Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It takes time, Mizuki thinks of it almost as rebuilding a demolished house, starting with the foundations and working up, making sure the base is strong enough to support everything else. As with building a house, sometimes it is utterly exhausting, sometimes he feels like they’re getting there, the blocks are all laid and then something happens and the mortar crumbles and they’re almost back where they started.

Sly talks about him in therapy now, he’d mentioned it casually but Mizuki knows it’s anything but. It shows Sly is working too, that he’s as invested in this as Mizuki, it shows he cares.

Sly still isn’t great at being affectionate, he’s definitely trying but he sometimes seems like a marionette, being pulled by invisible strings. Mizuki can tell now, when he’s being genuine, when he’s soft because he wants to be and not because he feels he should be.

It’s growth, in the right direction this time.

They spend a lot of time together, Mizuki’s dropped down his bar-tending shifts even more, he’s only doing a couple a week now and his full focus is on tattoos and on Sly. Things are generally going pretty good and though they bicker almost constantly, they have very few actual arguments. They both seem generally happy, contented. 

It's good. 

But.

Mizuki feels bad for even thinking there's a but, but (again) there is. 

They're not having sex.

Which isn't a problem, Mizuki doesn't mind, he just doesn't know why they're not having sex. He thinks maybe Sly is nervous, after all, he's probably not had sex in quite a while, nor has Mizuki. But then Sly was never insecure about his sexual abilities, so he sort of doubts that's the reason. He wonders if Sly is taking his words about going slow very seriously, which is good because when Mizuki said it he meant it, there's no need to rush, they have time now. It's not quite promised time, but it feels pretty close. 

It’s only been a few months since Sly’s romantic speech of sorts, Mizuki thinks maybe that’s a normal time frame, they’re getting to know each other again and Sly is still recovering from everything that’s ever happened to him, everything that made him leave and everything that happened when he did.

He thinks it'll happen when it's meant to, when Sly is ready. Besides, there's only been a few throw away comments about being keen, so it's not like there's a real issue surrounding it.

That is, of course, until there is. 

The issue becomes more apparent, Mizuki doesn't exactly think he's been trying to convince Sly to have sex, it's more than things have led towards that direction, have naturally swayed towards that outcome. They've never reached it though. 

At first it's almost a joke, they're kissing, things are going places, then Sly will laugh and push him back and tell him to cool off, or he'll say it's still too hot, or he'll say he's too full. Normal things, normal excuses. But that’s what they are, excuses, Mizuki can never quite believe them but he’s pretty sure Sly won’t tell him the actual reason even if he asks. 

It takes a while to get weird, and though Mizuki has always respectfully backed off when it's suggested he should, Sly seems to be running out of excuses, out of reasons to say they shouldn't. He's ran out of stupid jokes and, 'easy tigers'.

Mizuki’s also starting to get a bit frustrated by it, he’s mature enough that he can hide it well enough and he also knows that Sly doesn’t owe him anything but getting all worked up then let down over and over is beginning to wear on him. He also knows its sort of his own fault, he’s the one who starts it knowing how it will end, he’s the one who kisses Sly knowing full well he’ll end up unsatisfied.

He thinks maybe he should give up for a while, but then Sly comes over with his pretty hair and his smile and all his thoughts of letting it be go out the window because he wants Sly, in his bed and in his arms and in his everywhere.

It’s unfortunate, really, that Sly only seems to get more attractive, more appealing with every day that passes, it’s sort of hard not to touch when he sits there looking so gorgeous, when he’s so soft.

Mizuki is beginning to worry, Sly texted that he’d set off over 45 minutes ago and he is yet to appear, Mizuki knows it’s nowhere near that long a walk and he’s wondering if Sly had just completely changed his mind. Maybe his mood has done a 180 and he’s decided he’d rather be at home, or with Noiz, he wouldn’t mind if he had decided that, he’d just like to know what’s going on so he can amend his own plans accordingly.

He’s stood by the dining table debating whether it’s too clingy to text him when the door opens and Sly appears, visibly panting and literally glistening with sweat.

Mizuki, somewhat stunned by his bedraggled appearance, just stares at him open mouthed, notices his hair is plastered to his head with sweat and cannot for the life of him think of a single thing to say.

“Oh thank fuck it’s cool in here,” he exclaims, wiping a hand over his forehead and leaving a smear of wet sweat down his shirt as he wipes his palm clean, he kicks his shoes off messily and walks with exhausted but determined footsteps towards the fan. When he gets there, much to Mizuki’s amusement, he lifts his shirt up and puts it over the fan so the cold air can hit his chest, sighing in relief and stood there T-posing.

“Hot out?”

Sly’s head snaps over, he looks very irritated, the soothing of the fan seems to have faded and he looks irked, too hot and his face blotchy and red, Mizuki thinks he might even have started to burn. “It’s like walking on the sun.”

Mizuki laughs, but Sly isn’t done, “my trainers were melting,” Mizuki laughs again, “I’m not joking, look at them! They’re fucked!”

Mizuki, curious, does as instructed and picks up a trainer. Sly, shockingly, is right, the sole at the bottom has begun to melt and widen, “Christ,” he breathes, looks out the high windows and can see the sun beaming down but is unable to comprehend it being that hot. He’s never known weather like it and the air con in the bar is obviously working wonders, “want a cold shower?”

He steps away from the fan, still looking bothered and sticky, points a slightly wobbly finger at him, “now you’re talking sense.”

“I’ll get you some clothes.”

“The smallest ones you have, I can’t handle being in long pants.”

“Hot pants it is,” he grins, “think I’ve got some somewhere.” Sly gives him a weak thumbs up and ditches the fan altogether and heads towards the bathroom, already stripping his damp shirt off with a disgusted sort of groan. “Want some company?”

It’s a joke, a poorly timed one that doesn’t quite come out as a joke, but luckily Sly just gives him an amused look and, adopting a wry tone says, “don’t be ridiculous, it’s far too hot for that.” Then, suddenly, petulantly, “I want a drink when I get out, a cold one, with lots of ice.”

“Can do.”

Sly sighs out the word, “sensational,” then the bathroom door shuts behind him.

The clothes are outside the bathroom door when Sly is done but he doesn’t bother putting on anything except the boxers, the shower has cooled him down nicely but he still feels overheated, bothered. He hasn’t washed his hair, the idea of it resting damply on his shoulders is off-putting, he doesn’t need any more moisture on his skin today as far as he is concerned. He’s only dried off roughly, even the action of rubbing the towel across his skin has broken him out into a mild sweat and he’s rapidly realising that this is the sort of weather where you are unable to do anything except stay very, very still.

Mizuki’s somewhere else, the kitchen maybe, so Sly shoves the coffee table to the side, aims the fan at himself, and plops down in front of the sofa so the cold air can hit him, it’s nice, he’s just relaxed, exhaled and shut his eyes when he hears the tinkle of ice on glass and there’s a warm hand on his shoulder.

“You’ve gained weight.”

The voice is friendly, so Sly looks up at him and half-heartedly asks, “you calling me fat?”

Mizuki snorts, sits down next to him, slings an arm over his shoulders, leans his head back against the seat and looks up at the ceiling, “definitely not. This is just the most I’ve seen of you in a while.”

“I guess,” he says, he wonders if he should feel weird about it, looks down at himself and feels mostly neutral, his body looks fine, bigger than it used to be but not so much that it’s of any concern to him. “Granny’s trying to fatten me up, keeps saying I’m too skinny.”

Mizuki hums absently and Sly turns his attention to the drink, on the coffee table just out of his reach, he can see beads of condensation gathering and gently trickling down the surface of the glass and it’s packed with ice. It looks fucking fantastic.

He makes a sort of grabby motion towards it with a hand and Mizuki rolls his eyes but shifts forwards to retrieve it for him, “what am I, your servant?”

“If you like,” Sly opines calmly, takes the first sip and feels bliss as his dry mouth is finally soothed, he feels like his headache is already fading, watches the condensation drip from the glass onto his bare stomach. “It’s still too hot for you to be this close to me.”

Mizuki isn’t sure if he’s being joking or if he’s using the temperature as a way to get space because he wants it, he figures he’ll assume it’s a joke for now and see how it goes, “I can’t even say hi?”

“You already did.”

Mizuki aims an unimpressed eyebrow at him and Sly tuts but relents and lets Mizuki kiss him hello anyway.

It’s weird, that they do this now, that they kiss hello and goodbye, that sometimes Mizuki kisses him just because he wants to, that sometimes Sly does the same. He finds it oddly reassuring, somehow, to know that any affection will be returned, mirrored. He wonders if maybe he’s still not sure what’s going on with them, what’s going on with him, finds it soothes his anxieties a little when Mizuki is so easily willing to touch him. It’s odd too, that he just lets himself be soft, that he lets himself flop against his shoulder or be held, he used to hate it, it used to make him feel so trapped, so without oxygen.

Sometimes when Mizuki holds him now, he feels like he can finally breathe again, like he’s been holding his breath for every second before Mizuki touched him but with his embrace he comes up for air.

Sometimes it’s kind of a lot.

“And?”

“Still very hot,” Mizuki confirms with a shrug, laughs as Sly flops down onto the couch dramatically, groaning like some kind of soap star, “not as hot, but it’s still pretty bad.”

“Fucking hell.”

“You know you could just stay over?”

Sly emerges from his pillow, says, “could I?”

Mizuki gives him a look, feels it’s a stupid question, says, “yeah? I mean I’ve got a fan in the bedroom so it doesn’t get too hot, probably be better than your place.”

Sly just looks at him, there’s something faintly worried in his expression, so Mizuki, not sure what’s caused it, raises his arms in surrender, “promise I won’t get handsy.”

It’s only half a joke, Sly’s face sort of twitches when he says it and Mizuki realises with a faint sense of dread that he’s right about why Sly was unsure about staying over, he’s worried about the subtext of that. It makes Mizuki feel a bit sick actually, he begins to wonder if he’s done something wrong, either now or in the past, something that has made Sly feel uncomfortable.

His words work though, Sly shrugs, agrees to stay, frowns up at Mizuki when he stays stood over him looking weird, reaches out to poke at his fingers and asks, “you okay?”

Mizuki comes back into the now, into the place where Sly will touch him of his own volition, into the place where they are fine, where everything is okay.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sly doesn’t look too sure, but seems faintly appeased when Mizuki sits down at his side and touches his face, sort of nudges into the hand. This touch, he seems to not mind, so Mizuki kisses him to test a theory he’s working on.

Sly allows this too, he’s fine with Mizuki’s hands on his sides, under his shirt.

He only objects when Mizuki’s hands slide under the waistband of the shorts he’d eventually put on, “what happened to not getting handsy?”

The hands withdraw, Sly feels their absence and feels relief and disappointment mingle together in a weird cacophony in his brain, Mizuki smiles but there’s something off in his face even as he grins, teases, “that was nothing.”

Sly seems okay for the rest of the night, they brush their teeth side by side at the sink and Mizuki only mildly chastises him for spraying toothpaste onto the mirror, he earns a stuck out tongue. He gets a cloth and cleans it though.

Progress.

That would have been an argument once.

Mizuki leaves him be, goes to turn on the fan in his bedroom and slides open his long windows so some vaguely cool air can get it, turns down the thin sheets and strips down to his boxers, plugs in his coil to charge. Gets into bed.

When Sly joins him not much later they have a brief argument about the fan and where it should be positioned, Mizuki has it at the end of the bed so both of them feel the effects, but Sly thinks it should be at one corner and should be aimed higher so it doesn’t just blow cool air at their feet. Mizuki gives up, rolls out of bed and performs the requested alterations, gets back under the sheet that is actually just an empty duvet cover and reluctantly admits that Sly was right, it’s a lot cooler now, he can feel a breeze over his arms and chest.

“Told you so,” he opines like he’s some sort of ancient wisdom with the knowledge of the universe, shifts around a bit then rolls onto his side, facing away from Mizuki, worms himself into a comfy position.

“Good night to you too,” Mizuki snorts, he’s only joking anyway, he’s pretty tired himself and it’s late enough that it’s finally dark outside, early hours of the morning maybe, he’s not entirely sure. He always seems to lose track of time when Sly is around.

“I’m not moving.”

Mizuki should really have expected that, rolls his eyes in the darkness and huffs as if greatly inconvenienced, is faintly amused when Sly rolls onto his back despite his own complaints, looks up at Mizuki hovering over him, caging him in his arms. There’s something faintly nervous about him, he bites his lip as Mizuki watches him, worries the skin there between his teeth, anxious.

He looks like he feels trapped, so Mizuki backs off, plants his elbows onto the mattress next to him, creates some space between them, watches Sly’s body loosen, relaxed, relieved. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” it’s not totally believable, but Mizuki will take it, “are you? You’re being weird.”

Mizuki watches him in the dark, Sly is projecting, “I’m fine, just tired.”

“So go to sleep,” Mizuki wants to say no, he wants to tell Sly to talk to him, he wants to know what's wrong. But he leaves it be, smiles and presses in to kiss him, the room is warm but Sly is warmer under his hands, Mizuki feels tightly wound, he wants to crowd over him and press him down into the sheets. He wants to feel his skin, warm and soft and desirable. He wants to strip him bare and kiss him everywhere.

But he doesn’t, the kiss isn’t brief but it isn’t long either, when he backs off Sly exhales, looks like he wants to chase him but doesn’t bother, sinks back down onto the pillow and just watches him. He looks faintly wary.

It’s making Mizuki feel sick, so he returns to his own side of the bed and gently adjusts Sly’s hair so he can’t accidentally roll onto it in the night and wake him up, kisses the top of his shoulder gently. Sly makes a little noise, contented, rolls back over.

He shuts his eyes.

He goes to sleep.

Sly is angry when he gets back from therapy, he's going every other week now since he's been doing so well, he also doesn't usually come over right after. Mizuki thinks he understands why. 

Mizuki's just emerging from the gym when Sly arrives, smiles at the sight of him then feels it falter as Sly hesitates in the doorway before coming inside, seemingly uncertain suddenly about even being there. 

"Hey," he smiles, he can tell something is wrong but he's still happy to see him, especially with his hair tied up into a bun on top of his head, it suits him, Mizuki has a vague idea in the back of his mind that he'd like to tug on it to see what noise he would make, to watch his throat as his head is forced back. He's moved closer, to say hello properly, to kiss him, maybe to play with the wispy hairs at the top of his neck. 

Sly shrinks back, frowns, flits his gaze from his face to his body, clad only in shorts and with a thin sheen of sweat covering it, then looks elsewhere altogether, swallows. 

Mizuki is taken aback, he'd only reached out with a hand but Sly has moved away so his back is pressed against the door. He's been avoiding certain touches, yes, but innocent ones like these are usually allowed. 

"I can't say hello now?" His tone is light, teasing, but Sly bristles, his temper flares.

"No, you can't," he's annoyed, irritated but he stays stuck to the door studiously avoiding looking anywhere near Mizuki who has done nothing wrong. "I'd rather you didn't talk at all." 

That seems petty, Mizuki rolls his eyes, flings his sweat towel over his shoulder and crosses his arms, "then what's the point in you being here?" 

Sly looks at him then, opens his mouth then shuts it again. Looks upset. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?" 

He laughs, it's not a nice sound, it's sort of hysterical, a short inappropriate burst of humour, he peels himself off the door but won't get any closer, regarding Mizuki like one might a wild animal. "No," he breathes, shakes his head, smiling. Then again, firmer, "no." 

Mizuki sighs, rubs his eyes, feels his body starting to get cold as the endorphins wear off, as his muscles start to cool down and relax, it's easiest to agree so that's what he does, "okay, just, do whatever you want. I need a shower." 

The evening passes quietly, they mostly exist separately, Mizuki sits down on the couch and watches Sly curl into himself at his side, tilts his head so he can see his face, squished up between his knees. Sly scowls, turns to face the opposite direction. 

So he gives up, on trying to make Sly talk, on being anywhere near him, sets himself up at the dining table and decides he might as well get some work done since Sly isn't talking, since neither of them are. He gets the rotas done for the rest of the month, puts holiday requests into his diary, answers some tattoo queries that are sitting in his inbox, sends estimates of prices and time frames and appointments for consultations if they're needed. 

He makes food that Sly doesn't so much as touch, fights the urge to snap in annoyance as he stares at the plate proffered to him and does nothing. He manages to hold his temper, manages not to yell, but the plate hits the coffee table very hard. 

Sly goes to bed without speaking and the living room feels a lot nicer without him in it. Mizuki feels bad for thinking that, locks his tablet and puts all his books away, flops onto the sofa to watch something. He's not exactly thrilled about the idea of going to bed with Sly who is obviously pissed about something. 

Somebody told Mizuki once that you should never go to sleep on an argument, problem is, he's not sure if that even applies because they haven't argued, Sly is quiet, moody, Mizuki is irritated, but they haven't actually fought. 

He can't sleep anyway, the room is a decent temperature but his brain won't shut up, he thinks about what he might have done to cause this, about what's going on with Sly in general. He wishes he knew. He sighs again, aware of his sleeping company and rolls onto his back, stares at the ceiling, wondering what's gone wrong, wondering when things will be easy. He thinks there is an acid rain falling over them, slowly dissolving the mortar. He shuts his eyes, tries earnestly to sleep. 

"I'm sorry," the room is quiet other than the whirl of the fan so Mizuki hears him clear enough even with his weak, fragile voice. 

Mizuki wants to be annoyed, he wants to demand that Sly explain himself, that he just fucking talk to him, but he doesn't, he can't be. He can tell Sly is struggling with something and he knows that turning it into an argument will only make him less likely to talk. So he exhales gustily and rolls over, meets his lowered eyes, he doesn't try to reach out and touch. 

"I'm just in a shitty mood," Mizuki hums faintly, he's not sure that's the entirety of the problem, but it's a start, so he stays quiet and let's him talk. "Therapy fucking sucked." 

"What did you talk about?"

Sly eyes flick up, meet Mizuki's and skitter away again. They look guilty, even in the dim light. 

"Oh," he breathes, thinks, ouch. "Have I done something?" 

"Of course you haven't." 

"Have you?" 

Sly looks momentarily annoyed, huffs as if the question is a great inconvenience, "no." 

"Then what's wrong?" 

Sly meets his eyes then, at the imploring tone in his voice, sags into his pillow, thinks. 

He knows what's wrong, he's the only one that does, but he can't say it aloud, he feels suddenly, so ashamed. 

He's startled to realise his eyes are wet, that his chest feels tight, that he feels suddenly, very much like he might crumble apart. He shuts his eyes, he feels guilt, thick in his throat, trying to choke him. He is keeping a secret and it is tearing him apart. 

Mizuki reaches for him, and though Sly wants to move away, wants to push him back, wants to be somewhere else altogether, he let's his hands reach his skin, exhales shakily as he feels Mizuki's broad, warm palms on his back. Sometimes Mizuki holds him so tightly he feels like he cannot break. Tonight Mizuki holds him and he breaks in spite of it. 

He manages not to cry, Mizuki pulls him closer, into his body so he drapes across his chest, his face hidden in the crook of his shoulder, wraps arms around him and holds him still. His palms seem to burn Sly's skin, he feels so cold everywhere Mizuki doesn't touch him. 

"It's okay," Mizuki murmurs, cards a hand slowly through his hair over and over, soothing. "You don't have to tell me." 

"I will eventually."

"Maybe, but right now you don't have to." Sly's still annoyed, still prickly, but under Mizuki's hands he relaxes, releases his anger, he let's Mizuki lift his face up so he can see him, so he can really look at him. 

He thinks of telling him, of just blurting it out and going from there but his tongue feels stuck in place, trapped inside his mouth. 

He can't say it, but he can ask something else. 

"Are we okay?" 

His voice is so small, so uncertain, Mizuki softens more when he hears it, rubs a hand up and down his back, smiles, thumbs tenderly across his cheek, "of course we are." 

Sly feels, again, the weight of someone's love.

Kins been at Tio’s place for a while, he'd stayed after the storm, over a month give or take a couple of nights where he couldn’t be bothered with the walk back to Tio's. It's been nice, Tio's really liked having him there all the time, so when he'd started to make noise about going back to his own place to get the plumbing fixed he'd been almost tempted to tell him not to bother. The words had been on the tip of his tongue, cancel your lease, go get your stuff and stay here. He hadn't said it though, as much as he loves Kin being with him all the time, and surprisingly he does love it almost all of the time, he knows it's probably a bad idea to have him move in when their relationship is still new. 

So he helps him pack the few things that have migrated over, kisses him goodbye, and watches him leave without objecting. It had sort of stung, actually, watching him leave, even with the knowledge that he'd been seeing him the next day. His apartment seems very empty without his gangling limbs, without his voice. 

Things go back to normal, and it's actually a bit depressing. 

The restaurant has reopened and while Kin isn't exactly thrilled about it, he's at least glad he's getting the income from it, he'd still been paying rent while his place was unlivable and while he's saved on food and other things, he's still been stretched pretty thin. His manager, of course, still hates the mere sight of him, but Kin decides he doesn't give a shit, he is happy, things are going well and she can quite frankly, burn in hell. He greets her with a sunny good morning on his first day back and when she frowns at him like he's called her some kind of slur, he just keeps smiling and heads into the locker room to put his apron on. 

Things continue on like that, his manager throws around little insults and jabs and Kin completely ignores her, he doesn't give a shit what she thinks of him, he works hard to take care of his mother, of himself. If she can't see that, it's her loss. Besides, he has people now who bolster his belief that she is wrong, for the first time in a long time, her jabs do not sting, they barely even land, she tells him he looks a mess and he knows she is wrong because Tio says he looks nice in his shirt. She tells him he's going too slowly and his co-workers say completely different. 

He goes in one day, expecting more of the same, and is surprised to see she is nowhere to be found, asks the line cook quietly where she is, the man, busy peeling potatoes shrugs and says she's called in sick. 

Kin has never known her to do that, she is in every day before they open and leaves after they close, she orders all the stock and cashes up the till and supervises the cleaning and the running of the whole place. 

She isn't back the next day either, or the next. 

There isn't a supervisor, she's so tightly wound that she's never bothered to assign any duties to anybody else, Kin secretly thinks she is too cheap to issue a payrise for the promotion. 

They muddle through without her, the cooks have to work together to place the order and things are missed, burger buns go unordered and they are off the menu for a week, it's not a big deal, but she will go crazy when she comes back and finds out. 

It's a Friday, and they are dead, without their manager they actually get to just hang out and talk, a girl is vaguely sweeping the floor without much effort and the rest of them cluster around the till, wondering what they are meant to do. 

"Somebody needs to make next week's rota," the girl sweeping says, she's nice enough but she's quiet and is the managers favourite, it's not a surprise that she is the only one actually working. 

Nobody volunteers. They all sort of look at each other and then avoid each others gazes, nobody wants to do extra work they are not being paid for, nobody really knows the others schedules. 

"We could just do the same as this week again?" 

"I've got two days booked off."

"I've got an appointment." 

"I'm not doing four closes again." 

The hubbub grows, people are frowning, unhappy, the talking turns into bickering, the wait staff argue over the opening and closing shifts, the line cooks haven't even started placing the order for the next week. 

Kin doesn't join in, his shifts at the bar are always the same and so are his shifts at the restaurant, unless he calls in sick he does the same every single week so he is the only one unaffected. This also means he's the only one who offers to help. 

He speaks over the growing annoyance of the group, surprised when they actually go quiet and he is the centre of attention, "everyone needs to write down what they can do, if there's an early or a late that suits you more, write it down. Then we can figure it out." 

The girl stops sweeping, "that's a good idea. We can use the whiteboard in the office." 

"Fantastic," Kin vaguely waves at her, "different pen colours for wait staff and cooks." 

It was only an idea, but they all latch onto it, they all actually do it, and when Kin heads into the office they're usually barred from entering later, almost every slot on the organised timetable is filled. There are, of course, some gaps. Nobody wants the Friday or Saturday late, the line cooks of which there are three, all seem able to do different days and times, none of which overlap. Kin stares at it, wonders what he's gotten himself into, sinks into his managers chair and grabs pen and paper from her desk. Gets to work. 

He has to do a bit of negotiating, a bit of reasoning to get them fully staffed every day, but he manages it after a bit of convincing and promises he's not entirely sure he can keep regarding the next week along. He keeps reminding people that their manager could be back by then, but they accept his empty promises anyway. 

He feels pretty good about it, he's at least relieved that the place will keep running smoothly without any supervision and his co-workers are very glad that somebody has shouldered that responsibility. 

Kin’s head pops up from the rota he’s been intensely staring at while he eats his lunch at the bar, he frowns, “who’s dead?”

Not exactly a normal question, nor a sensitively worded one, but hearing the staff mumbling amongst themselves about somebody being dead without much discernible emotion is weird, unnerving. Kin feels a bit anxious suddenly, thinks of Tio and his life-long secret and his eventual confession.

“Managers husband,” the newest hire, and the rudest, Hikari, answers shortly, frowns at him and goes back to gossiping at girl who’s trying in vain to count up the money in the till and isn’t even entertaining her.

“She was married?”

She looks up again, gives him a stare he doesn’t appreciate and says, “obviously?” Her voice is scoffing, Kin feels unfairly irked and rolls his eyes but ignores her, watches her pick at long, pointed nails adorned with charms and wonders why she was even hired in the first place.

“What happened to him?”

Her voice is faintly softer as she responds, she’s fiddling with her hair and her eyes are on the floor, “cancer.”

They hear nothing else of it, the managers absence is suddenly explained and he feels almost bad for her, it’s not exactly easy to sympathise with a woman who has made his life a living hell, but he still does. He wonders, absently as he locks up and heads home, if maybe she’d acted the way she did because she couldn’t cope with the situation as it was, because she’d needed to let her anger out on someone.

Kin is almost glad it wasn’t her husband she directed it at.

Almost.

When Kin arrives at work a week or so later, a note has been taped to the door saying they’re shut, Kin stares at it uncomprehendingly for so long that other staff arrive, Hikari is thrilled, immediately says she’s going home and promptly does exactly that. Kin wants to yell at her to get the hell back, but there’s no point, the sign wasn’t there last night when he locked up and the other assembled staff don’t know anything about it. The bistro tables and chairs are still out given the nice weather and they all just sort of plop themselves at them, at a loss of what they’re actually meant to do. They don’t even know who put up the sign, it could easily be a prank by some kid and they’re all falling for it magnificently.

Kin doesn’t think so.

Various people start leaving about an hour in, nobody is keen to open the restaurant with the mystery sign up and to be honest, they’re all more than happy to just not work for a bit, to get the chance to talk. Tadashi as it turns out has tattoos all over his arms and when he rolls his sleeves up in the warm air there is a burst of surprise from all assembled, he seems stunned they didn’t know and eventually pulls his shirt off to reveal he is covered on every inch his clothes conceal.

Manager didn’t like them, he says, shrugs, casual, so he’d kept them hidden.

Poppy, who was born in England and somehow ended up on the island due to her parents mistakes, laughs and announces with glee that she is a raging lesbian in a polygamous relationship with two girls. Kin stares at her, open mouthed.

Their manager hates gay people, Kin himself is proof of that. Turns out Poppy had seen how he’d been treated and decided it was best to keep her mouth firmly shut at work.

It’s a bit depressing, actually, how little they know about each other despite the fact they’ve been working together for months if not years.

As much as they all feel vague sympathy for their manager, it’s also been really nice not having her there breathing down their necks and ruling the place with an iron fist, the environment has been peaceful, slightly chaotic, but still peaceful.

They’ve fallen quiet, most have gone home or to do other things, but three of them remain, more than happy to waste a few hours chatting and people watching, wasting time.

Kentarou, the gruff line cook spots something, narrows his eyes, says, “look.”

So they do, there is a group of people snaking their way towards them, all in black, Kin can just make out the coffin some of them carry on their shoulders. The manager is coming to them, as is her husband. The restaurant being closed makes some sort of sense and they fall silent and watch them get closer, stand in a sort of awkward display of respect and then baulk when the procession stops and their manager peels herself free.

An uncomfortable silence falls, they mutter vague sympathies and she just watches them absently, there’s a far away look behind her eyes, like she’s not really sure of where she is and what's happening. Grief is a strange thing.

“You can, uh, all go home. Paid holiday, rest of the week,” her smile is thin, weak, her voice is soft and small, Kin can tell she is hurting even with her brave face. The others are more than happy to take the offer, Kentarou claps his shoulder before he heads off, giving the paused group a respectful nod before peeling off in the opposite direction. Kin thinks he is trying to avoid them.

Kin wonders how it feels, losing the other half of yourself, watching them slowly waste away and knowing there is nothing you can do to help. He thinks of Tio, so early still but with so much feeling. His chest is tight at the mere idea.

“Hikari told us what happened,” he begins, uncertain, he intends to carry on, to try to sympathise, maybe to use some sort of generic phrase people use for things like this, but she speaks first.

“Hikari is my niece,”, Kin blinks, stunned , “she’s,” she raises her eyes heavenward but doesn’t say whatever it is she’s thinking. That makes a change. “You know, but she made a good spy.”

Kin thinks he should say something, but there is a funeral procession waiting and he feels their heavy eyes on him, so he just says, “huh?”

She looks at him and sort of falters, sinks back into herself and looks uncertain, “I’m not going to make excuses, for the way I’ve treated you, there’s no point. But I, hope I can make amends, somehow. Hikari tells me you’ve been running the place.”

“I mean, I guess.”

“I’ve been thinking, it’s time for me to retire, I’ve been in this game a long time and I, I’m tired,” her eyes get very faintly wet then, there is a slight glisten of moisture and she sniffs and composes herself. “I’ll keep the business, of course, it’s been in my family a long time, I just, I need somebody to run it.”

Kin fights the urge to look behind him, to see who on earth she is talking to, “I understand if you don’t want to, but, Hikari says you’re the best, so,” she holds out a hand, palm up towards the blue sky, a ring of keys lie in her hands and Kin’s eyes go from them to her.

He thinks it’s best not to mention that he already has a key.

“You’ll make a better manager than I ever did.”

It’s weird, the lack of thinking Kin does before he reaches out and takes the keys from her hand, before he accepts this new, massive responsibility.

He thinks maybe he’ll panic about it later.

“I’ll do my best.” His voice sounds hollow, flat, and she pats his hand absently as she steps back, to regain the small flock of mourners, Kin can just make out Hikari in the back, looking less preened than usual in all black. “I’m, sorry for your loss.”

“Me too,” her tone is soft, devastated, she gives him one last weak smile and heads back into the fold of mourners, somebody puts an arm around her shoulders and Kin sees her for what she really is, an old lady, lonely, afraid.

He stands there until they all round the corner and disappear from his sight, looks down at the keys in his palm, exhales a shaking breath and wants suddenly, desperately, to see his mother.

The day stretches before him, empty and full of promise, and, with a disbelieving smile and a puff of air, he spins on his heel and heads towards the hospital.

Chapter Text

The afternoon is early and warm, the sun floods the apartment and Mizuki lies on the couch, bathed in glorious yellow sunlight, his eyes are closed, his face relaxed, he’s a few seconds off dropping into a lovely nap. He’s been like this a while, drifting in and out of consciousness. Work last night had been busy, had been long, it had been too stuffy to truly sleep in his bed and he’d tossed and turned for a while before giving up and starting his day mere hours after he tried in vain to sleep. His day stretches out, lazy and peaceful, serene.

His mind is quiet, for once it is still, content. Things are going well, Sly has slotted into his life like something that was always there, he fits around everything else Mizuki has, that he holds dear. There is room now for both. Routine is beginning around the two of them, stable, comforting, evenings together and movie night and the occasional sleep over. Sly is often opened, his insides spilled out for Mizuki and he is very careful not to tread on them, to split and burst things. He is careful not to make a mess.

Not too careful.

But still.

It’s nice when they get along so well, when grievances are aired in a way that feels stable, that feels less like an explosion and more like a compromise.

Everything seems settled, Tio and Kin are doing well, Noiz and Koujaku are still muddling along somehow, Sly’s Grandma is in good health and busy.

Things are good. Life is good.

He still doesn’t know what’s wrong with Sly, what it is he won’t tell him. It feels sort of unimportant in the grand scheme of things, Mizuki always finds out eventually, he figures he just needs to be patient, to wait. He’s getting better at being patient, at waiting.

He exhales, deep, feels his body sink down into the plush cushions, the light behind his eyes dims and wanes, he thinks, once, of secrets, and he is asleep.

He is awoken later, not as violently as could be expected given it is Sly who’s made his arrival, there’s the sound of the door clicking shut like it has been eased gently back into it’s frame, shuffling as shoes are removed, a dulled thud of them hitting the rug. His eyes open slowly, it’s still bright in the apartment, he thinks he hasn’t been sleeping too long, a couple of hours maybe. Consciousness returns gradually, he feels disoriented in time and space for a moment as he sighs and rubs at his eyes, flinching against the beams of sunlight that sear against his retinas. His body is heavy with sleep, it hangs on him like a shroud, he clears his throat, eases himself up with his eyes still half-lidded, shakes off the vestige of dreams and turns towards his guest.

There’s blue, of course, then a flash of unexpected red, more blue as the head turns away, avoiding his absent gaze.

Wakefulness snaps into him and he is alert so suddenly it comes like a blow. There is blood on Sly’s face. It’s odd, how it alarms him when it used to be the norm, when it used to be more unusual for him to be not bleeding.

“You have a good nap?” He’s still not turned his way, his voice is friendly enough but there is something else in it, something almost guarded, Mizuki knows he’ll find out what's going on, he always does. Sly has become better at telling the truth, to him at least.

“Yeah,” he aims his stare at Sly’s back, he’s searching his bag for something, Mizuki hears the sound of a cardboard package being opened, the crinkle of plastic, the sound it makes when Sly crushes it in his hand and discards it. The bag zips back up, Sly absently dumps it on the dining table and there’s a crackling noise Mizuki recognises before a plume of vapour emerges from Sly’s mouth. Mizuki’s surprised enough that he forgets all about the flash of red, “you got a vape?”

He must sound suitably disbelieving because Sly huffs a laugh and turns briefly to look at him, rolling his eyes, “Granny doesn’t let me smoke in the house, and I- I dunno, had a craving I guess.”

“I thought you quit?”

Sly makes a noise, a sort of begrudging little shrug, “not really, just, I dunno, didn’t, for a while. Was kinda, hard to smoke, in the hospital, then at Granny’s, so. Plus, nobody really smokes any more, you’re quitting, Noiz only did because I did.”

The conversation is fine, but it’s weird because even though Mizuki has now sat up and left ample room for Sly on the couch, he remains standing, angled away from him like he has something to hide. Mizuki is fully aware that him coming here with something to hide implies he doesn’t need to hide it all that much, he just wishes he didn’t need to hide at all.

“Come here.”

“Why?”

Mizuki expected the retort, but he’d expected something a bit more intelligent, a bit more carefully crafted, “you’re hiding something from me.”

“I did get a slutty lower back tattoo, I assume that’s what you mean?”

Mizuki, much to his own annoyance, laughs at that, “rude, you know I’ve got plans for your future tramp stamp.”

“Do you?”

He sounds alarmingly genuine, Mizuki rolls his eyes and stands up, if Sly refuses to come to him, he will go to Sly, he keeps his voice very calm, very nonchalant, “you’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” Sly’s tone matches his and he noticeably turns his head when Mizuki gets closer, “I tripped.”

“You’re tripping a lot.”

“I’m clumsy,” Sly deflects, he lets Mizuki reach for him but his body is tensed, unwilling. Mizuki is not interested in touching Sly if he is unwilling, so he releases his arm. “I’m fine, I just tripped, wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Okay, can I see?”

“It’s fine, it’s just a graze or something. No biggie.”

“Can I see it anyway?”

Sly makes a disgusting throaty noise, a deep groan of annoyance, turns around so Mizuki can see his face, his gaze is low, his whole head is low. There’s a graze on one cheek, as promised, his lip is split at the bottom and there is a bit of blood smeared across his chin, Mizuki frowns, touches even though he was not welcomed, tilts his face up and-

“Fucking hell, Sly.”

His neck is cut, a thin, jagged slice almost from ear-to ear, it’s not a wound Mizuki needs to be concerned about treating, it’s superficial, it will heal quickly and with no scar. Mizuki is worried about what the hell caused it and why Sly is lying about it.

“You fell?”

“Fuck you,” Sly moves away, his words have bite but not much, he pushes Mizuki’s hands back as they try to reach for him again. He makes a bid for freedom, he moves too quickly for Mizuki and he’s in the bathroom with the door locked way before Mizuki gets to the polished wood.

The afternoon is warm and waning, sunlight slices through the long window at the end of the hallway, bathing Mizuki’s legs in golden light. He sits against his bathroom door, trying to get Sly to either talk to him, or unlock it.

He’s not having much success, saying he’s worried isn’t working and he’s debating starting an actual argument he doesn’t mean so Sly will get fired enough to take part and open the door to yell right back. He doesn’t need to though.

The last thing he said was a faintly affectionate remark that he always forgets how fucking stubborn Sly is, he’s not been in the bathroom all that long, fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. It sort of feels like forever though.

He shuts his eyes against the sunlight, basks in the glorious warmth of it, sighs quietly and thinks maybe he should give up and give Sly the space he obviously wants.

He’s just opened his eyes again when the door opens abruptly behind him and he falls backwards onto the cool tile floor and Sly’s feet. He thinks he should consider himself lucky he had something to cushion his fall, but Sly moves his feet away and his head whacks against the floor anyway.

Sly stands over him, looking amused as he lies there rubbing absently at his head.

“Really?”

“Really,” Sly remarks, retreats back as Mizuki awkwardly gets himself onto his haunches and then eases his way up. He thinks Sly is right, he is getting old, his body hurts faintly as he drags himself upright. He attempts to regain some composure by crossing his arms over his chest and regarding Sly with an unimpressed expression.

“Who did this?” His tone doesn’t allow for Sly to lie or to evade and he sees to realise this, lifts himself up onto the counter and watches Mizuki almost warily as he gets closer again to look at him. He lifts his chin again and gets a decent look this time, he can feel Sly flinching away but this time he doesn’t stop, he runs a careful thumb along the thin cut and watches tiny beads of blood well up everywhere he touches.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you really not know?”

Sly gives him a look, he is being honest and he doesn’t like that he is accused of the opposite, “just, couple of guys. I- Guess they didn’t like me being in their dads store or something. Thought I was stealing.”

Mizuki hums, Sly is telling the truth but it is still hard for him, his words are slow and weighed, reluctant. Mizuki appreciates that he’s saying them at all.

“But you’re okay?”

Sly’s face softens a little bit, the mask drops down, he shows his true face and though he is still pretending to be offended by the question, Mizuki can tell he isn’t. “I’m fine.”

Mizuki isn’t completely sure he believes him, but he lets it go, if Sly doesn’t want to talk about it, he doesn’t have to. “Can I clean it?”

“Yeah.”

It’s quick, a few wipes of alcohol and a thin bandage wound around his neck and he is good to go. He’s quiet though, too quiet, Mizuki bins the wrappers and blood-stained cotton rounds into the bin and returns to the counter, puts hands on his waist, watches him, worried.

“You sure you’re okay?”

His face wrinkles up, he’s not meeting Mizuki’s eyes but that’s fine, he never does when he’s talking about things he’d rather not, he sighs and sags down, shrugs, “I’m annoyed.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t even do anything. I fucking paid. I was polite. I didn’t take anything.”

Mizuki doesn’t say anything, Sly is still working through how he feels, it’s obvious in the way his mouth keeps opening and closing, like he can’t decide which words need to come out first. “And what’s the point, of me, trying to be better? If people still think I’m a fucking thief, if people still hate me then why am I even bothering? It’s so- exhausting,” his voice has gained a hard tone, a bitter one. “Talking about things and trying to be okay with them, instead of just being angry about them all the time. It’s so hard to not hurt myself, or, get myself hurt when I’m angry.”

The idea of Sly wanting to hurt himself isn’t one Mizuki really thinks about, he knows he’s done it before but he’d never asked about it, it had always seemed like something it would be best not to mention. He wonders now if maybe they should have talked about it before. He feels a bit nauseous, hearing Sly admit that sometimes he wants to hurt himself.

“I’ve been, working so hard to- To make people see me differently, to be different and now I feel like I’m back at square one, everyone hates me and that makes me hate myself.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You’re one person, Mizuki. I’ve got a whole island who are against me. Who are still against me even if I don’t do anything wrong. Sometimes,” he pauses, as if he’s not sure if he should continue. He barrels on regardless, his voice is stony but there’s an apology in it somewhere, deep down. “Sometimes one person isn’t enough.”

