nothing to fucking do with you, you fucking asshole! God, you're such a piece of fucking shit would you just fucking leave it?" Like a volcano erupting but a hell of a lot messier, lava burning his skin even as he finished and knew it was more obvious than ever now that he was hiding things, keeping them concealed so deep inside even he forgot about them for peaceful seconds.

"That was a lot of swear words."

"Oh fuck off."

"Okay, you don't wanna talk about it. That's cool. Relax, no more questions, alright?" His tone had done that horrible considerate thing again that made his chest hurt, suddenly fitting another face to his voice and almost wanting to laugh at the irony of it. "Ayako's in my bedroom, if you're interested."

"Why would I give a fuck where your cat is?" But his own words betrayed him as said cat appeared as if summoned, meowing softly as she padded her elegant way towards him, rubbing against his legs and worming between them affectionately. The bartender looking away was certainly too deliberate to not be on purpose, Sly feeling his face soften as he regarded her, because animals were one of the only groups that didn't judge him, she liked him already and even as he knelt to scratch behind her ears he thought of how fucked up that was.

When the bartender turned back a good five minutes later, his ginger, attention-seeking whore of a cat was happily nestled in Sly's arms, purring so loudly it was a little ridiculous and her pleased expression such a contrast to Sly's weak scowl that he almost laughed. He held it in though and lit him a cigarette instead, offering it over and not being acknowledged, enquiring lazily whether he wanted a drink and receiving rather weak confirmation.

He didn't drink as fast as always, he barely paid attention to his glass at all, more focused on staring into the distance and rubbing at Ayako's back or ears, flopped over his lap and leaving ginger fluff everywhere. Mizuki was happy enough to let him just sit there, bustling around him quietly, clearing up glasses from the coffee table and folding up laundry he'd left sitting a little too long, joining him a good half an hour later.

"I have a proposition," his eyes flickered to him but he did no more than raise an eyebrow in his direction, expecting him to speak and not reacting much when he did other than to look away again. "Stay with me for a little while."

He debated questioning the meaning of this, opening his mouth to ask how long a while was, what staying meant, but he knew already so he just shut his mouth and licked his lips, watching olive eyes tracing the movement. "I get the feeling my little while is very different to yours."

"Couple weeks, try it out. You might even like it."

"Doubt it."

"Trust me."

He didn't reply to that, just raised an eyebrow in disbelief, because he didn't trust anybody, not even Mizuki who might deserve that small service, freezing as he reached for a cigarette and a hand covered his own instead. The urge to yank back was strong, so strong he almost did for a second, arm twitching violently but limb remaining in place, cold fingers warmed by tanned skin and just staring at their owner blankly.

"Trust me," but now his voice, his gaze was hard and he wasn't being given a choice.

That was the last thing he wanted to do, the last thing he ever did, but he paused to consider this, the offer, a roof over his head, hot food, warm showers, things to fill his time that wouldn't hurt him in the long run. Bandages for his sliced up arms and maybe even something that would help untangle his messed up head, seeing a weird flicker of somebody else in the soft way he spoke and answering as if he was talking back to somebody almost long gone.

"I'll try," it came out as a whisper, low and cautious.

"So, will you?"

"I don't know. I'll get back to you." He just huffed a laugh and lit his own cigarette, smoke mingling together in the air and silent but the soft purring of the only one in their party who was truly content with things.


"Hey, Kou!" He looked up then, not realising until he lifted his head how sore his neck had gotten from staring intently at the ground, people occasionally passing by and paying him little attention, seeing a rather large pack of dogs first and mouth twitching into a smile he didn't deserve to be feeling. Then he looked beyond and he wasn't sure why he'd not recognised the voice, Jin waving cheerily as the dogs reached him, tails wagging in recognition and almost piling onto him, forcing him to raise hands to stroke and bat away long tongues, leashes released and them free to bother him how they thought was best. "What you thinking about?"

He didn't answer for a minute, watching as he carefully shifted a smaller dog across the bench so he had room to join him, large, soft head dumping into his lap and staying there quite comfortably even as Kou almost drowned under fur.

"The team. Well, not really. Myself, I guess."

"Hm, why's that?"

"I-" He paused then, because as nice as Jin was, and nobody could deny that, he still didn't feel comfortable sharing this with him, frowning as he realised he recognised none of the dogs with him. "Are any of these dogs yours?"

"Nope! I walk them for people, old ladies and stuff mainly, or people with other things to do," he answered so cheerily and with so much enthusiasm he felt momentarily better, like he could pretend there was nothing but this bench and the large Shiba Inu trying to be his lap dog. "In fact, you should help me, I'm walking them towards the shrine and back. Which ones you want?"

