I'm not gonna make excuses. If there was a Nobel Prize for procrastination, I would win it hands down.

Love All, Trust A Few, Do Wrong To None

"– And then he's sitting there in hospital and just completely dismisses me, like my opinion isn't worth anything and that nothing bad happened to him at all! He even said it didn't hurt! Of course it hurt! He broke the bone!"

Safu murmurs a vague noise of agreement, not glancing up from her textbook, even when her mattress creaks loudly as Shion rolls angrily around on it.

"Do you know how frustrating this whole situation is? I can't even visit him because I know I'll just take it out on Nezumi when it isn't even his fault – so I'm just – just stuck here, thinking about it all day! I can't even go to school to distract myself!" Shion shrieks, punctuating the rant with a howl of anger and a fist to Safu's pillow.

"Just don't think about it," Safu offers calmly, chewing absent-mindedly on the tip of her pencil. She narrows her eyes at the paragraph. This particular subtopic has been causing her some trouble lately, so she thought she would spend her unexpected day off brushing up on it. Exasperatedly, she murmurs, "Maybe you should read ahead on the syllabus? If distraction is what you're looking for." A smirk threatens to pull at her mouth. "Or maybe you could go into school anyway and help the janitors clean up the mess and debris from the fire. I'm sure they'd appreciate the help."

Shion whines from behind her. The sound is muffled behind her ivory pillow and Safu sighs, dropping her pencil onto the desk and turning around in her chair. Talk about distracting – how is she supposed to get any work done with this ball of emotions bouncing off her walls?

"Seriously, Shion? I've never seen you this worked up before. About anything." She crosses her arms and settles back into her chair when the childlike man looks up at her from the bed.

Shion is pouting. "I'm sorry," he grumbles reluctantly. "It's just bugging me so much. I don't understand why."

Safu raises an eyebrow and tries – successfully, more or less – to hide her growing amusement. "You don't understand why Nezumi protected you?"

Shion nods.

She can't help it – she bursts into sharp laughter.

"What?" Shion squeaks, indignant and confused. "Why are you laughing? You're not supposed to be laughing, Safu! I'm having an emotional dilemma!"

Safu shakes her head in a vague apology, her vocal chords currently occupied by her uncharacteristic giggles. The usually serious woman tries in vain to smother the sounds in her cardigan sleeve. Shion's cutely irritated expression doesn't help.

"I'm serious!" he exclaims. Safu covers her dying laughter with a few coughs.

"I know," she says, trying for a sympathetic look, and Shion deflates like a sad balloon. He sighs morosely into her pillow. A pang of genuine sympathy rings clear in her chest at the sight – something like watching a cold puppy shiver in the winter rain – and, against her better judgement, a devilish sneak of an idea creeps into her mind, prompting her to blurt, "I have an idea."

A stupid one, she doesn't say.

Lavender eyes alight and his head snaps up. "Really?" Shion practically pleads, and Safu can't suppress the wry smile at her best friend's expense.

"It's pretty dumb. But then again, so are you and Nezumi with your feelings. It'll fit."

Shion only looks a little insulted and suspicious, so she decides to continue. She turns fully around in her chair with eagerness she won't admit to. "You don't want to see him in person, right? And texting would be far too impersonal," she starts, thinking that if she gently lowers her best friend into the idea, he's less likely to reject it flat-out. Though there's always the possibility.

Shion's eyes narrow. He nods slowly, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Well," Safu continues, "why not send him flowers?"

A squat pause ensues. Shion furrows his brow and snowy locks flutter from his breathy snort of laughter. Eventually, after a good few disbelieving glances, the chuckles die down. He stares for a moment. "Wait," he whispers, "you're serious?"

Safu shrugs casually.

"He's not – I mean –" Shion stutters into motion. Porcelain hands wave emphatically and he pushes himself into a sitting position. "Flowers, that's – the kind of thing you send girls, Safu, and Nezumi – isn't –"

"You like flowers," Safu interrupts.