Mizuki sighs, he thinks that is sort of an insult but it doesn’t hit like one because Sly is right, one person in your corner isn’t enough, one person who likes you isn’t enough to silence all the people who don’t. He’s not offended, because he gets it.

“I know,” he keeps his voice soft, pushes Sly’s hair back off his face, he looks angry, his jaw is set hard and there’s a sort of silent rage in his eyes but he sits there quiet and let’s Mizuki look at him. He does not snap, and he does not break.

Sometimes, when Mizuki holds him it’s like he’s holding all his little pieces together, like he is held so tightly he cannot break.

“There’s always going to be people against you, but you’re not working hard for them, they don’t care what you do, they’ll hate you anyway. You’re working for you, that’s what matters.”

“You sound like my therapist.” His smile is wry, thin but there. Wary of his split lip, Mizuki kisses his forehead instead, stays pressed there for a second and feels real gratitude that he is the only person who knows how Sly melts into him when he does. His shoulders lower and he exhales shakily under his touch, he comes back to him, back into his own body.

“He sounds like a wise guy.”

“You might be old, but you are not wise.”

Mizuki laughs, the moment of peace is over and Sly remains soothed, slides himself off the counter and lets himself be folded into Mizuki’s arms, settles his cheek against his warm chest and feels the blissful weight of nothing.

Sly has volunteered to cook dinner, it’s a nice gesture but all the banging and clanging from the kitchen is causing Mizuki anxiety like he’s never felt before, he’s been fighting the urge to go and check on progress for a while. He decides to leave him to it, if he needs help he’ll ask.

Well, he’s more likely to demand help but still, Mizuki will know one way or the other.

He’s not making anything too complicated, not that Mizuki has been told what he’s making, it is apparently a surprise.

He doesn’t do well with surprises.

Mizuki, as usual, has some work bits he needs to do, they’re hiring a new piercer and he’s got resumes to go through, the experience sections are all equally empty, he’s managed to get Tio to agree to train someone, he just needs to work out which inexperienced someone will be best. Kin had expressed vague interests, but due to something complicated and explained to Mizuki in the vaguest terms possible, he’s now managing the restaurant he works at during the day. Besides, Mizuki does not trust him with anything even slightly sharp.

Mizuki wonders how that’s going. From the sound of Tio’s last message, it’s not going great. He wonders if he could help, he’s got experience managing, of sorting out rotas and holidays and staffing. Kin, he thinks, like Sly, will let him know if he needs help. Or Tio will. More likely Tio.

One of the resumes has caught his eye, but he’s not sure why. It’s the only one from a woman, so that could be it, but there’s just something in it that interests him, something weirdly familiar. He’s not sure, so he adds it to the pile of maybes and picks up the next one from the small pile. There’s been about six applicants, which is actually pretty good considering how small the island is. He thinks he’s spoken of as a good employer, and besides, everyone knows when he hires people they stay, they progress where they can. He pays very reasonable wages for an island where most people scrape by on the bare minimum and he’ll be training them too, if they want a side hustle, it’s perfect, they work for him and then on their own time they can do more if they want to.

He’s reaching for a pen to make notes on the very short resume in front of him when there is a monumental crash from the kitchen, he jolts and the mug of pens spills, scatters across the table-top. Sly yells something vaguely reassuring and Mizuki takes a breath to calm himself down, to tell himself his kitchen is not about to go up in flames, then starts putting the pens back where they belong.

He’s knocked over Sly’s pile of tablet bottles, he keeps them on the dining table when he’s staying so he doesn’t forget to take them, so he can swallow them down with breakfast or before bed every night. Mizuki has a vague idea of what they are called and what they do.

Zopiclone, if he’s struggling to sleep. Mirtazapine, for low mood. Lamotrigine to stabilise his mood. Venlafaxine for anxiety.

There’s another one, Mizuki can’t remember it’s name but he’s pretty sure it started with a Q and was the anti-psychotic he’s positive Sly does not need, he checks it’s not rolled onto the floor and sits looking at the four containers, puzzled.

It’s a good excuse to pop into the kitchen and see the havoc that has been wreaked within, so Mizuki stands up, braces himself and heads into the kitchen. It’s steamy, it’s roasting, the first thing he does is open the window and turn the extractor fan on, watching beads of condensation trickling down his cabinets.

Sly glances over vaguely, pressing buttons on the rice cooker and looking faintly harassed.

Considering he said he was making something easy, every item of cookware in Mizuki’s kitchen seems to have been used, there are three different knives, two chopping boards, three pans.

He decides not to mention it, “I think you forgot one of your meds.” Sly frowns at him, turns one ring of the cooker all the way down and adjusts the lid of the pan, it seems the prep work and general chaos is over, now he seems to just be keeping an eye on things. “The one for psychosis?”

“Oh,” Sly grins, he looks greatly amused. “Nah, I don’t need that one.”

“I could have told you that.”

“No, I didn’t think I did either but the doctors were fucking positive I did. Turns out, the reason they thought I was psychotic, is because, when I dying, you know, bleeding out and overdosing and whatever,” Mizuki winces and Sly's expression softens faintly. Mizuki doesn’t like it much when he talks about it, when he makes it sound so minor. “I said I could hear my brother, and I saw him.”

“Okay, so, weird shit happens when you’re dying, go figure.”

“Yeah but, they asked when I was still, you know, not great, so they thought that had been happening for ages. They thought I could actually like see him, physically. So they thought, I was having auditory and visual hallucinations, like, a lot.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. So they’re weaning me off them, every other day for two months then I can stop them,” he takes the lid off the pan to stir it, and despite Mizuki’s best attempts to peek he is unsuccessful. The smells aren’t helping and in spite of Sly’s mess he’s thrown all his waste away so he can’t even try and guess by ingredients.

They’re sat eating when Mizuki asks, dinner is good, it’s some kind of stew with beef and tomatoes and big chunks of potato, Mizuki still isn’t sure why it needed quite so many pots to prepare, but he thinks it’s best not to seem ungrateful.

“You really saw him?” Sly looks at him, his mouth is full and he looks like he’s got no idea what he’s on about, “your brother?”

Sly considers this, chews, swallows. “Yeah, I mean, like very briefly, I knew he wasn’t really there. He was sort of see-through, like a- Hologram or something? Like Usui.”

“What did he say?”

Sly goes quiet, still, there’s a faint smile on his face, fond, warm. “I think I’ll keep that to myself.”

Mizuki watches him for a minute, watches him sit in the memory, smiles. He thinks whatever he said, it was a good thing, “okay.”

Mizuki does not call Sly, they chat over messages or in person. So when Sly’s phone rings as he’s folding up dry clothes he blinks at it in stupid confusion for a moment before it clicks, somebody is calling him. His first thought is Noiz, but he doesn’t call either. He wonders if maybe he’s accidentally missed a lot of messages and somebody is concerned, annoyed, but he’s positive he hasn’t heard it go off.

Granny is staring at him somewhat intently from the sofa where she’s knitting something in a nice dark red colour, her needles continue to click but her face is curious, nosy as he picks up the coil and presses to answer the call.

“You don’t call.”

“Hello to you too.”

Sly tuts gently, rolls his eyes, Granny snorts in dry mirth from the sofa and focuses back on her bad TV drama, “is something wrong?”

Mizuki laughs uncomfortably, “you’re going to think this is hysterical.”

“Oh, love that. Go on.”

“The new piercer I hired?” Sly hums, adjusts the coil against his shoulder and continues to fold up the clothes, he’s very careful with Granny’s work uniform, she doesn’t like it ending up all creased and Sly isn’t the best at being tidy. “I’ve had sex with her.”

“Excuse me?”

“Like, years ago, Sly, give me some credit. So she turns up for her induction or whatever and I see her and I realise, fuck me it was hard to be professional when I have a distinct memory of what her tits look like.”

“Did she realise?”

“One hundred percent. You know what the worst part it?” Sly makes a vague noise of interest, starts spreading socks out across the table so he can match them up, “I was fucking terrible.”

“In bed?” Granny looks over again, Sly vaguely waves her away. He’s not about to have a filthy conversation with her in the same room, he’s not that depraved. “Doesn’t sound like you.”

Mizuki laughs, the sound makes Sly smile, “thanks. No it was, when I was pretty young, inexperienced, you know. Fumbling, grabby, ugh. I got the impression she didn’t think much of it.”

“You’re right,” Sly says rather flatly, “that is hysterical. You think she’ll be good?”

“Oh yeah, she’ll be great, Tio likes her, so.”

Sly abandons his socks, “why is your voice weird? You sound weird.”

“I-,” Mizuki sighs, Sly can feel Granny’s eyes on him again and does his best to ignore her, the needles are still clicking so she can’t be too worried. “She, kinda thought, me and Tio were, still a thing.”

“Still?”

Mizuki sighs again, Sly can hear papers rustling, he wonders what he’s doing, “you know, half the island thought we were at one point. She was suitably mortified when I corrected her. But she, you know, asked if I had someone.”

Sly feels dread building, there’s a sick feeling in his stomach and he can’t tell if it’s at the idea that Mizuki told her, or at the idea that he didn’t. Neither is a good option, he can’t tell which one he hopes happened. “So what did you say?”

“I, said yeah.”

“Oh.”

The nauseous feeling builds, Sly can feel his hands shaking. He is terrified, but he doesn’t know what about.

“I just said, I’m keeping it, you know, on the down low, for now.”

“For now?”

“Well- I didn’t know what to say.”

“Not that! For now? How about for forever?”

“Sly-”

Granny’s needles have stopped, the TV has been turned down, she looks worried now as Sly ditches the washing altogether and leaves the room. She doesn’t bother to follow him into the hallway but Sly knows she is still listening, “you’re never going to be able to tell people, you get that right? It’s never going to be okay. And now she’s expecting that one day you’ll be like, well here he is, say hello everyone! But they’re not going to say hello because it’ll be me.”

“Sly-”

“Fucking hell, Mizuki, what happened to keeping your damn mouth shut? What happened to it being a secret?”

“Maybe I don’t want it to be a secret.”

“Well I need it to be! And so do you!”

“I’m not arguing with you over the phone.”

“Then hang up, and we can argue later.”

Mizuki makes a noise, it’s annoyed and dismissive. Sly feels cold, he feels red hot, he feels anger flare deep in his chest. He waits for Mizuki to say something, for him to try and apologise, for him to soothe.

He doesn’t, he mumbles something childish, something Sly can’t even hear.

Then the line goes dead.

Sly scoffs into the empty hallway, furious. Mizuki isn’t usually the type to give up on something, he’s the type to push and push until things are resolved, until there is something. Sly’s not sure how he feels that Mizuki won’t push on this.

Granny asks if everything is okay, he struggles these days, lying to her, so he shrugs and says not yet. She makes a considering noise, and asks if he’s going to make it okay, he’s not sure himself but he says yes and she seems appeased. She asks if he’s still going out later, if he’ll be coming back. He says yes, then he says that he’s not sure. She rolls her eyes and tells him not to come back too late if he does come back. He’s got therapy in the morning.

It’s not a reminder he much appreciates, but he nods his agreement anyway. If he skips therapy it will lead to more questions and he has enough of those already.

Sly expects it to be a fight, he doesn’t expect Mizuki to answer the door with a response prepared and ready to go.

He also doesn’t expect it to work, but it does. Eventually.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did. I know it put a lot of pressure on you, and I didn’t mean for it to do that. I don’t want you to feel like I’m trying to keep you a secret, but I also don’t want you to feel like you you’re going to spoil things if people do find out.”

“It will spoil things.”

“It’ll make things complicated, okay? It won’t ruin anything. I’d like for people to know, but I know that’ll be a nightmare for both of us at first, if its easier to stay as we are now, to keep it to ourselves, then that’s what we’ll do.”

“What if I never want people to know?” His voice is casual but he feels anything but, the idea of them just being out and about, present in the court of public opinion makes him feel nauseous, it feels impossible and it feels dangerous.

“Then they don’t have to.”

Sly rolls his eyes, steps inside, past Mizuki who shuts the door behind him then stands next to it, arms crossed, “we can’t just have it be a secret forever. It’s not realistic.”

“Okay, so if it happens, if people find out, we deal with it.”

“You can’t live your entire life worrying people are going to find out, Mizuki, wondering when you’ll have to start damage control.”

“Damage control?”

“Yes, Mizuki, damage control, I don’t know if you haven’t realised but I cause damage.”

“Not to me, you don’t.”

Sly grimaces, it’s a sweet sentiment, but it is misplaced, “maybe not, but if people find out there will be damage, to you, your business, your fucking life.” Sly feels like he wants to fight about this, but Mizuki is remaining very calm and level-headed, his reasonable voice is soothing all the parts of him that feel prickly. “I don’t wanna- Ruin your life.”

His voice is alarmingly thick when he says the last part, it’s one of his worst fears, that people find out, that they judge, that Mizuki suffers because of him, that their relationship suffers because of him.

“You’re not going to. Other peoples opinions about you aren’t going to ruin anything, I don’t care what other people think about you, I-” He pauses and Sly's eyes shoot up. It feels like a moment, like he’s going to say it, like he used to. But he doesn’t, he smiles and shakes his head and walks over. “I care what I think about you, and what you think about you.”

Sly isn’t best impressed, what he thinks of himself is sort of a wildly sliding scale from being the worst person who ever lived to being okay. It rarely gets much better than okay. It’s still better than it used to be. He used to hate himself. He’s only realised that recently. His therapist tells him he needs to accept all the bad things he did and come to terms with them, to realise that is his past and not who he is now. The problem is that there is a lot to come to terms with. He still blames himself for his brothers death. He’s managed not to talk about that at therapy.

He killed someone once. He didn’t mean to, he knew that at the time and he knows it now. But he still did it, he still hurt someone badly enough that they died even if it was self defence, even if he was partially justified. He wonders if Mizuki knows that.

He sort of thinks he wouldn’t care.

“So, we just, keep going until the worst happens?”

Mizuki snorts faintly, puts his hands on his waist, squeezes. “It won’t be the worst, think of everything else you’ve been through, could anything beat all of that?”

Sly considers this, considers growing up abandoned and alone, with a Grandmother who hates him and a brother who is dying, thinks of going to strangers for any semblance of touch, of human interaction. He thinks of kneeling in a dark alleyway because he can’t afford food and he’s too proud, too stubborn to go to the old lady. He thinks of sleeping with Noiz and fucking things over with Mizuki and his brother dying and the tunnels and the mattress and the knife and the blood-

He looks away, swallows. He doesn’t like to think about the tunnels, about the blood.

Mizuki can tell he’s upset, squeezes him again, tilts his face so Sly can see it even as he avoids his eye, “it wouldn’t be the worst thing if people knew, it would just be a new problem to overcome. For both of us.”

He’s right, Sly thinks, loathe as he is to admit it, confused as he is that they are not arguing, that Mizuki is being reasonable and practical and helpful.

Sly sometimes hates it how helpful he is, how reasonable.

Sometimes he misses their screaming rows. But now isn’t one of those times, so he sinks forwards into Mizuki’s hold and murmurs an, “okay,” into his chest.

He’s fixed it, he thinks.

Granny will be pleased.

On the other side of the island, Kin is very much struggling to fix anything.

Running a restaurant turns out to be a fucking nightmare, Kin hadn’t exactly thought it would be a walk in the park, but learning what it actually entails is enough to make him regret the split second decision he made when he took the keys. He’s making rotas and booking holidays and working out pay and budgeting and and and.

He’s lucky in a way, because now he’s the manager, and that word still feels weird in his head, he doesn’t have to actually work in the restaurant as a server, he’s either supervising or in the office trying to get his head around time in lieu and sick pay and everything else.

They run out of toilet paper. There’s none in the staff bathroom then there’s none in the customer bathrooms either and he’s pretty sure managers aren’t meant to run out to buy things like that but it’s what he ends up doing. It ends up costing a small fortune because they need a lot and he can’t exactly buy in bulk from the shop around the corner with the owner who’d given him a look as he’d tapped his coil.

He’s at Tio’s on Sunday night, which means he’s meant to be relaxing and having a good time, but instead he’s sat at the dining table making the rota for next week that really should have been done on Friday. He’s tired, and frustrated, and seeing Tio sitting on the couch reading a book and looking lovely is not helping.

He sighs, loudly, dumps his head down onto the mess of papers and decides he gives up.

Tio laughs softly, he hears the book being put down and the padding of his feet across the carpet, then there’s hands on his shoulders and he feels the tension bleed out where Tio touches him.

“I suck at this.”

“No you don’t, you’re just new,” his voice is firm, certain.

“This is a nightmare, I never should have agreed to it. I-” He wants to sit back up straight but Tio’s hands feel comforting rubbing across his shoulders and back, it’s a rather weak attempt at a massage but it’s nice nonetheless. “I don’t know how to be a manager. You’re an assistant manager, can’t you help?

Tio huffs a laugh, “you realise I don’t actually do anything, in that position, right?”

Kin debates asking what position he would prefer, but he’s stressed and now isn’t the time, sure, it might lead to a good distraction but he actually needs to get this stuff done before midnight so his employees know what they’re doing.

“Fat lot of help you are,” he’s joking but he’s so stressed that it comes out a little bit sharp, a bit pointed, he turns to apologise but he can’t with Tio draped over him like he is.

“You know what you should do?” Kin’s hoping he’ll say something like, ‘give up and make out with me’, or words to that effect, but he doesn’t. “You should talk to Mizuki.”

“Oh,” he sits up abruptly and Tio’s arms end up around his neck, he adjusts quickly, puts his head atop of Kins and hums against his scalp, “I didn’t think of that.”

“Aren’t you glad you’ve got me?”

He’s joking, but Kins reply is anything but, “every day.”

Chapter Text

Kin gets the rota done just before ten o’clock with only one brief gap in staffing that he’s more than willing to fill himself. The staff are all being very reasonable with him, he thinks they can tell he’s not doing great and so they rally themselves to be as efficient as possible to save him extra hard work. He sends it in their new group chat and apologises for how late it is, receives a barrage of messages saying nobody minds, and is reassured.

Besides, the environment at work is about a billion times better now the old manager has left, Kin gets rid of the uniform almost immediately, the white shirts were nice, sure, but they’d never fit the casual vibe of the place. People wear t-shirts now, usually black but an occasional plain colour under their aprons and it’s fine, the customers truly do not give a shit how their servers look as long as they do get served.

He still needs help though, he can admit that now. He’s in over his head so he messages Mizuki and asks if he can please help. Mizuki, thankfully, says sure, to come over one night and they can try and work out the mess he’s been left with.

Tio and him head over on Thursday with more than half of a large cheesecake that hadn’t sold that day and a crate of beer as a sort of pre-emptive thank you for helping him. Kin’s got all the paperwork he could possibly carry stuffed in his bag and he’s hoping he comes away from this a bit more clued in, with a bit more knowledge of what he is actually meant to be doing all day.

Mizuki gets straight to it, opens them all a beer and shuffles through the paperwork looking not massively impressed but not overwhelmed either, Tio, figuring all the ‘shop talk’ will bore him, sets himself up on the couch to watch TV while Kin and Mizuki sit at the dining table.

Mizuki sits there quietly for a while, sorting the papers into organised piles and scanning through them to get an overview, Kin feels unreasonably anxious, like he is about to be told he is doing a horrible job. “Whys everyone get paid different amounts?” Kin blinks, shrugs, Mizuki rolls his eyes, “if they do the same job they should get paid the same.”

“Don’t think a pay cut would go down well.”

“So don’t cut it, pay them all the same, and give bonuses for years served or whatever,” Mizuki shrugs like this is obvious but it had honestly never occurred to Kin, he hadn’t even known they got paid different rates and had been significantly pissed off that he had been on the lowest wage of all the servers.

“Bonuses?”

“Yeah, four yearly or once yearly or whatever, or offer them more paid holidays if they take a cut. Make it seem like you’re doing them a favour.”

“Okay, that sounds like it’ll need a meeting.”

“You, don’t do meetings?”

“No?”

Mizuki smiles, “well, I mean, call it a huddle or something, once a week before you open, just to go through stuff, changes, new staff, something that went wrong, something that went right. Just a ten minute thing, get you all talking, on the same page.”

“The old manager didn’t like talking to us very much.”

Tio makes a noise from the sofa, clearly he thinks significantly less of her and Mizuki raises his eyebrows in amusement, “well, she’s gone now, you need to do better than she did, make sure your staff like you.” Kins pretty sure they already do, now they can actually talk at work they all get along fairly well, “besides that, how much are you getting paid?”

There’s a heavy silence, Tio has shifted so he’s kneeling on the sofa staring at the back of Kin’s head, his eyes are narrowed, suspicious and growing more so as the silence lingers and spreads out.

“Kin, please tell me you’re getting a wage.”

Kin clears his throat, opens his mouth looking awkward and on the spot.

Then the front door opens and Sly is stood there looking uncertain, looking alarmed, Noiz is right behind him, seeming remarkably amused by how stunned they all look.

“Shit,” is the only thing Mizuki can think to say, and Sly raises an eyebrow at him. “I forgot to tell you I had plans.”

“Do these two count as plans?”

Tio makes an indignant noise and Kin frowns, Mizuki considers himself quite fortunate that both of them already know about Sly being in his life, Kin looks faintly uncomfortable but Tio quickly gets bored and goes back to the TV.

“Be nice,” he says, it should be a warning but it isn’t, Sly rolls his eyes and shuts the door behind him, he’s obviously planning to stay, hands Noiz a beer from the crate and gestures vaguely towards the sofa.

Noiz, despite seeming remarkably anti-social, takes this cue very easily, dumps himself on the couch next to Tio and asks what they’re watching, vague conversation starts. Mizuki starts trying to work out if they’ve ever spoken before, he knows they’ve met, the whole team met him when he helped them with the raid but he can’t remember if they’ve ever spoken outside of that.

He’s distracted by Sly draping himself around his neck and perusing the cluttered table, his voice is unimpressed, bored already by all the words and number, “what are you doing?”

“Helping Kin with some stuff, he manages a restaurant.”

Sly still seems unimpressed, hums vaguely and then decides he doesn’t care enough to ask more, withdraws and pushes at his shoulder with an open hand, “where the fuck is your cat? You definitely had a cat. I remembered on the way here.”

Mizuki winces and Sly clocks it immediately because he frowns and straightens up looking at him with his hands on his hips, “I don’t know.”

“The fuck do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I haven’t seen her in a while, she, went out and just, didn’t come back.”

“You never thought to mention that?”

“You never asked!”

Sly mutters something about how he’d liked that cat, he seems faintly worried, Noiz’s head is poking over the back of the sofa and there’s a weird look in his eyes, like he just found his next job. Mizuki doubts his chances, he’s pretty sure she died a while ago and that was why she’d never come back, he’s sort of over it now, he’d been sad, sure, he’d been devastated when she first went missing, had gone out looking for her. But then time and Sly and life had happened and he’d put away her bowls and litter tray and had gone about his life.

“Kinda forgot about her,” Sly admits quietly. “Hope she comes back.”

“We all hope she comes back,” Tio calls from the sofa, “beside the point, we haven’t heard all about how Kin isn’t paying himself a wage.”

“You’re not?”

“The fuck?”

“Rookie mistake.”

“Alright!” Kin says defensively, not best pleased at having three people staring at him in various stages of disbelief, “I’m getting a wage, just, it’s my old one.”

Mizuki sighs, Sly laughs and leaves them to it, Mizuki notes that he doesn’t take a beer for himself and sits down empty handed practically in Noiz’s lap, “but you’re the manager, I know you haven’t gotten all the finances worked out but you can’t be getting a waiters wage for running the place.”

“I don’t even know how much profit we make, and the old manager gets a cut because she’s the owner, I just- I don’t know how much to give myself.”

“Then we’ll figure it out, but, we might be here a while.”

“We better get food!” This is Sly, yelling from the couch, Tio makes an agreeing noise and Noiz is flicking through Netflix for something to watch, Mizuki is surprised he isn’t already looking for food.

“Yes, of course we’ll get food. Now be quiet and watch TV.”

Noiz snorts, Mizuki can almost hear Sly thinking, he gets nervous when Sly thinks too much, “anything you say, daddy.”

Tio sounds repulsed, Noiz and Sly are cackling like the evil little shits they are. Kin seems reassured Mizuki’s disgusted expression matches his own, gives him a look and seems relieved when Mizuki shakes the moment off and they get back onto topic.

So life goes on, normal, mundane, comfortable.

It’s nice, Sly is getting used to the routine of things, going to Mizuki’s a few nights a week, staying over. Sometimes Tio and Kin come over to talk shop or just to hang out, sometimes Noiz does, sometimes it’s just them. He likes his life the way it is, he feels secure for the first time in years, feels mostly at peace.

So of course, something has to happen to ruin it.

Mizuki’s been downstairs at a birthday party, a thirtieth celebration for one of his old team members, the whole crew is there, past members and the few present that continue to stake a claim to their dwindling territories. Seeing them all together, Mizuki can’t understand how scared he used to be of the team dissolving, of people leaving. People have left, yes, a lot of people, but some still remain loyal and even the ones who have left stay in touch.

People have left but it’s taken him until now to realise that doesn’t mean he’s losing them.

He’s well past tipsy when he makes his way upstairs at some ungodly hour of the morning, his apartment is quiet and still but he trips over a pair of trainers discarded by the door and after a moment of drunken confusion, he smiles. Sly.

He’s developed a new habit where if he can’t sleep at his Granny’s he sometimes comes over at random times of the morning, he doesn’t have a key to get in but after the first few times of being knocked awake at asshole o’clock, Mizuki had started leaving the door unlocked. He should get him a key cut, it’s in his plans but somehow he never gets round to it.

Next week, he thinks.

So Mizuki is drunk and Sly is in his bed and that sounds pretty nice, Mizuki thinks he’ll be asleep so he strips off as quietly as he can in the living room, has one last piss without flushing the toilet and heads into his bedroom. He’s tired himself, it’s been a while since he was up until the small hours and he yawns as he carefully pulls the sheets back and climbs into bed next to Sly’s still form, huddled under the duvet.

He settles down onto his back and exhales, feels his body sag onto the warm mattress, feels the weight of the duvet over his legs and waits for sleep to claim him, aware of Sly moving a little bit, shifting his legs. His eyes close and he feels the heaviness of sleep over himself, focuses on Sly’s breathing and the pool of heat coming from his body.

“Good party?”

Mizuki rouses easily, pulled out of the second before the drop into unconsciousness, opens his eyes to see Sly has rolled on to his front, is regarding him in the dim light with an amused smile, his hair is soft and tousled and he looks very relaxed, very safe.

“Pretty good,” he reaches out a hand, strokes his thumb over Sly’s cheek, watches him tilt his face into the touch like a cat desperate for attention, huffs softly to himself at the sight of him so pliant.

“You’re drunk,” his voice is mildly accusatory but he doesn’t seem annoyed by it, shifts closer when Mizuki pulls at him and props himself up above him on his elbows, looking down at him.

“Little bit,” he shrugs and Sly raises an eyebrow at him, Mizuki thinks he can probably smell the alcohol on his breath, he probably stinks but Sly doesn’t seem to mind, he curls an arm around his lower back and strokes along the soft skin there.

Sly shivers, his body twitches a little bit, like he’s trying to get away. He’s always had a sensitive back, he shudders when Mizuki runs knuckles down the line of his bony spine, arches away from the touch like he’s ticklish there.

“C’mere,” Mizuki murmurs, and despite Sly’s long-suffering expression he complies and allows himself to be pulled in closer, to be kissed.

He wriggles a bit, when Mizuki worms his hand down the back of his boxers to grab a handful of his ass, but he doesn’t move away, Mizuki’s brain is working slowly, he’s way drunker than he’d admitted and time slows then races with Sly on top of him.

Mizuki shifts them so he’s on top, it’s not graceful and the speed of the movement makes him feel momentarily like he might vomit right onto Sly’s face, but it passes and he kisses him again and pushes him down into the sheets with his body. The alcohol has definitely gone to his head, everything is hazy heat and all he can focus on is Sly under him and how his body feels and the softness of the skin. All he can focus on is how much he wants.

If he was sober, he might realise how quiet Sly is, how he just sort of vaguely exhales when he nips at the soft skin of his neck, of how he tenses and stiffens when Mizuki’s hands rest on his hipbones and start creeping lower.

Sly says his name, which Mizuki would normally like, but something isn’t right and he tries to kiss Sly again and this time he is rebuffed, he moves his face away and puts hands on Mizuki's wrists to move them away from his body.

“What?” He asks, eyes hazily flitting over him, the smooth skin of his neck, the tendons of his throat straining against pale skin. The small red mark where Mizuki’s teeth had nibbled right at his pulse point. He’s expecting Sly to say something dirty, to ask for something, he is drunk enough and stupid enough to think those are viable options even as Sly tucks his chin down to avoid Mizuki’s mouth on his neck.

“It’s, uh, getting kinda early,” Sly says apologetically, nervously, it’s an excuse but Mizuki is used to those now, Sly’s expression has become wary, like he is on alert of some kind.

The issue raises its ugly head again and normally Mizuki would let it slide, Sly is right after all, the sun is beginning to rise behind his blinds, bathing the room in orange light, letting it slide is reasonable.

But Mizuki is drunk and he is horny and right now he isn’t feeling very reasonable.

He lets his hands fall from Sly’s body, thinks about being left unsatisfied again and about Sly keeping secrets and about him being weird and about him lying to him.

“There’s always something with you, isn’t there?”

It’s disparaging, it’s cruel.

Mizuki watches Sly’s face change, it falls first, hurt, the anger takes a second to snap into place and in the moment between pain and rage there is something else, something mortified and embarrassed and ashamed.

“Fuck you,” his voice is soft but Mizuki can tell he’s really upset him, has hit upon a tender, exposed nerve and bitten down on it with sharp teeth, “fuck you.”

He’s trying to shove him off but Mizuki is bigger, looming over him and all his wriggling is getting him nowhere, Mizuki can see him getting more worked up, more livid the longer he doesn’t move, the longer he keeps him pinned in place under him.

Sly snarls, starts really pushing at him with nails and closed, shaking fists, kicks out at his legs and worms his way free the second he can, starts scrabbling to get dressed and his body trembles even though the room is warm. Mizuki watches him, he’s too drunk to feel guilty just yet, he just feels annoyed, with himself, with Sly, with whatever this thing is that is keeping them so distant, a thing that only one of them can identify.

“I’m sorry,” he isn’t, not really, but he knows he will be tomorrow when he sobers up and thinks about this, he wants to keep things nice, so he half-lies and gets something flung at his face.

He’s reeling from the pain of whatever the fuck it was, hands over his face where it had impacted into his cheek, he hears the door slam and when he comes back to himself he is alone in bed with a rumpled hardback lying on his legs.

“What happened to your face?”

Mizuki looks unimpressed by the question, picks up his beer but doesn’t drink it, sits fidgeting with the paper label, peeling the edges up off the glass, “Sly threw a book at me.”

Tio laughs, “did you deserve it?”

“Yeah.”

Tio seems surprised by the answer, by the honesty in his voice, Mizuki supposes Tio doesn’t know much about what they’re like now, he knew what they used to be like, volatile and high-strung, he probably thinks Sly would throw a book at the slightest provocation.

“I was an asshole. He’s- We’ve got an issue, and I, I keep pushing on it and, he doesn’t want to talk about it or acknowledge it but I just keep pushing him and he, snapped, I guess. I really upset him.”

Tio considers this, passes his phone over to Mizuki with a menu already open. They’re getting Thai food, apparently, Mizuki already knows what he wants so he scrolls down and adds it and passes the phone back very quickly, giving Tio no time to think into his words.

“Well, what’s the issue?” Mizuki gives him a side-long look and he shakes his head in confusion, he’s going to struggle to guess out of the myriad of things it could be, makes a wild guess based on Mizuki’s reluctance to just tell him. “Is it a sex thing?”

Mizuki gives him another look, this one is faintly warning but Tio doesn’t pay it any heed, Mizuki might have made a mistake by pushing it with Sly, but Tio’s pretty sure Mizuki isn’t about to lob a book at his head.

“So, you’re having bad sex, or, he wants it and you don’t, or the other way round?” Mizuki shrugs, starts ripping off the label in one large piece, scrunching it up in his hands. “Or you’re not having it at all?”

“Bingo,” Mizuki says quietly, ditching the mangled label onto the coffee table and slumping back against the couch cushions. “I don’t really think we should be talking about this, he’s very sensitive about it, as you can tell from my face.”

“Well, why aren’t you?”

“I don’t know, that’s the problem. It’s not like I haven’t tried, but he’s always got an excuse, always got a reason to stop and I- I was drunk, after the party, I didn’t, take it very well. I was an asshole and I, I really touched a nerve. I just- I know we don’t need to, but I- I’d fucking like to, you know?”

Tio considers this, uncaps himself another beer and regards the mess of Mizuki’s discarded label absently, shredded into small pieces and balled up on the table, “so you’re not having sex, or you’re not doing anything?”

“Second one.”

“Huh,” he exhales, tilts his head to look at the ceiling, “that is odd. Do you think something happened, when he left?”

“Maybe, I don’t know, he’s so- When it happens he’s so, it’s horrible he just, tenses up and he has this look on his face and it’s, it makes me feel like I’m trying to do something awful. But I was drunk and he seemed, you know, willing, then it’s like there’s a snap and he’s completely repulsed.”

“Jesus,” Tio breathes, grimaces, “maybe you should talk about it? Not in the moment just, another time.”

“I’ve tried but he just won’t talk about it. It’s really bothering him and I just want to,” he holds a hand out with a clenched fist, bangs it against his knee a couple of times, “I just want to know what’s wrong.”

“He’ll tell you eventually.”

“Yeah,” he holds no particular optimism but he feels vaguely better for having told somebody even if they couldn’t be of much help, “what about you?”

Tio laughs, “oh, absolutely not.” Mizuki raises an eyebrow at him, surprised. Tio looks faintly embarrassed as he rolls his eyes, “don’t, tell him I told you this, but his dicks fucking huge, all the other stuff is fine, I- I don’t know if it’s gunna, you know.”

“Fit?” Tio looks amused, nods as he takes another swig of beer, “why don’t you just top then?”

“He’s not into that, I’ve asked. So, guess it’s my asshole getting ruptured.”

Mizuki coughs beer everywhere, choking on his own laughter.

A problem shared is a problem halved.

Sort of.

The next problem is Sly himself, who is remaining stubbornly radio silent on all channels, Mizuki has even tried calling him and he gets nowhere, the line either rings until it cuts out or he’s immediately disconnected when Sly declines the call.

He finds himself, once again on his Granny's doorstep feeling stupid, feeling guilty.

Sly answers, takes one look at him with a face like thunder and tries to slam the door in his face but Mizuki moves quicker, shoves his shoe into the gap and then feels like he’s broken every bone in his foot as the door connects with force.

It’s honestly a struggle to stand up once the door has opened again and his foot is freed, he’s going to have some impressive bruises, maybe even a limp, but Sly regards him coldly and his voice is flat when he speaks.

“That made me feel a bit better.”

“You can do it again, if you want. I’d say I deserve it.”

“You deserve worse.”

Mizuki inclines his head, winces as his weight rests on his mangled foot, “yeah, yeah, I know,” Sly keeps staring at him with his eyes hard and his expression closed off, “I’m sorry, I know I was out of line. But I, I was drunk and, you know,” he vaguely waves a hand around and Sly raises an eyebrow at him as his eyes briefly scan the hallway behind him.

“She’s not home.”

That’s sort of a blessing and a curse because now Mizuki has to finish his sentence, “you know, I was, horny,” Sly seems darkly amused by how embarrassed saying that makes him, leans against the door frame watching him stammer his way through yet another apology. “I don’t- I don’t expect you to, you know, do anything, if you don’t want to.”

“Kind of seemed like you do expect it.”

“I just, I don’t get it, sex was always something we were good at, and now it’s, not something we even do?” Sly’s not looking at him now, staring at his own bare feet, toes curled up on the warm wood of the hallway floor. “I’m not saying it’s something we have to do it just, it’s weird that we don’t and it’s weirder that I don’t know why we don’t.”

Sly sighs, rubs at his shoulder with the opposite hand, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Mizuki is frustrated, he didn’t expect to come over and just have Sly spill everything but he’d expected something, “did, I mean, did something happen while you were gone? Did someone hurt you?”

Sly shakes his head, mumbles a no so quietly Mizuki almost doesn’t hear it, he looks worried again, anxious, he’s nibbling at his lip and he’s shrunk into himself, he looks like he wants to disappear but when Mizuki reaches for him he allows it warily.

“I just want to help,” Sly doesn’t look like he fully believe that but he softens a little bit when Mizuki puts his hands on his waist and squeezes gently. “It’s making you feel bad.”

“I’m not talking about it here.”

“My place then, whenever you want.” Sly seems reluctant but he nods, it’s sort of progress, barely, maybe a half-step forwards to reverse the mile they’ve gone back. “We okay?”

Sly huffs, looks remarkably put out by the question and Mizuki almost expects him to say no, but he doesn’t, he rolls his eyes and mumbles a gloomy yes.

He lets Mizuki kiss him before he leaves, lets Mizuki look at him with his face all soft and his eyes all warm, fond.

He waits for him to say it.

He doesn’t.

Radio silence continues but Mizuki has regained the patience he had lost, Sly will come to him when he’s ready, so he carries on with life and checks in with him quickly over messaging, he replies sometimes, but mostly he doesn’t. He says he’s fine, he says he’s thinking about things.

Mizuki misses him, but he will give him time. Whatever it is he needs to say, he is clearly terrified.

Sly has done something very stupid.

This isn’t exactly abnormal for him so he isn’t overly concerned, the issue is that he did the stupid thing then continued to do other, stupider things despite his own knowledge that they are indeed, stupid.

As a result, he’s tipsy for the first time in months, he’s just swallowed something without really knowing what it is or quite how it works, and he’s on his way to Mizuki’s apartment with a vague, naïve plot in his head.

He realises as he gets there that he has no idea if Mizuki is even home, if he is he might have company but Sly knocks on the door anyway and feels faintly stupid, faintly hopeful. It’s actually gotten pretty late, approaching midnight so it’s possible that Mizuki is just in bed, fast asleep.

Sly will be annoyed if he is, even though it’s not exactly Mizuki’s fault that he doesn’t know he’s the main recipient of this wonderful plan he’s concocted. He knocks again, impatient and feeling very flushed with the slight amount of alcohol in his stomach, he’s an absolute light weight now and despite the fact that he’s only had about three drinks, he’s feeling it a lot. It’s sort of weird, feeling a bit out of it after having been so very in it for such a long time, he’s not entirely sure he likes it but if it works he will be thrilled.

Using his words would definitely have been less risky, but somehow every time he tries to figure out a way to word it he ends up ashamed, mortified at the idea of even hinting at the problem. So he abandons words and goes with actions instead, historically he has done better with that approach and he hopes this will go the same way.

Mizuki answers, he looks faintly alarmed at somebody being at his door at this hour, but his furrowed brow softens when he sees Sly, he looks worried now more than outwardly wary, smiles but there’s a question it it too. He’s only got boxers on.

Sly thinks he was right, he’d been in bed, or about to get there anyway.

“You okay? It’s late.”

Sly wonders how to answer, he wonders how to start his master plan and thinks that he can probably take his time, he feels physically that he needs a bit more time, so he shrugs and says, “yeah,” and prays he isn’t slurring, that he doesn’t smell of alcohol.

“Okay,” Mizuki laughs, obviously none the wiser at his not massively elucidating sentence, moves out of the way to let him come inside and locking the door behind him. The room is warm, Sly can just hear the fan blades whirling in his bedroom but here the heat is muggy, stagnant. “Your Granny on nights again?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Mizuki says again, stands there, tall and handsome, confused. He’s not seen Sly since they vaguely made up, it’s a strange time for him to choose to come back. “So, you don’t normally come by at midnight, you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just, you know. Got bored.”

Mizuki laughs uncertainly, “bored?”

“Yeah, I get bored.”

“You’re being weird,” Mizuki adds flatly, flicks his forehead softly like Noiz so often does, “I was about to go to bed, I’ve got an early appointment tomorrow.”

That puts a bit of a wrench in the works of Sly's wonderful plan, but he thinks he can make it work anyway, shrugs out of his thin jacket, it’s still balmy out but there’s a cool breeze so he’d needed it, slides off his trainers.

Wonders how on earth he used to do this so easily.

He listens briefly to his body, feels something new, something different.

Thinks it’s working.