His mind was free for a blissful while, choosing the dogs he wanted to walk and untangling their leads, listening with great interest as Jin told him all about them, their names and personalities, which ones would try to run after birds and which ones peed everywhere. But they fell silent as they approached the old shrine and they were the only two people in sight, climbing the hill and the dogs well behaved as Kou finally began to talk.

He said how guilty he felt for leaving the team because he couldn't support Koujaku's decision, how he'd felt like a terrible member for not doing what his leader said, how scared he was that they might never recover properly. How afraid he was for Koujaku and how horrible it had been to see him break down like that, how he was worried he'd wake up and be mad at him for not saving him sooner, for leaving all of them to face their fate alone, for abandoning them.

Jin didn't reply for a long moment, nodding along to show he'd heard and making the occasional noise of agreement, understanding, and Kou half thought he wouldn't say anything. But he just adjusted his leashes into his right hand so he could put an arm around his shoulders and give him a half hug, words as pointless as anybody else's but somehow infinitely more reassuring as he smiled over, "you'll be alright."

"Yeah, I think I will," and a floppy eared spaniel barked as if in agreement.


"You look tired." His voice was calm, glancing up over the tub of polish he was shaking into his cloth, clearly running out and trying to get the most out of it, smiling in mild humour as Mizuki realised he'd been addressed and looked up too late.

"Hm? Oh, I couldn't sleep last night. I had… Something was on my mind."

"Want to share?"

"I- I don't know. Probably not," he could share it easily, they'd both heard Ken's gossip of course, that Sly had been at the hospital a lot lately, he could spill his worries to him, but his love interest wasn't exactly their favourite topic and he'd rather go upstairs and be over with this day of working. "But um, I've kinda, been keeping a secret from you."

"Another one?" His words could be sharp but they were spoken with a smile and a raised eyebrow, knowing there was nothing else he could have hidden that would have shocked him, just watching as Mizuki rolled his eyes and gestured for him to follow him upstairs. Ditching his rag and deciding that whatever this secret was, it was a lot more fun than polishing the beer taps, yawning as he entered the flat and aware of a weird, though not necessarily unpleasant smell.

"Tio, this is Amaya, Amaya, this is Tio." He opened his eyes then, aware this was an introduction and wondering with significant alarm if Mizuki had a girlfriend or something equally bizarre and illogical, eyes meeting a lump of lazy orange fur and pausing. He just blinked in some confusion, regarding the contented looking cat he nestled in his arms, perfectly happy to be held and just nuzzling into his chin as he stroked across her side.

"That's a cat."

"Yes."

"You got a cat?"

"I did."

"When?"

"Just after New Year's."

"Hm. Amaya?" Mizuki nodded then and Tio held a hand out to be sniffed, deciding not to question exactly why he'd gotten a cat with seemingly no prior planning, supposing it could have been something weirder like a snake, he'd mentioned that before. "She's cute."

"Thanks. You want a drink?"

"Yeah, go on then," Mizuki placed the cat down and she leapt nimbly onto the couch, regarding Tio with curious eyes as he sat down and she came padding over to judge him, pressing her cold nose into his hand and sniffing over it and up his wrist curiously. She deemed him acceptable though, stepping into his lap and feet going wherever the hell they wanted, almost standing on his dick as she settled herself and lay down, tail curled up around her back.

Mizuki returned with drinks and an affectionate scratch behind her ears, setting a bottle of beer down for Tio and a glass of what looked weirdly like orange juice for himself, sitting there in silence for a while just to fuss his cat because Tio was definitely a cat person and aside from strays he never got to spend much time with them.

But then he decided to break the silence with something rather ill-advised in his present company, "Kin's really allergic to cats."

"Okay, so were you planning on letting him rub his face on your clothes or…?" It was obvious that he was both baffled and amused by how strange that remark had been, how it had come from nowhere with no real reason to mention it.

"No, just making a comment," he tried to pass it off casually but he was sure it hadn't worked, changing the subject back to Amaya and her owner as fast as he could without seeming too keen to get the conversation off Kin. "Is she the latest attempt to get yourself sorted out?"

"How'd you mean?"

"You know, quitting drinking and smoking, then getting a cat, you're getting your shit together," he sounded a little impressed but Mizuki hadn't even thought of it that way, the command to stop drinking had been overdue by the time he'd realised he needed to follow it, and quitting smoking had come hand in hand with that.

"Oh, I guess so, I just thought she'd be some company."

"That makes you sound lonely."

"Maybe I am," it was a little weird how exposing it felt to talk about this with Tio, because best friend or not, this was oddly personal and embarrassing too, Amaya rolling over to expose her belly and trapping Tio's arm with her front legs. "Isn't everyone lonely sometimes?"

"Hm, I guess so."


