Ok, wow, (relatively) early update. I guess I got my writing gear back on or something.

Anyway, just a note to say that I edited this to the point of death and back - edit, re-edit, re-re-edit, friend-edit - and eventually there was just nothing more to be edited. So I'm posting despite its inadequacy. I hope you can forgive me for messing up the most important scene...

Love All, Trust A Few, Do Wrong To None

"Hey!" Shion yelps indignantly as the dog shivers, sending a spray of suds in all directions. "You're supposed to stay still, so I can wash you."

"Having fun?"

Shion looks up at the rough voice of his boss as they approach. He grins. "Yeah."

Inukashi's expression is one of amused incredulity. "You're a nutcase. Who actually enjoys this stuff?"

Shion shrugs and laughs self-consciously. "Me, apparently." The dog in his arms yaps impatiently, and he gives her a short glare. "Okay, okay! I was talking to your owner." He returns to his scrubbing and Inukashi puffs out a disbelieving chuckle.

They drop onto the grass a safe distance away from the water, and watch Shion for a while in comfortable silence – Shion can feel the dark eyes boring into him. It doesn't bother him. He's only held this job for a couple of weeks, but he can already tell that underneath their gruff exterior Inukashi is a really nice person.

Inukashi snickers to themself as they observe Shion's concentrated scrubbing. "If you carry on working like that, I might let you help me walk them, too."

"Really? That would be great!" Shion's grin is so wide his cheeks are aching, but he can't help it. He's become so attached to the dogs in such a short time. Inukashi, too.

Inukashi grimaces. "Geez, how can you wear that brainless expression? I get embarrassed just looking at you."

Shion laughs freely as the dog sends more muddy water splattering onto his cardigan. "I can't help it."

"I gathered," Inukashi muttered through a wry smile. They settle into a calm lull in conversation, filled only by the splashing of water and bubbling of muddy lather. Shion finds the repetitive motions calming, therapeutic almost; he catches himself with half-lidded eyes and sharply blinks himself awake again.

"What happened inside?" falls out of his mouth before he can stop it, and he immediately curses his loose and sleepy tongue.

"Huh?" Inukashi questions, an eyebrow raised as they idly scratch at their neck.

Shion clears his throat awkwardly, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut. "I just mean, uh… You said you were going inside for ice cream, but you were inside for a good fifteen minutes, and I heard shouting, and now you've come outside again without ice cream. I was wondering if something happened."

Inukashi blinks, momentarily taken aback, as if they'd already forgotten all about it. But then a predatory smirk spreads across their face, and knowledge glints in dark eyes. They seem to be considering something, casting secretive glances back in the direction of the house. It feeds Shion's curiosity even more. "Oh, something really interesting happened. Turns out, it really is a small world."

Shion pauses then, to send Inukashi a confused look. "How do you mean?"

Black eyes narrow in consideration, thoughtful, as if wondering whether to tell him or not. Shion wonders at this – is he asking for personal information? But Inukashi doesn't seem to particularly mind his curiosity, and their smirk grows into a wolfish grin as they answer, "It turns out you know my dipshit brother."

"I do?" Shion is growing more perplexed by the moment. His thorough scrubbing has turned into idle strokes, and his pale brows have knitted themselves together in bemusement.

Inukashi starts laughing; hearty guffaws you wouldn't think could be produced by such a small frame. "You… What a case! How'd a space case like you get involved with that bastard?"

Okay, now Shion is not only bewildered but also a little unnerved. Who the hell is Inukashi talking about? It's not as if he has many acquaintances, so it must be someone he knows well enough to remember clearly. He's met all of Safu's friends and relatives, and most of his own besides his mother are dead or gone…

Didn't Nezumi say he had a sister?

"Oh!" Shion exclaims suddenly, and nearly tips the bucket of water over in realisation. "You're Nezumi's sister!"

"Sibling," Inukashi corrects drily. "Did he say sister? That son of a bitch," they grumble.

Shion blinks, readjusting his glasses self-consciously. "Sorry. He didn't tell me." Now that he thinks about it, he's never seen Inukashi in anything other than a plain t-shirt and shorts.

Inukashi shrugs with a contented sigh as they lean back on their arms and drink in the summer sunlight. "S'okay. He's always doing that. I think it's revenge for that one time I cut up his favourite dress to make blankets for the dogs."