“You wanna say hi first?” It’s not like him to ask for that, it’s usually Mizuki who brings up any excuse to kiss him, Mizuki seems suspicious but he rolls his eyes and moves closer anyway, kicks his trainers out of the way, puts arms around his waist, watches him.

He’s looking for something wrong, but Sly has no intention of giving anything of the sort away, so he smiles and angles up, puts his hands on Mizuki’s warm skin, feels something again, feels emboldened, tries with little effect to pull him closer.

“You’re being very weird,” Mizuki almost whispers, very close to his mouth. He is, Sly thinks, helpless to his charm, a willing pawn in the game he has created.

In the game only he knows is even happening.

Mizuki kisses him anyway, doesn’t seem too displeased at being disturbed at this time of night, especially since Sly seems to be in an effervescently good mood, he smiles into the kiss and Mizuki thinks something is slightly off but he doesn’t know what it is. He tastes different, sort of fruity. It’s not bad, he assumes he’s had some sort of fizzy drink as he often does, doesn’t put too much thought into it. He wonders if Sly’s been talking over whatever is wrong in therapy, if the issue is dealt with now.

For a kiss hello, Sly seems reluctant to let it end, and Mizuki is as always utterly weak to his whims, lets it stretch out far longer than it would ever need to, feels Sly drape arms around his neck, playing with the baby hairs at his nape.

“You’re friendly today,” he offers, notices with amusement that Sly seems irked that the kissing has stopped even if it is only brief, soothes him by nuzzling his nose into the warm skin under his ear, pressing his lips there.

“I’m always friendly,” he offers, stretching up to try and be Mizuki’s equal in height, it doesn’t quite work but it does bring them even closer together, pressed together almost entirely from feet to chest, closer than Sly has been in a while. “Stop talking.”

Mizuki would think this was a booty call if it wasn’t for the clear lack of interest in booty Sly has been showing lately. Still, he thinks it could be one as Sly kisses him again, harder, puts his hands on his shoulders, his arms, squeezing.

He thinks maybe he should be concerned at the sudden change of pace, then remembers it’s Sly he’s thinking about and decides not to be, if he needs to be concerned Sly will definitely let him know, instead he parts their mouths, kisses his face instead.

“I have a feeling,” he says, punctuating his words with kisses, his eyelids, his cheek, the soft line of his jaw, “that I’m not going to be going to bed any time soon.”

Sly laughs, tilts his neck in invitation, hums happily as Mizuki takes the initiative and kisses him there instead, pressing his warm, open mouth against the skin there without much thought.

Sly's plan is working and he is thrilled.

They end up on the sofa, things have devolved quite a bit, Sly’s shirt has come off and been thrown somewhere out of sight and Mizuki is pressed against him, a heavy weight pinning him down to the cushions. It’s all very hot, it’s all working magnificently for Sly, who can’t really do much but lie there and grab at whatever of Mizuki’s strong, broad form that he can, with the drink in him he feels confident, sure.

He’s too busy being kissed and squeezed and scratched that he doesn’t even  realise the feeling of something isn’t really there any more, that it had faded away a few minutes ago, maybe even longer. Mizuki presses their bodies together, grinds against him and groans against his mouth.

Sly thinks he’s been waiting a long time for this, Sly thinks that is sort of his fault but Mizuki doesn’t seem to mind, worms his hands into his pants and grabs a handful of his ass with nails that scratch, that dig in. It’s been a very long time since Mizuki was this intense with him, he’s missed it, the feeling of his weight, his hands everywhere, his mouth mapping out the shapes of his body. His mouth reaches a nipple, his fingers the other, squeezing and licking and Sly whines. It feels good. He still hasn’t realised the something has gone. The alcohol is clouding his brain now, it seems to have hit harder and he loses track of time, loses track of where they are, he can only feel Mizuki, warm and firm and needy.

Sly feels suddenly thrown off kilter when they tumble into bed and there's nothing between them but boxers. He feels suddenly sober. He feels the lack of the something. It hits then, that he is still broken, that there are things that still do not work.

His plan is a failure and he is an embarrassment.

Mizuki notices, he thinks, pulls back and kisses him, soft, asks if he's alright. 

"Yeah," he says through a clenched jaw, smiling as he feels sudden anxiety rise in every place their bodies touch, Mizuki frowns, moves back further, so they aren’t quite pressed together like they were. He doesn’t look down.

He's noticed though, Sly knows, tenses up, feels stupid and inadequate and like a disappointment. He’s felt it, or the lack of it.

"That wasn't very convincing," he laughs, strokes across his cheek, his touch slowing everything down so it melts like molten honey, shifts so they're lying side by side and pulls him into his arms. He doesn’t seem particularly annoyed that Sly’s basically come over, gotten him all worked up then stopped. Again. He might not be annoyed, but Sly is. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," he lies, then, "I just-" 

"It's fine if you don't want to." 

What an odd thing to say, Sly thinks, what a considerate thing to say considering how they got here in the first place.

"No, no, I do, of course I do," Mizuki's gently concerned voice is beginning to needle him, he realises his own stupidity has just taken away his escape route and he feels sick. 

"But?" 

"I," he sighs and tries to squirm away but Mizuki is having none of it, grumbling vaguely and loosening his hold but refusing to release him altogether. He's very irked that Mizuki can see his face right now, cheeks blossoming red as he averts his eyes entirely and stumbles over his words. He thinks his drinks have completely worn off now. "I've just been, uh, having some, trouble." 

"Trouble?" Mizuki asks softly, clearly not understanding at all. Sly wishes the ground would swallow him whole, refuses to be any more obvious and just gestures vaguely to his crotch which remains aggravatingly uninterested in the current proceedings. 

"I uh, think it's the medication," he finishes awkwardly, chewing his bottom lip so hard it hurts and feeling more ashamed than he thinks he has in his entire life, his face feels like it's burning and he's horrified to find his eyes flooding with tears. He still can’t actually say it in words, so he’s implied it instead and Mizuki has clocked on, has understood.

It feels as bad as if he had actually said it.

Maybe he’d feel less ashamed if he had just said it instead of concocting a stupid plan that was doomed from the start.

"Oh," Mizuki says unhelpfully, curls a leg around Sly's to pull him in closer and kisses his forehead so gently Sly thinks he's definitely going to cry, nestles his head into the warm skin of his neck and talks quietly, intimately. "Well, that's okay."

Sly, who can still feel that he’s hard, flares, pushes himself free, glares, "well it's not though, is it?" 

Mizuki responds with the same fire, "well it is though," sits up to match Sly and grabs his wrist as he tries to stand, to flee, "Sly, I don’t care.”

"Oh, fuck off." He's still so embarrassed, he wants this to be over, not turn into a full blown conversation about his malfunctioning dick and how it's going to affect their relationship going forward. He thinks he's mad at himself, at his body that isn't doing what he wants it to, it is another inadequacy and he's sick of those, at not being good enough, at losing one of the things he was always good at without trying. He can’t believe he’d taken a pill that was meant to fix the issue and it still hadn’t worked.

Mizuki huffs, he looks remarkably annoyed, grabs Sly and kisses him, holds him so firm his fingertips hurt where they dig in and pulls back suddenly to stare at him with such intensity it's hard to meet his eye. "I don’t care if we never have sex again." 

"Would you stop it?" Sly demands, starts fighting to get free, grows angrier as Mizuki refuses to let him go, he's bigger and stronger and gets him pinned onto the sheets too easily. "Let go of me."

"Not until you listen to me," his tone has become more reasonable but Sly is beyond reason now, he's embarrassed and ashamed and livid in equal measure and it is not a fun combination. It's more than he's felt at once for a very long time and he isn't particularly enjoying it.

"Please let go of me," Sly tries, he realises suddenly that he's shaking under Mizuki's hands, "I kinda want to disappear right now and you're not helping." 

"I'm trying to tell you that you don't need to feel bad about this, it's fine."

"How? How is it fine?" Sly doesn't believe him, he can't believe him, what use is he to Mizuki if they can't have sex or fool around, if he's just completely broken when it comes to the dick department? How are they meant to have a relationship without sex, or with sex that only goes one way because only one of them can actually get hard, when one of them has functioning parts and the other doesn't. 

"Because I want you for more than sex! And I know that’s all people have ever wanted you for but that’s not why I want you.”

"Wow," Sly says flatly, raising his eyebrows. He's used to being told things he doesn't like to hear, but to be told in no uncertain terms that he’d just been a hole to fill in the past isn’t very nice even if he knows it was the opinion of most.

"I didn't," Mizuki sighs, rubs his temples, finally let's go of him, "I'm sorry, that was, cruel, I didn't mean to be so…" 

"Honest," Sly says, sits up and wonders how red his cheeks are, how far it spreads, his ears feel like they're about to melt off from the heat his cheeks are producing, "you didn't mean to be honest." 

"I didn't mean to upset you." 

"You didn't, it's the truth isn't it, I know that as well as you do." 

"I don't want to argue about this." 

"Well we are." 

"We're not," Mizuki insists, "look, I think we can both agree that we never saw this happening at all," he gestures between them with a sharp jerk of his hand, "but it is and honestly it's just," he pauses, huffs again and rolls his neck out, staring at the ceiling, starts over, "knowing that you want to be in my life, that you want to be with me, that's enough." 

"For now," Sly retorts petulantly, feels small and stupid. The alcohol hadn’t worked and the pills hadn’t worked and now Mizuki knows and there is no quick fix for this, there is no simple solution.

"Stop telling me how I feel," his stare isn't on the ceiling any more, it's on Sly and there is an intensity in his eyes that kills the words Sly was forming in seconds, "stop." 

"I'm sorry." It feels weird to apologise, the guilt that burns in his chest feels weirder though, he knows he's hurt Mizuki's feelings and he feels bad about it, that is new, he's not sure he likes it. He notices with a sort of dulled apathy that their argument has well and truly killed Mizuki’s boner.

He looks across the bed at Mizuki, sat there frustrated and annoyed, reaches out slowly, ignores the way Mizuki watches his every movement, touches his wrist first, the soft skin of his inner arm, reaches his shoulder and the other hand joins, slide around his neck slowly, intently. He eases up, forward and gets closer, knees touching, aware of every breath in the silence, his own pulse hammering a staccato beat in his throat, he's not sure what he's doing as he wraps arms around Mizuki's neck and rests his chin in the divot of his shoulder. 

"I'm sorry," he repeats, sinks down into his lap and looks at his hands on the broad expanse of his back, pale against tan, something about it, about them makes him sad, makes him feel hopeless.

"It's okay," Mizuki says, rubs a slow hand up his back and kisses his neck, sighs and whispers, "I love you." 

His words feel heavy, hitting Sly like a physical blow. He’d suspected, that Mizuki still did, but hearing him say it now hurts somehow, feels almost like an attack. The weight of Mizuki’s love blankets him and he feels choked by it, suffocated. It is so heavy.

Sly's heart falters, his breath hitches for one second and his body sags down into Mizuki's embrace, the sadness returns full force and he feels his eyes spill over as his lip trembles, "I know you do," he says wetly, holds him a bit harder.

Wishes he could say it back.

Mizuki is gone when he wakes up, there’s a note on the dining table in his messy scrawl, marked with kisses. Sly reads it, understands, breathes softly into the empty room, puts his head in his hands and cries.

Chapter Text

A way to distract yourself from mental pain by causing physical pain, that was the way his doctor had explained it to his Granny. But he was wrong. Because there is no distraction from the mental pain, that’s not how it works, you don’t do a quick cut and voilà your mental distress is gone.

It’s never been about a distraction, not for Sly.

It is about punishment.

It is about giving himself what he deserves.

The time waiting for Mizuki to come back from work isn’t nice, he sits at the table holding the note and his hands get tighter, his body gets tenser, his brain gets louder, nastier. Sly gets into his own head, he thinks of Mizuki kissing him and of Mizuki touching him and of his body doing nothing. He thinks of the way he always spoils everything, of Mizuki telling him he loves him and of being unable to say it back, of Sly ruining everything and everyone around him just by existing.

He can tell it’s coming, the feeling, the intense heat and the feeling of crushing, inescapable dread and the burning building crushing hateful feeling that builds in his chest until everything is white and he can’t see and he can’t breathe and all he can do is fucking hate-

Then, like always. It’s over and he can breathe again.

It’s not hard to find something sharp, Sly can be inventive when he needs to, anything can become a way to punish himself. After his brother had died, he’d stood in a burning hot shower hitting himself over and over with a heavy shampoo bottle until it blacked his eye. He’s hurled his head into walls, he’s stabbed at himself with cutlery and scratched himself with his nails or chunks of brick or whatever he can find.

Anything to end that white-hot feeling of disgust, of hatred, anything to give himself what he deserves.

Anything to feel punished.

He doesn’t feel bad after, he never does. He pulls his sleeves down and cleans away the evidence and sits there with the ache, knowing he deserves it, knowing he deserves worse.

At least he can breathe now, he can see and he can feel something other than hate and he picks up the note again and reads it and for a moment he feels nothing at all.

“Tell me you’re not googling it!”

“Yes, I’m googling it!”

Sly grimaces, makes a noise of disgust and shuts the laptop on Mizuki’s fingers. He at least does it gently this time, Mizuki’s just had a new screen put on after all, he doesn’t think it would help the situation if he broke it all over again, or if he hurt Mizuki who is sat at the table trying to help.

The conversation since Mizuki got back from work has not gone well, Sly feels cut adrift, feels like he’s drowning and it is his own body holding his head under the water. He feels like things he’s worked to build are coming undone, crumbling and splitting and cracking in a way that only spreads over time, that only gets worse.

Mizuki huffs, “what else do you want me to do? I’m not a Doctor, I don’t know how this shit works.”

“Neither do I!”

“It’s your dick.”

“Then it should do what I fucking want it to! I don’t think it works like that.”

Mizuki opens his mouth, he looks apologetic but it is tinged with annoyance, Sly doesn’t think they’re getting anywhere, wishes desperately for an out.

For once, his wish is answered and his coil starts to ring.

It’s his Granny, she’s wondering where he is, after all he’d been home when she’d gotten in from work last night but his bed hasn’t been slept in, she’s not concerned as such, more just curious. Scolds him gently for not letting her know and asks when he’ll be back, she needs help with something.

It’s the perfect excuse to leave the situation, so Sly does, he explains to Mizuki who narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything as he rams his feet into his trainers and opens the front door, he doesn’t even speak until he’s already out of the apartment.

He’s stood up from the table, grabs his arm and pulls his remarkably reluctant form closer, “I’m trying to help.”

Sly grouses, “I know you are.” He’s still grumpy, still unhappy, but he lets Mizuki kiss him anyway. “I’ve got an appointment at the hospital tomorrow, I’ll, bring it up.”

“Ironic,” Mizuki says and very much earns the jab to the ribs he receives, laughs as Sly heads out and calls after him, “bye.” Then, softer, almost as an afterthought, “I love you.”

The words feel lighter with the afternoon sun washing over his skin where he stands by the opened door, he still feels them press across his shoulders though, feels them force his neck down, compress his spine. They are still heavy.

Sly hesitates halfway through the door, feels the small piece of notepaper in his pocket and calls back, “I think you’re alright.” He hears Mizuki laughing, and despite everything, he feels a little better.

Sly’s due another six month review with the doctor who is in charge of his case. Sly thinks it’s a bit much that he’s even considered as a case any more but he is aware he has no choice, this was the path he’d chosen when he’d taken those pills and crawled through those tunnels.

He hadn’t realised it, but this path was set for him the moment he’d decided to die.

He doesn’t regret it, living, he just wishes he’d thought it through better. Done a better job, maybe. Though, looking back, he’d done an excellent job, it’s just that the doctors and surgeons were better.

He wishes he could break free of this, the therapy and the drugs and the stupid six month reviews where he sees a man he sees no other time but who knows everything about him. He is tired of baring his soul and taking his medication as prescribed and still being on some sort of list despite all his efforts at complicity.

He tells Granny he doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t think he needs a review, he’s doing well. Granny agrees, which is nice, but she still insists they go and Sly finds it hard to say no to her when it comes to this, he still catches her looking at him sometimes like she’s seeing how he was, all anger and fury and torn open skin.

So, they go.

There’s the boring bit, his case and his stability and general medical talk Sly doesn’t bother to try and follow, he stares at the newtons cradle on the doctors desk, listens to the gentle clack of metal against metal. Sly answers when he needs to, ticks three questionnaires. One is to measure his level of depression, one his level of anxiety and the third his overall well-being.

They’re boring, the questions are stupid. Sly thinks these would be very easy tests to cheat at, just tick all one or ten depending on what you want. You want to be left alone, tick all ones. You want help and you want it now, tick all tens.

Simple.

The doctor is pleased with his answers, there is a downward trend from his first questionnaires so long ago, the numbers get lower with every visit. Sly wonders if he should bring up how easy it would be to lie. He doesn’t bother.

The doctor asks, as he always does, if there is anything he wants to discuss before they finish, Sly thinks about opening his mouth, about saying his dick isn’t working properly, he hesitates so long his Granny turns to him with a small frown.

He thinks about it, about saying it, about the weight of Mizuki’s love crushing his shoulders even though they are far apart, he parts his lips, swallows.

Says no, there isn’t, and they let him go.

The walk back after the appointment feels tense, loaded. Granny keeps giving him little looks out of the corner of her eye when she thinks he can’t see, she stubbornly stays quiet until they get home. Her stare narrows onto a mark on his collarbone. Sly knows what it is, the lightest of red bruises, a visible reminder of Mizuki’s mouth on him, a visual sign of his love and all the heaviness that comes with it.

“Something’s wrong,” she begins and Sly rolls his eyes, trying to look annoyed rather than anything else.

Rather than afraid.

"You don’t have to tell me, not if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to,” he says without bite.

She huffs softly, regards him across the table, one on either side like they’re in a courtroom, like they’re in a stand off. “Does he know?”

She knows who he means, she also knows his name but for some reason never seems to use it, Sly thinks she respects that his relationship is his own business, but sometimes her lack of interest grates. “Yeah.”

“Is he the problem?”

He fights the urge to roll his eyes again, she is defensive, protective of him, it’s not needed right now and usually he’d appreciate it, but her words have reminded him that the problem is not Mizuki, it is Sly. “No.”

She considers this, makes an irritated noise, a sort of complaining exhale, “good.”

Sly doesn’t mean to mention that he’d had his review, but it slips out accidentally while they are talking. Sly feels like Mizuki is sat further away than normal but he also thinks that’s his own anxieties talking and he’s making things up to guilt himself more than he already is.

Mizuki doesn’t ask immediately, he waits until they are heading to bed, until Sly is comfortable and warm and safe.

It feels like an attack.

“Did you talk to the doctor?”

It takes him a moment to clock on, he rolls on the pillow and gives Mizuki a look, Mizuki, unfortunately, does not quail and just looks right back, “no.”

“I thought you were going to,” his tone isn’t accusatory, it’s soft. Sly still bristles.

“Not with Granny there.”

“You could have asked her to leave?”

Sly snorts, “yeah, no, that would have made her worried. She’s worried about me enough.”

“I worry about you too,” his voice is soft and Sly feels himself sag under it, he wants to be defensive and prickly but he is in bed with a man that loves him, who is tender and warm and supportive. It’s very hard to argue with somebody who cares for him so much. “You hurt yourself.”

Sly flicks his eyes away from Mizuki’s, he’d known he couldn’t hide it from him, he’s never been able to, but especially not now, with all they’ve been through together, it feels wrong to hide things even if they do make him ashamed.

“Why?”

“I was angry,” he’s laid back down now, head on the pillow, eyes locked on Mizuki’s shoulder, the broad expanse of his chest, the empty space between them where the duvet hasn’t settled. “With-”

Mizuki sighs gently, reaches over to tenderly tuck Sly’s hair back, out of the way so he can see his face as he speaks. Sly sort of wishes he didn’t bother. “With who?”

“Myself,” his voice quakes faintly and he waits for Mizuki to speak but he doesn’t, just keeps looking at him and touching him, his hand in his hair, brushing faintly across his cheek, curling around his hip. “I, haven’t felt like that in a long time. I just- I get tired of messing stuff up.”

“You’re not messing anything up.”

“I know, I just- I don’t know, I’ve, I’m doing better I just,” Mizuki is quiet, lets him speak, rubs a hand up his side in a slow soothing stroke and watches him. Sly shakes his head, that train of thought doesn’t go anywhere useful so he disembarks, “I’ve got therapy soon, I’ll talk to him, he’s- I trust him. And if I can’t- I can always try next time.”

Mizuki still doesn’t speak but he seems pleased, Sly can feel him smile against his skin when he presses his lips to his forehead, when he holds him close and they both go still. Sly shuts his eyes, inhales his scent. He feels peace.

There is a recurring theme in Sly's life, whenever things seem to be going right, something always happens to make things significantly worse.

There is usually a bearer of bad news, usually somebody he does not like very much.

But this time it is Noiz who flips his whole life upside down.

Sly is awoken to a succession of odd, echoing taps, like something hollow is being gently struck. His eyes ease open to darkness and he is not happy about it, he’d stayed at Mizuki’s later than normal, so late in fact that he’d found it difficult to think of a reason why he couldn’t just stay over for a second night.

Especially with Mizuki standing with him at the door, absently swinging their hands and smiling at him the way he had. He finds it hard to say no to anything when Mizuki smiles like that, warm and fond and smitten. Loving.

So Sly is tired, the walk back to Granny’s had sapped the rest of his energy and it had been the early hours by the time he got into bed and fell into blissful sleep.

He returns to wakefulness groggily, sits up and rubs his eyes, peers around waiting for the noise again, trying to work out what it is so he can get it to stop. It happens again, three short, sharp knocks. It’s coming from the balcony window.

A bird, Sly thinks, though he has no idea why a bird would be pecking at his window at 3am. He climbs out of bed and opens the curtain feeling significantly irritated, what meets him is not what he expects.

It’s Noiz, stood on his balcony at 3am knocking gently on the glass to wake him. To say Sly almost suffers a heart attack is an understatement, he manages not to yell but he inhales a startled breath and takes some instinctive steps back and ends up falling over the end of his bed.

Now that Sly is obviously awake, Noiz opens the door and stands over him looking amused, “good thing I’m not here to attack you.”

Sly thinks maybe he should start locking the door, he thinks he would yell at Noiz if Granny wasn’t asleep upstairs, exhausted after covering a double shift. He quells slightly when Noiz offers him a hand to pull him up and says, urgent and serious, “I need to show you something,” then scowls when he continues, “nice pyjamas.”

“Fuck off, yours are worse,” Noiz shrugs, looks around the room absently. It suddenly occurs to Sly that he doesn’t think Noiz has ever been in his bedroom before, “you couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Has to be now.”

Sly rolls his eyes, points to his bed and watches as Noiz sits down looking strange, sort of drawn, worried. Sly doesn’t often see Noiz looking worried.

They sit in silence as he gets dressed and though Noiz tries to leave via the balcony again, Sly grabs his arm with an exasperated look and they creep through the hallways and down the stairs.

They leave by the front door, and Noiz still does not speak.

They’ve been walking a while, it’s a Tuesday so the island is pretty quiet even as they head into the busier areas, a single convenience store is open, a bar that sounds deserted as they pass it. They pass right by Noiz’s building and as they start to head towards the North District Sly finally loses his temper and asks.

“Where in the fuck are we going?”

Noiz casts his eyes over to him, smiles very faintly, very sneakily, “Grime.”

This pulls Sly up short, he stops walking abruptly, feeling angry, feeling dread. “Fuck off, I’m not going there.”

Noiz looks like he expected that, turns to face him in the dingy alley they’ve ended up in, his expression, what Sly can see of it, is tense, something is wrong but Noiz is as cryptic as always and he won’t just tell what he can show. “Nobody will see you. Trust me.”

Sly grouses to himself, he hates when Noiz says things like that, because he does trust him even though right now he wishes he didn’t, he rolls his eyes and scowls but he starts walking again and earns himself a one-armed squeeze.

They avoid the street that Grime sits on completely and they head round the back, careful to steer clear of the entrance, Sly senses the weight of Trip and Virus a few metres away and feels a sick nausea building in his stomach.

They end up in what is definitely the grossest back alley Sly has ever been in, they hunch down between two overflowing dumpsters that smell like death. Sly thinks he’s going to be sick, and not just from the smell. Grime holds so many bad memories for him, so much trauma. He really doesn’t want to go back.

Noiz is rooting around in his pockets, offers him over a pair of sunglasses and then a pair of foam earplugs.

Sly stares at him like he’s lost his mind but Noiz’s face is firm, focused. When Noiz tells him to use them and not to take them off no matter what, he does as he is told. Something is wrong and the dread in his gut creeps higher as Noiz stays crouched down, feeling the wall in front of them and eventually finding what he wants, a sheet of rusted metal that he moves aside as quietly as he can.

Noiz knowing a back entrance to Grime doesn’t surprise him, it surprises Sly that he didn’t know about it. They emerge into a weird crawl space under the supposed DJ booth that Sly has never actually seen used for anything other than a platform to sit on and do whatever people do in Grime.

Drugs, mostly.

The tunnel they’d crawled through to get here was disgusting, damp and full of cobwebs and insects. It makes Sly think it is the kind of place somebody would go to die, it reminds him of somewhere else entirely and he presses his fingers into the scars on his arms and reminds himself that Noiz is here, that he is not alone and that his life is now something he is fighting for. Something he will keep fighting for.

The club is quiet, weirdly so. It’s open six nights a week and Tuesday is one of them, yet there is no music, no sounds of people, nothing.

Noiz looks at him, holds a finger to his lips, starts fiddling with something in the dark, there’s a metallic series of noises, like rusted metal being slowly twisted around, squeaking and objecting after years of stillness. A metal cover is lifted down and light enters where they are, the light is so bright that even with his sunglasses Sly is dazed, looks down at the dirty floor to readjust then looks back up.

They’re at floor level, or just slightly above, the grille is a series of diamond shaped holes, some of them are filled in with dirt, so he and Noiz have to press close so they can both see out. It’s a sea of legs, which makes sense for a nightclub, but the silence doesn’t, nor does the amount of light. It flickers between red, blue, green and yellow in a repeating pattern but it’s not fast enough to be regular club lighting and it’s way too bright, the whole room is bathed in it with every new colour.

Sly remembers the footage Noiz had showed him of the rescue of Beni-Shigure, he remembers the chill down his spine as he watched them all, motionless and expressionless. There had been something abnormal about it, something twisted and bent out of shape, distorted, like a reflection in water.

The patrons of Grime look the same but this time they have a focus, they stare at the lights, all facing in different directions. The problem is their expressions, they look blissful, they look like it’s the best thing they’ve ever seen. They look hypnotised, but happy.

It’s fucked up.

Then, as per usual, it gets worse.

Noiz reaches over and checks his ears for the buds, pushes them in even deeper, it’s a weird feeling, somebody else's fingers in his ears, but Noiz looks very tense, very worried, he squeezes Sly’s hand and then nods towards the grille again.

He’s got good timing, there is a sudden blast of music, Sly can’t hear it properly but he can feel the vibrations through the floor, the bass notes thrumming and the melody pulsing along behind. It’s almost too loud, Grime is a noisy club compared to most others, but this is pushing it, even with the earplugs Sly feels like he’s been assaulted by it.

Then the people start dancing, like they are on a switch, like with the music they have been freed from the lights that still stream down upon them.

Red-blue-green-yellow

Red-blue-green-yellow

Red-blue-green-yellow

Even if Noiz could hear him, Sly has nothing to say. Everything is wrong in here, the peoples faces, now ecstatic, like they’ve all just gotten the best news of their lives, like they’re in the best place on earth instead of one of the worst.

The tempo changes, the music is still hard and fast and loud, but there’s something different now, the lights speed up and dim but the people seem no less affected.

Sly watches in wide-eyed silence, unable to speak even if he could be heard, his brain is unable to produce a single coherent thought. The crowd in Grime are often quite openly amorous. But not like this, never like this.

Noiz pulls them out before the orgy really kicks off. Sly shudders on all fours in the back street and throws up watery bile. He’d be quite happy to stay there on the cold ground trying to recover, but Noiz is on high alert, grabs him by the arm and forces him up.

Sly loses track of where they are, he sort of loses track of everything until he is put on a couch and the sunglasses are removed from his face. Noiz, much to Sly’s displeasure, uses his fingers to pull his eyes wide open and stares at them.

“Shit,” he mutters, which is not reassuring at all. “Some of it got you.”

Sly opens his mouth to say something along the lines of ‘what the fuck’, but he throws up again instead, his head feels very heavy on his neck, like it’s weight will snap his spinal column and his skin will tear apart and his head will droop down onto his lap, hanging on to one last tendon.

Sly wakes up to an unfamiliar ceiling, that’s not super abnormal though more so lately, blinks and feels the incredibly painful pounding of a headache behind his lids, it feels like somebody has hold of his scalp on both sides and is slowly pulling their hands apart. His mouth tastes vile, acrid and bitter and his teeth feel disgustingly fuzzy with plaque.

He sits up in spite of this, trying to work out where the fuck he is, and is not reassured when he doesn’t recognise the room. He’s in a double bed, a fairly plain wooden frame with a matching neutral chest of drawers and an empty desk under the window opposite. There are no clues as to where he is, the walls are a light blue and the carpet is thick and a sort of creamy beige colour. The window is without blinds or curtains and it’s only when he peers through it to the outside world that he realises where he is.

He’s at Noiz’s, which is fine.

He’s in one of the spare bedrooms, which is weird.

Weirder still, when he walks on clumsy, stumbling feet to the door and turns the handle, it is locked. At first he thinks maybe he’s doing something stupid, turning the knob the wrong way, pushing when he should be pulling, but when he bends down to see through the crack of the frame he can see the deadbolt in place.

So, to cap things nicely, he’s woken up at Noiz’s when he distinctly remembers falling asleep at Granny’s, and he’s locked in.

He has no idea why he isn’t in Noiz’s room, even with both of them ‘seeing’ other people they still often share the one bed, there’s no real reason not to and Sly even likes it when Noiz worms close to him and they share little space. Maybe he’d done something to piss Noiz off so he’d been relegated to the spare room while Noiz works his way out of his funk. But that’s not right either, because even if Noiz wants him nowhere near him, Sly would have slept on the couch rather than in here. Sly has never even seen the inside of Noiz’s various spare bedrooms. He doesn’t even know how many there are. Two? Three?

To sum up, he has-

1. Woken up at Noiz’s
2. In the spare bedroom
3. Alone
4. With the door locked
5. With no coil
6. Not in his own clothes

He only realises his coil is gone when he starts to wonder how the fuck he is going to get out, there’s a convenient en-suite so he’s not worried he’s going to piss himself or anything like that, and he doesn’t feel claustrophobic. It is Noiz, after all, who has locked him in, he trusts Noiz. If he locked him in it was likely for his own benefit.

The lack of coil is irritating, he has no idea what time it is and he’s very aware he promised Granny he would make it to therapy, based on the light outside he thinks he might have already missed it. Granny will be furious. His therapist probably won’t mind but the weight of a broken promise hangs heavily over him.

He ends up just banging on the door, if he really thought about it more he’d realise it isn’t the sturdiest thing and if he just gave it some effort he could most likely kick it right off the hinges, but his head hurts and he feels sick, so he whacks at it with his fists instead.

Nothing happens, so he decides he’ll just start yelling.

It hurts his head and his throat kind of a lot, but it does work.

The door clicks as it unlocks and it swings open (it opens inwards), and Noiz is standing there looking wary of him, a good distance away from the opening like he is prepared to slam it shut again if he needs to.

“What the fuck, Noiz?” His voice isn’t as furious as he’d expected, something has clearly happened.

“Let me see your eyes,” he says and it isn’t a question, Sly blinks at him, confused, but steps forwards a little bit and looks right at him, Noiz’s eyes scan his, assessing for something unknown. Then, to Sly chagrin, he whips a torch out of nowhere and grabs his face and starts flashing it into his eyes as he holds them open with fingers that dig in. Sly wants to object and pull away and start yelling and asking what in the ever-loving fuck has happened, but Noiz’s face is stony as he assesses him. “I think you’re good, I just need to-”

His voice trails off and to Sly’s increasing alarm he moves closer like he’s going to kiss him, shuts his eyes and everything. Sly, not necessarily against kissing Noiz in the grand scheme of things, moves away with a frown.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Noiz doesn’t seem to feel much of anything about being rebuffed, he searches Sly’s face again and says, voice flat, “you don’t want to have sex with me?”

Sly’s face does something complicated, something incredulous. Noiz does not ask stupid questions and that definitely was one, “no? Like not even a little bit?”

Noiz laughs, which isn’t very much help, “you don’t remember?” Sly shakes his head, remember what?

“Would you just tell me what’s going on?” He’s starting to get irked, he’s starting to feel that horrible gnawing dread in his stomach that means he’s done something wrong.

“Grime,” Noiz says.

A single word, simple, concise.

Sly remembers.

And with it, his world falls apart.

He stays at Noiz’s the rest of the day, he texts Granny, admits he missed therapy and apologises, says Noiz had an emergency he needed to help with. He needn’t have worried about her being angry, her soft spot for Noiz shows once again and she just says she hopes they’re both okay, asks if he’ll be back for dinner.

He won’t.

Him and Noiz talk over everything, the club and the lights and the music and why Sly ended up locked in the spare bedroom. Some of the lights got to him, through the gaps in the sides of his sunglasses or something, they’d basically drugged him. Noiz admits with a shitty grin that he’d gotten a bit handsy after they got back, so Noiz had locked him up by himself to stop him doing something stupid, something he’d regret.

Sly was right, Noiz locked him up for his own good. It seems like a bit of a dramatic way to go about it, but he is grateful anyway.

So, Noiz explains, there are the lights, then there is the music.

The lights are a kind of drug, they reprogram people’s brain wiring somehow, bring their subconscious desires to the forefront, then the music acts as the release, the trigger to start doing whatever it is they really want to do. Sly is surprised the people in Grime would rather fuck than beat each other to death with hammers, but Noiz says he thinks the lights and the music are meant to control, a group of people with murderous desires probably wasn’t the intended outcome.

“Well how did you find out about it?”

 Noiz grimaces, “Virus and Trip,” Sly’s face falls into something flat, something cold. “They kept inviting me to go, apparently any friend of yours is a friend of theirs. Said I’d find it enlightening.”

Sly makes a sound of disgust, but Noiz keeps going. “They were acting weirder than normal, so I figured I’d see what was going on without actually going, found the back way in and, well, got the lights and the music, the full show.”

“So you-”

“No,” Noiz replies quickly, laughs, “they don’t really, work on me, very well. I dunno why. Or, the lights don’t, the music, sort of.”

“Sort of?” Sly’s raised an eyebrow, it is unlike Noiz to be coy about things, to be evasive.

Sly wants to know what he’s hiding.

“Just gets me sort of, wound up.”

“So, you just, had a nice little hand party in the tunnel or?”

Noiz rolls his eyes, “nah,” his smile turns a bit shitty. “Went to see Koujaku.”

“Oh,” Sly says, smiles even though he still feels sick, picks at the food they’d ordered, he’s not really hungry, there is an unnerving feeling at the base of his nape, a sort of weird tingling pinching sensation like he’s being watched. “How’d that go?”

“He didn’t seem to mind.”

Sly laughs faintly but the sound is hollow, he feels wrong, off. There is something bigger here, bigger than Grime and the lights and the music, bigger than Virus and Trip. He just can’t see it yet. “Did you tell him?”

Noiz shakes his head, “he’s still- You know, what happened with his guys really,” he stops, thinks about his words, “you know it kinda, messed him up, I don’t- I don’t think he’d react well.”

“I thought he was better?”

“Sort of, physically he’s fine.”

“Oh,” Sly says, because he gets it. He thinks he was naïve to think that just because Koujaku is back working and running a team and being normal, that means everything is fine. He wonders how not fine he is mentally, he thinks it’s probably hard to come back from what Koujaku did, even if he didn’t realise what it meant when he did it. He wonders if Koujaku talks to Noiz about stuff like that, if he talks to anyone about it. He seems like the strong and silent type. But then, Sly thinks, he seemed like that too, and look at him now.

They’ve lapsed into silence, Noiz is eating a slice of pizza with a far away look in his eyes, it’s gone cold and the cheese is all congealed but he doesn’t seem to mind, Sly wonders what he’s thinking about.

“So, what do we do?”

Noiz’s eyes dart over, scan over him briefly, then flicker back down and stay there, “I don’t know.”

They end up going to see Mizuki, not in any conscious way, but he messages asking if Sly is still coming over and Sly realises most of the day is over, it’s about seven in the evening when they set off.

Sly wonders how Mizuki will react to an additional guest.

He wonders how Mizuki will react to what they plan to tell him.

The door is locked when they get there so Sly knocks and waits, there’s a yell from inside that he’ll be a minute. Sly wonders if maybe he’s been in the shower, or the gym.

He likes Mizuki fresh out of the shower, warm and softened by the spray, water droplets trickling down his body.

He shakes his head to clear it, he thinks the remnants of the music are still lingering, he’s not usually this horny, even in his own head, and especially not lately.

“When I got handsy, how handy are we talking?”

“You managed to kiss me,” Noiz starts, he doesn’t look too upset and Sly feels only mildly irked at himself, it’s not like he meant to get drugged and kiss Noiz, but still, he feels faint guilt. “Then you shoved your hands down my pants.”

Noiz has either very poor, or very good timing, because Mizuki opens the door at the perfect time to hear Noiz saying this, looks surprised at there being two of them, then faintly concerned as Sly decides he might as well continue his line of questioning.

“Front or back?”

“Back,” Noiz says, amused, Sly inclines his head slightly. He feels like front would have been a lot worse, “that’s when I locked you up.”

Mizuki blinks between them, says, “what?”

“He was on drugs,” Noiz says, which doesn’t help, at all. Sly jabs an elbow into his ribs and scowls at him but he doesn’t really mean it, Noiz is trying to help, the problem is that Mizuki has no context for this whatsoever. Sly manages to meet Mizuki’s eyes even though he feels very embarrassed and realises he looks faintly devastated.

“I- Well- By accident!”

“You did drugs, accidentally?”

“It’s a long story?”

Mizuki looks at him, sighs heavily and steps out of the way, Noiz heads in without invitation and makes himself comfy on his sofa, looking around the room and frowning at some unknown thing. “Is it a good story?” Mizuki’s voice is softer, Sly feels even worse with his eyes on him knowing that he kissed Noiz last night, out of his mind on weird drugs or not, he feels like he’s done something terrible again.

Sly shrugs, he wouldn’t define it as good, more, horrifying, unthinkable.

Terrifying.

“Sorry,” he offers, it sounds very pathetic, it seems like too little, but Mizuki rolls his eyes and pats him on the back. He thinks it might be a good sign that the idea of touching him doesn’t completely disgust him, but the casual touch isn’t exactly encouraging either.

“You can apologise after you’ve explained. If you still need to.”

As it turns out, he doesn’t. Noiz does most of the talking, Sly is still in some sort of delayed shock at what had happened, about what he’d seen.

Mizuki doesn’t ask a whole lot of questions, Sly has wiggled himself in next to him on the couch, they’re sharing the corner and Noiz is on the other end, facing them, there’s a great tangle of three pairs of leg where they meet. When Noiz mentions Virus and Trip and goes into more detail, Sly stares down at his own legs, one curled up under him and the other trapped between Noiz’s and Mizuki’s. He thinks of the two of them, sweeping down on him like vultures to offer pretend condolences for his brothers death, he thinks of them staring and watching and wanting.

They are one part of his old life he wishes would go away, but he knows they won’t, as long as they are alive they will be obsessed with him, they will haunt his movements, watch him from afar.

There’s a weird part of him that thinks they won’t even die. There is something fake about them, like they were mannequins once and haven’t quite adjusted to being human yet, like they were made in a lab with fake skin. With fake everything.

Noiz must notice he’s uncomfortable because he changes the subject, starts talking about the lights and the music again, says he’s been to Grime on several nights and seen the exact same people, stood in the exact same places, doing the exact same thing.

Mizuki sounds worried, Sly can’t see his face, he’s got his head nestled against his shoulder, watches Noiz with largely unseeing eyes, he can feel his life becoming unstuck again, can feel all the neatly organised threads begin to tangle again. Mizuki squeezes his hand. Sly hadn’t even realised he was holding it.

He thinks his apology might not be needed.

Mizuki has context now.

They talk for a long time, Noiz orders more food and there is vague shuffling around as Mizuki goes to get cutlery and plates, Noiz ends up sat on the floor, his back against the coffee table, talking around every mouthful.