He could love Mizuki back. Surely he was capable of love, wasn't everyone? If he thought about it hard enough he was sure he loved the boy who lay in hospital, he loved his Granny in a strange, distant way too, that was the only way to explain why he worried about her.

But how was he supposed to know? If he'd never experienced romantic love, and even the words made him feel ill, how was he supposed to know what it felt like? What if what he felt wasn't love, but just friendship or even just lust? That would explain a lot more.

But lately he had been different. They both had been, and he wasn't sure how to explain it anymore.

It had started off small.

"Come on, it's freezing out there, just stay the night."

"I've got some leftovers, if you want them?"

Even the aftermath of their sex was different, sure, they didn't exactly cuddle or whisper sweet nothings now, but he didn't immediately get dressed and leave. No, he lingered, but he was never entirely sure what for.

"You're all sweaty, you may as well have a shower while you're here."

But the problem was, it all made sense, it was all a logical way to think. Yeah, he was hungry, and if there was food being offered to him, wasn't the most sensible thing to do accept? It wasn't a candlelit dinner for two, it was a coincidence. Probably.

If he was sweaty and cum-splattered after sex, didn't it make sense to take a shower? He never could anywhere else, and despite what people seemed to think, he didn't like being dirty. If his clothes were being washed and there were loaned sweatpants and hoodie outside the bathroom door when he was finished, that was just another way he got things from the bartender.

Well, that had only happened once and he had to admit it had freaked him out a little bit to discover Mizuki had taken it upon himself to wash his usual clothes, explaining when he began yelling at him that he could collect them the next time he came over. So he left wearing all clothing of the bartenders that was too big but a damn sight more warm or comfortable than his own, and the next week he got his own back and pretended not to be unnerved by the whole thing.

But things were getting too much, he was getting in too deep, losing sight of the sun through the surface of the water, sinking deeper away from what he knew, what he felt safe with, as close as he could get to safe anyway.

But no, he was still in control. He was still using the tattooist. When it was cold and he shivered too much to sleep, turning up at his apartment was a way of using him. Using his food, his shower, his bed. Even if they didn't have sex, even if they just spent the evening together, eating and getting drunk and chatting shit before Sly left. That was just him using the bartender, taking advantage of his kindness and his feelings.

He didn't love him. He couldn't.

But he felt different, the atmosphere between them didn't crackle with tension and anger and hidden things any more. No, it simmered, like a pan on a low boil, and sure, it could explode, but it wasn't likely. More than often when he came around they didn't even fuck. But that wasn't the agreement. No, he was supposed to take Mizuki's alcohol and cigarettes and fuck him in return, whenever and however he wanted. That was what they had, and it worked.

But he couldn't get it out of his fucking head. It was there all the time and it made him want to tear his skin off.

This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to be fuck buddies, friends at the very most. Somebody to take advantage of to get what he needed in terms of alcohol and cigarettes and good sex. And fuck the sex was good. That was what kept him coming back, or that's what he told himself anyway. His feelings about Mizuki were mixed, to say the least. On one hand he was a friend, or the closest thing to a friend Sly had anyway. He was funny and enjoyed listening to Sly's often illegal exploits, not judging or sending him looks of disgust as he described knocking out some shitty kid with glee in his voice. Of course there were benefits other than pleasant company, the free alcohol and the offer of a place to crash was enough to keep Sly returning to Mizuki.

The sex, well that was just the cherry on top, when it happened and it was getting rarer these days. Mizuki had learned early on that Sly didn't need to be treated like a precious doll, like he'd shatter if handled too roughly. Since Mizuki had gained that knowledge, their meetings had been far more enjoyable for both of them.

Feelings weren't meant to have developed, on either side. He wasn't meant to seek the bartender out to rant at when he'd had a shitty day. He wasn't meant to be some kind of sick emotional support. Mizuki wasn't supposed to fucking love him. Nobody was.

The first time he'd said it, ice rose in his lungs and he couldn't speak, confusion and panic and no no no rising in his chest. Eyes narrowing and pretending he hadn't heard it, lungs tight and mouth dry.

How could he stay after that? How was he meant to just stick around, pretending one of them hadn't fucked up their deal monumentally with those three little words. They were like a knife in his back, they marked him out. He wasn't meant to be loved by anyone, he was meant to be different but now he was exactly the same as anybody else.

He found himself staring. Yellow eyes darting from person to person, lingering on couples and mothers who held their child's hand as they crossed a busy street. Watching the easy way hands interlinked, fingers weaving together like they belonged there. Wondered how it felt to be able to do that so easily. To understand what love was and to be able to reciprocate it, to not feel conflicted and torn and shredded up by it because it was wrong.