There are many things in that sentence Shion isn't sure how to feel about, but he mentions none of them.

"Anyway, that stuff's boring. I wanna know about you." Inukashi scoots closer. "Nezumi won't tell me anything."

"Me?" he repeats with a tinge of dread at the approaching conversation. He isn't used to talking about himself. "I guess… my mother runs a bakery?" he asks more than states. "She's really good at baking. It's really popular and we get so many customers on some days that I have to help so we can serve two at a time, otherwise the shop is overloaded with people."

Inukashi's expression turns thoughtful. "Huh. Maybe I'll pay you a visit sometime then. Might be able to get some free snacks."

Shion laughs. "Probably."

"See you on Thursday," Shion says on the doorstep. "And thanks again."

Inukashi rolls their eyes from the doorway. "You don't need to thank me every time, you know."

Shion lets out an awkward chuckle. "Yeah."

"See ya later."

Shion waves as he departs, and the front door is shut firmly as he steps onto the sidewalk. He gives the house a long look. This is Nezumi's house. How many times have I been here already and not realised? I wonder if he's seen me around. He must have. Inukashi knew about Nezumi and me, so he must have told them.

He turns and heads home down the dirty streets of West Block. He pulls his hat further down and tries not to look suspicious, but Inukashi has already warned him about all the dangerous places he should avoid, so he isn't too worried. Not even the potential threat of being mugged can take the spring out of his step right now.

Lost Town isn't too far away, and it only takes him a half hour before he can smell home. The unique scent of bakery is strong, even from the end of the street.

The shop bell tinkles cheerily above him, announcing his arrival and welcoming him inside. "I'm home."

"Welcome back!" comes the muffled voice of Karan from somewhere else in the house.

He strips off his cardigan, now thick with mud and heavy with water, and heads for the washing machine in the basement. There's a basket full of dirty colours waiting patiently beside the machine, so he shoves the whole lot in together.

Karan's footsteps echo as she joins him at the machine, holding an armful of school shirts. "How was work?" she asks, dropping the clothes onto the whites pile.

"Great." He grins broadly. "The weather was really nice today, so we washed the dogs outside, which was easier. And Inukashi said they might let me walk the dogs too!"

Karan's smile reflects his own. "That's nice. It would certainly be a far cleaner job than this one. At this rate, we're going to have to buy you more clothes because they're all in the wash!"

Shion laughs. "Hopefully not. Buying clothes is boring. Hang on, I'll make some coffee."

"Don't over-brew it again," Karan warns, but she only receives more laughter and an unreliable-sounding, "I'll try!" in response as Shion leaps up the stairs two at a time.

He's searching for two clean mugs in the cupboard as he hears his mother's voice call up to him. "Oh, and Nezumi dropped by today."

He nearly drops the mugs on the floor. "He – he did?"

"Yeah. He wanted to talk to you so I let him wait here for a while, but he had to go home before he had the chance."

Shion isn't sure what to say. Nezumi has been avoiding him for weeks – he was sure that whatever they'd had, some kind of tentative friendship, had been destroyed by his confession.

Apparently not.

What had Nezumi wanted to talk about? Did he just want to make it official that their friendship is over? Surely he wouldn't be so nasty as to come and rub Shion's feelings in his face. And even if he did, it's been a month already. Wouldn't he have done it sooner, if it was something like that?

Karan joins him in the kitchen and takes over on the coffee-making front, as it seems the new knowledge has frozen all of Shion's joints in place. He numbly watches as she turns on the kettle and spoons the coffee into the coffee press. She eyes him thoughtfully. "I don't think it was about anything bad, if that's what you're thinking."

"How can you tell? You don't know for sure that he was trying to make up." He hadn't meant to sound so pathetic, but Karan only gives him a sympathetic, motherly look.

She shrugs. "He wouldn't have waited here for so long if he only planned to be rude. And he seemed nervous." She looks as if she's about to say something else, but then she turns back to the whistling kettle and shakes her head as she pours.

"You shouldn't put boiling water in," Shion mumbles. It earns him a flick to the nose. "Ow."

Karan is smiling. "Say that again after you've learned not to leave the coffee brewing for fifteen minutes."

Nezumi stopped by.

Shion turns the words over and over in his mind, dissecting them and stitching them back up repeatedly, searching for some possible hidden motive. Yet he could find none, and his mother had seemed pretty certain that Nezumi was here on good terms. As much as Shion doubts Nezumi's intentions, he trusts his mother.