Sly has yet to speak, his brain has been whirling around like a tornado, picking at ideas and then dropping them, trying to work things out.

Mizuki nudges at him with his foot, looks pointedly at his bowl, as yet untouched.

Then it clicks.

Suddenly.

“Toue.”

Mizuki frowns, Noiz says, soft, “shit.”

“Toue?”

“Platinum Jail, that’s where Virus and Trip live, that’s where Morphine is. That’s what all of this is about, I mean, nobody ever leaves the island, but they don’t leave Platinum Jail either, nobody has ever even tried. People just go there and- They don’t come back, they don’t even stay in touch.

“It’s possible,” Noiz says. “I looked into it, before I moved here. It’s just, nightclubs and bars and that’s it. Anybody would get sick of that after a while, but they don’t.”

“You think he started with them, and now he wants the rest of the island?”

“I think he trialled it on Beni-Shigure, and now he wants to expand. I think he’s improved his methods, it worked on them sure, but they got broken out of it. He’s working on keeping people in it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mizuki breathes, nudges at Sly’s bowl again with a frown. Even in his alarm he is concerned about Sly. It’s nice.

Sly isn’t hungry, he can feel terror gnawing at his insides, Virus and Trip have always terrified him, even when he was his old self and nothing scared him. He doesn’t want to ever see them again, let alone discover a sinister plot involving them. He picks up his chopsticks, he eats some noodles but he does not taste them. There’s a metallic feeling in his mouth, a bitter taste, like blood. He thinks he might throw up again.

They keep talking, and Sly forces his way through the bowl of noodles and he is relieved when Noiz says he’s got a job due and disappears in a hurry.

Sly isn’t sure he believes him, he knows most of his jobs take less than an hour and he always completes them early, him being this close to the wire seems unlikely.

He isn’t sure of anything anymore.

Mizuki can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it, but the problem is that it’s hanging over them like a knife suspended by a single strand of hair, it’s hard to talk about anything else. So Mizuki puts a movie on, some action thriller that doesn’t take much concentration to follow, he dims the lights and sprawls on the couch next to Sly and they don’t speak much at all for the rest of the night.

Sly stays over. He uses Mizuki’s toothbrush without telling him and slides into bed and feels so utterly wide awake he does not think he will ever sleep again, stares across at the dark wall opposite and wonders if things will ever be easy.

Mizuki can tell he is stuck in his own head, worried, scared.

He wraps arms around him and pulls him in close, he tells him everything will be okay, that they’ll work something out to fix things.

Sly doesn’t believe him but he says okay, lets Mizuki kiss him and feels his guilt melt away with the touch. Mizuki is not angry, Mizuki has context.

Mizuki loves him.

It is that alone which soothes him, and despite his own worries his eyes close and he is surrounded by the smell of Mizuki and the warmth of him and he falls asleep.

Chapter Text

Therapy has been easy lately, Sly often arrives with nothing to talk about because nothing bad has happened, nothing in the past has reared an ugly head. Because he is generally pretty happy. 

Now he sits there and his head is so full he doesn't know what to mention first, his dick not working goes out the window, it is suddenly a very trivial problem that can be dealt with another time. The issue of the music and of the lights takes prevalence over everything, they are all he can think about, they fill his dreams and his thoughts and all his other fears have been monumentally overshadowed. The problem is that he can't talk about it, it's obviously some big secret thing and besides, it would make him sound insane and he's trying his best to shake that particular label off. 

He’d always argued that he wasn’t an anxious person, he hadn’t wanted the drugs for it and he hadn’t wanted to discuss it in therapy, so it’s been largely ignored or put on the back burner. Sly has declared himself a person free of anxiety, and now that he is suddenly violently anxious, he doesn’t know what to do about it. Noiz keeps going back to Grime, keeps updating him, keeps messaging about it, about Virus and Trip, about Toue and Platinum Jail and the seemingly developing plan to control the entire island.

He is struggling to sleep, sometimes, when he lets himself think about Virus and Trip for too long he struggles to breathe and has to sit there and take big gulping breaths to feel less like he’s drowning.

So he sits opposite his therapist wondering what else he can talk about, there's a clock ticking, he's not noticed it before but it seems suddenly very obnoxious, suddenly incredibly irritating. The therapist let's the silence sit, he thinks Sly is preparing to speak about something but in truth he isn't, there is nothing worth speaking about except the one thing he can't.

Sly sits up straight in the same moment the therapist speaks. 

“Is there something wrong?”

“Can you take down that fucking clock?”

He seems startled, but then laughs faintly and stands to do as he is asked, stretching up to remove the round clock from the wall and pulling out the battery with a metallic twang as it breaks free of the spring. “I knew something was bothering you, I thought it was something external, though I admit I find the ticking somewhat off putting myself.”

“Why do you have it then?”

“It was a gift, albeit a strange one, I thought it was meant for me to take home but they were very insistent it be installed in my office so my clients could enjoy it,” Sly raises an incredulous eyebrow, “I found it odd, but people give me gifts sometimes, old clients and the like, I assumed they were some grateful relatives and didn't ask much else.”

Sly's eyes narrow and he casts his gaze to the clock the therapist still holds, “can I see it?”

“I suppose so, though without the batteries it is a little redundant.”

He holds it out, smiling, and Sly steps forwards to take it, surprised at the weight of it in his hands, it's made of dark wood, about the size of an average dinner plate and otherwise pretty unremarkable. The hands are silver and end sharply, they look like they could draw blood but they are protected behind a screen of either plastic or glass. It's a normal clock by all accounts, the numbers are black and in the right places, a simple font and neither too large or too small. 

“Who's it from?” He flips it over, there's a gap where the battery was and a dial to spin the hands around to read whatever time you might desire. 

“That's the oddest part,” he's stood near Sly, watching him examine the clock, “I'm not too sure, I've seen them before but I can't quite place them, a pair of brothers, I thought, but like I said, it's often best not to ask too many questions when you're a therapist.”

Sly feels strange suddenly, a prickle goes up his spine and the skin on the back of his neck feels tight and tingly, like somebody were running their fingers just above his flesh, tickling the hairs. “A pair of brothers?”

“Twins, maybe, an odd looking pair, very formal, very blonde,” he's smiling, Sly can hear it in his voice as he flips the clock over again and notices his hands are shaking, he moves it closer to his face, abnormally close.

He finds what he's looking for and his body reacts, the clock goes crashing across the room and his therapist sounds alarmed but not upset, “Sly? What's wrong? Talk to me.”

“You need to get rid of it,” his voice trembles, “you need to– I can't be here– I– I have to go.”

The therapist shouts after him, but Sly can't hear it over the blood pounding through his head, over the shrill scream of panic building in his gut. 

By the time he gets to Mizuki's, he's hysterical. It's the middle of the day and he is unexpected, it isn't wise to just show up when he could have company but Sly's brain is in fight or flight mode and it seems he has chosen flight because he all but runs the final stretch. He slams the door open and catches Mizuki's expression of alarm and surprise, sees somebody else and then feels the panic smash into him. 

“They're spying on me they're fucking spying on me they hid a camera and they're trying to watch everything they're trying to figure it out they know that I know and they're going to do something I know they are they're going to come for me and-”

There's movement, pairs of legs but Sly's eyes are beginning to fail and he can see black encroaching on his vision and his chest is tight and he can't breathe and then-

“Hey, hey, hey,” Mizuki's hands on him, his shoulders, his face, pushing his tangle of hair out of his eyes, “it's okay, it's okay, breathe, breathe, you're okay.”

Sly's still blurting things, if he was in any state to register what he was doing, he'd realise that he's acting pretty mentally unstable, pretty psychotic. 

But he can't realise a thing and he's frantic and panicked and he's just blurting about how they're going to get him and they're going to take him and how they're going to hurt him and how he isn't safe. 

There's another voice mingling with Mizuki's, Sly chokes on his words and coughs and feels the contents of his stomach rise up and out violently and he sags in the arms that hold him, shaking violently and feeling like his body is failing him. 

Words cut off, choked, ‘get him sat down’, and ‘breathe, Sly, breathe,’ and ’panic attack.’

Somebody presses a bottle of water into his hands, Sly doesn’t know who it is because Mizuki is kneeling in front of him, holding his hands and squeezing his knees and murmuring reassuring words to him. Sly takes the water and fails to open it, his hands are shaking too badly and after a few seconds of fumbling, a hand adorned with many rings takes it and cracks the seal for him.

He thinks he should probably say thank you but he feels weak, it’s rare he is so terrified he feels unable to move but this is one of those rare times. Virus and Trip terrify him, they are unpredictable and sadistic and cold, unfeeling. Sly's not even sure he could say they were cruel, they don’t seem to derive much pleasure from tormenting people, Sly thinks they just do it to see what happens, to see how a person will react. It’s deeply fucked up, so he tries not to think about it.

But this, the camera snuck into his therapists office under the guise of a gift? That is a threat, bold and clear and brutal. They are trying to find out if he is talking, they are trying to find out what he knows and they are trying to find out what he will do. There’s a possibility they’re looking for blackmail material, which seems slightly redundant given who Sly is but still, he shares things in that room he wouldn’t want to be general knowledge.

He feels better, with Mizuki’s hands on him and his steady, gentle voice washing over him, his breaths come back a little and his head starts to clear, Sly manages to say his name, and Mizuki answers easily, “I’m here, you’re okay, I've got you.”

He unfolds, upwards and outwards, wrapping around Sly so he is blanketed in arms, fenced in by his legs. Sly feels relief under his weight, sits there a few minutes longer getting back to himself, feeling his breaths come steady and even, then gently pushes Mizuki away.

“You okay?”

Mizuki’s voice is lowered, tender, but Sly only has eyes for the stranger in the room, the woman watching them curiously from the other side of the dining table where she uncomfortably hovers. He feels immediately wary, cautious.

Mizuki notices the aim of his stare, looks between them and smiles faintly, “We're, friends,” Mizuki says awkwardly and Sly, despite feeling like he's been run over by a steam train raises his head and gives him an incredulous look. “Something like that.”

The woman, Sly still doesn't know who she is, snorts, “I mean you did tell me you had a partner, not quite who I expected though.”

Sly feels normality coming back, blows air between pursed lips, tries without luck to stop his hands from shaking, “you're the new piercer, the one he gave a really shit shag.”

Mizuki both visibly and audibly deflates, sinks down and puffs out a sigh, sounds very unimpressed, “Brilliant, thanks, Sly.”

She laughs, Sly feels himself sag down against Mizuki's side, feels every breath come a little easier, feels hypoxia ease and his thoughts become clearer, less clouded by panic and fear. He shuts his eyes and smells Mizuki and feels soothed. 

There's more talking between them, the new piercer and Mizuki, an apology of some kind and an assurance of a secret kept. Sly wonders, briefly, if maybe the secret doesn't need to be kept at all. If maybe other people will react how she had, mildly and without hate. 

He’s definitely too highly wound to think about that, not now anyway.

“Feel better? ” Mizuki asks as Sly emerges into the living room wrapped in a towel, stands up to meet him and smiles when he nods and steps into his orbit, let's him wrap arms around him and exhales into his chest when he presses lips onto his damp hairline. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not yet,” he answers quickly, shakes his head and sags again into Mizuki's hold, stays there still in the moment, prone and peaceful. He likes times like this, where they don't speak and they just sort of are. He feels buoyed by Mizuki's silent strength, by all the little things he does that show his love without words. 

“I-” Sly begins, swallows, not sure what he wants to say, how he wants to express how he is feeling, just knowing suddenly that he does want to express how he’s feeling, that he needs to express how he’s feeling. Mizuki, he realises, deserves to know how Sly feels about him, even if he doesn’t quite know how to say it yet. “I'm glad I have you.”

Such a small thing to say, but so enormous too, so filled with meaning and subtext and things he can't say, not yet. He hears Mizuki exhale and he can tell he's smiling just from the sound, feels the press of dry lips against his skin again, hears when he presses his nose into his hair and smells it even though it is dripping trails down his back. 

“I'm glad I have you too,” Sly hears it, the words he isn't saying, feels their weight and their warmth equally. “We'll work this out, okay? There's nothing so bad that we can't beat it,” with that the moment is over for Sly, he feels discomfort again, Prickling up his spine uncomfortably to settle at the nape of his neck. 

Mizuki might believe that, but he does not. 

He tells Mizuki, about the gift of the clock, of his therapists well meaning but foolish acceptance. 

He tells him about the small camera he'd seen, hidden in the centre where the two hands meet. 

Mizuki seems concerned about it, but he doesn't know most of what Virus and Trip are capable of and Sly doesn't like to talk about it so it's unlikely that he will ever know. He knows though, that Sly fears them, and he knows too that there is little that Sly is scared of. If he fears them, it is for good reason. 

“Why would they be spying on you?”

“They know I know about the lights, about the music. They don't want me to talk.”

“Would people believe you if you did?”

“Probably not,” Sly's eating his way through a party sized bag of doritos and his words are punctuated by crunching and the rustle of the aluminium bag, “they don't want me to act.”

“Act how? I mean, what are you meant to do about it?”

“I dunno,” Sly shrugs, “not yet, anyway, Noiz is working on something, won't tell me anything about it so I think it’s big. I think he’s trying to talk to Koujaku about it.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“Probably not for him, but it could be useful for us.”

It’s late when Sly awakes with a start, the room is dim, lit only by the faint glow of the street lamp outside the long high window, the light filters through the gaps left by the blinds and cuts the room into slices of white and chasms of black where they cannot reach.

He’d been dreaming, but he’s not sure what about, he’s somewhere small, stuck, a box maybe, his feet are shackled together but his arms are free and he frantically feels around his enclosure for a crack, a defect, any place where he can break out. He can hear something coming, loud footfalls echoing in an empty room. The search gets more urgent, more frantic, his nails scrabble against cold metal, the chains around his ankle clank and he can feel the air thinning, his head swimming. The lid of the box lifts and there’s harsh white and a smile that is too thin and too cold and-

He’s awake and upright, bolted up from the warm sheets and his eyes find the lights of the window and focus on them, nothing coming, nothing smiling like that, nothing keeping his ankles together, stuck. Just the rumble of Mizuki’s breathing and the light through the blinds and a quiet, safe bedroom.

When he exhales it shakes, his whole body does and he sits there and now the initial panic is over he feels the fear creep in, he feels unnerved, disturbed by the dream, hunches forwards and puts his hands over his face, breathing. Trying to calm down.

He closes his eyes and lets time pass by, focusing on each breath in and each subsequent one out, feeling himself unwind, decompress, feels the last heavy veil of dreaming slip off his shoulder and fade away altogether. He’s with Mizuki, and with Mizuki, he is safe.

A hand on his back, the slow slide of skin against dry skin, the warmth of another breathing human, the roughness of fingertips.

Sly feels himself unfold, come back to life, to reality.

Mizuki’s hand on his back, slowly tracing across the line of his spine, up and down, Sly feels each finger as it bumps gently over his vertebrae and rises slowly up to his neck. Sly swallows. The moment stills, swells.

Stops.

Mizuki’s hand wraps around the back of his neck softly, Sly can feel his thumb against his fluttering pulse, his voice is very deep when he speaks, when he moves closer and presses his mouth against his hair.

“You okay?”

“Bad dream,” Sly’s voice is very soft, he shuts his eyes, feels Mizuki nuzzle against his hairline with his nose and mouth, his lips are dry against his skin, they drag and linger and Sly feels set ablaze. His voice trembles when he speaks. “I’m fine.”

Mizuki smiles against his skin, Sly can feel it and is disappointed when he pulls back, when the hand on his nape is absent and the skin feels suddenly cold, bereft, “okay,” he murmurs, soft, still, then, “come here.”

Sly unfurls into Mizuki’s arms and he is welcomed, he sighs, sags against his chest and feels comfort so profound it’s as if the dream never even happened, ”you wanna talk about it?” Sly raises up slightly so he can see him, his face is shadowed but even in the gloom Sly can see how tender he is, how soft his eyes are when they land upon him. He shakes his head, watches Mizuki watch him, smiles, safe in his gaze. He feels wanted, and needed and loved.

He wishes, again, that he could say it back.

Mizuki’s expression changes a bit, becomes a bit more serious, he cups Sly’s cheek with an intentioned hand and tilts his head up with the other, his thumb curled under his chin forcing him gently up and into a kiss that is soft and wet and tender. Mizuki exhales, sighs and Sly feels it flutter against his face, he smells of toothpaste and sleep and blueberry from his vape. He presses in again, closer this time, the arm around his middle curls tighter like a snake holding onto it’s pray, he is enfolded completely in Mizuki’s firm hold, wraps his arms around his neck and leans back just to feel strong arms holding him up.

It all seems very intense, in the dark, with the last vestiges of an unpleasant dream fading around them, it feels very abrupt when Mizuki puts a deliberate hand onto his neck and presses ever so softly against his throat with a thumb as the rest of his fingers splay out. Sly’s breath catches, he’s always had a thing for Mizuki’s hands on his throat, a thing for the power he wields when he can control his very breath. It’s a weakness and Mizuki knows that, uses it to his benefit when he kisses him again with his mouth parted and his tongue warm and slow, intentioned with every curl around Sly’s own.

Mizuki isn’t putting any pressure on his neck, not really, but Sly still feels light-headed, dizzy and out of himself when Mizuki curls his fingers up and scratches at his neck, squeezes, very briefly. Sly’s breath catches and it seems so loud in the quiet, Mizuki swoops in to silence him with his mouth, kisses him hard and strangles the sound between them, he’s rougher now, his hands press in and when he falls back against the pillows Sly is helpless but to follow.

His hands are off his neck now, it’s a shame but Sly can’t bring himself to mind much when his hands are just everywhere else instead, his back, his waist, his hips. Mizuki grabs at him like he can’t get enough, like no matter how full his hands are he wants even more, it’s obsessive, greedy. Sly loves it.

Knowing how much Mizuki still wants him, even with everything they’ve been through and are currently going through, is dizzying, that Mizuki desires him so much, that even with all the softness there is still so much passion. It’s sort of a lot.

Sly shifts closer, puts his hands into Mizuki’s thick hair, feels that he’s hard in his boxers and kisses him, winds arms around his neck, presses against him and feels the tangle of their legs.

He waits for it to be over, for Mizuki to come back to his senses, for him to apologise and to move back, to part them, to get colder even though he never means to. But he doesn’t, he groans very softly and lets his eyes flicker briefly shut, says, breathes, “Sly.”

Sly feels like he’s burning up, he can tell Mizuki wants him and he feels dizzy with it because he wants Mizuki too, wants to touch him and to kiss him and to be as close to him as is physically possible. He wants to crawl inside of him and stay there, he wants their two bodies to become one, to be so intertwined they cannot be pulled apart.

He can’t really say that though, so he kisses Mizuki’s neck and smells his faded aftershave and asks, “what do you want?”

Mizuki makes a little considering sort of hum, tilts his neck to give Sly better access and tightens his hands so his nails dig in as Sly starts carefully sucking a mark onto his skin, “nothing.”

Sly frowns against Mizuki’s warm skin, vaguely nibbles his ear-lobe, repeats himself, “what do you want?”

Mizuki laughs faintly as Sly continues, “this really isn’t fair.”

“You started it,” Sly reminds him, is about to ask again what he wants so he can give him exactly that, when Mizuki speaks and almost ruins everything.

“That’s not what I-”

“I know,” Sly doesn’t let him finish, puts his hand over his mouth to prevent him from saying anything else, sits back on his haunches and immediately is unable to be quite as serious when Mizuki finds a ticklish spot on his back and rubs his fingers there. He tries his best not to squirm but isn’t terribly successful, he does better after he’s slapped Mizuki’s fingers away and gotten his full attention, “I don’t care, I don’t,” he sounds a bit frantic but he feels it, he wants Mizuki and he doesn’t care that he can’t partake, he just wants to touch him. “What do you want?”

”I don’t-” he begins, stops very abruptly when Sly’s hands get to his lower stomach and the muscles twitch involuntarily as he worms fingers under the line of his boxers and leaves them there, “Sly.”

“Tell me,” he wouldn’t normally be this pushy, but normally there would be give and take in this situation instead of just give, or, depending on who you are, take. “What do you want?”

There’s a tendon standing out starkly in Mizuki’s neck, Sly wants to bite it but he doesn’t, he stretches up and kisses him, his hands low on his hips, hovering under fabric until he is told he is welcomed.

“I don’t,” he starts, grits his teeth and tips his head back when Sly grinds his thigh against his crotch, stays lying like that, his hazy gaze on the ceiling as Sly kisses at his Adams apple and fidgets the fingers on his abdomen impatiently. “I don’t- Just- God, anything.”

That’s normally a dangerous thing to say to Sly, but given the current circumstances he only has a couple of options and he knows which one he prefers so he kisses Mizuki again, slow and dirty, and shifts back to give himself space.

“So unfair,” Mizuki groans as Sly finally wraps a hand around him and pulls him out of his boxers, he’s looking down at Sly as he touches him, as he starts moving his hand, starts remembering something he has not done in a long time.  What’s really unfair is that Sly can’t just shift forwards and push his boxers aside and slide slowly down onto the cock he can feel hardening in his hand. What’s unfair is that he can’t feel Mizuki inside him, moving together towards a shared goal. What’s unfair is that it’s too dark to see every single way Mizuki moves as Sly tightens his grip, moves his hand faster.

He’s not really that bothered though, yes he’d love Mizuki to fuck him but he also knows that’s not realistic right now so he focuses on Mizuki instead and all his thoughts boil down to how much he wants to make him feel good, how bad he wants to make him cum.

If his dick were working, he thinks he’d have cum already just at the thought of it, he feels high wired and excited and worked up, his body just isn’t showing it at all.

Mizuki bores of watching him work, pulls Sly towards him with hands that shake very faintly and kisses him artlessly, open mouthed and messy and wet, shoves a greedy hand down Sly’s boxers and grabs a rough handful of his ass. Sly, amused at how desperate he is already, snorts against his mouth hideously and feels a flood of something fond and stupid and warm as Mizuki smiles against his lips before kissing him again, softer. There’s no more or less feeling, it’s just different, before it had been desperation and want and desire, now it’s something else, something more long term, something that feels permanent, that feels like being home.

Mizuki’s getting close already, Sly can tell, his breathing is heavy and rough and when Sly twists his wrist a little bit he groans and bites his lip like he’s trying to be quiet. Sly has no intention to let him be quiet, so he catches his lip between his teeth and bites, muffles the mildly unhappy noise Mizuki makes with his mouth.

Things rush to a close, Mizuki’s kisses become sloppier, his whole body tightens, like a clenched fist, his hips start to twitch faintly and without much warning he groans Sly’s name like a prayer and Sly moves back just in time to see his face and he’s spilling over and over and then-

It’s done. He’s finished, panting and covered with a faint sheen of sweat, still clutching at Sly like a life raft, his body lax and soothed and freed from all tension, his hands soft as his grip loosens and he pulls Sly closer and when he kisses him he’s still shaking.

Sly smiles against him, wiping his dirty hand on the sheets without much thought and planning on suggesting they clean up, feeling very satisfied, feeling very close to Mizuki, feeling the intimacy that has been missing. Mizuki sighs, it’s quiet but Sly hears it, looks at him questioningly and feels his face fall when Mizuki reaches for him and holds his head tenderly in two hands.

“What?” He feels vulnerable all of a sudden, the way Mizuki’s looking at him isn’t one he recognises, it’s tender and intense, Sly feels bare under it.

“I love you,” Mizuki is insistent, firm, and Sly feels himself soften because he knows that already, he smiles and feels the weight of the words and knows that it is a weight he wants forever. “I love you.”

Sly wants to reply, he feels the words build and rise and become something he can almost say, but when he opens his mouth something stops him and he just sits there, stupid with his mouth open and nothing to say. There’s no point saying that he knows, he’s known for a long time and as reassuring as it is to know, he wishes he could just say it, wishes he could believe himself enough to say it back.

“I-”, he starts then stops, embarrassed, smiles faintly, feels stupid.

Mizuki doesn’t seem to mind, kisses him, slow and languid and warm, soothing, nuzzles into his bare shoulder and laughs when Sly flops down onto his chest.

The two of them lie there a while, quiet, Mizuki traces random patterns onto Sly's back with his fingers, touches the sensitive part just to watch him twitch, it’s getting early, the room lightens and Sly’s half asleep when Mizuki finally speaks.

“That didn’t feel very fair.”

Sly rouses easily, frowns, “I wanted to.”

“You wanted to?”

Sly shrugs, yawns and settles back down, “I really wanted to. If that helps?”

Mizuki laughs, “yeah, that helps,” then, “bedtime, I think.” Sly gives him a look, lies there unhelpfully as Mizuki worms the duvet back up over them both and wriggles around trying to get comfy with Sly sprawled over his chest.

Sly falls asleep quickly, his breathing deep and even where it washes over Mizuki’s chin, but he lies there awake, thinking of wanting to and of bad dreams and of being close, being together. Thinking, as always, of Sly and of him opening his mouth and of starting to speak but stopping. He thinks, for one moment before he falls asleep, of the day Sly says it back.

Mizuki wakes up first, he had an odd dream, he’s walking up a paved hill, it’s not too steep at all.

Not at first, anyway.

But it keeps getting steeper, harder to climb, he’s out of breath but he’s making progress even with each increase of incline, he’s getting closer to the top, just slowly. There’s a feeling, that whatever is at the top is important, that he needs to get to it no matter what, he just needs to reach the crest and everything will be okay. But then it gets steeper still, he starts to slip back slowly, his bare feet clinging to the rough paving slabs to keep his grip, his fingernails scrabbling for the little gaps where the slabs meet to hold on. It gets steeper still and he cannot climb, he can only cling on and try not to slide back down.

It gets steeper, almost vertical, his hold fails and he starts to fall.

Wakes up long before he hits the bottom.

He’s had the dream before, a few times recently, it feels familiar, the hill, the paving slabs, the frantic way he sticks his fingernails into the mortar between them to try to hang on.

The way he always fails, falls.

He rubs his eyes, it’s a weird dream, it probably means something but he’s got no idea what and to be honest, he doesn’t hold much stock in stuff like dream interpretation, it probably means he’s sleeping too close to the edge of the bed. He exhales, feels himself return to awareness and looks around with bleary, hazy eyes.

Sly is sprawled across his chest, face down, blue hair everywhere, trailing over his shoulders and through his loosely held fingers and over his face, it flutters over his parted lips with every breath out. He looks very soft, very peaceful. Mizuki uses a careful finger to move his hair off his face, watches him wrinkle his nose faintly as the strands slide over the bridge, watching him sleep is something Mizuki always likes. It feels very intimate, watching him with all his defences down, when he doesn’t even know he’s being watched.

He watches him for a bit, watches the growing light slide across his pale skin, plays with the ends of his hair and thinks he could do with a trim, wonders if he can be convinced to go see Koujaku. Sly’s pretty good at sleeping, though they both struggle sometimes, so Mizuki figures he might as well get something done and carefully grabs his coil from the bedside table to reply to some emails.

Sly stirs later, maybe about forty five minutes, Mizuki feels him shifting on his stomach and then hears him exhale but pays him little mind, he’s in the middle of an email so he stays quiet and lets Sly slowly wake up. He’s got good timing, the email is sent and Mizuki lowers his coil to find Sly propped up on his stomach, watching him with eyes that look like warm honey in the light of the morning.

“Hey,” he smiles, reaches out for Sly’s face and feels very content when he nudges his cheek into his palm and shuts his eyes, “you sleep well?”

“Mm-hm,” Sly stretches out his arms luxuriously, he often reminds Mizuki of a giant cat lying in a patch of sun, his tone is casual, one of his arms is vaguely playing with Mizuki’s small spattering of chest hair. He used to shave it, but he’s pretty sure Sly likes it, so he doesn’t bother any more. “I always sleep well when I’m with you.”

Mizuki hums softly, he’s had this feeling lately, like Sly has a lot of ways to say he loves Mizuki without actually saying it, he thinks this is another one of them, so he pushes his luck, “is that so?” Sly shrugs, shoves his hair over one shoulder so Mizuki has a view of his back all stretched out and pretty, Mizuki feels himself soften, he’d never imagine he could feel this much for one person, but now he’s here he can’t imagine anything else. “I love you too.”

He earns himself a look, unsure at first, an eye roll, then a smile that is equal parts amused and gently embarrassed. He’s very pleased though, when after the initial reaction Sly just lies back down on his chest, smiling.

Sly loves him, he knows. He just can’t say it yet.

Chapter Text

Tio’s alarm at hearing his apartment door opening is immediately reduced when Kin’s voice immediately fills the room, “you swallow one to two cups of snot a day.”

“Just, me? Or, everyone?”

“Everyone,” he grins, ditches his bag next to the door and swings it shut with one foot and kicks his shoes off before placing them neatly on the low bamboo rack, “just goes right down the back of your throat.”

“It’s not one of your better facts,” he grimaces, swallowing and feeling, alarmingly, the previously mentioned snot slipping right down into his stomach.

Kin doesn’t seem to mind, shrugs and the frowns, “where are your clothes?”

“Says the man who just wandered into my house,” Kin smiles, catches the wet towel Tio throws at him. “Consider yourself lucky I’m wearing anything.”

“Or unlucky,” Tio snorts vaguely but allows it when Kin kisses his temple on the way to the kitchen, he’s gotten very comfortable in Tio’s place pretty quickly and it’s nice, that he’s just made a little home for himself there. Tio wonders again, if he should ask him to move in.

“How was work?” he’s retrieved the towel from the floor and hung it on the back of the bathroom door, hears the fridge open and close, a can open, then a second, the building fizz as the seal is broken.

“Good, it’s running a lot better now Mizuki’s come in and laid everything out for everyone.”

“Is that including you?”

“Of course,” Kin emerges with a can in each hand, “I didn’t know what I was doing, how was everyone else meant to?”

Tio shrugs, pulls his shirt over his head, thinks again of the first time he’d phoned Kin only to hear Mizuki in the background, it had seemed odd at first, but Kin had explained that Mizuki had offered to meet up once a week to discuss how the restaurant was doing. It makes sense, Mizuki has been running his own business since he was about eighteen, so he’s a good person to consult, it had felt weird though. Tio supposes Kin and Mizuki are something like friends now.

“Didn’t know you were coming over,” he’s pulling on loose sweats as he speaks and he doesn’t think much before he does.

His tone is neutral, but Kin falters faintly as he puts the drinks down, looks momentarily uncertain, like he is intruding, “do you mind?”

“Of course not,” he goes back on himself immediately, he hates when Kin thinks he is unwanted, when he feels out of place, like a burden. “I like it when you’re here.”

“You sure?” He’s fiddling with the tab on his drink, he’s shrunk into himself, all his confidence when he’d wandered in and helped himself to things has faded away and Tio wonders how long he stood outside the door, uncertain, before he’d been brave and casually swanned in,

“Yes,” he says decisively, “I probably would have invited you over anyway.”

Kin hums, “I’ve got leftover carrot cake in my bag.”

“How could I not want you here when you have carrot cake?” Kin laughs and the awkward moment is over, it sticks though, in Tio’s head. He wonders if he is doing something wrong, something to make Kin feel unwelcome.

As with most things Tio thinks, it stays there, unwelcome and uncomfortable and guilt inducing.

As normal, he obsesses over it until it makes him feel sick.

Until it makes him feel insane.

0000000

Sly’s carried around the note ever since, the one Mizuki left for him the day after the truth came out. The one that says they’ll work this out together. The one, where in Mizuki’s distinctive hand, he’s written that he loves him.

The carrying hadn’t been intentional at first, he’d stuck it into his pocket when he left that morning, taken it out when he’d gotten changed and then it had just sort of ended up in the pocket of whatever pants he is wearing on that day. It’s an automatic thing, before he leaves the house Sly checks for things, keys, coil, money, note. If one of them is missing, he finds it and adds it, only then will he step outside.

It folds down small, it hadn’t been folded at all, it had been left, face-up, blatant on the wood of the dining table, but Sly hides it away, folds it up small so the words crease and bend, so nobody but him can see it. He takes it out sometimes, at night, props it up on his night stand and lies there looking at it, he’s not really sure why he does it, he just does.

Sly is carrying the note when it happens, when he goes down an alley he maybe should have avoided and he gets jumped. They’re out to rob him, he recognises the gang, Bug Bomb, they’ve got a terrible reputation and Sly for once knows that this attack isn’t actually happening just because he is him. They just want to rough someone up, steal some money or some cigarettes or whatever.

Getting robbed isn’t a big concern, he’s got very little cash and no cigarettes, they take his vape out of his pocket while he is pinned up against the wall, but then they go for his back pocket where the note is and he feels hot, blinding panic.

The beating wouldn’t have been as bad if he hadn’t been so against them getting the note. Chances are they wouldn’t even have read it, problem is, Sly can’t risk that. If they read it, everything is over, the secrets and the hiding, Mizuki’s reputation is tanked, his business suffers. They suffer.

So, he fights and it’s been a very long time since he did, he gets in a few good hits and only manages to get away without being beaten black and blue because someone else walks into the alleyway and scares them off. They’ve taken his vape, the cash Granny had given him for groceries, they’ve even taken the weird little rabbit cube Noiz had given him as a gift of sorts, the one he thinks might have a tracker hidden inside.

But the note is safe, secure in his back pocket so he picks himself up and the newcomer to the scene asks from a safe distance if he is okay, he nods faintly and they skirt past him warily. The nervousness is not new, but the vague concern about his welfare is. He spits blood onto the floor and runs his tongue along his teeth, they’re all still firmly held but the inside of his cheek is bleeding. They’d fucking sucker punched him in the back of the head and he feels sick and dizzy with the force of the blow, his leg is grazed and the rips on his jeans have become holes. It’s far from the worst he’s ever been hurt, but it’s the worst in a while and he can still remember the feeling of cool steel pressed against his throat from the last attack he’d been the victim of.

He pulls himself back together and wonders what he’s meant to tell Granny, they needed groceries to make dinner and now he’s got whatever paltry sum is on his coil and that’s not going to go far. He’s annoyed about his vape too, he’d bought a refillable one to save money and now it’s gone and he doesn’t even have enough for a disposable one.

Noiz is, as always, his first source when he needs money, so he messages him that he got jumped and within about five messages Noiz is offering himself. Sly wonders if he should feel bad for accepting, it occurs to him that he is maybe using Noiz for his money but then he thinks Noiz probably doesn’t care if he is. Noiz shows he cares with his money, by paying for food or other things, by making sure the people around him have everything they need, to him it’s not a big deal to send his friend money. They are friends, and that’s it. If Sly asks for money Noiz sends it, no questions asked.

Sly is grateful to him, now especially.

The clerk in the small grocery store looks a bit taken aback at the sight of him, a bit wary, but he gets to the counter and pays and says thank you and asks where the nearest vape shop is and the man tells him. The girl seems amused to see him again, he tells her he lost his last vape but it’s clear she doesn’t believe him, she raises an eyebrow and her eyes flicker to the blood crusting around his mouth and she throws in a liquid for free.

Granny is not impressed when he gets home, she sits him down and makes him strip down to his boxers and faintly lectures him to be more careful as she cleans up his legs and uses the light of his coil to examine the inside of his mouth. A flesh wound, his teeth have been bashed into his cheek and cut the skin.

Sly worries about his breath, holds his hands over his crotch feeling very self-conscious under her assessing gaze. He says he’s fine, he says at least it was him and not someone else, she rolls her eyes when he says this but she pats his head very gently and hands him a bottle of something to rinse his mouth with to disinfect it.

As he heads upstairs she tells him he should have just let them take the money, he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that’s not what he was worried about protecting, he just agrees that if it happens again, he will.

He puts the note on his bedside table. It is not safe to carry it around, even if he does want to, so he has the reminder if he ever needs it.

He lies in bed that night, staring at the note and at Ren on his bedside table, wonders if he should turn him on, if he should call Mizuki, tell him he got jumped. He always wants to speak to Mizuki when he goes to bed, he’s not sure why. Some nights where he can’t sleep and he lies awake staring at the ceiling, he debates it, calling just to hear his voice, to chat idly about their days.

He wants to talk to Mizuki all the time, he always wants to hear his voice.

He knows what it is, he thinks, but he’s not ready to think about it too much.

He’s definitely not ready to say it.

0000000

Tio is surprised but pleased when he arrives at work to see Kin sat at the bar with a mug of coffee, a pastry and the islands trashy newspaper spread out in front of him, plonks his head down onto his shoulder in greeting, “Hey, what are you reading that crap for?”
Kin doesn’t seem very happy to see him, his shoulders sort of hunch down under Tio’s chin so he quickly withdraws, sensing something is wrong from Kin’s feigned casual tone, “I’m looking for an apartment.”
“You didn’t tell me you were moving.”
“Yeah, well. I don’t have to tell you everything,” his tone is crisp, cold. Tio feels physically pushed away by it, abandons his idea of sitting down at the stool next to him and stays stood awkwardly beside him.

“I- No, I guess not. Are you okay?”

“My rent got increased by nearly half again.”

“Oh. That’s not good,” Tio is worried, it’s been a long time since he heard Kin this downtrodden, this flat and low, he thinks again of the spare key in his wallet but now doesn’t feel like the right time.
“No, so now I have to move somewhere cheaper.”
“Cheaper than where you live now?”

That rubs him up the wrong way, he dumps the newspaper down and knocks his mug, coffee goes spilling onto the inky paper and smears it everywhere, he looks very tired and very irritated, sort of brittle. “Yes, Tio, cheaper than the hole I live in now. Not all of us are made of money, alright?”

He’s taken aback, upset and offended, stutters out something that’s meant to be an apology, “I, Kin, I know that. That isn’t what I meant.”

“Yeah well that’s what it sounded like. I have to go to work. I’ll see you later,” Tio almost moves away when he ducks closer to briefly kiss his cheek, feeling like he’s done nothing to deserve the iciness of the conversation, he’s just left stood there, feeling hurt when he’d least expected it, feeling confused. Wondering again, if this is his fault.

He leaves it be, he knows Kin is making better money now and that he’s making it with a lot less effort than he had been before, but he understands too that he’s probably stressed enough with keeping the restaurant going. His rent going up was probably the last straw on an already heavily loaded back. He leaves it all weekend, and phones Kin Monday afternoon to ask if he wants to go do something, there’s a new film out he thinks he’d like, or they can stay in and watch a movie there. He doesn’t offer to make it his treat, because he knows Kin is sensitive about money and splashing his around won’t help.

He tries to keep his tone light and friendly, but Kin is still short, still impatient and annoyed, he listens to Tio’s prepared speech and rebuffs him quickly and bluntly, “I can’t, I’m viewing a place later.”
“Oh, well I could go with you?”
“I guess,” he doesn’t sound at all keen on the idea and Tio regrets asking, “it won’t be much fun.”
“It’s cool, I want to see anyway.”

He definitely regrets offering when they arrive, the walk there had been awkward and mostly silent, any conversation Tio tries to start quickly dies and he realises he should have stayed at home. It’s a rough neighbourhood and the block is dire, half the lights in the hallways aren’t working and there’s a sign on the broken elevator telling people not to fuck in it, Tio usually tries to be optimistic, but when the door to the apartment swings open he finds he can’t even pretend.

There isn’t a single window in the place and the air stinks of smoke and damp, it’s basically a bedsit, there’s a bathroom with a toilet and a shower but no sink and other than that it’s one small room. There’s room for a bed but not a couch, there’s a tiny kitchen that is a single counter, an oven and a sink. That’s it. It’s fucking dismal. Tio knows Kin is still working out the profits at the restaurant and sorting out his own wage and that he has to pay for all his mothers care, but he really didn’t think his financial state was this dire.

He breaks the silence that had fallen when they stepped inside, “Kin, you’re not serious.”
“It’s not that bad, and I’d even have more money to spend than normal. I could actually take you out sometime.”
“This place is terrible. It’s a literal hole.”
“Hm, now maybe, but I could get some furniture in it, new coat of paint, it’d be great.”

Tio’s frown deepens, it’ll take a hell of a lot more than a coat of paint for this pitifully tiny apartment to be even remotely pleasant, glancing around the tiny room, “there aren’t even any windows.”

“I’m out a lot, it’s cool.”

“Jesus, Kin. Is this really all there is?”
“Pretty much.” Kin shrugs, he doesn’t look too bothered but Tio sees his eyes following the path of a cockroach across the floor and under the kitchen counter. They stand there a bit longer in silence, then Kin says flatly that there’s not much else to see so they leave and hand the key back to the bored looking man who’d met them outside.