Shion ignores her. "He's not the flowers type, Safu, he wouldn't – seriously –"

"Let me finish," Safu snaps exasperatedly, shushing him until he quietens. She can tell from the twist of his lips, though, that his raging skepticism is going to be difficult to placate. "I'm not going to suggest ordinary flowers, Shion. Ordinary flowers can be just as impersonal as a text," she explains, trying to look like she knows what she's talking about.

Shion's forehead crinkles as an eyebrow is stretched to its limit.

"I was going to suggest before you interrupted," she hisses pointedly, "that maybe you could send asters."

The other eyebrow joins the first at Shion's hairline – but this time in surprise. "Wait, what – why?"

Safu blinks. Then rolls her eyes. "Asters, Shion. 'Shions'. Remember? That's your name? 'Shion'?"

His reaction is delayed as the cogs whirr and creak in his mind. Lilac eyes widen and his jaw hangs slack. "Oh my god –"

Safu's stretch is almost feline in its self-satisfaction. "Get it now?"

Shion most certainly seems to get it now, because he is fast flushing beet red. "Safu," he mumbles with uncertainty, "I couldn't – isn't that a little self-centred? He needs to focus on himself right now. On getting better. I'd practically be sending him flowers with my name on them."

Safu's lip curls back in a predatory grin. "Exactly."

Nezumi winces at the spike of pain in his shoulder. He ignores it and continues to pull the elastic over his hair with clumsy, aching fingers. He snaps it to his skull. Long fingers daintily pat their way from his hairline to the band and down the lank ponytail, searching for loops or missed strands. Not that it would matter if it was messy – he looks like shit anyway. No ponytail is going to remedy that.

Unfortunately, he's feeling just about as bad as he looks. Being confined to a lumpy bed all day, confronted with the noisy cries of the children's ward past the door and the uncomfortable sensation of having a plastic tube stuck into his elbow is not his idea of a good time.

"Yo," says the door.

Nezumi blinks.

The door opens to reveal Inukashi in their school football gear, clutching a KFC bag about half as big as themself. "Want some?"

His mind begs god yes please but his stomach gurgles no thanks, mate.

Inukashi raises an eyebrow and Nezumi manages a stiff shake of his head. They shrug and stroll far too energetically over to the plastic chair at his bedside. "Your loss. All the more for me then."

"Did you just come here to taunt me?" Nezumi snaps, but Inukashi stubbornly ignores him.

"You gonna faint again today?" they ask instead, grinning cheerfully around a mouthful of chicken burger. "It was pretty funny to see the look on the old man's face when your eyes rolled up into your head."

Nezumi breathes. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Calm. Peaceful thoughts.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot." They stand suddenly, carelessly dropping the brown bag onto the mattress, and Nezumi lunges to catch it before it falls and spills all over the sterile floors.

"What?" he asks as his sibling yanks open the door, but his confusion is – again – ignored.

What was the point of that? he asks himself as the door slams shut. He swallows a sigh and breathes in deeply –

– and immediately regrets it as the mouth-watering waft of burger-and-fries smell assaults his nasal passage.

… Oh, fuck it.

He digs into the massive bag, relishing the greasy crinkling sound of KFC paper wrapping as he pulls out a handful of lovely, salty fries.

One, two, three go into his mouth, and he nearly dies of bliss. All he's eaten for what feels like a month (but is more like a day and a half) is burnt hospital toast and blanched vegetables.

Remind me to write them a letter of thanks for gracing the planet with their food, he thinks to himself.

The door clicks open again. Déjà vu, he grumbles mentally with a sigh as Inukashi strides smugly over holding – wait, what?

Holding flowers.

Lilac flowers.

"You got a secret admirer," Inukashi sniggers. "Oh, there's a card too." They dust the petals off the rectangle and squint at it. "Who the fuck is 'Aster ta – tatari –' tata-something?"

Nezumi blinks. He takes both the bouquet and the card from his short sibling (much to their protest) and proceeds to read it himself.

The air catches in his throat.

"What? What is it?" Inukashi pesters curiously, trying to read the card over Nezumi's shoulder; but Nezumi neither hears nor sees them. The small, angular piece of card in his pale hand washes out the rest of reality like bland watercolours as it speaks gently:

Get well soon.