He reaches for his cell on the nightstand and stares at the blank screen for a good minute, chewing nervously on his lip with indecision. He and Nezumi had exchanged numbers shortly before everything went to shit, but they'd never had cause to message each other.

Until now.

Shion puffs out a long, determined sigh and finally begins scrolling through his contacts. There aren't very many – he's hardly a social butterfly, after all – and so it doesn't take long to find Nezumi's name squished between Mama and Safu.

Pale, bony fingers hover hesitantly above the keypad. What do I say? he asks himself blankly, totally lost. He isn't even particularly sure what he wants to talk about. Maybe thank Nezumi for dropping by? But that would sound formal and unnatural, like his mother had goaded him into it to be polite. He could ask Nezumi why he dropped by… but that might sound like he was guarded and suspicious.

I'm over-thinking this.

He shakes his head in frustration at himself, ruffling the white locks, and pushes his glasses up his nose as he begins to type.

Did you kno

He backpedals. Huffs.

How ar

Backspace, backspace, backspace.

I got a job working for yo

"For god's sake!" he exclaims at himself, fighting the urge to just throw the offensive technology at the wall. He takes three deep breaths, rubs at his neck, and erases everything again.

This process – begin, erase, sulk – continues for another ten minutes as Shion lets himself agonise over every word, questioning all different meanings and interpretations. He even starts to second-guess his typing style before he sees he has an incoming call from Safu. The panic sets in and he quickly makes up his mind, hurriedly sending the text in his rush to answer before Safu hangs up in boredom.

Nezumi's phone buzzes somewhere near his left ear. He languidly rolls over on the bed and fumbles for the cell on his pillow, swearing under his breath at being woken up from his nap. This had better be a fucking good text, he grumbles mentally.

It takes his sleepy self a couple of tries to get his passcode right. His heart throws itself into hurried action when he reads the sender name, and he immediately blinks himself awake. Shion? he thinks, confused and pleasantly surprised. He opens the text.

Inukashi is supper nice

His head hits the pillow with a muffled thump. For a moment, Nezumi isn't quite sure how to react. He eyes the spelling mistake. Is he drunk or just an idiot? he wonders faintly, before deciding that he is definitely not in the mood to deal with Shion's stupidity right now – especially if it's drunk stupidity – and promptly goes back to sleep.

This is so stupid, Shion rants mentally as he rolls around on his bed, as he has been doing for the past half hour. I'm stuck here at home with absolutely nothing to do – I can't even study because I've missed so many classes that I don't understand anything anymore! He groans with irritable boredom and flips onto his back, his thoughtful gaze fixed on some point far beyond the off-white ceiling. The last time he'd left the house was two days ago when he'd gone to work and discovered Nezumi's link to Inukashi. He'd finished all his homework ages ago, and when he'd tried to call Safu this morning she'd answered with obvious annoyance, snapping that he was 'interrupting her study time' and 'could he please call back later'.

Shion angrily propels himself sideways – and almost finds his face becoming a very close acquaintance with the carpet, barely catching himself with a stray hand and knee. He sighs with frustration and somehow manages to gather himself into a standing position. He absently rakes a hand through mussed-up hair.

"Shion!" Karan hollers from downstairs, and said man almost jumps out of his skin with shock.

"Yeah?"

"Could you come down here a sec?"

He's downstairs like a thunderbolt. "What's the matter?" he asks – no, pleads.

Give me something to do.

Karan merely raises an eyebrow at her son's antics. "The shop is pretty busy right now," she says, and Shion suddenly notices the crowd of people surrounding her. "Could you please run some errands for me? There are some ingredients I need to stock up on, but the shop that sells them closes soon."

Shion's grin is bright and eager. "Sure."

The sigh that escapes Shion's lips is disappointed. It hadn't taken long to find the right shop, and all she'd needed were poppy seeds and brown flour. He trudges back through the baking noon streets, busy and bustling with people eager to celebrate the weekend, and wishes he could share their enthusiasm. Suspension had sounded almost fun at first – a whole month without school? It's a delinquent's paradise. Unfortunately, Shion is no delinquent, and it had only taken a week for the pain of regret to sink in. In just a few short days his life had become an endless string of dreary moments at home, sighing to himself or wishing there was someone he could talk to, something he could do to pass the time during school hours.