They walk for a bit, Tio isn’t actually sure where they’re heading, he’s not entirely sure he wants Kin in his apartment when he’s clearly in a shitty mood, so they just walk and he keeps his mouth shut, thinking.

They get to the spot where they’d normally part ways and Kin only stops because Tio takes his hand and pulls him into place, he towers over him looking empty, soulless, like there is no light behind his eyes. He looks so obviously terrible that even with the horrible atmosphere between them, Tio still finds himself feeling bad for him, finds himself wanting to leap in and fix things.

“Look,” he starts, trying to keep his tone upbeat and warm even as he’s becoming increasingly nervous the longer he speaks,” I’ve been thinking.”

He stops, worried, uncertain, Kin raises an eyebrow at him and doesn’t say anything so he swallows and continues with significantly less bravery than he’d had before. “Why don’t you just, move in with me?”

He watches Kin react to that, he doesn’t seem as enthusiastic as he’d hoped, in fact he looks more confused, crinkles his face up and almost seems taken aback. “What?”

“Move in with me instead, then you don’t have to look for a place, or pay rent or anything,” he’s tripping over his words, when he’d thought about asking it hadn’t really occurred that he was going to have to come up with reasons for Kin to move in. He’d sort of expected him to just say yes and that would be it. It’s not going anywhere near as smoothly as he’d imagined in his head.

Kin actually scoffs, like Tio has said something offensive and rude, takes a step back and shakes his head, disbelieving, “Wow, I didn’t think you’d do something like that.”
“What do you mean?”

“Are you trying to make me feel worse?”

“What? No, of course I’m not.”

“Sure seems that way. I can look after myself, Tio, I don’t need your charity,” his words are sharp, pointed, they feel very much like an attack and Tio just looks at him, mouth open and stunned as to how their wires got so very crossed, so tangled.

“I’m not asking out of charity, I’ve been thinking about it for ages, I- I got you a key cut and everything, I just, I like you being with me.” He’s starting to think he was wrong and it stings, he’s been planning this for a while, the spare key, the bedside table emptied out and the drawers in the dresser, he thinks he shouldn’t have bothered.
“No, you’re asking me out of pity.”
Tio feels his temper flare, crest, he pushes Kin away from him with one hand and is very annoyed when he barely sways on his feet, “No I’m not! What the fuck, Kin? I ask you to move in with me and you just yell at me? You know what, fine, live with the fucking cockroaches, see if I give a shit.”

He doesn’t look back as he walks away, he feels hot with embarrassment, he feels rejected and stupid and hurt. He’s been meaning to ask for a while but he’d been too worried about it in case Kin said no, he’d never imagined he’d say no like this and he thinks he should have kept his stupid mouth shut. Kin clearly hates the idea of living with him, still clearly thinks Tio is some sort of superior, somebody high above him on a golden plinth, generously giving scraps to Kin as he circles below.

He thought Kin would be happy, he thought even if he said no he would say it was a good idea for the future, he never imagined he’d have it thrown back into his face without a single kind word, without a single implication that he liked the idea.

Kin yells after him, something childish, petty, he just sets his jaw and walks away.

This whole situation has been so blown out of proportion he almost doesn’t believe it, he can’t believe Kin would accuse him of something so selfish, so cruel.

He’s most upset that Kin seems to think so little of him. For somebody who says they adore him, he sure isn’t acting like it so he holds his head high, ignores him, goes home.

Alone.

A message comes through to the group chat two days later, Kin, asking for help to move his stuff to his new apartment, Tio reads it and scoffs, throws his coil across the room. He still hasn’t said a word to Kin and he doesn’t intend to, he fills the bedside table back up and puts the clean sheets in the drawers he’d set aside for him. He starts to fill up all the spaces in his life that he’d carved out for Kin, now there is nowhere for him to fit, nowhere for him to belong.

He stews in his anger, alone and upset.

Tio is still upset when he comes into work a week later, he’d had holidays booked and he had planned to spend time with Kin, but since they’re not speaking he’s spent most of it by himself, in his apartment, getting angrier, feeling worse about it.

Mizuki is behind the bar, smiles and offers a wave that falters slightly when Tio’s eyes pass over him and to the back of Kin’s head where he sits on a barstool looking tense, tightly held and nervous. Tio doesn’t much give a shit if he’s nervous, he doesn’t much give a shit how Kin feels at the moment.

“Morning,” Tio offers blandly, aiming his smile only at Mizuki who looks between them frowning but doesn’t leave the room even as he can see he is in the middle of something big. “She ready to go?”

“Yeah,” there’s a question in Mizuki’s voice that Tio doesn’t bother to answer, “she’s out the back. You okay?”

“Fine,” his voice is crisp and when Kin turns to look at him he feels his expression harden and he is furious again, under it all, raw and sore, he is hurt, upset, his feelings have been well and truly crushed and he can’t believe Kin had the nerve to show up here, to trap him, to force them to talk.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” he can hear how cold he sounds, how distant, he doesn’t like it but he has no warmth left in him for Kin, he feels like with every step forwards they take they end up right back where they started. “I have to go to work. I have training to do.”

“I know, I just-” He’s half stood up from the barstool, he looks faintly ridiculous with one leg still up behind him like an oversized flamingo, “I’m sorry.”

Tio scoffs, Mizuki winces and pretends to be busy doing something behind the bar, he can still hear everything though, “no you aren’t. You meant what you said. You’re not sorry.”

“I am sorry, I was just- Having a shitty day, and I-”

Tio flares, steps closer, he’s not interested in hearing Kins excuses, “I wouldn’t have asked something like that if I didn’t mean it. You know how long it took me to even date you, let alone ask you something this big. I didn’t do it as a joke or because I felt sorry for you.” He can feel himself shaking, he can feel Mizuki’s eyes on him, he feels so humiliated. “You know what, I don’t even care, it’s obvious you hate the idea of living with me.”

Kin reaches for him, his hands are soft, his faced worried, creased. Tio shoves him off. “Tio, that isn’t what I-“
“I have to get to work. See you around.”

There is a very uncomfortable silence when Tio leaves the bar and heads out the back, Mizuki awkwardly lingers behind the bar thinking he should have left the second he sensed the tense atmosphere.

“You okay?”

Kin shrugs, vaguely smiles, “yeah, I guess, I’m just an asshole.”

“At least he didn’t throw anything at you,” Kin aims a raised eyebrow at him and Mizuki laughs, “oh, when I piss Sly off, he, tends to throw things at me. Books, plates.” Kin looks amused and concern in equal measure, “I’ve gotten pretty good at ducking them.”

“Harder to duck words,” Kin smiles vaguely.

Mizuki studies him, he looks exhausted, worn out and stressed, spread thin. “Everything okay, the restaurant doing alright?”

“Yeah, it’s, running pretty smoothly now I just, I had to move places, so, I-” He pauses, sighs, works a hand through his hair. “He was trying to help and I, got rubbed up the wrong way, was nasty about it.”

“You’ll make up, you always do.”

“I know,” Kin says, smiles, wishes he felt the same optimism Mizuki does, “I, uh, better get going. Got a new starter to train up. Thanks, Mizuki.”

“Any time,” Mizuki shrugs, Kin gathers up his stuff and leaves with one last glance at the door that leads to the piercing studio, wonders how he is meant to fix this.

0000000

Mizuki’s supposed to be having a night in by himself, he’s a bit behind on the rotas for the bar and now Kin has dropped some shifts to run the restaurant he needs to fill his hours, he’s a bit behind on everything in all honesty. The apartment is a mess, his bedding needs changing and he’s behind on washing, everything needs cleaning, needs sorting, needs putting away. He normally keeps a pretty clean home, it’s not always tidy but he keeps on top of dusting and hoovering and jobs like that, the bathroom gets a deep clean every week but it’s not been touched in a while and dust is forming on every surface.

Work is more important though so he sits there messaging people trying to get stuff sorted but it’s difficult, some of them don’t answer quickly and some of them don’t seem to be answering at all. He decides he’ll have to do a couple of shifts himself until he can get all his bartenders together to assign the extra work to whoever wants it, writes his name down for a few days the same week and feels exhausted just thinking about it.

Barely thirty he might be, but he feels very old sometimes. He tattoos every day, but having to maintain himself, an apartment, a relationship and the business is starting to feel like a chore, like an impossible task. It doesn’t help that he spends so much time with Sly, that he is over so often when he has things he needs to do, he’s not annoyed by it or anything, but he wonders how a person is meant to fit everything they need to do in a single day.

Sly is at Noiz’s for the night, Tio is still being miserable about the argument he had with Kin, Kin is sorting stuff for his own business, everyone is busy with their own things so he feels incredibly irked when his doorbell goes off.

He’s so close to being done with the work stuff, he was about to move onto the apartment, to the pile of dry clothes that has been on his dining table for the best part of a week, moving from there to his body then to the dirty basket.

He sighs and pulls strength from somewhere deep within, steadies his face into something less annoyed and heads downstairs to see who it is.

He’s tired, he hopes whoever it is doesn’t stay long, he hopes he can get his jobs done and get an early night like he’d planned.

The door opens, two faces meet him, one tense and serious, worried, green eyes meet Mizuki’s and there is an intensity there that seems like something bad has happened.

Sly looks shell shocked, his face is pale and his eyes are distant and unfocused, he sways faintly on his feet and when Mizuki reaches out to him to lead him upstairs he trips over his own feet.

He’s definitely not getting an early night now.

Sly heads straight for the bathroom when he gets inside, shuts the door behind him quietly and locks it while Mizuki stares at Noiz wondering what's happened, why he looks so incredibly worried.

“Someone, hacked my cameras,” he says, avoiding Mizuki’s gaze, “there’s, photos online. Of me and Sly. They’ve been sent to his Granny.”

From the bathroom, Mizuki hears Sly retching, the splatter of sick against the toilet bowl.

“They’re all over SocialNow. I- Everyone has seen them, I don’t care, I- I don’t give a shit but- It’s Virus and Trip, it has to be, nobody else could break into my systems, and, stuffs been moved, in my apartment. Stuffs missing.”

Mizuki is stunned, he notices Noiz is shaking, he looks unnerved, Mizuki has never seen him this worried before, reaches out for his shoulder and sits him down on the couch, opens his coil to see for himself.

“Don’t look at them, they’re not- You don’t need to look at them,” Noiz seems faintly embarrassed, wary. Mizuki lowers his phone. “They’re- You know.”

“Sex photos,” his voice feels very hollow, the idea of hoovering seems ridiculous now. He’s glad they showed up when he did, he normally checks SocialNow once a day before bed, he can’t imagine how he would have reacted to opening up the islands social media to see Noiz fucking his boyfriend. “Just, photos?”

“If they’ve hacked the cameras they’ve got video too. I- They’re for security, the cameras, I never, it didn’t even occur to me that they could be hacked, they’re so secure. I- It’s military level security I mean-”

“It’s okay, you didn’t mean for this to happen. Is- I mean, they sent them to his Granny?”

“She won’t stop calling him, she’s at work. It’s all anyone can talk about. His therapist keeps ringing too. He said he was going to, go over to Tae’s house, to talk to him but, he’s not gunna be there.” He hunches forwards, “fuck, this is all my fault.”

Mizuki doesn’t know what to say, its not Noiz's fault at all, it’s the fault of whatever sick fuck hacked his cameras and decided to plaster something private all over social media, it’s the fault of whoever did this.

“I don’t- What would they gain, from doing this? I mean, it’s not, great but, people know you’re friends it’s not like, it’s me and him.”

“They’re trying to scare him, so he won’t go against them, so he won’t do anything about the lights and the music. They’re, it’s fucking psychological torture. And it’s fucking working. Nobody really cares, it’s just gossip, something to talk about.”

Mizuki’s coil buzzes, an incoming call, Tio.

He ignores it, the ring stops, starts again. He grits his teeth, takes a breath, answers.

“Have you been on SocialNow?”

“No, Noiz told me not to.”

“Oh, he’s there? Where’s Sly? Is he okay?”

“He’s here too. He’s,” he tries to answer that, there’s a clatter from the bathroom, like something has been knocked over. “Well, he’s here.”

“I’m coming over,” Mizuki tries to object but it’s too late, the call has ended and Noiz is sat looking at him, he seems guilty, apologetic.

“This isn’t your fault.”

“He didn’t even know I had cameras and now, it’s everywhere. Shit, his Granny fucking liked me,” he laughs, faintly hysterical, shoves his hands into his lap and clenches them between his thighs. He looks distraught, Mizuki can’t even imagine how Sly looks. “I feel so dirty.”

Mizuki has no idea what to say to that, opens his mouth and is stopped when Noiz’s coil begins to ring and then just doesn’t stop, Noiz looks at it blankly and Mizuki looks at it and neither of them move to answer it. It rings and rings and rings.

It’s silent in the bathroom, Sly hasn’t unlocked the door but he isn’t making any noise either.

Mizuki thinks he’s going to be sick.

Chapter Text

They sit there so long Tio arrives, he lets himself in through the still open apartment door and takes in the scene, he looks worried, his eyes flicker to Noiz, to the tense set of his jaw and to the ringing coil.

“There’s, uh, a lady outside, says she’s Sly's Granny,” Noiz baulks, Mizuki swears. “She’s very insistent she gets inside.”

Noiz mutters something ominous about getting skinned so Mizuki stands up and goes outside feeling very much like his entire life is unravelling at a speed so fast he can’t even follow it, he tries to brace himself with little success.

Tae looks furious, aims him a steely look and, once reassured she is in the right place, pushes him aside to get upstairs, Mizuki, feeling very off-kilter, jogs up after her and is unlucky enough to see the glare she aims at Noiz when she sets her eyes on him.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but somebody is responsible for this and I intend to find out who,” Noiz doesn’t say anything but he sort of winces. “My Grandson isn’t stupid enough to take photos of himself doing something like that,” she sounds very certain of this until Mizuki grimaces and she rolls her eyes looking infinitely irritated.

“It’s my fault,” Noiz says, he takes a step forwards and Tae aims a cold gaze upon him, “I- It’s my security cameras, they got hacked. I- I’d forgotten it was even on there.”
Tae huffs, exhales through her nose seeming very perturbed by the whole situation, “so it’s not your fault. Though having one in your bedroom seems like overkill.”

“This isn’t gunna help but, they could have got, similar photos, in other rooms, too.”

Tae raises her eyes heavenward and mumbles something about idiots, “is he here?”

“He’s in the bathroom,” Mizuki answers, Noiz looks like he’s just been facing off with some kind of wild animal and Tio looks like he’s got no idea what's going on or why he’s there.

“And nobody has thought to get him out?” Noiz and Mizuki look between each other awkwardly, Tae huffs again, crosses her arms and starts giving out orders.

With Tae’s arrival, they are all set into action, Mizuki is sent to try and coax Sly out of the bathroom through the door, Noiz is looking through her bag for a specific box of drugs and Tio is left to lock the apartment up.

Tae gives Mizuki about ten minutes and when his attempts to convince Sly that everything is okay and that he can come out fail, she demands they get inside the bathroom some way or another. Tio suggests they take the lock off with a screwdriver but Mizuki rebuffs the idea, that will take too long and they have no idea what state Sly is in. Plus he hasn’t used his screwdriver in a very long time and has no idea where it is.

“We need to break it down,” Mizuki says, then realises he’s never had to actually do that and isn’t sure he can, looks at Tio who shrugs and to Noiz who steps up to the plate.

It’s a lot harder than it is in the movies, Noiz kicks the door with all his strength and nothing much happens, the wood shakes in the frame but it’s a sturdy door and it’s going nowhere so he starts bashing into it with his shoulder instead.

The silence from inside is beginning to send a chill up Mizuki’s back and after a few failed tries they do it together, they count down, and they go, smashing into the door with their combined weights.

Mizuki is beginning to wish he owned an axe.

It takes three goes for the wood round the lock to start to splinter, and on the fourth they are inside.

It’s also not as dignified as it is in the movies, the door bursts open under them and they both land on the floor on top of each other in a painful, confusing tangle of limbs, out of breath and aching. They’re hardly all guns blazing.

Tae steps over them both, ignoring them completely and barking orders at Tio who trails behind her with her medical bag looking alarmed and out of place.

It takes Mizuki a moment to get up, feeling sore and winded by Noiz’s weight landing on him.

Then he sees the long streak of blood across the tiles and his body suddenly doesn’t matter at all.

He’s curled into the tiny space between the toilet and the wall, tucked up into a little ball, shaking.

There’s stuff all over the floor, the shelf by the bath has been knocked off the wall and when Mizuki steps forwards feeling sick his feet crunch on something.

It’s the casing of a razor refill, the blades are missing and only the plastic remains.

It takes them a long time to get him out, Mizuki is all for dragging him out to check he’s okay but Tae says no, they have to wait for him, forcing him out will make him worse. Mizuki isn’t sure he understands why but she gets him to huddle in close to Sly, to reach out for him, to tell him things are okay, to soothe him.

Mizuki’s voice shakes, it feels weird having an audience, feels weirder that one of them is Sly’s only family who he barely knows. But he tries his best, his voice is quiet and when he touches Sly he shrinks away but doesn’t push him off, just curls up tighter and tighter, insular, contained.

Tio’s coil is ringing and he excuses himself to check it, Mizuki thinks he just feels uncomfortable.

He emerges slowly, Mizuki asks gently if he will give him the razor blades and eventually he does, he presses them into Mizuki’s hand, they’re warm, blood smears onto Mizuki’s palm as he takes them, as the corners of the sharp metal dig in and pierce his skin. Granny takes them from him gently, Mizuki hears the clang of the bin opening then closing, keeps soothing him.

He says, hey, and it’s alright, it’s okay, you’re okay.

Sly unfurls, unfolds but won’t look at him, everywhere Mizuki touches him he shrinks away from, winces.

He’s still not okay, but he’s out from beside the toilet and Tae swoops in, asks gently to see what he’s done and orders Noiz to pass her things, gauze and bandages and swabs. She starts to very softly clean him up. Mizuki averts his gaze, thinks of the blood on the floor and of the blades from his razor, pets Sly’s hair and continues murmuring softly.

“Just flesh wounds,” Tae says, Mizuki isn’t sure who she’s talking to, Noiz is keeping his distance from the whole thing, he passes Tae what she asks for but he is quiet and he doesn’t approach Sly. “Get Tio to bring me the diazepam and some water.”

Tio doesn’t come back in, Noiz returns with it, punches out a tablet when he is told to and gives it to Mizuki with the water, Sly needs to take it, Tae informs him, he’ll feel better if he does.

He takes it with minimal coaxing, his eyes are glazed over, Tae says he’s in shock, asks if Mizuki can carry him, get him into bed.

Mizuki can, so he does, ignoring how Sly shakes in his arms as he awkwardly lifts him off the cold floor. Tae turns the sheets down and plumps the pillows and supervises the whole thing, Noiz hovers in the doorway, Tio looks drawn and pensive, nervous.

“Now, we need to leave him be.”

“But-”

Mizuki doesn’t want to leave him in such a bad state, but Tae puts her arm on his shoulder and repeats herself and he listens, “we need to leave him be. Let’s have some tea.”

Tio busies himself making tea and they sit awkwardly on the couch sipping it, Mizuki notices there’s a lot of sugar in all the mugs and Tio says it’s meant to be good for shock, shrugs uncomfortably, asks, “will he be okay?”

Tae sighs, she looks exhausted suddenly, worn out, “he’s in shock, he’s scared. But he’ll be okay.”

“What did you give him?”

“A benzo, it should help him feel more relaxed.” Her eyes flit towards Mizuki, “there’s more marks on his arms.”

“Yeah, uh, a couple weeks ago, I- It’s fine now he just, he was angry.”
”At you?”

“At himself.”

Tae nods like she understands, sighs and sinks back into the couch cushions, “well, people don’t get better overnight. It’s a process, I think he understands that now.”

“He’s been a lot better,” Mizuki says, tries to smile, feels a little better when Tio squeezes his shoulder in support. “But then things like this happen and, he gets bad again.”

There’s silence for a moment, Noiz mumbles about food and vanishes into the kitchen, Mizuki lets him go, he knows he feels guilt for this even though it was not his fault, if he needs a minute to himself he will get it.

“So,” Tae sighs, holding her mug in both hands, “I’ve had some, serious words with people at work today. The photos shouldn’t be a problem for long.”

“Words?”

“It’s not common knowledge that he is my grandson, but enough people know. It’s-” she rubs her temple, she looks frustrated and she looks angry. “It’s a disgusting thing to do, to share personal images like that. Whether they should have existed in the first place is beyond the point, it was a private moment, and it should never have been made public like this.”

Mizuki agrees with her, he’s glad he hasn’t seen them, “it certainly took me by surprise, I know these are modern times we live in, I admit I thought the images had been captured on purpose, and I will admit that I was wrong, and that I owe Noiz an apology.”

Mizuki surprises himself by immediately jumping to Noiz’s defence, he thinks perhaps he should be angry with him but he just can’t be, he’d been the impetus for them breaking up sure, but he’d also just been a pawn in Sly’s self destructive plan. He doesn’t think Noiz has a malicious bone in his body. “He’d never want something like this to happen, he loves Sly.”

“Well, then we have that in common,” she smiles, it’s warm and soft but it ends quickly and she points a finger at him, “let this be a lesson to you, young man, don’t you be enticing my grandson to send you dirty photos.”
”I won’t?”

“And if you have any you are to get rid of them, you understand me?”
Mizuki nods, feeling alarmed. In truth he’s not sure he does have any, there’d been some suggestive ones a long while ago, Sly in his boxers on his red sheets, tempting him upstairs. He’s pretty sure he deleted them a long time ago.

“Good,” she nods, finishes her mug and puts it on the coffee table, starts bustling around gathering things up, “I trust you can take care of him? I should really get back to work. I’ll leave you some more diazepam in case you need it, but it is only for emergencies and to be kept somewhere safe, preferably somewhere he can’t get to it.”

So, Tae leaves, she’s already messaged the therapist to say the situation is dealt with and Sly has been left in capable hands, there’s not much else to be done so Tio awkwardly escapes under the pretence of walking Tae to work safely since it’s gotten late.

Mizuki and Noiz sit there silently.

Mizuki wishes he knew what Noiz was thinking, he wish he knew what Sly was feeling.

Fuck, he wishes he knew what he was feeling.

He absently opens his coil and deletes SocialNow without really thinking about it, aims his gaze back up and focuses on Sly’s bag, dumped onto the coffee table without him even noticing it was there.

“Do you,” he starts, stops when he sees Noiz’s face, pale and worried and creased, staring at the coil he holds with shaking hands, “do you think Ren could help?”

He blinks, says flatly, “that’s a good idea,” then, “Koujaku has tried to call me fifty six times.”

“Shit,” Mizuki opens the bag and only notices then that his hands are shaking, only a little bit, a small tremble but still. He thinks things are starting to sink in. Ren is soft under his hands and when he rubs his head he turns on with a musical chime that soothes him. “Maybe you should call him?”

“And say what?”

“I don’t know,” Mizuki gripes, “I don’t know what you guys are like, I mean are you even together, together?”

“We haven’t really talked about it,” Noiz sounds uncertain, Ren licks Mizuki’s hand once and scampers off on his stubby legs towards the bedroom. At least one person here knows what they’re meant to do. “Don’t think now’s the time.”

Mizuki is about to say something else, he has no idea what, when Noiz’s coil chimes with a message, “shit, he’s going to my place I should- I mean,” he sighs, rubs his forehead and glances towards the bedroom, “will he be okay?”

“Yeah, isn’t he always?”

Noiz’s face twists up a little darkly, his tone is wry, “well there was that one time.”

Mizuki gives him an unimpressed look, “yeah, but won’t happen on my watch. He’ll be fine. You can always come back if you want to, to check on him.”

Noiz’s face falters, he hesitates in the doorway and his coil starts ringing again, “you’re not mad at me?”

“No, I’m not. I’m not mad at either of you. I just, I wish he could catch a fucking break, just once, I wish stuff could be easy.”

“No chance of that with Sly.”

“No, probably not.”

“I should, I should go. Wouldn’t want to give the old guy a heart attack,” he’s backing out of the door as he speaks, typing rapidly on his coil, his voice is distant, his mind is elsewhere so Mizuki waves a vague goodbye and shuts the door behind him.

Wonders what he’s meant to do now.

Noiz doesn’t know what to expect when he gets to Koujaku’s place, but he certainly didn’t think he was going to be asked if he was okay, as it turns out he isn’t asked once, he’s asked twice. He shrugs to both, he’s not not okay, but he wouldn’t say he was good either and Koujaku stares at him for a very intense minute while Noiz tries his very best not to meet his gaze.

He certainly didn’t expect Koujaku to shove him up against the wall and stick his tongue in his mouth. Or for them to tumble onto the futon with clothes strewn everywhere around them.

He certainly never expected Koujaku to look at him with fire in his eyes and his hands down his pants, and definitely couldn’t have predicted when Koujaku looks at him and asks, determined and flustered in equal measure, for Noiz to fuck him.

Noiz is taken aback but not displeased by this, he asks if he’s sure once because this isn’t how they do things and Koujaku has historically been quite vocal about things going into his ass and how much he doesn’t like the idea. But Koujaku says yes and Koujaku bites Noiz’s tongue because he knows Noiz likes it.

So he improvises, adapts, and overcomes.

He fucks Koujaku, like he asked, like he apparently suddenly wants. But he slows things down, he lies him back and spreads him out and takes his time.

It’s great.

Until it ends. Koujaku lies under him, panting, hands still fisted into the sheets and asks, “you fuck Sly like that?”

Noiz recoils, shoves Koujaku well and truly away and stands up, grabbing his clothes and throwing them on. He’d thought he was jealous, thought he’d seen the photos and felt possessive of Noiz, hated seeing him with another man when Noiz was his.

It seems Noiz was wrong and he feels disgusted with himself.

“What, did that make you mad?” Koujaku asks, he’s rolled over still naked and while it’s a wonderful sight, Noiz has no interest in looking, he pulls his pants on and stands with his shirt balled up in his hand. Noiz hears him light one of the weird thin cigarettes he likes to smoke sometimes, but he still doesn’t look over, just holds his shirt in a clenched fist and feels something painful welling up in his chest. “Noiz?”

“No,” he says shortly, still not looking at him. “I’m not mad.”

Koujaku snorts, he’s clearly waiting for Noiz to start arguing with him, pulls the covers up over himself and lounges back against his pillows, “sure, and I’m not a hairdresser.”

Noiz ignores him, pulls on his shirt and starts looking around for his Usagimodoki since it seems to have flown out of his pocket during the whole rapidly undressing debacle, he’s debating leaving without it even though the idea annoys him.

“You’re not seriously mad are you?” He sounds amused but Noiz is increasingly prickly, irritable, he’d rather not argue but if Koujaku continues being so casual and cocky he might end up doing a Sly and throwing a book at his head.

“I said I wasn’t,” he doesn’t bother to look at him still, he spots his cube under a side table and stuffs it into his pocket, decides suddenly to leave his jacket and heads for the door without saying anything else.

“You’re leaving already?” It irks Noiz more that Koujaku sounds genuinely surprised, he just clenches his teeth to stop himself from exploding and slams the door behind him.

Mizuki wants to check on Sly but Tae had told him to leave him to be and Mizuki thinks she knows what she is talking about so he listens, besides, there’s not really anything in the bedroom he can hurt himself with and it’s very quiet.

He can’t focus enough to get back to the stuff for work but the housework is an easy chore, something you can do without having to actually think, so he does the washing up and empties the dishwasher and folds his clothes onto the dining table.

The whole episode hadn’t taken that long from start to finish, an hour, maybe two at most but he feels so exhausted and his coil keeps chiming and chiming and chiming.

He mutes it, then turns it off altogether and sinks down into the couch feeling like he’s had his head bashed in, he doesn’t want to turn on the TV because he wants to hear if Sly is moving around, so he sits there and stares at the ceiling.

Eventually, he falls asleep.

Mizuki has another weird dream, it’s not the hill one this time, it’s a new one.

He’s out on a jog, the terrain is familiar, the landmarks. He’s headed up some steps to a rarely visited shrine, it’s the evening and the light is dim but there is a beacon up ahead that he focuses on as he works his way up the rough, age-worn steps. It starts raining when he is almost there and by the time he has reached the top and headed back down it is lashing down, pelting his skin painfully and stinging his eyes. He licks his lips absently and they taste salty, coppery like he’s put a coin into his mouth and is sucking on it. The rain is warm, like it’s the middle of summer, it doesn’t run off right, it’s coating his arms and legs in a way rain shouldn’t. He needs to get somewhere, home, maybe, so he keeps up his jog and he’s in the back streets of the island now, back in well-worn territory.

When he looks down, his white shirt is stained vermilion, his feet slip and skid in viscous puddles of red and the rain only gets harder. The light is fading out, he’s wading through thigh deep red, it’s thick, like it’s clotting already and he lifts his arms out to try and swim but it’s too thick and it keeps rising and rising and-

He awakes with a start, gasping to clear the blood flooding into his mouth and nose, travelling thickly down into his lungs.

Sly stands over him, looking worried, one of his hands is on Mizuki’s cheek and the touch is soft, he opens his mouth to speak, takes a breath like he’s changed his mind then, “come to bed.”

Mizuki blinks to clear his head, his breath is unsteady and he wipes his palms against his jeans as if expecting to see them leave long streaks of congealing blood in their wake, he exhales a long, calming breath. Looks up at Sly, stood there uncertain, his hand hovering awkwardly in between them.

Mizuki takes it, says, soft, “okay.”

So they go to bed.

Mizuki’s never put much belief in the thought that dreams mean something, but now he’s beginning to doubt that. He doesn’t have many nightmares and when he does they are the normal ones, being trapped somewhere, his teeth falling out, being chased.

He doesn’t have dreams where he is trying to reach something desperately and failing no matter how hard he tries. He doesn’t have dreams about drowning in blood or about climbing desperately only to fall.

He lies in bed next to Sly and thinks they have to mean something, he just doesn’t know what yet.

But then Sly rolls over and worms carefully closer as if unsure he is welcome and Mizuki’s head clears altogether where they touch, breathes clearly and pulls him in closer, tucks his head under his chin and wraps his arms around him.

“Are you okay?”

“They’re trying to get to me,” his voice is low but scared, paranoid. Mizuki thinks he has every right to be.

“I know. Is it working?”

“Haven’t decided that yet.”

“Wanna decide tomorrow?”

Sly laughs faintly, Mizuki feels the air puff over his chest when he exhales amusement, “yeah, yeah, let’s do that.” Mizuki thinks that is it, they’re going to shut their eyes and try to sleep, but Sly speaks again, rubbing one of his hands up and down Mizuki’s back in a way that probably soothes both of them equally. “I’m sorry.”

Mizuki frowns, he wants to move back so he can see Sly but they’re wound up so tight he decides not to bother, besides, he doesn’t need to see Sly’s face to tell if he’s lying about something. “What for?”

“Making your life difficult.”

“You’re not, other people are. Besides, you’re worth it.”

“Am I?”

“Definitely.”

Now Mizuki does wish he could see his face, but Sly relaxes under his hold again and shifts around a bit to get comfortable, his exhale sounds very tired, very like he is on the verge of sleep, “okay.”

“What did Granny give me?”

Mizuki falters, he can’t remember now so he goes to find the box, hidden up on top of the wardrobes where Sly can’t reach, “diazepam?”

“Oh,” Sly laughs weakly, “a benzo, I used to like those.”

Mizuki smiles, he’s going to speak again, to ask Sly if he’s sure he’s okay, or if he’s in pain, or if he wants to talk about it but Sly speaks first, “did you see them? The photos?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

Mizuki grimaces, last night he’d been curious but now with a full nights sleep in him and with his common sense returned, there is nothing he’d rather do less, “definitely not. I can’t look at Noiz like that, it’d be like, I dunno, looking at your little brother or something.”

“Little brother?” Mizuki regrets his choice of words immediately because that will definitely get back to Noiz at some point and he can already hear his taunting words at the idea Mizuki sees him like that. “He’ll like that.”

Mizuki shrugs, he’s got no idea, he sits down next to Sly at the table and looks at the mess of work stuff he’d left out last night, at the piles of neatly folded clothes, “you okay?”

“I’ve been worse, at least I’ll have something to talk about at therapy,” Mizuki laughs, reaches across the table to hold Sly’s hand and is surprised when he instead stands up and climbs into his lap, wraps his arms around his neck and settles down with his chin tucked up on his shoulder. They sit there for a while, Mizuki runs a hand up and down his back like Sly had done for him the night before, he closes his eyes and smells Sly’s hair and in spite of everything, he feels peace. “I-”

He starts and stops, like he always does but Mizuki doesn’t mind, fills in the blank for him, “I love you.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Mizuki smiles, for now, something like that is close enough.

Kin is distinctly unimpressed when his coil goes off with a message from Tio, well, in truth he’s pleased until he opens it and realises it is about the whole leaked sex photos thing rather than being any kind of apology or offering of an olive branch.

He replies shortly and succintly because he is pissed, he knows he was a dick and he’s been trying to apologise has sent several messages trying to make things right but Tio is so stubborn he’s ignored all of them to instead gossip with him.

Worse still, once they’re done going over the events of the previous night, when Kin tries to keep the conversation going, Tio starts ignoring him again.

He begs, he pleads, he asks if they can meet up to talk.

He tells him he loves him.

No reply, no response.

Nothing.

Kin knows Tio has a temper, struggles to express his emotions without fighting or being petty, he had thought he was working on that but radio silence continues for two more weeks and Kin is beginning to think he should abandon the whole idea and go back to being single.

God knows it would be easier.

He talks to Mizuki, not on purpose, but he goes to the bar for some company that isn’t just his employees and ends up spilling everything, Mizuki is sympathetic but says that’s just how Tio has always been, petty and childish and stubborn to a fault. He’ll come around, Mizuki assures him, he just needs to be pissed for a while first.

A while turns out to be over a month, Tio’s pettiness seemingly knows no bounds and Kin knows he’s really upset him but he doesn’t understand how he’s meant to fix it when Tio doesn’t want to be anywhere near him. He thinks maybe Tio is getting some sort of sick enjoyment from torturing him like this, from waiting to see how long it takes for him to break, to turn up and grovel at his feet.

He hopes that’s not the case.

So things are rough, at work and at home and everywhere. Kin’s personal life is a mess and he can feel things spiralling away from him, out of his control, he snaps at people at work then feels awful and apologises and stews in guilt. They send him home one day, the team, they tell him at the morning huddle that he looks exhausted and they insist he go home to rest, all but push him out the door. They’re great, they can tell he’s got something going on and they rally around him to help, Poppy takes over doing the rotas one week and they make very sure he doesn’t have to do any additional work.

Sending him home is a nice gesture, or it would be if his home wasn’t so fucking dire.

Tio was right, that’s the worst thing, he was right about the apartment, about his lack of money, about everything.

So Kin finds himself on Tio’s doorstep at three in the morning, soaking wet, shaking and with his head stuffed with so much that he feels completely numb.

He’s glad he answers, then less glad because he doesn’t look happy to see him at all, because there is no sympathy in the confused gaze he passes over him, his lip curls up and he takes a literal step back, “Why do you smell of shit?””

“My toilet overflowed and flooded my bathroom.”

“Damn, so, you wanted to borrow a clean towel or something?”
Kin hadn’t exactly come over expecting sympathy but he also didn’t really expect Tio to still be so obviously hurt, to still be acting petty and childish. He doesn’t expect his voice to crack when he speaks but it does and Tio’s expression falters, just for a second, “Please don’t do this.”

“Do what?” Kin doesn’t answer, there is a lump in his throat and he can’t bring himself to say anything so he doesn’t, he just stares at his disgusting trainers and keeps his mouth firmly closed. “Kin?”

“We- We’re not meant to do this, to, fall out like this. We- It’s not right.”

“Well you shot me down so fast, what did you expect me to do, laugh it off?”

“I don’t know, I was just, it wasn’t a good time. I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. I’m still angry though.”

“I know.”

Tio sighs, his eyes land on Kins soaking trainers and grimaces when he sees shreds of toilet paper clinging to them. He knows he’s being stupid, being childish by letting this go on for so long but his pride is hurt, squashed, he takes a breath and decides to be a bigger man.

“Take your pants off.”

“Sorry?”

“You’re not trekking shit through my apartment, and you need a shower, or, like, six showers, before I’ll talk to you,” Kin looks at him and there is faint hope in his expression, Tio heads inside to grab bin bags and tongs and when he comes back Kin is stood there in just his boxers looking ridiculous, holding a pile of soaking, stinking clothes in his hands.

“If any of your neighbours come out they’re going to think both of us are insane.”
“You’re the one covered in shit. Now put these on your feet, follow me and don’t touch anything,” he offers over two carrier bags and Kin puts them on his feet feeling utterly stupid, utterly emasculated, watches absently as Tio uses the tongs to carefully lower the rest of his clothes into the bin bag, “I’m binning all of this.”

Kin nods, he knows they won’t wash well and they were pretty ratty anyway, he follows Tio silently into the dark apartment, hovers in the bathroom door watching Tio start the shower and find him a towel.

“Leave your boxers in the sink, I’ll find something for you to wear.”

“Thank you.”

Kin scrubs every inch of himself in the shower three times, fully expecting Tio to have gone to bed when he gets out, there’s a pile of clothes by the door so he dries off and pulls them on, takes a minute to look at his reflection in the mirror, then decides he hates what he sees so he stops and heads out.

To his surprise Tio is sat on the couch and there’s a mug of tea waiting for him on a slate coaster, Kin feels sort of wet, saturated even though he’s dry now, his chest is hurting and his mouth feels very, very full of saliva.

He’s so tired.

“Anything else happen in your apartment?”

“Freezer broke, powers out, I saw a rat the other day,” he keeps his tone light and conversational, sits down on the couch and holds the warm mug between two hands, staring into it. “He was big.”
“What have you been eating?”

“Not much.”
“Want some ramen?”
“I guess.”

“Top left cupboard by the sink,” Kin hadn’t exactly expected Tio to start making him food, though he is reassured that he stays on the couch while he eats, they don’t make much conversation but every time he looks over there’s a worried crease to Tio’s forehead.

“You still smell a little bit like sewage.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine, I need to wash my bedding tomorrow anyway.”

“Huh?”

“You can still sleep on the couch if you want.”
“No, no, that’s fine.”

“Come on then, before I change my mind.” There’s vague warmth in his voice, he smiles faintly and Kin feels remotely better, he thinks maybe things between them aren’t quite as bad as he thought and he sinks into the bed feeling slightly less fragile, less brittle.

“Do you have work tomorrow?”

“No.”
“Okay, go to sleep, we can talk in the morning.”

“Okay,” he nods even though Tio can’t see him, even though his back is to him, shifts around and sinks into the soft pillow, closes his eyes and feels things bubble up, try to surface. He tries, for a few minutes, to ignore them, to sleep, to feel better.

But he can’t.

“I, uh,” he starts, he feels Tio moving next to him, turning over maybe, he keeps his eyes downcast, “my rent didn’t go up. I got thrown out.”

“What?”

“I-,” he keeps having to stop, he’s trying to keep his voice steady even as it wants to shake, “I had a shit day and I was trying to sleep, one of the neighbours was blasting music, and I, I lost my temper and I went over and yelled at her. Turned out she’s my landlords daughter.”

“Shit.”

“So, he came around the next morning, told me I had three days to move out or he’d scrap everything in the apartment and kick me out. But, he, told other landlords about me, and now I’m blacklisted by all of them. So, only one place would take me and- And it was really shitty and I just- I felt like such a failure and then you, came with me and were just, saying how shitty it was and I knew, I knew it was shitty but I- And then you, it just made me feel, awful, hearing you talking about it like that, even though you were right. I just- I thought I was doing better but I somehow never am, things always get worse.”
”Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I- What was I meant to say? I fucked up and lost my shitty apartment? I failed, again, and have nowhere to go?”

“Kin.”

“And, it’s such a state I- Every night I got home from work and had to do something, fix something that had broken and, I’ve been, yelling at my staff and, the restaurants a mess and I’m still meant to be working the bar as well. I haven’t- I haven’t seen my mum, in so long,” he’s been trying his hardest, not to let his voice break, because he knows what will happen if he does, but now it breaks and he gives up and he feels everything rush out and his eyes are wet and his hands are shaking. “I haven’t had time and she’s, getting worse, the hospital phoned and she- She’s been-”

“Oh my God,” Tio breathes, moves closer, puts his hands on Kin and feels the moment where he gives up, gives in, the moment where he cracks.