Was it as simple as breathing, to say those three words back? Didn't it seem like you were ripping off a piece of your heart and giving it to them every time you said it? Giving away a piece of who you were, a piece of your safety. Didn't they realise it was weak to divide yourself that way? Idiotic to place all of your trust in one person when they could so easily break you.

The idea of falling in love was scary, whether it crept up on you, or whether you literally fell, plummeting headfirst into confusing feelings and fears and so many doubts that you'd fear your head, or worse, your heart will explode. It was even more terrifying because he'd never experienced love before, in any form, when all he'd felt was hurt and cruel and pain.

How was he meant to understand it? To cope with the fact that staying away from Mizuki was somehow worse than years of isolation and torture, when that barely made sense to him, let alone someone else?


He'd been thinking about it too much, the whole 'Mizuki loving him', thing, it was all he could think about, even when his Granny messaged him saying there wasn't long left now and invited him to the hospital. He just replied saying he couldn't and thrown his coil away.

He knew, he knew that soon there'd be no more messages, that he'd never need to go to the hospital again, or at least not til the old lady croaked, and he wanted, bizarrely, to tell Mizuki about this, to just be able to admit to somebody what was happening when he couldn't admit it to himself.

But he didn't, instead he went round and yelled at him because that was what he did best and all he knew. He shouted when he wanted to sit quietly by his side and stroke his stupid fucking cat and talk about how it was his fault that somewhere in a hospital far away a monitor might start flat lining at any minute. He wanted Mizuki to smile and say with that obvious tone that it wasn't his fault and that there was nothing he could have done to have prevented it, he didn't want the blame in his Granny's eyes or the blankness in his own.

It was Mizuki's fault in the first place, he'd spoken too softly and Sly hadn't liked it, hadn't appreciated the affection in his tone, didn't like the warmth of his eyes as he regarded Sly curled up with Amaya like he belonged there.

So he'd started yelling and it had been ten minutes and he had yet to stop.

"We had a great thing going on! We were fine the way we were and now you've fucked it up with your stupid feelings!"

"We were fine? For now maybe, but what would you do if I settled down?"

"I'd find someone else to fuck!"

"Who, Sly? Everyone else hates you!" His voice was hard and insistent, downright cruel, because did Sly not fucking realise his reputation on the island? How people would rather lose a limb than even touch him, let alone fuck him, why was he still so in denial about this? "I'm the only person who even talks to you!

"Then I'd do what I always used to!" He didn't want to, he really didn't want to, but it would be his only option. That or he could go back to Granny's and hate himself, he guessed. Hated or not, there were plenty of people who'd be willing to pay him a few yen for a quick, no strings attached fuck.

"You don't want to do that, I know you, Sly."

"Yeah and I wish you fucking didn't!"

"Do you? Do you really?" He was disbelieving, because Sly might be a piece of work but he wasn't telling the truth right now and it was obvious in the way his yellow eyes wouldn't meet Mizuki's.

"Yes!"

"Why? Give me one good reason why!" They were yelling now, both of them, shouting into each other's faces with spit flying and gestures angry, hands in fists and eyes hard, Amaya cowering unhappily in the corner and Ren turned off for fear he'd try to intervene.

"Because everything would be simpler if we'd never fucking met! Because it's your fault everything has gone to shit and because it's your fault I feel so fucking weird all the time!"

"Look, I know you don't feel the same."

"Really? You could've fucking fooled me." He scowled, because Mizuki didn't know anything about him, he didn't know how he felt and he didn't like being told to do anything, how to feel or act or talk, he did what he wanted. But damn, now he didn't even know what he wanted, other than for Mizuki to stop fucking shouting, to stop this loving him bullshit he'd tricked himself into believing and to have just a second to fucking breathe.

"Just shut the fuck up! For one fucking minute shut up!"

He froze, yellow eyes wide and genuinely shocked. Mizuki had never snapped like this before, never, sure they'd argued, but he'd never gotten angry like this, fists raised and a vein bulging in his forehead, seconds away from hitting him. He guessed the bartender had a side he didn't know. It made him feel strangely lost.

"I get it! You're looking out for yourself, being independent. Whatever, but can't you at least try?"

"Try what?" His voice was cold, tone final and dismissive, as if he'd already disagreed with whatever the bartender was going to recommend.

"Try this. Us." Mizuki's words were earnest, but Sly was staring at the strip of skin where his t-shirt rode up. "I know you don't like any of this stuff, romancey-bullshit, but can't you just try?"

"What's the point?"

There was a pause, a silence as Mizuki sighed loudly, looking off into the distance as if the blank wall would provide him with the answers he needed. "There isn't one." Sly opened his mouth to object but the tattooist spoke over him, "how do you know if you won't try?"

And what could he say to that?