At least he's going back to school on Monday. I can wait just a couple more days, he reassures himself, and it works, just a bit.

He's at the front door before he realises it, and he lets himself in with a resigned sigh, offering a few polite smiles to friendly customers before unceremoniously dumping the ingredients on the kitchen counter and heading upstairs.

He pauses in the doorway to his bedroom, momentarily lost for what to do. An idea strikes him, and he grins at the prospect of finding something interesting to pass the time. He heads for his schoolbag, angrily dumped in the corner to brood last month, and unzips. He rummages through papers and papers and papers, all wedged awkwardly and bent backwards trying to accommodate the hefty textbooks sandwiching them.

That's weird, he thinks. I swear I put it in here.

A good minute later, Shion realises that his sheet music is most definitely not in his backpack. His brow furrows in confusion and thought. Did I already take it out for some reason? he wonders, rubbing idly at his neck. I don't remember looking at it since before I got suspended.

It hits him.

"You idiot!" Shion hisses at himself, slapping a palm to his forehead. Nezumi had asked to practise the new passages, and Shion had handed over the music – of course, he hadn't been expecting to be separated from Nezumi for the next month. Nezumi still has it.

Shion scrambles to find his phone. This time, he quickly types and sends Do you have my sheet music? with neither hesitation nor obsessive thought to the message content.

A minute later a reply flashes at him impatiently. Yeah, it reads. You want it?

If you're not using it, he replies, wondering tensely if this civil conversation means Nezumi and he are back on good terms. Perhaps that last text, however awkward and not-replied-to, really did break the ice.

At the very least it seems to have broken Nezumi's icy persona. Actually, I was thinking of using it for origami. I could use some practice.

Shion is torn between laughing and sighing in frustration. Very funny.

Meet at school in 20 minutes?

Why school? Shion replies, puzzled.

I left something in my locker yesterday. Two birds with one stone.

Shion shrugs at no one. Ok.

In the end it takes him a much longer than twenty minutes – he'd punctured a tyre on his bike just one street away from his house and had to take it back home again, and it always takes longer to walk to school than cycle.

Shion worries his lip between his teeth as he approaches the building, empty and looming and somehow intimidating without the usual hustle and bustle of students. He neurotically checks his watch for the third time this minute and increases his pace until he's almost breaking out into a clear run. He's fifteen minutes late, and Nezumi isn't exactly known for his patience. What if he's already left?

For some reason, Shion is immensely nervous about this meet-up. His instincts are whispering that something is a little off. Maybe it's the fact that Nezumi didn't just return the sheet music when he'd visited Karan, or maybe it's that he wants to meet at school, which, to be perfectly honest, has Shion more than a little suspicious. Who goes to school on Saturdays just to pick something up from their locker?

He pushes on the front door and breathes a heavily sigh of relief when it gives way, but quickly realises he has no idea where in the school Nezumi actually is.

But before he can go searching for him, his sophomore World History teacher spots him from the far end of the corridor. He eyes Shion suspiciously and converges on him.

"What is a student doing here?" he asks, voice carefully slow. "And an excluded one, at that?"

Shion clears his throat. "I'm sorry," he begins in his most humble tone, "but I left something here, and I just came to get it. I'll go right away."

The tall man raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing the lie for a second. "Right," he deadpans.

Shion's insides twist. "Sir, I –"

But the teacher only shushes him, waving his protests away dismissively. "I'm not going to get you in trouble, Shion. You're a good kid. And I'm sure you have a half-decent reason to be here; who in their right mind comes to school during their exclusion? And on a weekend, to boot?" His lips curl into an awkward half-smile, as if he hasn't had quite enough practice making the expression. "Go on. Just make sure no one else sees you; there are quite a few teachers here today on a mandatory training course." He leans a little closer, as if telling a secret. "It's on the second floor."

Shion nods gratefully at the warning, remembering acutely why this man had been his favourite teacher that year. "Thank you," he says to the aged face, and the words are as sincere as the warm grin that accompanies them. "I won't let you down."

The teacher shakes his head in an affectionately disapproving sort of manner, and that's the last Shion sees of him as he strides away.

His legs work on autopilot as he mentally runs through a list of possible places Nezumi could be. At the top of the list is by Nezumi's locker; he did say that there was something he needed to retrieve, after all.