“They think she’s got dementia, she’s just been wandering around at night and she doesn’t know where she is or, or who I am. And you’re not talking to me because I was an asshole and I- I’m sick of people feeling sorry for me and I know that’s not what you were doing but that’s how it felt and I’m just so tired.”

Tio has nothing to say, he has no idea what to do, he thinks, suddenly, of telling Kin about his father, about the acceptance and the love and the tenderness of that moment. Without thinking, he pulls Kin into his arms and feels him shake under his hold, he holds him tightly, like he’s trying to hold him together.

“I’m sorry,” he says weakly, breathing into his damp hair, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I made it worse, I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry, I should have been there for you but I- I’m a fucking, petty asshole.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” he’s not surprised to hear his own voice wobble, he feels like the worst person alive, he abandoned his boyfriend when he was obviously struggling, all because his stupid pride was dented. He feels like scum. “Please don’t cry.”

“Trying my best not to,” Kin smiles, sniffs, feels his eyes leak regardless, “I should have told you.”

“We’re both fucking useless.”

“Two halves of one idiot,” Tio laughs and is faintly reassured when Kin raises his head up so he can just make out his face in the dim light, wipes a thumb under one leaky eye and kisses his forehead, “I’m sorry. I’m here now.”

It takes both of them a long time to fall asleep.

Kin wakes up the next morning under warm, dry sheets that smell freshly laundered, slices of light spreading across the room from where the curtains aren’t properly closed, and the clock on the bedside table telling him he’s slept for almost ten hours.

He feels good, crying had been oddly cathartic and as he exhales a steadying exhale into the sheets the door opens and Tio walks in with two mugs and a plate of what look like sandwiches of some kind.

“Hey, I made breakfast.” Something in Kins face seems to trouble him and he puts the tray on the bedside table without offering him either of the items designated to him, sliding under the covers on his side of the bed. “You okay?”

Kin shrugs, he’s not sure yet, “sorry I cried on you.”

“Don’t apologise,” Kin moves to sit upright, legs spread out in front of him and shirt riding up where it is a little too short, too tight, he wants to apologise for making Tio’s entire flat smell of human waste, but Tio pushes his fringe back to kiss his forehead and the lump in his throat stops him from speaking.

“You’re amazing.”

“Me? What about you? Working two jobs to make sure your mum’s well looked after, exhausting yourself every day for somebody else. Not many people would do that, not now and not at eighteen like you were doing. Barely managing to keep up with rent and food bills, all for her. You’re pretty amazing yourself, Kin, don’t beat yourself up.”

Kin doesn’t know what to say to that, because he supposes it’s true, he’s been supporting his mother for years now, living paycheck to paycheck and barely getting ten minutes to stop and just breathe. He feels like this breakdown has been imminent for a long time but he still feels so stressed and overwhelmed just thinking about it, about his flat with the puddle of shit in the bathroom and the fact he has work tomorrow and a shift at the bar and bills to pay-

“Come on, don’t cry. Eat breakfast, then we can talk and try to figure this out, okay? We’ll work something out to make things easier. We can go see your mum too.”

“Okay,” Kin nods, tucks his legs up so the tray can fit onto the bed in front of them, takes his mug of coffee and reaches for Tio’s hand, “I love you.”

Tio sighs, he looks worried still, guilty, but he kisses Kin even though he still smells like sewage and squeezes his hand, he says, “I love you,” back, and Kin can tell he means it.

Chapter Text

Granny is in his room when he gets home, it’s not unusual that she is in there, they have healthy boundaries when it comes to personal spaces in the house, but sometimes she comes in to clean or to put away laundry, sometimes she likes to stand on the balcony, watching the people below.

The only reason it feels weird is because she isn’t moving, she stands in front of the bed, in the weird empty place between the desk and the bedside table. Sly hesitates in the doorway of his own room, unsure suddenly, wondering  what she is doing. Her behaviour would make more sense in the room next door, quiet contemplation in there makes sense, in here it makes him feel unnerved.

He’s been worried about seeing her, he’s been at Mizuki's for a couple of days mainly to let the gossip around his porn photos die down a bit but he’d still gotten a lot of stares on his way through town. He hasn’t spoken to her yet, she’s messaged to check if he’s okay but that’s been it. Radio silence.

He finds he’s ashamed that she saw him in that state, not just in the pictures, but in Mizuki’s bathroom too, curled up and traumatised. Bleeding.

He opens his mouth to ask what she’s doing, to ask what’s wrong, to ask something. But she speaks first.

“He loves you,” her voice is soft, Sly searches for surprise he will not find, for disbelief that does not exist, steps carefully into the room and feels his chest lurch when he realises what she is holding. The note paper that holds Mizuki’s messy scrawl, the note paper that normally lives safely on his bedside table so he can see it whenever he needs the reminder.

“He does,” he speaks evenly, fights the urge to reach out and take the paper back, he doesn’t much mind that she’s found it, if he’d wanted it to be a secret he’s more than capable of hiding it somewhere she would never find.

She hums, rubs a thumb absently over the message. It’s short, sweet, maybe.

“And you?”

He shrugs even though she can’t see him, offers him the paper over and doesn’t comment when he puts it carefully into his pocket, ensuring it does not crumple or rip. “Probably.”

She smiles then, turns to look at him, says, a wry smile in her wrinkled eyes, “probably?”

Sly shrugs, this admission is not something that anybody should hear, it will be for Mizuki only, when it happens, if it happens. It feels sort of inevitable sometimes. But Sly is unsure and scared, still. He fears vulnerability even though Mizuki gives him no reason to. He thinks it might take an age for him to think it in any solid way, let alone to actually say it.

“I used to worry,” she hesitates, unsure, but continues anyway, headstrong and stubborn. “About what you would do when I was gone, about who you’d have. I don’t think I need to worry any more.”

“I don’t think you need to either.”

It’s a tender moment, she smiles, regards him, skin tanned by the sun and healthy, eyes shining and clothes clean, comfortable. Happy. There is pain in her gaze, Sly wonders how much stress he has caused her, how many sleepless nights, how much fear.

“You should invite him to dinner sometime.”

Sly snorts derisively, he’s not entirely sure he’s happy for his two worlds to collide quite yet, she doesn’t seem to mind though, just says she has to get to work, kisses his forehead and bustles out.

There is no mention of the photos, of his damaged arms, Sly is more than happy to leave it in the past. There’s a lot of things he’d rather leave there.

0000000

Koujaku has been pissing Noiz off for several days before he shows up at his apartment looking wryly amused, “Oh come on, one throwaway comment and you don’t speak to me for days? You must be really fucking mad at me.”

“I said I wasn’t,” Noiz still isn’t looking at him and Koujaku is beginning to feel uneasy, like there is something going on here he doesn’t understand, something he isn’t quite getting.

“You’re not mad?”

“Never was,” Noiz looks at him now and Koujaku feels taken aback, he looks exhausted, heavy and weighed down, under his cold and apathetic exterior, he almost thinks he looks upset.

Koujaku adjusts the sleeve of his kimono awkwardly, he feels very stupid stood there with nothing to say whatsoever, clears his throat and wonders how to fix this, wonders how he didn’t realise already that he had broken something. “I was mad, when I saw the photos.”

“That makes two of us.”

“I just- You never said you were, you know, with Sly.”

“What?”

“And he’s with Mizuki, does he know?”

“What are you talking about?”

Koujaku scoffs, he thinks he’s being taken for a fool, “does Mizuki know you’ve been fucking his boyfriend?”

Noiz gives him an incredulous look, he looks at him as if he is a complete moron, “he knows I was fucking him, like months and months ago, before he vanished.”
”What?”

“They’re old photos, not quite as old as you, but old.”

Noiz was right, Koujaku is a complete moron, he takes a step further into the room, sits down uncomfortably on the sofa, “oh. I didn’t realise that. Are you sure you’re not mad?”

“I just-” He stops, he’s always been shit at expressing how he feels, both in general and especially in awkward situations like this. “I didn’t think, you’d think I would do something like that.”

“What do you mean?” Noiz just looks at him with his blank, intense stare and Koujaku realises something he really should have at the time. “You’re not mad, you’re upset.”

Noiz scoffs but he doesn’t disagree, so Koujaku presses on, “I mean I- If I’d known it was months ago, I wouldn’t have said, you know, that.”

“You didn’t even think to ask when it was, you just assumed. Do you think that little of me?”

“I mean, you can, do whatever you want, we’re not. Are we?”

“I thought old men were meant to be wise,” Koujaku frowns at him but doesn’t argue, “I already ruined one relationship by fucking someone I shouldn’t have, you really think I would do that again?”

“Well, no, but, Mizuki and Sly are, you know, they’re not exactly destined to be.”

Noiz continues staring at him but now he’s raised an eyebrow, Koujaku struggles to interpret his micro expressions at the best of times and now he is totally lost, “god, you’re stupid.”

“You’re so hard to understand, you know that right? You are impossible, just say what you’re trying to say, I’m obviously not going to work it out.”

Noiz looks at him again, he seems hardened, closed off, thinking about it, about saying what he’s trying to say, he flicks his eyes away and sighs, plays absently with his fingers, “I’m not good with words.”

“Neither am I. I still try though,” Noiz still doesn’t speak, Koujaku feels bad but he’s honestly not sure what for, so he reaches over carefully to touch his knee, “what’s wrong?”

Noiz looks blankly at his hand, decides to change the subject, “doesn’t matter, I need to talk to you about Morphine.”

Koujaku recoils, his hand moves off him very quickly and he glares, “I don’t talk about that, you know that. What, you think you’ll just ask me nicely and I’ll do whatever you want?”

“That’s usually how it goes, yeah,” Koujaku flusters, blushes, hides behind his hair, “it’s important, I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t. They’re fucking with Sly, with the island. They- They’re using music, and lights to-”

“No,” Koujaku says, he’s stood up and his hands are shaking, his eyes are wide, wild, he looks terrified but Noiz presses on.

“They’ve been using them on the people in Grime, to control them. Yesterday they started putting speakers up in town,” Koujaku is shaking his head, pulling on his hair, backing away as Noiz stands and gets closer. “Lights have gone up, I need to know what they’re trying to do. Virus and Trip have-”

He doesn’t get to finish, Koujaku’s eyes are staring and unfocused, his lids are fluttering and Noiz can tell he can’t hear him.

Noiz reaches him before he falls, lowers his body down gently onto the floor and watches his body twitch and jerk as he seizes, holds his hand and waits for it to end, for him to come back, to respond.

When he does he doesn’t remember any of it, so Noiz keeps his mouth shut and says nothing more about Morphine or about the music or about the lights, he lets him leave and sits there thinking of his eyes rolling back into his head.

He feels sick.

0000000

“I tried to talk to Koujaku about Morphine.”

“And?”

“He had a seizure.” Sly looks alarmed, Mizuki concerned, “he’s fine. Wasn’t very happy with me though. So he’s out as an informant.”

“Well now what do we do, he was our only idea!” Sly looks annoyed, Mizuki is incredulous.

“Sorry, he had a seizure?”

“Only an absent one.”

“Oh, so that’s fine then, is it?”

“It’s what prolonged exposure to the lights and the music does, they happen when he’s reminded, or gets really stressed, or if there’s flashing lights. They only last a few seconds, he just sort of, zones out for a little bit then doesn’t know it’s happened when he comes back.”

“That’s still not good,” Mizuki is trying to import to Noiz how serious this is but he doesn’t seem to get it.

“Yeah, no shit, and I’ve seen him have about fifty. I’d rather not give him any more.”

Mizuki realises he is barking up the wrong tree very quickly, Noiz might be talking about it casually but he obviously does understand the severity of the situation, is trying to minimise it to reduce his own guilt. Mizuki grimaces apologetically at him and Noiz rolls his eyes, gets them back on topic.

“We need to work out what their goal is, what they’re trying to do, why they want to control everyone, there has to be a reason.”

“Or they could just be power hungry sadists who want an army of willing peons?”

“Why are they so obsessed with you?”

“Fucked if I know, it must be my charisma and outstanding wit.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Noiz deadpans and Mizuki laughs.

Sly dumps himself onto the couch, “you two can brainstorm, I spent my morning talking about how thrilling it was to have my penis seen by the whole island and my thoughts about it. Exhausting.”

Mizuki and Noiz’s voices ebb and flow around him but he can't really hear them, his eyes are hazy and unfocused, his head is somewhere else, somewhere far away. His mind swirls around in dizzying eddies of movement, flitting to and from ideas and theories and thoughts he can barely grasp before they slip away for good. Virus and Trips faces spin around like blurred lights on a carousel, pale skin stretched too wide over metal skulls with implanted eyes. He's being having odd dreams but he's kept them to himself, he feels like they mean something, like they have to mean something. 

A room filled with test tubes, glowing pale forms suspended in amber liquid. 

An eye forced open with thin metal wires. 

Hair in a long continuous loop that fades from blue to black and then into white, spiralling and spinning until some unknown thing slices through and there is the sound of screaming. 

Sly doesn't like the screaming, hates the weird hollowed-out feeling in his chest when he awakens, like with that slice something was torn out of him permanently. 

Noiz and Mizuki's voices are louder now, Sly thinks they're arguing about something but he pays them no mind, aims his absent stare on the blank wall opposite and thinks about the flashes you see before you die. His eyes ease shut and he can see dark eyes and bursts of light and there is someone crying softly, somewhere far off. 

He thinks about the lights and about the music and about the speakers newly erected on every shop in town. He thinks of a generous gift to celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of something or other. 

Toue coming to power? 

The independence of the island? 

The birth of Platinum Jail? 

Sly doesn't remember, watches non-corporeal forms move and shift behind his closed eyelids. He wonders what his brother would think of all this, his Granny, his parents. 

He thinks about the elephant that sits on his chest and stamps it's feet and watches his every move, always over one shoulder, always watching. He can feel it's hot breath wash over him and this time he doesn't do anything about it, he lies there and hears the murmur of conversation he isn't part of. 

He thinks about starting over, about doing everything right for the first time, it's not something he's ever quite managed. It seems like a good idea, starting fresh, razing everything to the ground just to rebuild.

He thinks of the lights of Platinum jail that never go out and never waver, of Oval Tower standing cold and stark against the back light of the stars. 

He thinks about the inevitable heat death of the universe, of watching empires topple and fall, of seeing fire overtake everything. He thinks of the earth imploding into a million rocks doomed to hurtle through space forever. 

The conversation behind him has stopped, the silence feels sudden and complete, oppressive. But in it, in that lapse of silence where there is simply nothing, it comes to him. 

An epiphany. 

The answer. 

The way to do everything right the first time. 

The chatter starts up again and Sly's eyes snap open and he feels the weird, abnormal weight of certainty resting upon his shoulders.

The elephant has gone very still in the corner, it's eyes watch him but for once Sly cannot feel their effect. 

The voices raise into bickering. 

Sly does not move when he opens his mouth and speaks. 

“We have to kill Toue.”

This silence is different, heavy, weighted. Sly thinks of his words and he thinks that this is the way to do everything right, not for the first time, but for the only time. 

He doesn't bother to sit up, stays lounging on the couch where he cannot see the two men at the table behind him, he stays still and he listens to the nothingness and he waits. 

Noiz speaks first, his voice even and though he can't see his face Sly knows that he understands the weight of his words, “how?”

“However we can.”

More silence, Sly listens to his every inhale and exhale, feels his body sinking into the couch like he could fall right into it, let's his eyes flutter back closed and focuses on the way his feet feel, each individual toe. Then up to his ankles, his calves. 

He's made it to his chest before Mizuki speaks and it breaks everything. 

Sly is up in a shot, Noiz's face is urgent and serious, he understands that this is something they have to do, something they need to do. 

Mizuki seems to think they're both going insane at the same time. 

“We're not killing anyone! Why do we need to kill him?”

“To stop him.”

“For good.”

“And killing him is the solution?”

“If we just kick him off the Island he’ll just go be evil somewhere else,” Noiz snorts at his wording but he agrees, “we need to topple the whole organisation.”

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but we’re not in a fucking action movie! I’m not killing anyone.”

“Then we’ll do it,” Sly shrugs then immediately frowns and points at Mizuki very insistently, “but you need to help.”

Mizuki throws his hands up in the air, frustrated, “oh my god, how is your only plan a murder and slash or a fucking coup?”

“What’s a coup?”

“I guess we could try asking him politely to stop,” Noiz muses and earns himself a death stare from Mizuki, “but I don’t think he’d go for it,” Mizuki opens his mouth looking exasperated but Noiz speaks over him. “Look, those lights they’ve installed for the anniversary, the speakers? You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed them. They’re building up to something, to complete control of everyone here. They’re going to test them, on people, your friends, neighbours, your team members. I came here to escape being controlled and I am fucked if I’m letting myself be controlled here.”

“I get that, I do, but how do you propose we topple the whole organisation? We can’t even get into Platinum Jail let alone into Oval Tower and let alone all the way to Toue. He’s got to be guarded than more than just Virus and Trip.”

“I can get in,” Noiz’s tone is casual and Sly almost breaks his neck with the speed at which he turns to gape at him, Mizuki’s mouth is open and he looks perplexed. “I know a couple of ways. While you two have been cavorting in the throes of young love I’ve been busy.”

“Cavorting?”

“Young love?”

Noiz laughs, “I’ve been in Grime every night for weeks now, same crowd always in there, but there’s people who just didn’t look right, too clean, too out of place, too blonde.” Sly grimaces, “they’re foot soldiers or something, guards, for Virus and Trip. They’re around the island sometimes too, I’ve been tracking them on the cameras, I’ve been trying to get a tracker on one of them but I haven’t managed yet. I’m pretty sure they’ve been warned about me, won’t let me anywhere near. But, I managed to hide up on a roof near the wall and I saw where they went in.”

“Through the gate, I imagine.”

“Well, yeah,” Mizuki rolls his eyes, “but in the North part of the Island the wall isn’t as well maintained because people never go there, there’s a forest, a small one but still, and the wall is crumbling. We could just climb straight over it.”

”And then do what? Knock politely on Oval Tower and ask to please be let in?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet, give me some credit. I haven’t even gone in yet, I’d be noticed too quickly, I need someone else to go but I have no idea who I could convince to do something like that, who I could trust.”

“There must be loads of people who’d rather live in Platinum Jail, I mean, nobody knows there’s something dodgy going on, just us.”

“And Koujaku. But he’s not going to go, he’d seize if I even suggested that I wanted to send someone,” Noiz looks frustrated, “he must know something useful.”

“Why don’t you ask him mid-fuck?”

“Don’t fancy him having a seizure on my dick, thanks.”

“Just an idea.”

Mizuki sighs, rubs his eyes feeling exhausted, “look, I’m tired and I’m hungry, I’m ordering food and we can keep talking about this once it’s here, I am not however, spending my entire evening talking about vague plots to blow up the Tower.”

Noiz perks up, “that’s not a bad idea actually.”

Sly smiles to himself as Mizuki murmurs something under his breath and heads to the couch to sit down and arrange food, Noiz is busy on his coil probably googling how to make a bomb or something equally ridiculous, so Sly goes to join Mizuki.

He looks very irked so Sly worms himself under his arm and puts his head on his chest, feels Mizuki deflate slightly, he has an idea, he’d thought of it earlier but it’s not one he really wants to voice. But still, things seem very dire, with Koujaku unable to help and absolutely no solid plan of how to stop all this madness, he thinks it might be worth mentioning.

“I, have an idea. It’s, a possibility. Don’t mention this to Noiz,” his voice is very quiet, almost a whisper, “I know I could just, go with Virus and Trip and they would take me into the tower themselves. I mean, they’re obsessed with me, I- They’d be thrilled about it.”

“We’re not doing that,” Mizuki’s answer is firm and immediate, Sly didn’t expect him to agree but he’s still relieved when he shuts him down without hesitation. “I am not risking that, they could do anything to you, we might never get you back out.”

”It’s just an idea.”

“It’s not an idea I want to hear, okay? You’re staying here, with me, where you’re safe. I would never let you go with those people, never,” his voice has gotten so intense it’s a bit frightening, he’s still whispering but his grip on Sly is very firm and his eyes are blazing. Sly’s over ever known Mizuki be this intense while they’re having sex, which is something they’re definitely not doing at the moment. He feels like if they were stood up Mizuki would have hands on his arms, would be physically shaking him.

His hands are trembling and when he kisses Sly it is firm, desperate, he pulls away and puts his hand on his face, searching his eyes for the truth, “promise me you’ll never do that.”

Sly feels almost taken aback, Mizuki is being so protective of him, so fierce, it’s nice but he sort of feels like he’s being told off at the same time. His voice comes out very small, apologetic, “I promise. It was just an idea.”

“I won’t let you do that, I won’t,” Sly nods, he’s not really sure what else to do, he can hear Noiz mumbling to himself from the table, meets Mizuki’s eyes and sees how terrified he is at the mere suggestion. “I love you.”

Sly hears him, sees the panic in his eyes and for the first time, he feels it, hot and burning and there. He doesn’t just feel it, he knows it, he believes it.

The words are there and they are true, real and bold and frightening.

Opens his mouth, thinks of the photos of him and Noiz, of him throwing away something so good for no real reason, and closes it again.

He is still afraid.

"I know you do, I’m sorry I- It was a stupid idea anyway,” Mizuki looks at him for a minute longer, his face is drawn and tense, he looks worried, anxious, exhausted. “I- What are you thinking of ordering?”

Mizuki exhales, the warm breath flutters across Sly’s face and his loose hair, he looks amused at the obvious change of subject, “back door key to Oval Tower?”

“I’d rather have something deep fried to be honest.”

“Second that,” Noiz remarks, he dumps himself onto the couch heavily, the three of them end up very close together, Noiz squished up against Sly’s side and Sly’s head still on Mizuki’s shoulder. It’s nice, the warmth, being hemmed in on both sides by people that love him.

But then Noiz gives him a brief, sharp look out of the corner of his eye and Sly knows he heard everything.

He wonders how mad he will be, when they’re alone.

Mizuki is staring at him while he brushes his teeth and Sly can tell it’s not just because he likes looking at him, it’s because he’s angry, or annoyed, or something and has been waiting until they’re alone to talk to him about it.

He studiously ignores him, spits rinses and starts brushing out his hair like he always does before bed, he briefly glances over and though Mizuki does look a little softer around the edges, he’s still carrying an energy Sly doesn’t really like.

He caves first, sighs and puts down his brush and, remarkably exasperated ask, “what?”

Well, he sort of snaps it actually.

Mizuki doesn’t seem impressed, “you’re not going to do it, are you?”

“Go off with Virus and Trip? Fuck no, I can barely stand seeing them, I’m not going to hold their hands and skip off merrily into Oval Tower with them.”

“Can you take this seriously?”

”Can you lighten up?”

“I really don’t think that your safety is something I can lighten up about.”

Sly rolls his eyes, annoyed, crosses his arms over his chest, “it was just a suggestion.”

“A bad one! Did you think I’d agree?”

“Of course I didn’t,” Sly scoffs, Mizuki has something wrong with him if he thinks Sly thinks that poorly of him, “but we have no plan and the anniversary event is in two weeks, two weeks! What are we going to do, just tell everyone to stay inside and hope they listen to us? Tell people the truth and have them think we’re fucking insane?”

“We’ll work something out, Noiz is working on it.”

Sly is irritated, he’s tired and there’s a bit of something stuck in his back teeth that he’d missed with his brush, he’s hurting his tongue trying to wiggle it out and he’s loathe to go back to the sink. He brushes past Mizuki who is blocking most of the doorway, and heads into the bedroom, he hasn’t been sleeping well as it is and staying up late arguing isn’t going to help.

“Oh please, Noiz has a fuck buddy who passes out the second you say boo to him and a conveniently crumbly bit of wall, Noiz is not working on it.”

“He’s doing more than we are.”

“Yes, because we could be brainstorming ideas but instead we’re arguing about an idea I had for all of five seconds.”

“I won’t let you go with them.”

Sly shoots him a look, climbs into bed ignoring the fact that Mizuki is just stood there looking at him, settles himself against the pillows feeling grouchy, “I got that. But if it’s between me and the whole fucking Island?”

This is when Mizuki raises his voice, he’s been very calm and controlled, his anger has been very insular, low down and simmering, but with Sly’s words he cracks, it spills out. “Then I still wouldn’t let you!”

“So, everyone you know, all your friends, neighbours, employees are potentially going to be mind controlled or whatever, for a sinister purpose, and you wouldn’t even let me try.”

“No.”

“I don’t believe you.” Mizuki makes a weird noise, an annoyed sort of moan, he puts his hand over his eyes and Sly watches, amused, “look, if it comes down to me, or the whole Island I-”

“I would choose you!”

He’s raised his voice again and Sly’s sentence stutters to an abrupt stop, he suddenly has nothing clever to say, Mizuki is furious, yes, but he’s devastated too. Sly just can’t work out why.

Sly just stares at him, lips parted.

He still has nothing to say.

It’s odd, how just a while ago he would have thought Mizuki was lying, that he would have thought he was just being dramatic, or soppy. But now, he believes him.

He doesn’t really know what to do with that information.

It is, again, sort of a lot.

“What?”

“I would choose you. And I know, that doesn’t make sense, and I know that fucks over everyone else on the Island, but I would still choose you.”

“Mizuki, we- We could die.”

“I know.”

“And you’d be okay with that?”

Mizuki pulls a face, a childish grimace that makes Sly smile, “look, this is all fucking hypothetical, but if the choice is you going with two men who fucking terrify you, I assume for a damn good reason,” Sly averts his gaze, he doesn’t like to think about why they terrify him. “Or me knowing exactly where you are, being able to at least try to keep you safe? I pick that, I pick you being with me, even if with me is a fucked place to be. I- I couldn’t just, let you go and never know if you’re going to come back, or what they would do to you. I can’t do that, I don’t even want to think about doing that.”

There’s a silence then, high strung and tense and spreading.

“Do you still think that little of yourself?”

Sly doesn’t know what to say to that, adjusts the duvet nervously, opens his mouth and closes it again, useless, manages, “of course I don’t.”

”I couldn’t sit back, and let you risk yourself like that, and neither would Noiz, and neither would your Granny.”

“I know. So why are we even arguing about this when none of you would even let me try?”

”Because you still don’t get it. I say I love you and you say that you know but do you believe it? When I say it, do you think I actually mean it?”

That hits a nerve, it really does, “of course I fucking do.”

“Then don’t say things that make it seem like you don’t.”

Sly sits up on his haunches, he feels like he wants to scream but his voice comes out weak and trembling, “fuck you, how dare you say I don’t believe you. You think I don’t know that you love me? Don’t you tell me often enough? Do you think I’m going to fucking forget that? That I don’t think about that all the fucking time, that I don’t still have that stupid fucking note you wrote me? Do you think I just go home and forget you telling me?”

“Sly-” Mizuki looks apologetic, he looks sorry and he should be. Sly doesn’t give him a chance though.

“It’s one of the only things I know. Some days that is the only thing that keeps me going.” Mizuki’s face has dropped even more, he doesn’t look angry anymore, he looks devastated, “and sometimes I have a shitty day and I want to- Do something stupid and I- I think of you finding out, of you being upset, and it stops me from doing it. Okay, don’t you fucking dare say that I don’t believe you love me. I might not get it, but I fucking believe it.”

Sly is trying very hard not to cry, he’s clenching his jaw and breathing through his nose and trying to calm down. He’s also fighting the urge to throw something very, very heavy at him.

He’s wishing he could say it back.

This just doesn’t feel like the right time.

“I’m sorry,” Mizuki sits down on the edge of the bed, not looking at him. “I just, you used to be so self destructive, your life just meant nothing to you, you didn’t care if you got hurt. It worries me, when you make it seem like you’re not important, like you don’t matter.”

“I know I do, to you at least.”

Mizuki huffs a laugh, “I just- I want to keep you safe.”

“I know you do.” Sly sighs, flops back against the pillows, he thinks the argument has reached it’s climax and burnt out, he’s thinking again of going to sleep, “therapy tomorrow will be interesting.”

Mizuki actually laughs this time, turns to look at him, he looks tired but softened, “I bet. You talk about me at therapy then?”

“You know I do.”

“What do you talk about?”

Sly glances at him, the argument is definitely over, Mizuki is smiling faintly but he still looks worried, his forehead is creased. “Nothing in particular. The past, mostly.”

”Not about now?”

“Sometimes, depends if you’ve pissed me off or not.”

“Like today?”

“No. You’re just trying to look after me, I can’t really be pissed at you for that,” Sly shrugs, he’s loathe to admit it but these days it takes an awful lot for Mizuki to really get under his skin. Mizuki smiles properly, lies back on the mattress with his legs dangling over the side, looks at the ceiling.

“You can be pretty hard to look after, you know?” Sly doesn’t answer, he knows that but he’s trying his best. “What else do you say about me?”

“Mostly we just chit-chat about what a hunk you obviously are.” He’s taking the piss, trying to lighten the mood.

Unfortunately Mizuki grabs hold of this joke and runs with it.

Mizuki grins in a way that makes Sly uneasy, adopts an awful falsetto voice and starts cooing. “Ooh, my boyfriends so big and strong and handsome, my boyfriends so dreamy, I’m going to carve our initials into a heart on a tree so our love can last forever.”

Sly debates throwing a pillow at him, “ew! That is not what I say about you!”

“He’s so charming and popular and cool, everyone is so jealous of me having such a babe!”

Sly debates putting him out of his misery with the pillow, “you’re being really cringe.”

“I’m going to make us matching flower bracelets and we’re going to lie in a meadow staring dreamily into each others eyes!”

Sly debates taking himself out of his misery with the pillow. “You’ve given me the ick now,” Sly shakes his head, but he’s smiling. He likes it when Mizuki is stupid, even if it is at his own expense, they’re very comfortable around each other and it’s great, not having to hide anything.

“And he’s got the biggest penis I’ve ever seen an-”

“That’s just not true.”

Mizuki falters faintly, “one of the biggest?”

“No. It’s more like one of those mini sausages you get in tins of baked beans. Maybe a bit smaller actually. Sort of hard to spot, and weirdly the testicles are normal sized.”

Mizuki rolls over dramatically, clutching at his heart, dumps himself rather heavily into Sly’s lap, “I am hurt, I am wounded, I will never recover.”

“Mm-hm,” Sly murmurs, settling back into the sheets and vaguely petting Mizuki’s head as he has his existential crisis, “if you say so.”

“And I really like his chest hair.” His voice is quieter, lower, like it goes when he’s falling asleep. Sly would rather not have to sleep sat up with Mizuki sprawled across his lap like he’s on a Victorian fainting couch, but he supposes he’s slept in worse positions.

“You know what, I’ll give you that one.”

Mizuki whispers, like he doesn’t expect Sly to hear, “I knew it.”

“I don’t enjoy your ass hair though.”

Mizuki sits up, frowns, “I have ass hair?” He reaches behind himself like he’s going to check and Sly laughs, bats his hand away.

“No, you fucking loser, I would have told you by now if you had a hairy ass.”

“You’re kind of my hairy ass,” Mizuki muses, then gets all the air knocked out of him as Sly wallops him with a pillow.

“That’s it, I’m going to Granny's!” He’s half stood up when Mizuki tackles him, laughing and expressing his dissatisfaction with this idea, Sly thumps down onto the bed, breathless, suddenly engaged in a wrestling match.

He might be a lot smaller, but he gives as good as he gets, fighting half-heartedly to get free, wriggling around under Mizuki and yelping when he almost escapes only for Mizuki to grab his ankles and pull him back towards him. He goes, laughing and cursing and trying weakly to claw his way across the rumpled sheets, kicks Mizuki in the ribs mostly by accident and almost makes it.

Mizuki wrestles him back, squishes him into the mattress and slaps weakly at his hands, “beg for mercy,” he laughs.

Sly, usually not one to do things so beneath him, has no choice when Mizuki wriggles his hands under his back and starts tickling all his sensitive spots, leaving him gasping like a fish. “Mercy, mercy!”

Mizuki is polite, and accepts his weak attempt at begging, stops his onslaught of tickling and grins at him looking significantly more put together than Sly feels, his hair is everywhere and brushing it earlier seems suddenly to have been pointless.

“You assault all your partners?”

Mizuki grins, looking very pleased with himself, “only the ones I really like,” Sly pulls a face but then Mizuki kisses him and it fades away as if it were never there. Moves back and asks, soft, “you won’t go with Virus and Trip?”

Sly watches him, he wonders what he looks like, splayed out on the bed, cheeks red and hair a mess, “no,” he shakes his head, “I’m staying with you.”

Mizuki smiles, soft, besotted. Sly feels again, the weight of his love, “okay.”

“I thought you would make me promise.”

He shakes his head, “don’t need to. I believe you,” then, “you’re staying with me?”

“As long as you want me.”

“I think that’s going to be a very long time.”

Sly doesn’t really get the idea of forever, it seems like such an abstract concept to him, something lasting forever, but under Mizuki’s stare he thinks he finally gets the idea, the appeal. Smiles and reaches up to touch Mizuki’s cheek, “I better get comfy then.”

He finds he likes the idea, of this being forever.

He likes the idea, of this being it.

He loves Mizuki, he just can’t say it yet.

Chapter Text

Noiz does a lot or reconnaissance the next couple of weeks, he realises very quickly that he will look very suspicious and very prominent if he keeps hovering so close to the wall separating the Island and the Jail. 

So, he gets a disguise. 

Koujaku thinks he's crazy when he shows up to his salon in working hours and asks for a wig, he does lend him one though, it's brown and long so it can be tied up into a bun. Koujaku even installs it for him so it won't fall off, so it looks realistic. It's a very good quality wig, Koujaku informs him, and he needs to be very careful with it. 

Noiz isn't really sure how to be careful with a wig, but he promises he will try his best and he genuinely means it. Koujaku waves him off, muttering about brats under his breath. His tone is more affectionate than chiding and Noiz grins to himself as he pulls on a large floppy brimmed hat before he steps into the street.

He needs different clothes next, he can't be seen buying them in case one of the weird blonde security force see him and link the clothes to the long-haired figure hovering around the wall. 

So he delegates, he messages a past client and asks if they can buy some generic clothes and leave them somewhere for him. He offers them a significant sum of money and they agree without asking further questions. 

He does debate asking for women's clothes, but he thinks that might be taking things a bit far, and besides, the wig isn't super long so he awkwardly ties it up into a man bun and puts on the clothes.

He's ready to go. 

He's already placed cameras around the wall wherever he can and so far none of them have been noticed, so he thinks he's off to a great start. He leaves all electronics at his place and heads out at night when it's dark, using the waning light of the moon to trek carefully through the waste ground at the north of the island, towards the wall. 

He hides out in an old hut he finds, somebody obviously lived there once but there are no signs it has been visited lately so it seems safe enough, the air is thick with dust and it stinks of damp but it has a working roof and not too many windows. 

He shacks down for a couple of days, he's brought food and drink and he doesn't really need anything else, he ventures out a couple of times under the cloak of night, finds the crumbling section of wall and maps it out mentally. he's got the whole wood laid out in his head, the pond to one side, the hut to another, the wall wrapping around in a convex arch. He knows how many paces between everything, he knows all the good spots to hide and the spots that are most exposed. 

Issue is, he doesn't know what's on the other side of the wall. It's a very high wall for one thing, twelve feet at least, so he can't see over it without actually scaling the thing and he doesn't really want to do that not knowing what he will encounter on the other side. It could be a residential area or it could be the middle of a bustling nightclub scene filled with bars and lights and music and people. It seems quiet though, when he passes along the wall he can't hear much on the other side, no dull pounding of music from a club, just silence. 

It's a bit eerie, actually, the silence. The rest of the island is rarely completely quiet, there's always something, a stray cat, a buzzing street lamp, some drunken idiot yelling at nothing. Platinum Jail seems very quiet, and very hidden. 

Noiz wishes he had a drone but he knows it would be noticed immediately and it would definitely be linked to him, who else on the island would be flying a drone around above Platinum Jail? Most people on the island completely ignore it's presence, it's hidden away enough that they can't be jealous and besides, with no way to get in it's not really worth wasting time thinking about. 

Day four in the hut and Noiz heads out late at night, deciding to go all the way to the coast to see if the wall continues all the way around, he's pretty sure it will, it would be too easy to escape if the sea was left available. Not that he thinks anyone is able to even think about escaping, but still. 

So he walks, and walks, and then he walks some more. 

He gets to the coast, the island ends abruptly and becomes a cliff that looks straight down on jagged rocks and a furiously frothing sea, Noiz doesn't fancy his chances if he falls in. He wonders though, if there is a way to get around, to the bit of the wall exposed to the sea, runs through various things in his head, a grappling hook, a collapsible ladder. The answer turns out to be a bit easier than that, he finds a gap under the wall, he's lying down next to it because he'd heard something on the other side, almost like a car door slamming. So he lies there and presses himself against the wall and is faintly alarmed when he starts to roll under the wall. The erosion of the sea has left a gap that is just big enough for an average sized person to wiggle through, Noiz lies there on the cold ground for several hours. 

Then, he worms his way through the gap head first, and looks. 

Quiet paved streets, a few modern wooden houses with no lights on. Silence. 

The residential area. 

Even more luckily, the gap leads right into an ornamental garden of sorts and there is a large bush right in front of him, the foliage is dense and he is pretty sure somebody walking past definitely wouldn't spot the gap, and probably wouldn't see him either. 

After five days of living in the hut and roughing it in the woods, Noiz heads back to civilization, to Koujaku. 

He seems confused when he answers the door and it takes Noiz a minute to remember he's wearing a disguise, then recognition hits and he's being hit upside the head and chastised for ruining the wig. 

He'd forgotten about it, in all honesty, it had been very well glued down and since it was tied back he'd barely even noticed it. 

He does notice when Koujaku rips it off his head, taking skin and his real hair with it and begins fussing over it like it's his first born son instead of some synthetic fibres attached to a cap. 

It takes Koujaku a long time to ask where he's been, and why. 

Noiz doesn't want to tell him, even though Koujaku seizures are not horrible violent long lasting things, he still doesn't like seeing him have them, so he shrugs and says around and Koujaku stares at him, unimpressed. 

“Around?”

“Yeah.”

“I'm not going to faint, Noiz, what have you been doing?”

Him fainting isn't Noiz's worry but they both know that so he doesn't bother to say anything, he sighs and relents, “checking out the wall.”

“The wall? What for? You won't be able to get in.”

“I did. Get in, I mean.”

Koujaku sits up looking alarmed, glances at the open window and quickly shuts it, his voice is low and conspiratorial, “well, what did you find?”

“Not much, some houses, some plants. But I know how to get in now.”

“Why do you want to get in?”

“We're going to kill Toue.”

Koujaku laughs, offers Noiz a cigarette which he takes, “okay, sure, who is we? “

“Me, Mizuki and Sly.”

“Sly I can see, but Mizuki is not going to kill someone.”

“He's just gunna help.”

“Is he?” he smiles, he thinks this is one big funny joke and if it keeps him conscious, Noiz will let him believe that. 

Noiz has an incredibly annoying habit of showing up just at the wrong time, the wrong time being that Sly is sat in Mizuki's lap with a hand down his pants, moments away from getting into something very fun. Noiz, surprisingly, politely averts his gaze until they have broken apart and gotten themselves into some semblance of decency, though Mizuki does hold a cushion awkwardly over his crotch. 

“You have the worst timing,” Sly is annoyed, since he can't partake in sexual activities there haven't really been any happening, this is the first time in what feels like forever that Mizuki has given up and let Sly do whatever he wants to him. Sly doesn't even want to think how long he will have to wait til next time. He knows Mizuki feels bad when he can't return the favour so he doesn't want Sly to do anything, but the issue is that Sly still wants to make Mizuki feel good. He still wants the closeness, the intimacy, even if he can't really partake. 

“You can jerk him off any time, I have news.”

“Ah, such romance,” Mizuki muses sarcastically, waving a hand around vaguely and not looking quite as put out as might be expected, “Koujaku must love you.”

Noiz grimace, looks only mildly irritated at the idea, “doubt it.”

“Well? What did you interrupt us for?” Sly feels very irritated, he hopes once Noiz is gone he can convince Mizuki to pick up where they left off but he doubts it. 

“I got into Platinum Jail.”

“And?”

Noiz falters a little bit, rubs the back of his neck, “I scoped the place out.”

“And?”

“It's quiet, where the way in is, a residential area, plenty of hiding places.”

Sly rolls his eyes, “This could have been an email.”

Mizuki snorts, “Since when have you been up on office humour?”

“I do go on the Internet, you know.”