– Aster tataricus

It starts with a smile, strings tugging at the corners of his mouth until he grins to himself like a madman. Then laughter bubbles up in his stomach, fizzing over his tongue and tasting sweetly wonderful.

Inukashi eyes him warily. "You okay?"

Nezumi nods, wiping laughter tears from his eyes and bottling up the childlike giggles that want to escape. "Fine. Absolutely fine."

"You gonna tell me what's so funny?"

Nezumi shakes his head – more at the flowers than at Inukashi. "Ridiculous," he mutters scathingly, though his wide grin betrays the pleasant fluttering feeling and the giddy rush to his head.

"Huh?"

He glances up. "It's nothing," he murmurs. "It's just - asters are my favourite flower."

One week later

A shy click of the door echoes into Shion's ears, welcoming another student into the classroom.

This unremarkable noise is not what catches Shion's attention, however; what pulls his gaze up from his library copy of Much Ado About Nothing is the following thump and a muffled curse.

The door is being precariously propped open by a crutch. The crutch is attached to a long, black-clad arm. The arm is attached to a tall man standing on one leg, thin lips pulled down into a grimace and black hair falling loose and tangled around bony shoulders.

"Nezumi," Shion whispers.

His conversation with Safu is forgotten as he rushes to help. It is at this motion in Nezumi's peripherals that he finally looks up from his cast - and the expression of surprise at Shion's sudden appearance quickly morphs into one of amusement.

Shion's brow furrows in confusion (and a hint of wariness – he's learned that that unrestrained smirk usually means bad things when it comes to Nezumi). He backs off an inch. "What?" he asks with noticeable caution. "Why are you smiling like that?"

Nezumi's smirk breaks into a grin, and the sparkle in his eyes is devilish. "No reason, Aster tataricus."

Shion is simultaneously taken aback, surprised and ridiculously embarrassed. He huffs and crosses his arms, averting his eyes from Nezumi's intensely teasing gaze. "I see you're feeling better," he grumbles. Nezumi barks out a laugh.

Shion returns sulkily to his seat, hyperaware of every quiet tap-tap of rubber on carpet. A quick glance confirms that Nezumi has taken his usual seat in front of him, and a breath of relief slips out of his throat – just as Nezumi shoots him one final smirk over his shoulder. Dammit.

He can feel the heat on his neck and automatically reaches to loosen his collar. He glowers out of the window. It is too early in the morning for this.

Still, he thinks secretly, I'm glad he's back to his old self.

"Alright, class! Quiet!"

A few students raise their eyebrows at the echoic disembodied voice floating through the walls. The door bursts open a second later to reveal their rather frazzled-looking teacher, and she almost trips over a chair leg on the way to her desk.

"Right, looks like we've got some things to sort out before I let you go," she says distractedly, gathering the papers fluttering to the floor in a frenzy.

"Is she okay?" Shion hears Safu whisper behind him. He shrugs and they exchange a puzzled look.

The teacher sighs deeply and sinks into her chair. "Okay, firstly – let's welcome Nezumi back; he was discharged from the hospital yesterday. Nice of him to show up. Most kids wouldn't."

Shion cringes in secondhand embarrassment at the uncomfortable expression on Nezumi's face as all eyes turn to him in curiosity.

"Since Nezumi is still sort of incapacitated, however, he'll need some help carrying his belongings, getting to class, operating the lift, etcetera etcetera. I need someone to volunteer."

Shion doesn't hesitate to raise his hand. "I'll do it."

She nods at him. "I'll inform your teachers you might be late to some of their lessons today. What's your timetable?"

As Shion recites his lessons for that day for her to note down, he feels chestnut eyes boring into the back of his skull. He wonders what Safu thinks of the situation. She's probably secretly cheering me on or scolding me for not acting sooner.

Never mind, he decides with a small smile. An excuse to spend the whole day with Nezumi? Today is going to be a good day.

"Which class is next?" Shion asks, hefting Nezumi's stupidly heavy bag into his arms.

"Latin," he answers, heading towards a bright, narrow corridor Shion hasn't been down since his freshman year.