He makes a sharp left turn into the correct corridor, but it's barren. He comes to an abrupt halt.

Okay, he thinks slowly and deliberately, reigning in confused thoughts and the first twinges of panic at the absence of the walking enigma. Where would Nezumi think I would look? That's probably where he is.

Next destination: Shion's own locker.

But the next hallway over is also empty, and Shion huffs out a frustrated sigh, carding a pale, bony hand through tangled hair. His next choice would naturally be the rooftop. Nezumi always seemed to enjoy the freedom of the fresh spring air on those occasions they ate lunch together up on the roof, when the breeze was still as sharp as Nezumi's tongue.

Those moments seem worlds away now.

Shion breathes out heavily, exhaling the sudden heaviness in his chest as he forces himself to stay on track. Yes, the roof would normally be his next option… except the second floor is in the way. He can hear even from his current position that the second floor is packed with teachers.

So, that rules out the roof. Nezumi might be sneaky as hell when he wants to be, but not even he would risk it, knowing that Shion would have to follow him.

"Nezumi…" Shion breathes, a quiet plea for the man to appear miraculously in front of him. He runs his hands over his face as if scrubbing away the annoyance and chooses a direction at random. His steps are light and quick, desperation bubbling up and stirring his very blood into agitation.

Shion suddenly realises he hasn't seen Nezumi's face for an entire month.

Perhaps this thought had triggered some kind of tracking mechanism in Shion's mind; he isn't quite certain. But within a minute he knows he's close. He can feel Nezumi's presence in his bones.

So at least you have some natural instincts, a resonating voice teases him, and Shion lets out a breathy chuckle as he recognises Nezumi's smooth tone in his inner monologue.

He stops dead in his tracks.

Somewhere ahead of him – very close – he can hear a voice. Distinct. Clear.

Nezumi.

Shion isn't sure why this revelation requires a quietening of footsteps or a hush of shallow breathing, but it does. The voice gets louder and less muffled the closer he tiptoes towards the main hall, and the pleasant chimes of an accompanying piano also meet his ears. With surprise, Shion realises that Nezumi is singing, and he can't stop himself from edging closer along the wall until he hits the grand double-doors. One is just barely ajar, and he gives it a small push, relief washing through him when it swings open without a creak.

Nezumi is ensconced at the piano, liquid velvet pouring off his tongue as the melody flows unhindered. Each note is pure and golden, like honey pooling warmth in Shion's chest, and the stream of sound flawlessly soars and dives and swims in his ears like molten diamond until nothing besides Nezumi's voice exists in his world anymore. The music throbs and winds and twists itself between the fibres of Shion's mind, and he is certain that what he is hearing right now, the silken melody woven by Nezumi's tongue, is the most beautiful, crystalline perfection he will ever experience.

With a start, Shion realises it's his own composition.

His phone clatters to the ground, and Nezumi breaks off. The sudden silence is deafening as they are momentarily and infinitely trapped in a single second of hitched breath and eye contact.

Nezumi moves.

"I'm – s-sorry," Shion stutters, rasped words gracelessly tumbling out in stark contrast to the sound that had so recently filled the room. "I'll –"

But he can't quite form the rest of the sentence, because Nezumi has left the piano and is heading his way, his determined stance the flipside of the almost vulnerable glimmer in those inescapable stormy eyes.

He slows to a stop in front of Shion, standing close – so very, very close – and then pauses, uncertainty clear as day in his tense shoulders and turbulent gaze. He seems about to say something, but swallows the words down again at the last moment, a rugged sigh the only sound escaping his lips. This close, Shion can see the deep flush on the man's neck, and hear the quick, rough breaths that brush his own cheek, and he observes as Nezumi's final walls crumble, crashing at their feet.

Standing before him is Nezumi, soft and unguarded and looking like he might flee at any moment, and Shion has never felt such a breathtaking swell of love.

He hears his own heart hammer wildly in his throat as a pale, slender hand lifts to his cheek, touch feather-light as if afraid Shion might break. Nezumi's eyes never leave his own, unsure and almost asking for permission as the hand presses with wavering confidence, and Shion's movement is automatic as he reaches up and lays his own hand over Nezumi's, a silent reassurance, a gentle squeeze. It's okay.

It's all Nezumi needs.

He leans forwards and two pairs of eyes flutter closed, their heated breaths echoing in their ears as Nezumi closes the chasm between them.