“Look, I know it's not much but it's something, and I've found somebody we can send in, I can wire him money so it can't be traced and he can buy his way in, they still take people who can pay, there's just, not really anyone left who can.”

“Well, what if they ask him how he got the money?”

“Lottery.”

“Lottery?”

“I've hacked into the system, which was very easy, by the way, the password was lottery123,” Mizuki snorts, “so I've set it so he wins.”

“Why do you need to send him money then?”

Noiz falters again, says very flatly, “what?”

“If he's won the lottery, why does he need money from you?”

Mizuki raises an eyebrow, smiles, “oh. Shit, yeah. I guess he doesn't. Well, I mean the money from the lottery will get him in, but we still need to keep him sweet, on our side.”

“He's going to look really suspicious if he just never goes to any of the clubs though, so he's just going to end up mind-controlled or whatever.”

Noiz grins, he looks very pleased with himself despite his earlier blunder, “nah, he's deaf.”

“Is he blind as well?”

Noiz looks very irked at every little jab Sly aims at him, rolls his eyes and frowns, “No, but they work together, they still work a bit if you only have one, but you can fight it easily and overcome it if it's just the lights. I've tested it a lot of times, you feel pretty messed up still, it makes you think about doing whatever they want, but you aren't forced to.”

“Well, who is it?”

Noiz shuffles his feet, Mizuki stares pointedly at the marks his shoes are making on the floor and he kicks them off absently, dumps himself on the couch and shoots a side long look at the cushion still over Mizuki's crotch. “Crazy Kiko?”

Mizuki starts laughing, Sly exhales a disbelieving breath and feels his face split into a grin, “you're kidding.”

“Nope, he's perfect.”

“He's fucking bat shit insane, like, several screws loose, like dropped on his head as a baby insane,” Mizuki is very familiar with Crazy Kiko, as is pretty much everyone on the Island. Every town, every area has it's own resident nutcase, and Crazy Kiko is theirs, he rambles on about mad conspiracy theories to anyone who exists near him, he only drinks tomato juice because the water is filled with lead that's turning everyone into radioactive fish hybrids. He only wears the colour pink because it repels the alien spacecraft, it is, apparently, the same colour as a toxic plant on their home planet so they avoid it at all costs. “He thinks tattoos are a demonic sigil that burns into your soul so when you die you become your tattoos and also somehow become a sidekick to Lucifer.”

“Oh, I haven't heard that one.”

“He is perfect, think about it, nobody on the island is going to trust a lunatic with a top secret plan, are they? And despite all his crazy ideas he never says a word against Toue or Platinum Jail, he says it's a spire reaching up into the heavens where the gods sip on only the finest pure tomato juice and ride around on beautiful orange manatees,” Sly opens his mouth to ask what a manatee is, but Noiz keeps going, “if he won the lottery the only logical thing he would do is go to Platinum Jail. Plus, if they catch him, he's deaf, so how are they going to interrogate him? Also, he's fucking mental! He never changes his mind on anything, he thinks Platinum Jail is a holy shrine, he's not going to go in there and start talking about how Toue must be defeated, he doesn't even know that's what we're trying to do.”

“Okay, fine, so he might be the best option. But how the fuck have you convinced him to even enter the lottery?”

“The tickets are pink, so if he has one, the aliens can't get him.” Mizuki puts a hand over his eyes, looking amused and overwhelmed at the same time. “Plus, everyone knows the lottery was created by Herona of Athens and that only the most worthy can play.”

“Who of what?”

“No idea, I put a bug on him and listened to all the shit he says.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It's pretty interesting, I mean he's completely mental but, interesting. So I just wandered up to him one day and mentioned it and said I'd love to play but I'm not worthy because Herona has not blessed me, and he basically ripped the ticket out of my hand.”

“I thought you said he was deaf?”

“I know sign language.”

“Of course you do.”

“So, we have our spy, he'll win the lottery and be in Platinum Jail in a week at most. All the houses near the gap are empty, guess when they were building the place they expected it to be fuller, so he'll get one of them that we can hide out in when we've got the plan sorted.”

“You make this all sound very easy,” Mizuki starts, “but what if he doesn't go to Platinum Jail, what if he decides to buy a lifetime supply of tomato juice and a beautifully commissioned artwork of a yellow manatee or whatever it was.”

“Orange,” Sly interjects, looks only faintly sorry when Mizuki frowns at him.

“Then we come up with another plan.”

Sly groans and Noiz smirks as he lets himself slowly slide off the couch and onto the floor with a  dull thud, “plans and plans, why can’t we just go in and see what happened?”

“Because we’ll fucking die, Sly.”

“You make a good point.”

Noiz looks around the room, frowns at something and then decides it doesn’t matter and sits himself down next to Mizuki, swatting vaguely at the pillow he still loosely holds and earns himself a weak glare. “The anniversary celebration is next month, I think we need to worry about that for now.”

”Granny’s in work, so she won’t be going, me and Mizuki aren’t gunna go either.”

“I told Koujaku about the lights, so he’s not going either.”

Mizuki still looks troubled, “I’m trying to convince Tio and Kin not to go, so far they’ve agreed to come here for a pre-party, but, I can’t just lock them in and keep them here.”

“Why not?”

“They’ll think I’ve gone crazy. I can’t explain all of this to them. I’ve got a few guys coming, actually.”

“Fuck it, lock them all in, you’ve got windows that will overlook it, if something bad goes down they’ll see it, and if it doesn’t, well, they won’t like you very much, but they’ll be safe anyway.”

Mizuki does as Noiz suggests, he invites as many of his friends over as he can for a pre-anniversary party, then, when they’re making noise about going to join the crowds gathering outside. He just locks them in. He’d already gotten Tio’s spare key by lying to his face about having lost his and he makes sure the balcony door and all the windows are locked.

They are not happy.

In fact that’s an understatement, they range from livid to confused to highly annoyed.

It ends up being a very long night and despite how much he tries to tell them it’s for their own good, as much as he plies them with alcohol, they’re still not impressed.

Noiz lets him know when it’s over and he unlocks the door and everyone except Tio and Kin file out with various profanities sent his way.

Mizuki is exhausted, he feels emotionally battered.

His coil rings and he answers, confirms to Sly that yes they’re all fine, that yes he managed to keep them inside, that he’s still fine to come by tomorrow. All the while Tio stands over him with his arms crossed and a firm look on his face.

He lowers his coil, opens his mouth but Tio gets there first, “what in the fuck is going on?”

“I-”

“No excuses! Lost your key, did you now?”

“Okay, so that was a lie.”

”And what else was a lie?”

“If you two are going to have a lovers spat, I’d rather not be involved, thanks,” Kin looks faintly amused and Tio gives him a look but lowers his arms and his tone.

“Talk to me.”

“I can’t.”

”Sly will, if I ask him.”

Mizuki snorts dryly, “he fucking won’t.”

”So there is something going on. Obviously, otherwise you wouldn’t have locked the lot of us in like battery chickens,” Kin raises an eyebrow at his odd choice of metaphor but shrugs and pours himself another glass of punch, seems to regret it the minute he takes a sip and quickly picks up a beer instead.

“I can’t tell you, you won’t like it.”

”I don’t give a shit if I won’t like it, I want to know why you kept us away from the celebration, you’ve never done anything this unhinged before.”

”Pretty sure I have.”

Tio looks ruefully amused at that, takes the beer Kin offers, “talk, bartender, or I’ll get my accomplice to start breaking your fingers.” Kin points at himself in alarm, but it does break the tension, Mizuki laughs and Tio cracks a smile and he feels less like he’s part of an actual interrogation.

“Okay, fine, but I’m fucking starving, can we at least order something?”

”There was food at the celebration, which we didn’t get to go to, by the way.”

”You’ll be glad of it soon enough.”

”Fine, food, then, you talk.”

“Sorry, so, you were protecting us from lights that make you, horny?”

“That make you do anything, they just, trialled it with horniness first, I guess.”

”And Noiz and Sly have seen this happen?”

”On several occasions. I don’t know what they did with them at the celebration but I didn’t really want to risk all my friends getting mind-controlled by Toue.”

“You know you sound insane, right?”

”You see why I didn’t tell anyone?”

Tio rolls his eyes, Kin has been silently intrigued the entire time. Or drunk, it’s hard to tell, his gaze is intense but Mizuki simply can’t tell if he’s actually listening or if he’s zoned out shoving pizza into his mouth.

“Why don’t we just go see it ourselves? Sly was fine.”

”Sly was not fine, he shoved his hands down Noiz’s pants.”

”Yeah, but if me and the big guy go, I’ll just shove my hands down his pants, don’t think he’d mind.”

”You’re right, I wouldn’t. Unless Noiz was still there, I don’t think I’d like that.”

”Don’t know until you try,” Kin tilts his head, considering this.

Tio slaps him upside the head.

Noiz, reluctantly, agrees to take them. He reports back that all is fine, he walked them home with minimal attempts to grope each other or him, and left them inside before they started getting really into it. Mizuki is faintly amused but declines the offer when Noiz asks him if he wants to go, there is no point when he believes them already. Besides, the idea of him trying to grope Noiz while under mind control, and in general, makes him want to vomit.

Tio clears his throat awkwardly when Mizuki locks eyes on his neck and grins wickedly, “so?”

He looks faintly embarrassed and his neck is a mess of bruises, Mizuki wonders what he looks like in other places and then decides suddenly not to wonder that, “well, it fits.”

It takes Mizuki a minute to clock on, to remember a conversation they had weeks ago, but when he does suddenly remember he loses it, slapping the bar with his flattened palms and crowing with laughter.

Tio looks like he’s trying not to join in, lips pressed tightly together and his face twitching like he’s trying his hardest not to laugh, “that doesn’t really matter though. I believe you now.”

“Good.”

“What the fuck are we supposed to do about it?”

Mizuki doesn’t really have an answer for that.

“Noiz is being weird.”

“When isn’t he?” Mizuki is slaving over a hot stove as they talk, Sly had turned up and announced that he’s craving dumplings, and Mizuki who might be slightly whipped, had offered to make them. Problem is, he’s never actually made a dumpling before and he has no idea what he’s doing, he keeps peering at his coil when Sly isn’t looking.

“He’s just out all the time.”

”He’ll be doing reconnaissance, I guess.”

”For what? The lottery is next week, we’ve got the plan, we know how to get in and we’ve got a place to stay, got an insider who’s as nutty as a fucking cum stain.” Mizuki winces at his analogy, “don’t know what else he could be looking into and he sure isn’t telling me. I haven’t heard from him in like four days.”

”That is odd,” Mizuki tastes the sauce he’s making, it’s okay, a bit too tangy but it’s too late to fix it and he also doesn’t know how to, “you know how to wrap these?”

“Yeah, done it with Granny before.”

”Good, because I don’t.”

Sly rolls his eyes like he’s surprised, heads over and starts re-rolling Mizuki’s lumpy dough, “you offer to make me dumplings when you don’t know how to? We could have just ordered them.”

”We order in all the time, besides, you wanted them.”

Sly doesn’t say anything, but Mizuki sees him smile as he starts cutting neat circles out of the dough.

19.46- You still not heard from Noiz?

19.48- Nope, fuck all, he’s still never in when I go round

19.54- Weird

19.55- He’ll probably come back with some ridiculous story to tell us

19.55- True

19.57- Granny wants you to come for dinner

20.11- Don’t know if I like that idea

20.12- Don’t worry, I didn’t either

20.14- Doubt she’ll mind if you don’t

20.16- Do you mind?

20.17- Nah, I don’t give a fuck, not like you haven’t met her before

20.18- Don’t remind me

20.19- She’s a scary lady

20.21- You can’t see it, but I’m rolling my eyes rn

20.23- Thanks for the support

20.24- Anytime

When there’s a knock at the door he expects Tio, maybe Sly though he normally just lets himself in without so much as an invitation, what he doesn’t expect is Noiz, face bloodied, holding a gym bag that is squirming violently under his arm.

“Not to be rude, but what the fuck, Noiz.”

He’s not exactly dressed for visitors and especially not for ones he wasn’t expecting, he’s fresh out of the shower, wearing his boxers and exactly nothing else, he doesn’t even have his coil and and the disinterested gaze Noiz sweeps over him is weird.

“Favour for a friend,” he intones, a faint smile that Mizuki doesn’t like nor trust creeping onto his face as he offers the writhing mass of whatever poor thing he’s got trapped in his bag over as if it is something Mizuki is interested in.

“Sly, I assume?”

Noiz snorts, wipes absently at the blood on his cheek but seems not overly worried about it, “who else am I friends with?”

Mizuki considers this, nudges the bag with his foot and promptly stops when Noiz aims him an unimpressed expression, “me?”

Noiz seems pulled up short by this, like it had never occurred to him that Mizuki would consider him a friend, not that he gets much of a choice, him and Sly are a package deal that Mizuki isn’t always thrilled about but has mostly adjusted to. His cheeks are very faintly dusted with red like he’s embarrassed and he stumbles a little bit when he responds, “yeah, I guess.”

The moment stretches, gets weird, Mizuki shakes his head vaguely and nudges at the bag again, whatever was so unhappy inside it before seems to have quietened down, stopped in its vain effort to escape it’s canvas confines. He wonders if he should unzip it to see what's inside, but Noiz’s face and forearms are a stark warning not to.

A stark warning Mizuki avoids because he suddenly has an idea of what it is, looks from the bag to Noiz whose face has softened with his realisation, he runs his hand over the canvas and feels something pushing up against him, something soft.

He recognises the feel of it, the shape, the hard parts and the insistent nudge into him as if begging for attention.

“You didn’t,” he intones flatly, but his fingers are already working on the zip when Noiz replies with something he doesn’t even hear over the sudden sound of his own heart pounding.

If it’s not what he thinks it is, he’s going to be devastated.

The zip opens, the bag is dark but right in one corner, squashed away as if terrified huddles a familiar ginger shape, smaller than he remembers, thinner, but with the same expressive wide eyes that peer up at him. His hand is shaking when he reaches out for her and she hisses and bares her teeth at him, trying to back up in a bag that offers no more space, but Mizuki is persistent, keeps his hand there and feels the familiar tickle of whiskers against his fingers.

Then, after what feels like forever, the soft nudge of a warm furred head against his palm, the rumble of purring.

He’s fully sat on the floor now, curls his hand up faintly and offers gentle pets against tangled fur, “hey, remember me?”

If his voice is a little thick, a little choked, Noiz doesn’t mention it, just sits down on the floor opposite him and watches, he looks pretty pleased with himself but Mizuki couldn’t care less what Noiz looks like.

Amaya, and it is her, slowly pads her way out of the bag, sniffing the air with every step, still wary, comes to smell Mizuki’s bare legs and leisurely makes her way onto his lap where she flops, seemingly very comfortable, unaware of the distress she’s caused. Mizuki’s still hand on her flank must draw her ire, because she lets out a small, attention seeking meow and Mizuki hears himself make a noise like a wounded animal. He curls up around her, pulling her into his arms and fussing over her, trying to swallow down the thick ball of relief that’s formed in his throat, hiding his face against her fur and feeling so flooded with relief it’s almost making him light-headed.

He’d thought she was dead, he’d thought he’d never see her again, never wake up with her pawing at his face because she wants breakfast, never listen to her little chirps when she’s playing with a toy. He’d grieved for her, cried and stressed out and walked around calling for her in every alleyway he could, he’d sat on the balcony with her litter tray like he’d read online.

It had taken him a very long time to give up on looking for her, but he never really did, not properly, his head would still turn every time he saw a small movement, any time he saw her familiar orange.

He’d never imagined Noiz would go all pet detective and deliver her right into his lap like it was an easy task.

Shit. He thinks he’s going to cry.

“She definitely remembers you,” Noiz’s words bring him back, he straightens up and wipes absently at his damp eyes with the back of one hand, Noiz’s expression is soft, it’s an expression Mizuki has only ever seen aimed at Sly. It’s nice, to see Noiz looking soft, open. “She fucking hates me.”

“You did shove her into a gym bag.”

“Hey, worked, didn’t it?” Mizuki plans to reply with something teasing about Noiz being a fine pet detective, but Amaya decides their reunion has gone on long enough and darts away towards the bookshelves. “She’s probably hungry.”

“Yeah, I should, get her some food.” Noiz is looking soft again and Mizuki realises suddenly that this was no favour for Sly, it was a favour for him and one he did of his own accord. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“No, Noiz seriously, I-” Noiz looks faintly wary and distinctly more so when Mizuki moves forwards and traps him in a hug that could definitely be described as aggressive, “thank you.”

He’s definitely uncomfortable, sort of awkwardly pats his bare back and Mizuki can feel the mortified flush of his face as he squeezes him, he mumbles something vague and then, bizarrely, there is a weird forward motion that rocks the two of them.

Then a voice.

“Oi, why are your hands all over my man and where the fuck have you been?”

Noiz snorts, Mizuki detaches, Sly stands over them, a trainer-clad foot planted into the middle of Noiz’s back where he’d, presumably, kicked him.

He supposes it looks a bit suspect, Mizuki is almost naked and he’d been holding onto Noiz like he was some sort of long lost relative, Noiz smirks though, grabs Sly’s foot so he has to hop awkwardly to keep his balance and deadpans, “you can keep him.”

“I was going to,” he scoffs, narrowed eyes casting across the apartment, then his eyes land on the furry ball of ginger fluff who is sitting very patiently by her usual feeding station, and his face lights up, “Amaya!”

Mizuki is only slightly put out by the friendly chirp Amaya offers Sly as he goes right over to her and bundles her into his arms. She’d always liked Sly better. In a way it’s nice that nothing has changed.

Sly baby talking to her is different though, he cradles her in his arms and coos over her like she is a newborn infant while Noiz and Mizuki offer him matching perturbed expressions, it lasts entirely too long before Sly’s gaze snaps up and he is demanding.

“Nobody’s fed her yet? Look at the state of her, she’s wasting away!” Thin she might be, but she’s hardly about to keel over and Noiz laughs faintly as Mizuki aims him a long-suffering expression, “where’s your tuna?”

Mizuki doesn’t bother to argue, “top left cupboard.”

Sly aims him a blank look which Mizuki returns, “well go on then, she’s hungry.” Mizuki rolls his eyes but does as he is told, just shakes his head at the quip Sly aims at him, “and put some fucking clothes on, Noiz is eyeing you up.”

Mizuki looks at Noiz who is distinctly not eyeing him up but he relents and empties a tin of tuna onto a side plate, he’ll have to dig her stuff out of the attic later, he’ll need to buy litter and food and treats. She might even need a bath and he’s got no idea how that will go, but it’s a problem for later, he thinks Sly could be convinced to help pretty easily.

“Where did you find her?” Sly asks as Mizuki puts the food down and Amaya starts devouring it so aggressively the plate slides noisily around the floor. “Or did she just show up?”

“Noiz found her.” He’s a bit surprised Sly hadn’t already worked that out, he doesn’t typically hug Noiz let alone for no reason whatsoever and definitely not while just in his boxers. Sly, luckily, doesn’t mention that he is yet to get dressed.

Sly’s eyes fly to Noiz and his eyes are wide, he looks like a kid on Christmas and Mizuki likes seeing him so obviously so happy, so open with his emotions, “you did?!” Noiz shrugs and is much more accepting when Sly flings himself at him in a hug that knocks the breath out of him, “you’re the best friend ever!”

“It’s not even your cat,” he grouses, flushing scarlet when Sly presses his lips messily against his cheek with an exaggerated smacking noise and squeezes him, Noiz holds him back though and Mizuki can tell he isn’t as displeased as he pretends to be. Noiz adores Sly and it soothes a worry somewhere deep down in Mizuki’s chest to know that Sly is well loved.

“She might as well be, besides, she likes me more.” Mizuki sighs but he’s right, “probably because I don’t parade around in my underwear in front of guests.”

”Noiz does not count as a guest.”

”Rude,” Sly has finally released Noiz from his bear grip, ignores him in favour of sitting down on the floor to hold Amaya’s plate still so she can get every last scrap of tuna off it. “But he has a point, you’re very big and strong and handsome and your biceps could crush us, we get it, but nobody is impressed.”

”I’m a little bit imp-”

”Shut up, Sly.”

Mizuki knows when he’s outnumbered, smiles and hears laugher echoing down the hallway while he changes.

Chapter Text

10.48, N- The crow is in the nest

10.49, M- Sorry?

10.50, S- Stop using your stupid fucking codes, Noiz, none of us understand them

10.51, N- I’m not allowed any fun

10.51, N- I’m coming over

10.53, S- I’m at Granny's

10.54, S- Meet @ yours?

10.56, S- In the middle

11.06, M- Give me an hour, some of us have jobs

11.07, S- We’ll have fun w/o you dw

12.08, M- Rude

12.36, M- OMW

12.37, N- You have a very loose definition of an hour

12.38, S- Not the only loose thing he’s got

12.38, N- Ew

12.39, M- First of all that’s not true, second why are you texting you’re in the same room???

12.42, N- Cause we’re cool

12.43, M- Also not true

12.44, M- B there soon

“The crow is in the nest?” Mizuki opens with when he pushes the door open. Noiz’s place is a mess but he didn’t really expect anything else, there are empty soft drink cans everywhere and old takeaway cartons litter the coffee table. There’s what looks like the guts of a PC strewn across the plush carpet and the huge TV shows the view from four different CCTV cameras, Mizuki noes with vague amusement that one of this is aimed at Koujaku's shop.

“Did you want me to just reveal our plan over text?”

”Not sure here is much better, what about the cameras?”

”I ripped them all out, the WiFi too, anything with a signal has been removed and destroyed.”

”What about the TV?”

“It’s a live stream from Koujaku’s, his place is my head of operations now.”

”Is that so?” Mizuki still can’t really see the two of them working, but then he supposes he and Sly are hardly the pair people would expect. If it works for them, then good.

“They’re hideously in love,” Sly offers, he’s wandering around with a cheap white trash bag looking repulsed by each container he peers into, lip curled up and grimacing. “It’s disgusting.”

Noiz doesn’t respond to this, he just rolls his eyes and gestures vaguely at his couch for Mizuki to sit, “Kiko is in place, he won and ran to Platinum Jail, begging to be allowed to live like the gods, safe to say, he’s in and he’s been assigned one of the houses I thought he would.”

”It’s going too well,” Sly cuts in, audibly gagging as something wet slops around in a sealed container, “but I’m sick of waiting. When do we go?”

“We don’t even know what we’re doing when we get there.”

”Killing Toue.”

”I got that, but how are we killing him? We can’t just have a fist-fight with him and his guards.”

”We could,” Noiz muses and Mizuki groans into his hands, “but don’t worry about that, I can get us guns if you prefer?”

”Where the fuck are you going to get guns from?”

Noiz’s face falters for a second but only Mizuki catches it, Sly is bustling around with a second bag, emptying the drinks into a large plastic container then dumping the cans noisily into it, “Scratch.” He sounds faintly apologetic and Mizuki watches Sly tense up, just a little bit. “They can get me anything I want.”

”For what price?” Sly’s voice is sharp but he’s not looking up, not meeting their eyes.

Mizuki still doesn’t know for sure what they did to him, not sure if the rumours are true that they attacked Sly, pinned him down and sexually assaulted him. He fears them though and Sly doesn’t fear easily, if he is afraid of them, it is for very good reason.

“Just money, I’m not stupid enough to owe Scratch anything. They want a lot of money, but I have it.”

”Have either of you ever even fired a gun?”

Noiz shrugs which is unhelpful, Sly shakes his head but doesn’t look worried at the idea, “safety off, bullets in, trigger. Bam, dead. They’re hardly complicated.”

“I think you’ve seen too many movies.”

“And I don’t think you’re on board with the plan.”

Mizuki rolls his eyes, “on board or not, if we’re doing this I’m coming with you, I’d rather not kill anyone if I get the choice but if it comes to it,” he hesitates, looking at Sly whose stare is intense and focused, “I guess, I’ll do what I need to.”

They talk about it for a long time, Noiz has some blueprints for the first few floors of Toue Tower, nobody asks how he obtained them, so they study them and plan out a route through. They don’t know where the cameras will be, the guards, they don’t even know if they’ll be able to gain access to the building, but they plan it out anyway. In truth, they’re not even sure how many floors the tower is, there isn’t exactly a planning board who had to approve the design, Toue just moved in and threw it up while Platinum Jail formed around it.

“So, that’s it, I guess. I’ll get the stuff from Scratch, then we just need to decide when we’re going.”

”Soon.”

Noiz’s eyes flick to him, narrow, “you’ve seen them. Virus and Trip.”

”They’ve been around,” Mizuki frowns, Sly hadn’t told him this, hadn’t mentioned anything weird. “Following me. Watching me.”

”Then it needs to be soon, they suspect, they might even know.”

“So we might walk into a trap.”

”Or we won’t, can’t be sure until we actually do it.”

“Two weeks, there’s another event on, a rave or something, at Club 26, they’re going to do something worse this time, the celebration was a warm up, they barely did anything, made everyone friendlier, made everyone spend more and get drunker. They’re going to up the ante with this one, they didn’t get noticed last time, so they’ll go bigger, worse.”

”They’ve blacked out all the windows, I noticed last week.”

“So nobody can see what’s happening inside, I saw that too.” Mizuki is still staring at Sly as he speaks, he seems fine but Mizuki can see the worry in his eyes, the way he fidgets with his drink, running his fingers around the rim over and over.

“So,” he says, “two weeks.”

“Two weeks,” Mizuki agrees.

It doesn’t feel like long enough, they don’t know enough and just the three of them seems far too few.

Mizuki can’t help but feel like they are planning their own deaths.

Two weeks.

0000000

Another review with his doctor, Sly thinks he freaked his therapist out when he flung that clock across the room and legged it with no decent explanation, he thinks that is why he’s been called in early. They think he is slipping, they think he is losing his mind.

He thinks he might agree with them.

The hospital hallways are cool, autumn is upon the island and the sky is grey and blustery with threatened rain. The nurse behind the front desk smiles at Tae and they have a brief conversation while Sly's gaze stays fixed on a dusty plant in the corner of the main waiting area.

Virus and Trip are in the corner, leant up against a vending machine, watching him.

His Granny has to call his name three times before he responds, it feels like coming up from being deep underwater, like a sudden shock of oxygen and he jolts his head and mumbles something vaguely reassuring to her.

They go to see the Doctor.

“Sly,” the man says with a smile, “it’s nice to see you again, take a seat.”

He does as he’s asked, Granny sits beside him, they go through the usual, his progress, how stable he is, blah blah blah. Sly doesn’t bother to listen.

He’s bored of these appointments, he keeps thinking about the way Mizuki had looked at him when he’d said he’ll do what he had to. He wonders if he would kill someone, if it kept Sly safe, if it kept Noiz safe. He’d been bluffing, about the guns, about it being easy. He knows it won’t be, there is recoil and he’ll have to learn how to reload and where the safety is and how to actually aim and hit what he means to. He’s not thrilled at the idea of taking a life even if they would deserve it this time. Killing Virus and Trip seems impossible, seems like a hysterical joke. He’s not sure they’re actually alive, so he can’t picture himself killing them.

Suddenly, nothing seems more important than doing this, than stopping Toue from getting whatever it is he wants.

He needs to free himself from the choking presence of Virus and Trip, always over his shoulder, one step behind, watching, waiting, hoping he slips, falls right into their cold hands.

Finally the appointment is over and it gets to the point where he gets to speak, and despite the fact that he really doesn’t want to talk about this, when he’s asked about any problems he opens his mouth and says, flatly, “my dick doesn’t work.”

Weirdly, he doesn’t think about it first, he just opens his mouth and there it is, right there, something he can say to explain why he’s been being weird, something that will take attention off things he doesn’t want noticing.

Granny, to her immense credit, just raises her eyes skyward, pats his leg and says, “I’ll wait outside.”

The Doctor, Sly still doesn’t know his name, waits for the door to close and asks, politely, “and how long has this been a problem?”

Sly shrugs, “dunno, a bit, I guess? I didn’t really notice for a while, not like I was using it for anything.”

The Doctor looks wryly amused, “and you’re wanting to use it now?”

If Virus and Trip are going to kill him in Oval Tower, if they’re going to trap and keep him there as some sort of pet, if all their plans go awry and the worst happens, he’d at least like a good fuck beforehand. “Yep.”

“Okay,” he says, smiles, “then lets discuss some options.”

There are a lot of options, which surprises Sly, the doctor talks through them all with him and in the end they decide to try Viagra again but in a higher dose since Sly said he’s tried it before and it wore off too soon. The doctor looks wryly amused when he asks Sly where he’d gotten it from, remarks he didn’t think that sort of thing would peak the interest of drug dealers much.

He gets the prescription and takes it to the pharmacy to be filled and on the way home his Granny tells him very softly that she is proud of him, Sly wishes she knew that this is the least of his issues at the moment, but he nudges into her side affectionately instead, watches her smile.

0000000

“All your shit is really getting in my way,” Koujaku remarks the second the door is open, Noiz looks unimpressed, pushes past him and starts checking the various monitors and computers that litter his living room floor.

“Nice to see you too,” Noiz’s voice is flat, he isn’t teasing. Koujaku has felt off-kilter around him since the photos leaked and he feels like he’s doing something wrong but he doesn’t know what is it. “Good day?”

”It was okay, you know, the usual, cutting hair.”

”Flirting with every woman that moves?”

Koujaku throws a sock at him, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

Noiz turns to look at him, his stare intense, Koujaku feels caught in it, “what if I am?”

“You’re not.”

He rolls his eyes, starts fidgeting with a screwdriver, taking a panel off a box of unknown purpose and poking at the wires inside, “Whatever, we’re storming Toue Tower in two weeks.”

Koujaku pales but doesn’t fall or seize, he sits down heavily on his couch and won’t look at him, “you know I don’t want to talk about this.”

”They’re holding a rave, at Club 26, they’ve brought in speakers and banks of lights.”

”Stop.”

Koujaku’s tone is warning, his hands are shaking although Noiz cannot see him, so he continues, “they’ve blacked out the windows, they’ve painted the inside white, it’s a free event, lots of people are going.”

”Shut up.”

”Lots of people are going to get the lights and the music and then fuck knows what they’ll make them want to do. Maybe they’ll kill each other, maybe they’ll start an orgy, maybe they’ve found a way to make them last longer, maybe they’re permanent now, maybe people just need little booster doses to keep them under con-”

”Shut up!”

Noiz turns around when Koujaku shouts but he isn’t concerned, he keeps his tone low and casual, “the people from Grime aren’t looking so good, a few are in hospital. Claw snapped and tore one of his own eyes out. There was a big scene in town last week, some girl, they thought she was on drugs, trying to tear her own skin off with a bit of broken glass. She did pretty well, her arm was a mess when she passed out.”

Koujaku doesn’t answer, Noiz keeps staring at him as he avoids his gaze, keeps talking, keeps pushing, “they couldn’t do much with it, being skinless, so they had to amputate it. She pulled the stitches out with her teeth and bled out before the nurses could help.”

”No.”

”I need you to fucking talk. I get it, they hurt you, big boo-hoo, but you need to fucking grow up and stop being such a baby and fucking talk to me about it. People are going to get hurt, people are going to die because you are too selfish to open your stupid fucking mouth.”

“Stop.”

“You are so selfish, you think nobody else has been hurt? You think you’re the only person to ever have suffered? You think that because you made a bad decision and you got hurt that you get to wallow in misery without ever even thinking about helping other people? It must be hard, being such a martyr, being such a strong pillar of the community, so well respected. But I can see right through you and I know you’re so fucked and nobody else can see it, nobody has any idea of how messed up your head is.”

Koujaku has stood up, he looks furious, like he might lash out but Noiz doesn’t care, “I’m the only person who knows how fucked you are and you won’t even tell me about it, are you that fucking selfish? I don’t even think you’re seizures are real I think you love the attention people give you, you like it when they look at you, don’t you? When they see what’s on the surface, well that won’t work with me! I see through it all, I see who you are inside and you’re pathetic, just a scared kid who won’t even-”

Koujaku has had enough, lunges and when Noiz gets a look at his eyes they look wrong, his pupils are blown and red is streaking across his sclera. He drags him up off the floor and shoves him up against the dresser so everything comes crashing off, presses him into the wall with his hot breath on his ear.

He talks.

Finally.

About the box, the box first, chains on his feet and darkness and sounds outside and not being able to see and being trapped and tearing his nails off trying to get free and the smallness creeping in and consuming him.

Then the white, the room all white everything white the bed the walls the floor the door.

About the silence, the crushing weight of the white and the silence and his heartbeat throbbing against his ears so loudly he couldn’t bear it and then there is the noise the noise and the noise and the not sleeping and so loud loud so deafeningly loud and then-

The lights, the lights that make him lose himself, that make him someone else, that make him lose himself altogether so he doesn’t know his name or his past all he knows is Morphine and the power surging through him and how good it felt and about how he could do anything he fucking wanted and nobody could touch him.

Virus and Trip, whispering in his ears, caressing his skin, murmuring about his strength, his power, his brutality.

About it all coming down, tumbling tumbling tumbling.

Being empty, the power gone the second Mizuki grabbed him, the blasting back into his past and who he really is and the blood and the tattoos and brushing his mothers hair and how beautiful she is and how cold her body was and her blood burning his skin-

He’s lost it, he’s not himself, the person pinning Noiz to the wall is unfamiliar, cold and brutal and unforgiving, the hand clenched in his hair is biting and sharp, his voice is someone else's.

Well, Noiz thinks as Koujaku cracks his head against the wall and his vision begins to swim and blacken, at least it worked.

“Noiz? Holy shit, Noiz? What happened?”

Noiz comes to blearily, his head throbs violently and when he reaches up there is a sticky patch of blood in his hairline and it’s trickled down his face, Koujaku’s voice makes his ears ring but he sounds panicked. He vaguely reaches a hand out, blinks slowly and wonders if he can sit up without puking. Koujaku grabs his hand, clings to it but doesn’t touch him anywhere else.

He asks, “what did I do?” And his voice cracks, when Noiz angles himself so he can see him his eyes are filled with tears and he looks terrified, shaken.

“What I wanted you to,” Noiz offers, he’s not angry, this is what he’d wanted after all, the truth, Koujaku's past. Thing is, he’s not really sure what to do with it now he’s gotten it. “It’s okay.”

Koujaku moves back as if burnt when Noiz tries to touch him, skitters across the floor with his hair a mess and his kimono falling off him where the intricate ties have come undone, “it’s okay.”

”What did you make me do?”

“Something you needed to.”

”You should go.”

“No.”

”You need to go,” his voice is shaking, his hands, all of him, his feet are curled up into the tatami, straining to move his body back and away, “I’ll hurt you.”

”No you won’t,” Noiz reaches for him even as he shrinks away like it burns where they touch, curls into himself in Noiz’s arms, shakes and chokes on words he can’t make come out. “Show me your eyes.”

Koujaku doesn’t want to, hides his face away but Noiz is patient, coaxes him out slowly then sighs when Koujaku faces him but keeps his eyes low, “let me see.”

He does, his eyes are wet and his lids red, sore, the sclera are white, the pupil is a normal size. Noiz sighs again, pushes down the unnerved, unnamed terror he’d felt seeing Koujaku become somebody else, he is himself now and there’s no point thinking about it, “you’re back,” his voice is soft, Koujaku looks at him for a minute longer then away, ashamed.

“What did I tell you?”

“Everything.”

Koujaku nods slowly, wipes at his eyes roughly, “surprised you haven’t left yet.”

Noiz doesn’t say anything for a minute, thinks of all Koujaku has told him and thinks, nothing. He’s done bad things, he’s hurt people, he’s lost people. And all Noiz can think is, so what?

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, then, “it’s too late for that.”

”What?” Noiz doesn’t answer, Koujaku swallows, “I told you everything, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.”

”Then why are you still here? I’m a monster.”

”No, you’re not.”

”I killed my own mother.”

“Mine disowned me,” Koujaku looks up then, he’s a mess, his hair is everywhere and Noiz can see the tattoo coiling across his face, the one he normally tries to hide, “she said I wasn’t human and I wasn’t her son. She locked me up, like an animal in a cage, so nobody would see her biggest mistake. She had another kid, to replace me.”

“A brother?” Noiz never talks about his family, about his life before the island. For all the time they spend together, Koujaku suddenly realises they don’t know each other at all.

“He didn’t turn out the way she wanted either,” Noiz smiles, amused. His brother coming back into his life is the only reason he regrets coming to Midorijima, he’d thought he was all alone in the world, only to find out that all that time he’d had a quiet supporter.

Koujaku doesn’t respond, he sniffs and starts aimlessly putting himself back together, he ties his hair back and neatens his kimono and eases out of Noiz’s hold, avoiding his eyes as he makes himself presentable again. Noiz doesn’t know why he’s bothering, he’s seen him look much more dishevelled, albeit under very different circumstances, but he watches him anyway.

“I didn’t mean any of what I said, by the way.”

Koujaku snorts, scowls at himself vaguely in the mirror they’d knocked off the dresser, “no shit, you always have a way of getting what you want, even if you have to be a colossal asshole to do it. Did you get the information you needed?”

”Yeah, think so.”

”So,” he turns away from the mirror, “two weeks. You need help?”

Noiz turns, looks at him where he is stood, put together and strong once more, grins and feels a plan coming together, “yeah, we do.”

0000000

“No more tattoos,” Mizuki wrinkles his brow, looks down at himself in confusion because he hasn’t gotten any tattoos since he did his knuckles months ago and it also feels like a strange thing for Noiz of all people to say. “For anyone.”

”What?”

Noiz sighs, rubs his eyes, yanks on Mizuki’s arm so he’ll stop jogging, he looks out of breath from running to catch up, “look,” his voice is hard, firm, “you cannot do any more tattoos, that was his first way to control people.”

”Tattoos? Mind control tattoos?” An old lady gives him a weird look, “what movie is this?”

“Memento,” Noiz adds quickly and she continues on as normal though she does seem faintly alarmed when Noiz steers them into an alleyway that ends in a dead end and an overflowing dumpster.

”Fucking hell, you’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Deadly. You can’t do any more, just in case, he controls supply and demand, all your imports, you might have already done some without knowing if he put something in your inks.”

“Noiz, I’ve tattooed myself with my inks,” Mizuki feels cold dread trailing up his spine, there won’t be anything he can do if this is part of Toue’s plan, he’ll be under control already and so will several people he knows personally. Him going into Platinum Jail and being under enemy control won’t end prettily. Their plan was already shaky, now Mizuki feels like it’s crumbling in on itself.

“He-,” he hesitates, Koujaku somewhat trusts him with this information and he doesn’t want to tell Mizuki but there’s no other way he can explain it, “look, this is between me and you and nobody else.”

”What about Sly?”

Noiz frowns at him, rolls his eyes, “fine, and Sly. I got Koujaku to talk.”

”How the fuck did you manage that?”

”Got him really angry.”

”That explains your forehead then,” Mizuki remarks looking amused, “it’s really swollen.”

”Yeah, I know. Look, he left the island for a while didn’t he, came back different, covered in tattoos he never talks about, tries to hide away.”

”I offered to touch one up once, he looked so horrified I never offered again.”

“Exactly, he was with the Yakuza on the mainland, Toue was the leader, he came up with the tattoos and Koujaku was the experiment, they tested them out on him but it didn’t go very well for them.”

”The scars.”

”Exactly, I’m not gunna tell you what happened, but they worked on him, possibly not the way they’d hoped for, but Toue has refined his design now, after all it’d be pretty hard to tattoo an entire population.”

Mizuki rubs his face, cancelling all his appointments is going to be a fucking hassle, not to mention the impact it will have on his finances, he knows he needs to do it though, he can’t risk hurting people. “I’ll deal with it. You should come over later, you can tell Sly.”

Noiz seems surprised but not displeased, “okay, I got shit to do but, I can swing by for a bit.”

“See you in a bit then,” Noiz has already stopped paying attention to him, peering at his coil looking largely neutral, so Mizuki shakes his head at him and sets back off jogging.

He sends out a message to all his booked clients, ‘due to an issue with supply, all tattoo appointments are cancelled until further notice, I will be in touch to rebook as soon as the issue is resolved. If you would rather try elsewhere, please get in touch for a full refund of your deposit. I apologise for the inconvenience.’

Nobody seems overly pissed off, though it’s hard to tell over messages, so he sends money back when people want him to or writes their names down to rebook when all this shit is sorted out. He cleans his tattoo studio up since he won’t be using it for a least a couple of weeks, gives it a good scrub down and wonders what the fuck he is meant to do now, a decent chunk of his income comes from tattoos and he’s loathe to pick up more shifts behind the bar. He sits on his stool, staring at his wall of designs and flash, thinks how very peaceful his life would have been if he just didn’t know about any of this.

