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‟Niichan?” Sho edged closer warily, reaching out.
Shinji twisted away with a huff. ‟Remembered I exist, have you?” he asked bitterly, and Sho flinched.
‟Niichan.” Sho pressed his lips together, trying not to cry. ‟I. . . I wanted- Are you okay?” he asked, though he knew Shinji wasn’t - how could he be when. . .
Sho’s gaze drifted down to Shinji’s thigh, still thickly bandaged.
‟No!” Shinji snapped, reaching down and grabbing his leg, grimacing as he hauled it up closer to his body. ‟It hurts and it’ll never-” He looked away.
‟Niichan?” Sho took another step, tentatively resting his hand on Shinji’s shoulder. ‟I- I’m sorry, it-”
‟Get off!” Shinji barked, and Sho jerked back so quickly he nearly stumbled, breath catching. ‟Don’t touch me! Just- Leave me alone.”
Sho lifted his hand, then yanked it back, twisting his fingers together. He swallowed, taking a shaky breath.
‟You want to spend time with that monster,” Shinji turned his head, glaring at Sho sidelong, ‟go on then, cuddle up to that, just don’t-” He shook his head hard.
Sho protested - he was worried about his brother, and- and Kei wasn’t a monster and he was trying to help besides - but Shinji cut him off before he could get out more than a few quick syllables. Sho tried, but when Shinji kept turning away, not quite managing to hide his face going tight with pain, and snapped at him. . .
Sho retreated, biting his lip and fighting tears. Tears never helped anything, he knew that - knew it without Shinji’s pointed reminders - and- and it didn’t matter, it wasn’t. . .
‟And don’t fucking cry!” Shinji said harshly, though he wasn’t even looking at Sho. ‟Just go!”
‟I’m sorry niichan.” Sho said softly, backing away, and Shinji swiped a hand at him as though he were still too close. Sho bit his lip and slipped out the open doorway, stepping around the broken tumble of bricks at one side of it before closing his eyes and taking a shaky breath.
He was sorry, and he didn’t know. . . He swallowed hard, fighting not to cry. It doesn’t help, it doesn’t help, it doesn’t help, he repeated silently, forcing the tears back, forcing himself to calm down.
He couldn’t get the sight of Shinji sprawled on the dirt, clutching his bleeding leg, out of his mind.
‟You okay?”
Sho took a breath, opening his eyes to meet Toshi’s concerned gaze. He nodded. ‟Shinji is just. . . Ah.” He broke off, looking away.
‟Still grouchy, huh?” Toshi asked, almost light though there was a shadow of upset in his eyes, and Sho sighed, leaning against his friend for a moment. He nodded, glancing back towards where Shinji had hidden himself away. ‟Why does he dislike Kei so much, anyway?” Toshi asked quietly, following Sho’s glance.
Sho bit his lip.
‟Sho! Sho stop! Your friend, he’s a monster! Sho!”
Sho shook his head. Kei wasn’t a monster. And Kei had saved them - Shinji had gotten hurt but they were all alive.
All except that man who had come to take back what they’d stolen and take revenge for their theft. The man who had hurt Shinji and nearly killed all three of them. Would have - if it hadn’t been for Kei.
‟I don’t know.” Sho said softly.
Toshi hummed, fidgeting beside Sho. ‟Yeah, it’s weird. . . Kei’s great.” he said, and Sho smiled at him. ‟Hey! C’mon!” He caught hold of Sho’s arm and dragged him off, babbling something about a game and maybe a mark - his words so quick they almost ran into one another - and Sho shook his head and ran after his friend, glancing back towards the space his brother was holed up in just once.
He didn’t know how to help, and Shinji didn’t want his help - didn’t even want his presence, and that hurt, but . . . Sho didn’t know what to do.
He let himself be distracted by Toshi’s latest idea for now, hushing him distractedly as they passed beneath the higher alcove where Kei usually slept, away from both the little places where they slept - and the new one Shinji had retreated to recently, alone - and the place they stashed all their stuff, their makeshift kitchen and all.
They’d probably woken him anyway, Sho thought, but they were soon past and out into the fading sunlight.
Sho held his breath as he crept through the shadowed inner corridor, peeking around the corner and-
Kei’s tiny, whimpering breaths cut off with a sharp gasp as he woke, his whole body arching.
Sho jerked back, pressing his curled hand to his chest.
Kei was still for a moment, then took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. It came with a shaky almost-cry, and Sho bit his lip, unable to just leave.
‟Kei?” he called softly, though Kei was almost impossible to startle.
‟Aa, Sho.” Kei said, pushing himself up slowly. He rubbed his face, his shaggy hair falling around his hand; much shorter now than it had been when Sho found him a few weeks ago, it didn’t hide his face much, and Sho could see his expression tight with. . .
Pain? Fear?
‟Are you all right?” Sho asked, reaching out and touching Kei’s shoulder, careful.
Kei shook his head, shoulder twitching. Sho froze, fingers barely making contact with Kei.
‟It’s fine.” Kei said shortly, tilting his head. ‟Go on, Sho. Leave me alone,” he said, and Sho folded his arms around himself, remembering Shinji’s sharp snap, given . . . so many times lately, ‟you should. . . Be out playing or something.”
Sho couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually spent time playing that wasn’t geared towards a distraction or a lure.
Kei turned towards him with a frown and Sho tensed.
‟Are you all right?” Kei asked, reaching out and cupping Sho’s elbow, thumb rubbing over his forearm. ‟Do you need something?”