Shion raises an eyebrow. "You study Latin? I didn't even realise they offered Latin classes here."

"They do," Nezumi replies. "On the first floor, in the back left-hand corner of the building."

"Huh," Shion mutters to himself in astonishment, considering the new revelation. I never noticed. "We'll take the lift, I guess. I don't think you can handle three flights of stairs."

Nezumi huffs a laugh. "The lift it is."

Shion falls into step beside the taller man. There is a brief lull in conversation; then he asks conversationally, "So, you're feeling better? You certainly look more energetic than when I last saw you."

"Yeah. Drugs are amazing things." He slips a glance in Shion's direction, humour dancing in grey irises.

Shion sighs with fond exasperation. The conversation halts as they stop at the lift door. A pale hand reaches awkwardly around Nezumi's bag to push the button, which immediately lights up with a blue upwards arrow.

The lift whirrs and buzzes to life as it crawls up the shaft with a low roar. The familiar sound ignites a flash of memory behind tinted lenses like a flare - and suddenly all Shion sees is flames. Red, yellow, bright and blinding.

Ding.

Steel doors slide lazily open and Shion blinks. He follows Nezumi into the metal box and tries to quell the sudden itchy awkwardness writhing in his chest. The reason they were trapped in the fire in the first place... He'd almost forgotten.

Shion watches as Nezumi attempts to puff a strand of hair out of his eyes without letting go of his crutches. A smile threatens when it only results in three more strands falling into the younger man's field of vision. Nezumi grunts in irritation.

His move is automatic; Shion doesn't even register it as he reaches up to tuck the rebellious locks behind a pale ear, fingers lingering just a little too long.

Nezumi raises an eyebrow.

Red floods Shion's face as he realises his actions. "Uh –" he stutters, withdrawing his hand quickly as if burnt. But Nezumi only shows a quirk of a smile before turning away again.

Things can't go on like this.

As the lift hauls itself into motion, Shion comes to a quick decision. I have to tell him. This is… This whole situation is just ridiculous. He'll find out sooner or later anyway. Look where we are – together, alone, in a place we can't be disturbed or interrupted or walked in on.

He flicks a glance at the oblivious taller man humming pleasantly beside him. "Nezumi –" he starts uncertainly.

The humming stops. "Yeah?"

Nezumi is looking at him. Nezumi is staring at him, waiting for a response – and suddenly, Shion isn't entirely sure how to go about this. Mind blank and entranced, he draws in a deep breath.

"I just want to – finish what I was saying before. You know. Before the fire. I asked you to talk, and – but then we were interrupted, and I thought you should know, you know, since I asked you to listen and I never got around to it and who knows maybe you've spent the past week wondering what I'd been planning to say – but that's stupid, I m-mean you p-probably just forgot about it, especially since you b-broke your leg and stuff, I mean that's been way more important, um –" He stops abruptly to clear his throat. Nezumi is still staring at him – with an expression of amused impatience.

Shion breathes out a nervous laugh and rakes a hand through choppy locks. "I just wanted to say," he continues, quieter and more slowly, and reaches to do up the zip on Nezumi's bag, "that for a long time, Nezumi, I've… really liked you. I really like you. Really like you." He doesn't look up to meet Nezumi's eyes, doesn't want to see his expression, and his voice dwindles into a soft murmur as he hangs the messenger bag on Nezumi's shoulder. "Maybe even love you."

Ding.

Shion is out of the lift and down the corridor before the doors are fully open.

Silver eyes are wide and astounded as they watch the albino stride away with all the urgency of a man running from a ravenous lion.

Three steps is all it takes for Nezumi to realise that there is no way he can catch up on crutches, and he curses. He spits out all the filthiest, foulest words he can imagine. A pale hand cards through messy hair and he will not admit that it's shaking – out of confusion, shock, panic, alarm –

An awkward apology. That's all he was expecting when Shion began to stammer. A stupid apology for being so selfless, because it's just like Shion to apologise for wishing he'd been the one to break his leg instead.

But a confession?

Nezumi was not expecting that.