Sho took a hitching breath, opening his mouth, then closing it, licking his lips. He shook his head.
‟Hm.” Kei looked up at him, hand falling away, and Sho made a tiny noise before he could catch it back. Kei cocked his head.
‟Are- Are you sure you’re okay?” Sho asked, inching closer. ‟I was worried.” he admitted.
Kei looked startled for a moment, then his expression softened. ‟Yes. Thank you.” he added, and Sho blinked. ‟You shouldn’t worry about me.”
Sho frowned. ‟You’re my friend.” he said pointedly, and Kei smiled, faint and somehow sad. ‟Kei.”
‟Thank you.” Kei said again, and Sho’s brows drew together in confusion. ‟You should stay away from me,” he said, and Sho opened his mouth to protest, ‟but I’m glad you didn’t.” He reached up, brushing a thumb over Sho’s chin as he relaxed.
‟Me too.” Sho said, ducking his head. ‟’m glad I found you.”
Kei’s smile widened, steadier this time. ‟You want to help?” he asked, and Sho blinked, but nodded rapidly. Kei lifted his arms. ‟Give me a hug and then go on.” he said gently.
Sho paused for a moment, then lunged, wrapping his arms around Kei and rocking him back on the cot he had scavenged. Kei laughed softly, hugging Sho tight, and he . . . leaned into it, cheek rubbing against Kei’s shoulder. Kei felt steady and strong, but it was comforting as he squeezed Sho close, not alarming.
‟Thank you, little one.” Kei said, rubbing his back, then turning him loose. ‟Go on and do something fun, aa?”
Sho hummed dubiously, but let himself be shooed away, glancing back once to see Kei slouching there, toying with an unlit cigarette, rather than going back to sleep. Sho wavered, but. . .
He wasn’t . . . quite . . . sure enough of himself to stay, even if he was still worried for Kei.
He went to find Toshi, hesitating for a moment, then passing by the little alcove Shinji had staked out as his own space without going inside. Shinji had . . . made it really clear he didn’t want Sho to check on him, or try to help, or. . . Or anything.
Sho glanced over at where Toshi slept peacefully - at least, he assumed; Toshi was sprawled out on his back, mouth open, snoring faintly.
Normally Sho might be amused, but the clawing terror of his nightmare clung too fiercely. He shuddered and scrambled out of his pallet, feeling marginally better once he was on his feet.
He glanced back at Toshi again, then slipped out of the room, wrapping his arms around himself. He felt a little sick, his heart still racing.
He hesitated, fidgeting on his toes, looking towards the little space where he knew he would be able to find Shinji. He glanced upwards, at the path towards where Kei slept, then back, and. . .
He remembered Kei looking sorrowful but smiling at Sho anyway. Remembered. . .
Sho trotted upwards without looking back, breath hitching as he fought tears. It was morning, but only early, maybe Kei would. . .
Kei was awake; he was up and moving around, muttering as he rummaged through a box. Sho stopped, the certainty that had led him up here suddenly faltering.
‟Sho?” Kei turned, and Sho almost, almost bolted, out of sight and back to- ‟Sho! What’s wrong?” Kei asked, moving closer.
Sho wavered, taking a shaky breath. It was stupid, it was-
Kei stroked his cheek, smoothed his hair, then slid a hand over his back, drawing him in, and Sho’s mind went blank.
‟Na, Sho, it’s all right. . .” Kei hugged him gently, and Sho shuddered, fingers curling into Kei’s sweater. ‟What happened?”
Sho shook his head, eyes burning. Kei tsked, rubbing his back and making an encouraging noise.
‟It- It’s stupid.” Sho said, leaning back enough to rub his eye, taking a short, sharp breath to try and control his tears. ‟It was just- It was a dream, it doesn’t. . .”
Kei cupped his jaw and Sho looked up to meet soft green eyes. ‟If it upset you, it matters.” he said quietly, and Sho froze. ‟It’s all right, though; it’s gone now, aa?” he asked with a small smile, thumb brushing below Sho’s eye.
Sho took a hitching breath, then cringed as the tears spilled over. ‟It’s gone it’s fine it’s-” he started, squeezing his eyes closed, then broke off, startled, as-
He opened his eyes as Kei drew back; he could still feel the soft brush of lips on his brow. He sniffed thoughtlessly, and Kei brushed a tear away. Sho whined before he could stop himself, feeling humiliated; he ought to be able to-
‟There, crybaby,” Kei said, and Sho’s eyes widened, ‟it’s all right.”
Sho struggled to stop crying, he wasn’t a- It wasn’t-
Smoothing his hair, Kei tugged him in, and he was right there . . . Sho gave in to impulse and turned his face in against Kei’s chest, hiding away even if he couldn’t control himself.
‟It’s not bad,” Kei said softly, his chest thrumming as he spoke, ‟to feel things, or to let it show, little one. When you’re safe.”
Sho blinked, staring into the deep grey of Kei’s sweater, so close it was blurry. He sniffled. Kei crooned, hugging him a little tighter, and- and he was safe, it was Kei, right? And. . . And maybe Kei wasn’t . . . wrong, even if tears didn’t help anything, it was. . .
Sho sniffled again and hid his face against Kei even as he gave up and let himself cry, wrapping his arms around Kei’s waist. Kei hummed, soft and soothing, swaying a little, and it was . . . comforting.
‟I’ve got you, little one.” Kei murmured, and Sho nodded, letting out a shaky breath that wasn’t quite a sob.