0000000

Mizuki isn't surprised to see Sly with a handful of tablet containers, he brings his meds every time he stays now, the amount he takes seems to change every time he comes but it's pretty consistent. Two are anti-depressants, one is a mood stabiliser, one is the sleeping tablet that reduces in quantity every month. Today there is a new one, it's in a white box while the other are in bottles. 

Mizuki frowns, says, absently, "they put you on something new?" 

Sly inclines his head, sort of, smiles absently, then with no subtly whatsoever, "It's Viagra." 

"Oh," It's not a helpful response, especially when Sly looks faintly mortified at his own admission, "from the doctor?" Sly just nods, so Mizuki carries on, "I mean, do they, work?" 

Sly exhales, slumps back against the couch cushions, glances at Mizuki and seems relieved at whatever he sees, "sort of." 

"Sort of?" 

"I mean," he clears his throat, "they just, don't, last very long." 

"Ah," Mizuki breathes, hands Sly his drink, "long enough to?" 

"No," he responds quickly, "not even close." 

"That must be frustrating." 

Sly rolls his head on his neck and gives him a look, "no shit. I even tried taking two. Didn't make a difference."

"Well, is there something else you can try?" 

"He did mention a pump of some sort," Mizuki laughs and Sly smiles but then just keeps looking at him and he realises abruptly that Sly is being serious. "I, declined that offer. I don't think it would be very sexy to have to whip out some big plastic thing." 

"Possibly not." 

“I didn’t even mean to say it, he just asked if I had anything to add and I blurted it out, in front of my Granny, by the way,” Mizuki looks faintly disturbed by that, “I just, guess I’d like something in my life to be fixed.”

“We’re trying to fix everything else too.” Sly hums, takes a sip of his drink and burps violently, Mizuki snorts faintly, “is there an option if they don’t work?”

"He-" He starts, hesitates, Mizuki can tell now, when he's pushing himself to say things he doesn't really want to, that he feels vulnerable about. Mizuki wants to reach out and touch but he doesn't think now is the time, "I could, change my meds, work my down and off and then, try something new. But I- They, work, they suit me. I- I don't know about it." 

He's scared, Mizuki realises, scared that if he changes his meds that everything bad, everything unbearable will come back, he's scared of taking a step back and of risking his own mental stability. 

"It's your decision to make," he offers and Sly scoffs, irritated, shakes his head and turns away, angry, hardened. 

"It would be my decision, if you didn't exist. But you do, so I'm stuck in this shitty place where the things that keep me happy are the things that are fucking, ruining everything. And I want both. I want my meds and I want my fucking dick to work so I can have sex with my whatever you are, but I can't. I can't have both and I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Mizuki sighs, Sly looks torn and Mizuki can see why, coming off his anti-depressants could ruin everything he’s been working hard for, could send him spiralling into the misery, the apathy he’s lived most of his life in. It’s a tough decision, “I’ve already told you, I don’t care if we can’t, if it’s the choice between you being happy or us having sex, I choose you being happy. If there’s a way we can do both, awesome, but if there isn’t? That’s fine too.”

Sly grouses at him, pulls the face he does when Mizuki is being very reasonable and he rather wishes he wouldn’t, “maybe the pump isn’t the worst idea.”

Mizuki grimaces, he’s changing the subject because he is uncomfortable and Mizuki recognises that, opens his coil absently and searches for a photo because joking or not, he’s curious, Sly wiggles in closer to see.

“Fucking hell it’s huge!”

“I would not put my dick in that.”

”You’ve had your dick in me, when I was a right slut, I don’t think you get to be picky now.”

“You weren’t a slut,” Sly raises an eyebrow at him, “besides, we used condoms most of the time, that’s a fair bit different to shoving my dick into a horrific looking torture tube.”

”Torture tube?”

”Look at it! It sucks your penis ha-”

The door swings shut and Mizuki startles so violently he drops his coil into his lap, Noiz is stood there looking entertained, “am I interrupting something?”

”No,” Sly asserts, “we’re just looking at porn.”

”Fully dressed,” Mizuki chips in, “we’re reviewing it, actually, on PornHub, it’s a hobby of ours.”

Noiz laughs but it’s obvious he doesn’t believe them, he sits down next to Sly and shoves an arm around his neck. “Nothing has been five star yet though.”

”I’ve got a few things that might be.”

Sly grimaces, “they definitely wouldn’t be, the pictures weren’t even good,” Mizuki wonders if he should be uncomfortable as Sly and Noiz casually discuss one of the many times they’ve had sex. He probably should be, but he isn’t, “Mizuki had some good photos of me once.”

“For the love of God, do not tell your Granny that.”

”You’ve deleted them anyway,” Mizuki frowns at him, “I go on your coil sometimes, calm down, it’s better than mine.”

”You go through my photos?”

”Only once, wanted to know if you’d kept them, but you’re a boring fuck so of course you didn’t. They’ll be in the cloud somewhere, I guess,” Noiz nods to confirms this, lets his head flop onto Sly’s shoulder and stay there, “why are you here anyway?”

“Tattoos are evil now.”

Sly considers this, says, “Oh,” then, quite quickly, “okay. All of them?”

”Not sure, Toue used them in the past but we don’t know if he has since, best not to risk it.”

”I’ve cancelled all my appointments,” Sly seems pleased and Mizuki thinks it’s because it means he’ll be free a lot more, it’s nice until Sly’s face falls a little bit and he brushes his fingers over Mizuki’s knuckles, asking a question silently. It’s a lie, but Mizuki shakes his head anyway and Sly seems soothed.

0000000

Noiz expects he will have to go to Koujaku if he wants to see him any time soon, is surprised when he gets a knock at the door and opens it to find him on the other side.

They never hang out at his place, ever.

Noiz isn’t actually sure why, it’s just how it worked, but he feels weird as Koujaku steps over the threshold and regards the large room and the empty messiness of it all, “living large, I see.”

Noiz shrugs, “what are you doing here?”

Koujaku mostly ignores him, pads through the room in his stupid traditional sandals looking at stuff like he’s art an art auction, “you’re being weird, recently.”

”I’m always weird.”

Koujaku shakes his head, picks up a plastic tub from the kitchen side and examines it’s contents, Noiz knows full well there's mould inside but Koujaku just regards it then puts it back down before turning to look at him. “Since the photos, you’re being weird. And at mine, the other day, you said it was too late. Too late for what?”

Noiz ignores him, dumps himself on the sofa and boots up his xbox, wonders why his front door is still wide open but makes no effort to get up to close it, “you’re not going to do something stupid, are you?”

”You know I’m going to do something stupid.”

”Not that, you brat. Something to hurt yourself.”

Noiz pulls a face, “no? The fuck made you think that.”

“You’ve not been yourself recently.”

”You seem to know me pretty well.”

”That’s the thing, I don’t.”

“Then why do you care?”

Koujaku looks somewhat insulted at being asked, “apologies if you got the wrong idea, but I do care about the people I fuck you know.”

”The people you fuck?” Noiz looks flatly amused, turns away from him again and enters a Fortnite lobby, patiently waiting to be launched into the game as Koujaku stands behind him baffled as to what’s going on.

“What, you want me to call you something else? Fuck buddies, friends with benefits?”

”They’re better.”

“You’re upset about the semantics? Seriously?”

Noiz’s shoulders are hunched, Koujaku can tell he’s annoyed but still can’t for the life of him work out why, he huffs quietly and dumps himself next to him and grabs the spare controller, “you could have asked me to join, you know.”

Noiz ignores him, Koujaku watches with no idea what’s going on as various walls are built and subsequently shot out around him, it’s so fast paced he can’t keep up so he stops trying to, vaguely admires the architecture of the building Noiz has built his way on to.

“Since when do you game?”

”I don’t, you could teach me though,” despite the fact that he’s being perfectly pleasant, Noiz huffs again and exits out of the game right as it seemed like he was doing really well, dumps the controller and storms off to his bedroom.

Well, he tries to storm off but Koujaku grabs him by the arm and halts his progress, frustrated and annoyed, he’d come here to get answers but Noiz is giving him nothing.

“What the fuck is your issue?”

”You are my fucking issue,” he shoves Koujaku back off as quickly as he’d grabbed him, “fuck buddies, I don’t want to be fuck buddies any more, how’s that?”

He’s surprised, Noiz had been pretty insistent about the whole idea and once Koujaku had finally gotten on board they’d both seemed to enjoy it a lot, it’s convenient for both of them and Noiz is usually pretty decent company. “Oh, okay, I, that’s fine?” Noiz continues to give him nothing and Koujaku doesn’t see the point in hanging around if their arrangement is over, “I’ll, see you around, I guess?”

Noiz shrugs, fidgets around on his coil, doesn’t look up as he lets himself out.

There’s something weird about the whole thing, he doesn’t get why Noiz would suddenly end things without so much as a reason other than that he doesn’t want to anymore, something else is going on but neither of them are great at expressing their emotions. Noiz is very shuttered in, Koujaku gets mad when he tries to talk about how he feels, it’s not a great combination for a serious chat.

He sits with it for a few days, stews on it, worries about it, thinks about it while he cuts hair and flirts with girls and politely rejects their advances, with lots of smiles and eye contact and flattered laughter.

Koujaku goes to see Kou, he’s his best bet and Mizuki is too involved in the whole ‘murder Toue and destroy Platinum Jail’ thing for him to feel really comfortable going to him, though he normally would. He tells him the story over a hot pot and about halfway through Kou raises an eyebrow and keeps it raised until he is done.

When he is done, he flicks a spring onion at him and tells him something he should probably have worked out for himself.

Chapter Text

Noiz moves carefully, staying low to the ground and scanning his surroundings, there hasn’t been anything to be wary of yet but he’s got no intention to let his guard slip even a fraction. He does, however, risk the short dash through the open to the back of the wooden house, pressing himself up against it and relieved to see not a single window aiming his way, the rough stone wall opposite towering above him and the grass high and undisturbed.

He exhales, he feels jittery and on edge, he takes a moment to gather himself, looks up at the star studded sky overhead and wonders how his brother is doing, if he’d secured that deal he was worried about. If he’d asked out that girl he likes.

Noiz wishes he could speak to him but he knows he’s being tracked, knows his lines are tapped and his apartment might still be bugged so he doesn’t risk it, he knows there’s not much Toue could do with his brother in Germany but still, it doesn’t hurt to be safe. Besides, Noiz hasn’t exactly got a great reputation and he knows if it came out at his brothers company that he is a hacker, he could lose his job and he’d worked so hard to drag himself up the ladder after their parents disowned him.

If the tower falls, the island should be able to re-open, he’s not one for wishful thinking but he hopes he gets to see him some day soon, or even a day not so soon, he’ll settle for just seeing him.

The lock is easy enough to pick and he blinks as darkness swallows him, waits for his eyes to adjust and finds himself in a small cupboard where every shelf is crammed with cartons of tomato juice. He’s got the right house then, that’s a relief but he needs to be sure the occupant isn’t home so he settles himself onto the small amount of floorspace and leans his head against one of the cartons.

He’s not sure what is last memory of his brother is, when he saw him last. They’d been separated when his brother was only four or five so Noiz is surprised he has any memories of him at all. He thinks he recalls being put into the room with the bars on the windows by his mother for the first time, after he broke a boys leg by accident while rough-housing, he hadn’t understood why the boy was yelling and he can remember the sharp snap of the bone.

His mother had not been impressed, she had been quite literally clutching her pearls when the boys father showed up at the door to report what he had done, she’d been very pleasant to him, polite and well cultured. She’d extended their sympathies and offered to pay for any medical costs or for rehabilitation if he needed it, she’d told him there was something wrong with Noiz, a mental deficiency that even at eight years old, Noiz knew he did not have.

She’d peered out of the windows to watch him leave in his shiny car and she’d lost it.

Noiz can’t remember all of what she said, but he can remember how it made him felt.

Broken.

Deficient.

Unwanted.

She’d dragged him by the scruff of his dungarees upstairs to the room she’d constructed before she even needed it, Noiz has an idea, a glimpse of wide green eyes and an innocent question from a child, “mama, why does he have to go in there?”

But he’s not sure, he could be imagining it.

He just remembers the sound of the key in the door, of screaming himself hoarse for days.

He remembers being alone.

He hasn’t seen his brother since. He’d gotten online, started learning languages and programming and anything else he could get his hands on.

He’d waited patiently for the bars to start to rust so he could kick them out of place.

He’d gone out the third floor window, age sixteen with what money he’d managed to make brokering online and a fake passport waiting to be collected. He’d broken his leg in the fall, which is ironic, had limped to a safe house somebody online had given him the address of in exchange for a job. It wasn’t much, a cramped bed-sit with no heating but he remembers the freedom, the excitement of being out.

He’d stayed there long enough for his leg to heal, for him to learn more Japanese, for him to work out how to get to the island without being caught and sent back, had gotten the passport and had gotten the fuck out of there.

He never looked back, not for a second. Hadn’t even thought of his brother until he popped up one day saying he’s been looking for him.

Noiz is glad he’d gotten out too, he just wishes he could have done it a bit quicker, he’s not sure what happened after he left but he doubt it was good. He wonders how his brother kept a good opinion of him with all their mothers cruel words and jabs, Noiz believed a lot of what she said too, it’s taken him a long time to disagree with her, but it seems his brother always has.

Maybe, once all this is over Noiz can message him, ask him what happened.

Tell him he’s sorry he left him behind with the mess he created.

He sighs, adjusts his neck where it is starting to hurt, he’s not heard anything but he stays still just in case he’s wrong.

Kiko is fucking insane after all, for all Noiz knows he’s stood right outside the door waiting to assault him for not being a true believer, or he’ll come in after a wild night with a craving for tomato juice and he’ll just open the door and find him.

He wonders briefly if he should have told Mizuki and Sly he was coming here for recon then decides he was right not to, they’re in this together and him basically starting the plan without them probably wouldn’t go down well.

Besides, he needed a distraction.

He’s got a lot going on in his personal life and he’s not used to anything going on in his personal life, he’s barely even used to having one but then he’d met Sly and Mizuki and then fucking Koujaku and things had started to go downhill.

Or uphill.

He’s not sure.

He hadn’t expected Koujaku to work out why he was annoyed, but somehow he had despite his thick skull and ancient brain and he’d showed up at his door with pizza and an apology.

I’m sorry, he’d said, shuffled his feet, you like me, don’t you? That’s why you’re upset, because I hurt your feelings.

Noiz didn’t have a word to say, had stood there feeling out of his depth as Koujaku had babbled about the photos and that they’d made him mad and that he can’t stop looking at them and being jealous and Noiz had thought, oh.

Noiz thinks he should probably say something, he could probably shrug in the right way and it would answer Koujaku’s question, but he’s not good with his words and he’s never really felt like this before and the idea of confessing like a blushing schoolgirl makes him cringe.

So he yanks him forward by his kimono and kisses him.

Koujaku doesn’t seem to mind even though the pizza gets squashed, it was enough of an answer for him, it seems and he follows him inside and Noiz teaches him how to play fortnite and they eat pizza.

It was nice.

Until Koujaku had opened his mouth, asked, now what?
Noiz doesn’t have an answer for that, he thinks again of the photos and of Koujaku's jealousy, of him showing up to make things right, says, dunno, just don’t fuck anyone else I guess.

Koujaku rolls his eyes and informs him that over the last few months he’s denied most of the female population on the island, he says this is a crushing blow for his ego and Noiz flicks an olive at him, asks if he’s sure it’s not him who has the crush.

Koujaku doesn’t answer, he does blush and start stammering though and he does end up staying the night.

It’ll do, Noiz thinks, and so will this.

He opens the door of the cupboard slowly, peeking out, the house is empty and silent, it doesn’t even look like anyone lives here even though the tomato juice says otherwise, he creeps through the open kitchen into the wood boarded living room. He has to admit, Toue’s architectural choices surprise him, quaint log cabins don’t really fit into the whole evil mega-villain thing.

It’s silent, no lights on in any of the rooms upstairs and when Noiz surreptitiously peeks through the curtains to the cobbled square outside he realises why.

There’s a fucking tree house several floors up above the cabin with a rope ladder leading to it and a sort of weird cobbled together tent village on the ground below.

Kiko is fucking crazy.

Still, just because the nutcase possibly lives in a tree house doesn’t mean he never comes home, so Noiz finds a spot in the cramped, dusty attic next to a small round window and watches as the sun rises and the Jail’s occupants come home to rest before the next big night.

Except that nobody comes back, not even Kiko.

They must be using the lights and the music then, to keep people going longer, to stop them from needing to sleep. The houses around look empty and quiet too, the square devoid off life except the tent colony, it’s bright scraps of fabric fluttering in the wind.

He waits there until the next night comes around and still nobody appears, no guards, no residents, not even any animals other than birds who look like they wish they’d stayed on the other side of the wall where food is more readily available.

He eases his way back out and tears off his stupid disguise in the little ramshackle hut and heads back into town, to Koujaku.

One week.

Sly tries the Viagra several more times, the result ranges from absolutely nothing to a bit of action but barely any, it certainly doesn’t do what it’s meant to and give him an erection, he barely gets a semi off it so he goes back to the doctor.

There’s another pill but it’s basically the same thing and he is not interested in the penis pump, the doctor asks again if he will consider coming off the anti-depressants and swapping to another one and even though the answer is no somehow he says yes.

It’s going to take a while though, a couple of months at least, he has to wean off his old ones and then start the new ones to see if they work, and if they don’t work he’s pretty much back to square one. He picks up the new drugs and confirms that yes he understands how to reduce them and that no he isn’t going to take too many of them and that yes somebody will watch him take them and look after the boxes for him.

It’s partially a lie, Mizuki or Granny usually watch him take them but not in any deliberate way, they just tend to be around when he does and Granny stopped hiding his meds away a long time ago. He doesn’t think Mizuki would even think to.

Except for the diazepam, Sly knows there’s still some on top of the wardrobes. They’re his escape plan, if lowering his meds does go badly, he can take those if he needs to until he can switch back to the higher dose.

He’s frightened, he realises as he sits on his bed looking at the boxes. He’s got two of his old strength left, a box of the lower strength and a box of the new ones too.

He’s worried everything will come back, he’d always known he wasn’t happy but it wasn’t really until he was medicated for it that he realised just how unhappy he had been, how miserable and self-destructive and empty.  He really doesn’t want to go back.

At bedtime he swallows the lower dose and lies there awake, staring at the ceiling, hoping that this will be the only step and he can get everything he wants before they raid.

It seems unlikely, but he still hopes.

One week.

The rave gets brought forwards and the three of them meet up to panic, to discuss what to do, they are not ready to go yet despite the fact that they’d agreed on two weeks rather arbitrarily. The guns are not ready yet, and Beni-Shigure, who are apparently going to help by providing a distraction at the gates to Platinum Jail to keep the guards off their scent aren’t ready either.

In the end they decide to just observe Club 26 on the day of the rave, Noiz gets some noise-excluding ear-buds and a pair of ridiculous wrap around sunglasses that will filter out most of it and he says he will go in to watch. Sly and Mizuki are planning on just sort of hanging around outside, loitering separately, Sly has found a rooftop he can use to get a good view and Mizuki is planning on bringing Tio to chill outside making small talk with the ravers.

It’s not a great plan, but neither is the one to storm Oval Tower so they’re not overly worried, Mizuki is acting as the ‘designated driver’ for his friends inside, not into raves but happy to sit with some beers and a friend and wait for them so he can safely ferry him home. It’s a bit of a stretch but is just about realistic as something he would do so they think it won’t raise any eyebrows if he’s asked why he isn’t going in himself. He also doesn’t enjoy rave music, he doesn’t mind it but Club 26 is a small venue and the idea of being packed inside listening to aggressive donk music and dripping sweat doesn’t appeal to him.

It does appeal to Sly but he knows full well that it would be very stupid to go in even if he did protect himself like Noiz plans to, besides, the lights don’t properly work on Noiz but they do on Sly and he doesn’t want to shove his hands into his pants again. It was weird enough last time.

It’s a slow start, Sly arrives early after his Granny kicked him out of the house, sick of his nervous energy and pacing, tells him in a frustrated but kindly tone to please for the love of god just go out. So, he goes out.

He’s brought a blanket with him in case the autumn air gets cold and he’s atop the roof on a camping chair he’d found in Mizuki’s loft when they brought down Amaya’s supplies, so he sets himself up on it and watches as people start to arrive. The start time is nine but the bar is still open so people slowly migrate from others bars and in. Sly sees some people he recognises, some of Mizuki’s team mates and a lot of bug bomb who are hard to miss in their lurid clothing and smeared on neon paint.

Mizuki’s glad he’d brought Tio, firstly because he can’t imagine how fucking boring it would get sitting outside by himself, but also because as they sit and chat watching the line to get in grow, a familiar tall head appears.

Tio stiffens and tries to get up but Mizuki grabs him first, shoots a look from Kin who is blissfully happy in the queue to Tio and hisses, “what the fuck is he doing here?”
”He said he was going out with work, I didn’t know he meant here.”
”You didn’t tell him?”
”I didn’t think he’d be that stupid!” Mizuki, well aware of how stupid both Tio and Kin can be, gives him a look and he is too panicked to feel all that offended, twitches his sleeve free of Mizuki’s hand and stands up abruptly.
”You need to stop him going in.”
”I know!” He hisses back, stepping back and onto Mizuki’s foot, stumbling. “Oh god, okay, time to go psycho boyfriend I guess.”
”Time to wha-” Mizuki starts, but he doesn’t get to finish because Tio is off and at Kin and yelling at him about where the fuck he’s been and what he thinks he’s doing and who is this?

Mizuki understands what he means by psycho boyfriend, watches as Tio shoves at Kin’s chest and all but wrestles him out of the line, mouthing off all the while about fucking liars and being a cheat and etc, etc.

Mizuki is alarmed watching it and he knows it’s an act, Kin looks baffled and alarmed, puts calming hands on Tio’s shoulders and seemingly tries to apologise to his co-workers while Tio loudly tells him to put away his ‘wandering eyes’. He keeps pointing at another guy, short, buzzed hair bleached blonde and a lot of tattoos, he doesn’t look like someone Kin would go anywhere near and he looks like he’s about to start throwing fists.

Mizuki’s coil rings right as Kin starts loudly asking Tio if he’s fucking drunk, the blonde guy seems to have been soothed by another girl in the group and as he answers the call they decide they’ve had enough and jump the queue to the door.

“What the fuck is going on down there? I can hear Tio yelling from up here!”

“His boyfriends here, or, he was, I don’t,” Mizuki looks back up again and Tio and Kin have both vanished, he can’t really hear much over the noise from the club and the talking of the people waiting to get in, but if he really strains he thinks he can make out faint shouting in the distance. “Actually know where they’ve gone.”

“Weren’t we meant to be keeping a low profile?”

“Yeah.”
”Well he’s fucked that,” Sly snorts, hangs up the coil.

Tio doesn’t come back for almost an hour, by this time the DJ is done setting up and it has begun, Noiz is feeding them occasional messages from the inside but nothing of note has happened yet and Mizuki is bored. The occasional person wanders past and has brief conversation but most of them are headed out for the night and are either half cut or just not interested in delaying their evening to idly chit-chat.

Mizuki doesn’t speak as Tio quietly eases himself down next to him, Mizuki shoots him a look and he bristles very faintly, “He’s gone home.”
”Mm-hm.”
”And, his employees think I’m insane. So, that’s great. And the line cook thinks he has a crush on him. And that I think they’re having an affair.”

Mizuki snorts, amused, “Does he have a crush on him?”
”No, he scares him a little bit, he’s got a temper, got pissed off and shoved him up against the fridge once.”

“That does sound a little bit like sexual tension,” Tio gives him a look but relents when Mizuki hands him over a beer, “Noiz has messaged, by the way.”

“Any update?”
”Nope, normal night so far. Says Bug Bomb are obnoxious.”
”He’s not wrong.”

The night wears on, Tio and Mizuki have mostly run out of things to talk about so they sit side by side in comfortable silence, sipping their beers and listening to the very faint throb of aggressive rave music from inside the club. Mizuki exhales gustily into the empty air and Tio turns to look at him, amused, Mizuki doesn’t notice, glances at his coil, Sly has messaged him saying he needs his hair cut, apparently it looks terrible from his vantage point. He feels faintly nauseous, wonders if the ham he ate at lunch was a bit too far gone, tries half-heartedly to remember when he bought it but can’t recall.

“Are you okay?” Tio sounds worried, “you’re sweating. A lot.”

Mizuki shrugs, “my stomach hurts a bit, I’m fine.” It’s been niggling at him for a while now, a nasty twisting sort of pain low down in his abdomen, easy enough to ignore but not pleasant either, he’s not overly worried about it.
”Okay,” Tio doesn’t look convinced, feels his forehead and grimaces as he wipes his moist hand onto the leg of his jeans, “you’re really warm. You’re not gunna shit yourself, are you?”
”No, I’m not going to shit myself. It’s fine, it only hurts a little bit.”

Tio agrees to disagree with him, and they continue their observations.

It only hurts a little bit, he had said. But then it doesn’t just hurt a little bit, it hurts a fucking lot.

He tells Tio he’s going home to lie down and waves him off when he offers to walk him, trying to hold himself straight even though the pain is so intense he feels like he’s going to pass out. Sly calls him on the way and he says he’s fine, he just needs to take some painkillers and try to go to sleep until it eases, Sly sounds about as convinced as Tio did but lets him hang up and says he’ll keep him updated on what’s going on.

The painkillers don’t help, the hot water bottle he finds in the back of a kitchen cupboard doesn’t help, the pain just increases, he feels hot and delirious with it, lies on the sofa groaning, sweat trickling down his face. He thinks he should call someone but he’s finding it painful to move, the pain is searing and constant, intense.

He thinks something is seriously wrong.

Keys in the door, shoes being kicked off, normal routine noises, then “oh my god,” and Sly is next to him, putting a hand on his drenched forehead, Mizuki can see his face, eyes wide in panic and hands mapping out his body, trying to feel out what’s wrong.

“Just a stomach ache?” Mizuki would normally reply with something, but he can’t speak, his jaw is clenched and his eyes are mostly squeezed shut, his body feels tense like a fist, curled into itself in a weak effort to make it stop. “Shit, what do I do? You better not be fucking dying. I’ll be really mad if you die.”

Sly’s hands reach his lower abdomen and he makes an awful, deep groaning noise. His hands are gentle but they hurt.

Sly retreats very quickly, Mizuki sways in and out of consciousness, he feels like he needs to try to stay awake but he doesn’t know why, it just seems important.

Sly doesn’t know what to do, Mizuki is writhing in pain on the couch, drenched in sweat, groaning.

Sly panics.

Sly phones Granny.

He explains as well as he can while dread blooms in his stomach, while it crawls up his body. He is terrified Mizuki is dying, his Granny starts asking him questions urgently, he answers as well as he can but he’s not a doctor, he doesn’t know what he’s meant to be looking for, what she thinks might be wrong. She asks him to press down on the right side of Mizuki’s lower abdomen, so he does.

Mizuki screams. Sly jerks back, as if he’s the one hurt. There is a beat of silence over the phone line, then Granny says, “I’m sending the ambulance.”

It does not reassure Sly, who kneels there in front of Mizuki who is still writhing in pain, who is still groaning, who still cannot open his eyes. Hears the sound of footsteps on the stairs, of voices shouting Mizuki’s name.

His staff in the bar downstairs have heard and are coming to investigate.

He looks between Mizuki and the apartment door, mutters a very dull, “shit,” and bolts for the door to the balcony, grabbing any proof of his presence on the way out.

He perches on the roof above the gym, listens to Mizuki’s friends arrive, hears their panic, hears them asking Mizuki questions he cannot answer. He thinks he’s going to be sick, waits for the sirens of the ambulance, tucks his knees into his chest, scared.

He sits there, paralysed with fear, he hears the sirens approach then leave again.

The apartment door slamming.

The crushing weight of silence.

“Sly?” Tio’s voice, softly calling from the balcony below. In his alarm he realises he’d left the door open, it’s probably the only reason someone has come looking for him, the only reason they know he’s still there. “It’s okay, they’ve all gone.”

Sly doesn’t reply, he doesn’t really want to get down, he finds he can’t think about Mizuki going into the ambulance, to the hospital without him. He feels the sudden rage of unfairness, knowing that he couldn’t go with him, that they cannot be seen together, that people wouldn’t understand. He lets his legs slide heavily out from under his body, they dangle lifelessly over the edge of the gently sloped roof.

He hears Tio sigh, “they think his appendix burst. He needs surgery.”

Sly considers this, he thinks that is considered an emergency, he isn’t sure if it’s life-threatening. He thinks of Mizuki, screaming when he pressed down on his abdomen. He isn’t used to being the one on the other end of an injury, he’s normally the one hurt, the one Mizuki is worried about. Sly isn’t really used to worrying about Mizuki. Not like this.

“Did someone go with him?”
”No, there wasn’t room in the ambulance,” Sly lowers himself down from the roof, frowns at him. He does not like the idea of Mizuki being rushed into surgery alone, with no friend to comfort him, with nobody waiting for him when he gets out. “I’m gunna go now, I just, are you okay?”
Sly shrugs, “there’s always something, isn’t there?”
”What do you mean?”
Sly shakes his head, “doesn’t matter, you should go, make sure he’s okay.”

Tio looks unsure, like he wants to say something else, his smile seems a bit thin, forced, “okay, I’ll, keep you updated.”

“Don’t bother, I’ll ask Granny.”

Tio seems taken aback, but nods even though he doesn’t know who Sly’s Granny is, says, “right,” and somewhat awkwardly leaves the balcony.

Sly waits until he hears the apartment door close and sinks down onto the rough tiles, he feels like he’s going to be sick, Mizuki screaming is echoing around his head over and over and over and he can feel the weight of it crushing him.

He’s out there a long time. Finally his coil buzzes, it’s not Granny though, it’s Noiz, calling for debrief like they’d arranged what feels like years ago. Sly is clearly disappointed when he realises who is calling and Noiz is quick to catch on that something is wrong, his tone shifts from almost professional to softly worried.

“What happened?”

Sly opens his mouth to answer, feels his voice catch and clears his throat, says in a voice he would normally define as pathetic, “can you come over?”
Noiz responds in the affirmative, says he’ll be there in ten. That seems unlikely but Sly believes him, Noiz would sprint to get to him if he needed, there is comfort in that, security.

Sly ends up lying on the balcony, staring up at the dark, cloudy sky, searching for stars that don’t seem to want to show.

“What happened?” Noiz’s first words are a repeat, like their conversation hadn’t stopped even with the time it took him to get there. Sly wonders how he got in, the apartment door is locked, he heard the jangle of the keys as Tio left. Sly still doesn’t have a copy even though Mizuki has told him it’s in his plans. He keeps forgetting. Next week, he says.

Next week never seems to come.

Noiz is stood over him, staring, one foot planted on either side of his waist. It’s a funny angle, Sly would comment on it but he worries if he starts laughing he’ll end up in tears.
”Mizuki’s appendix burst. They think. He’s gone for emergency surgery.”

Noiz’s eyes narrow, he is assessing Sly’s words, maybe trying to remember something he read online a long time ago, he moves away. Sly listens to his trainers scuffing the tiles, the sound of his clothes rubbing together, “are you okay?”
Sly turns to look at him, it’s a stupid question but he doesn’t feel annoyed, he feels sort of brittle, delicate, he shrugs, notes with faint amusement that Noiz is also lying on the balcony tiles with him. “I dunno. I’m not used to worrying about him. I’m normally the one in trouble.”
”Most of that was your own fault.”
”Are you trying to help?”
Noiz laughs, “not really,” then, quickly, “he’ll be fine.”

Sly rolls onto his side so he can see him, narrows his eyes and deadpans, “will he?”
”Sure, I mean if he’s got an infection they’ll find it, sort it out.”

“An infection?”

Noiz doesn’t wince, it’s not that obvious, but his eyes crinkle a little bit at the corners like he wished he never said anything, “I- I’m sure he’ll be fine, they’ll get it cut out and he’ll be okay.”

Sly sits up, “you said an infection. What infection?”

“If it’s burst and they don’t clean it well enough, he could get an infection, or, from the wound.”

Sly laughs darkly, “fucking hell. You really know how to cheer a guy up.”

Noiz’s voice is small, he must remember, Sly telling him that sometimes he needs somebody who will lie to him, that he is too honest, “sorry.”
”It’s fine,” Sly sits up, wipes his nose with the back of his hand, “what happened, at the club?”

Noiz snorts a laugh, “not fucking much.”

Not much, he says, but that isn’t quite true.

The lights were there, the music, but there was a delay, a period of normal behaviour where they didn’t do anything to anyone. The club was fine, Noiz explains, sat on the floor of Mizuki’s living room with an indecent amount of takeout, it was when everyone got outside.

It was, Noiz says, fucking mental.

It was when they hit the air, Noiz says, people lost it, went crazy, started fighting with anyone for anything, one woman, he explains as he shoves pizza into his mouth, didn’t like the hair of the girl in front of her, so she’d grabbed her by it and slammed her head into a wall. Someone else wasn’t overly keen on the way their friend was breathing and had sucker punched him in the gut.

Chaos, he says, descended. But with a delay, a grace period.

They’ve made the lights modified release, the music the same, they’d drugged them with something that acts slowly, that releases later on. Sly thinks again of the tattoos on Mizuki’s knuckles, of the ink under so many peoples skin.

“Shit,” he says, and that’s really all there is to say.

It feels weird, being in Mizuki’s apartment without him, so after they eat Sly heads home to Granny’s, is slightly disappointed to find it is also empty, she must still be at work and the house is dark, feels cold. He finds one of his sleeping tablets and takes it, lies down in bed, turns Ren on and gently puts him into the bed next to him, pets him absently. Stares at the note.

Drifts off to the sound of Mizuki screaming.

Sly finds it isn’t Mizuki not being well that freaks him out, it’s how close they have gotten in a relatively short time. It’s just how much Mizuki means to him.

It’s kinda intense.

It’s crazy to think that a short while ago he’d expected to never see Mizuki again, that he’d thought Mizuki had fallen well and truly out of love with him, that he thought Mizuki must hate him. Then had come friendship, an offer made calmly, an olive branch that Mizuki himself had held out. Sly didn’t want to be friends, but he figured it was better than nothing,

It had taken him a while to realise Mizuki still wanted him, that his looks lingered too long and on the wrong areas. The back of his neck, his thighs, pale, exposed in summer shorts.

Sly thinks Mizuki has wanted him almost since the day they met.

Being wanted isn’t abnormal, lots of people have wanted him, for the convenience, for the discretion, the willingness to do almost anything, provided the price is right.

Virus and Trip want him too, they have always wanted him.

He prefers not to think about that.

It’s different with Mizuki, he has always wanted him, yes, but never for the same things everyone else has. He wants him for sex, yes, but he wants him for everything else too. That night he’d finally kissed him, after weeks of looking and of wanting and of hoping, it wasn’t because he’d wanted sex, it was because he’d wanted to kiss him. He’d wanted to be close again, to be soft and warm and intimate. He’d wanted to know how Sly felt and he’d not wanted to outright ask.

Sly has always done better with actions than with words and Mizuki knows that, he’d react a lot better to a kiss than he would to having to talk about how he feels. Besides, he’d said enough when he’d reached for Mizuki, put his hand in his hair and begged him to kiss him, please.

It’s alarming, Sly thinks, how fast the feelings came back. The safety and the comfort and the warm feeling in his chest whenever Mizuki smiles at him, whenever he makes him laugh. He’d felt like that before he vanished, sometimes, it had mainly been buried down below everything else he was feeling. Abandoned and lonely, miserable. Depressed.

He realises now, how good it could have been, But he also knows it would never have worked with him as he was, with him so unsure and unwilling, a statue in warm arms, a white, pale dead thing in his bed, only there to leech his warmth. He needed to escape, to do something that forced change.

That’s not why he did it, he’d wanted to die and had tried his best.

Failed.

Had tried again, reborn anew, looked after and medicated and with a team around him, ensuring he wouldn’t slip, wouldn’t get back into that dark place where he couldn’t even find the energy to look for a way out. Where he didn’t think there was a way out.

He’d wanted to die, then he’d come back and he missed his brother, his Granny, missed his room in her house, the smell of her cooking, the way she tutted when he swore or smoked. But she’d still cared, after everything he’d done to her, after years of barely speaking, she had still cared enough to sit with him in the hospital, to go to appointments with him, to talk about his brother even though it hurt.

He’d felt so alone only to realise she had been in his corner the whole time.

He wonders, sometimes, if he could have gone back earlier and been welcomed. He would have been, he knows, but he also knows he would have hated it, they wouldn’t have been able to talk like they do now and her expectations always felt so heavy on his shoulders.

Mizuki had expectations for him too, he’d always pushed, stay one more night, let me hold you when you’re upset, eat another meal, tell me how you feel. Sly had been in no state to do any of it, he didn’t want to talk, after years of shoving everything down, talking felt unbelievably dangerous, unbelievably stupid.

He wonders, what would have happened if he did talk. Would he have had a breakdown? Would he have scared Mizuki away? Would he feel relief or panic?

He’ll never know, because he never tried it.

He tries now, it feels better now, to talk.

He misses him.

The hospital is close, but he can’t visit without people talking and he’s still not ready for that. He gets his news from Tio and from his granny.

He’s doing well after surgery, then there’s an infection, IV antibiotics. Nobody tells him how bad the infection is, not even as one week spreads out to two then to three.

Sly looks it up, after an appendectomy most people are discharged quickly, a few days at most. Not three weeks. He knows he could ask Granny and she would tell him the truth, the problem is, he’s scared of the truth. What if the infection is bad, what if it spreads, gets into his organs?

What if he dies?

Sly doesn’t think he’d cope, if Mizuki died. He's become his whole world so fast, has become the most important person in his life, the one he always wants to talk to, the one he goes to when things go wrong.

He doesn’t think he could survive without that, if there was suddenly a permanent Mizuki shaped hole in his life.

Granny tells him he’s being ridiculous, when he voices this, says Mizuki isn’t going to die, he’s doing well, recovering.

Sly still worries.

Mizuki is his person, the one who makes him feel safe, the one who makes him feel seen, the one who accepts every part of him and loves them all equally.

Sly knows what it is, what’s causing this dread he feels in the pit of his stomach.

He’s still afraid to say it.

He can think it though, and he does.

He thinks it over and over and over, a mantra in his head, lies in bed feeling sick and stares at the note and thinks, me too, me too, me too.

Wonders when he will be able to say it, even to himself.

Finally, he gets the news that he is being discharged, sent home. He feels faint relief but knows he won’t feel peace until he sees him for himself, until he can reach out and touch.

Tio messages, finally, the team have left Mizuki in his care and he can come over whenever. He’s on bed-rest for the next two weeks to a month with strict orders to take it easy and not lift anything heavy, for Mizuki, who primarily does the opposite of those two things, they’re not instructions he likes.

Sly feels the anxiety growing on the way over, he has no idea what state he’s in, if he’s fully recovered or if he still needs to get better completely. Hell, Sly doesn’t even know how bad the infection was, would still rather not ask.

Underlying it all, there is bitter resentment at the fact he couldn’t so much as visit him in the hospital, couldn’t see him, not even for five fucking minutes.

He knows too, that now he’s out he will have visitors a lot, coming to make sure he’s okay, coming for a catch up, they’re going to have to be careful they don’t get caught.

Tio is gone by the time Sly gets to Mizuki’s apartment, he lets himself in like he always does and his eyes hesitate over the couch, he thinks back to Mizuki screaming as he pressed against his abdomen. He’s starting to feel a bit sick, kicks off his sneakers but feels no relief even as Mizuki quietly calls for him from the bedroom.

There’s a knot in Sly's chest, there has been since the ambulance arrived, since Mizuki was taken away, it’s coiled tighter and tighter even with the news of a successful surgery and even with the news of him overcoming the infection he’d been left with. The knot should ease with him home, with him getting better by the day, with the way he smiles and offers out a hand when Sly tentatively enters the bedroom.

But it doesn’t, he still feels choked, terrified, on edge and jittery, like he is still waiting for the worst to happen, for the bad news.

Mizuki can tell something is wrong, he drops his arm but his hand is still offered, palm up, fingers loosely curled on top of the duvet, “what’s wrong?” Sly ignores him because in truth he has no idea, “babe?”

“That’s new.”

Mizuki smiles, amused, “you don’t like it?”

Sly doesn’t respond, feels something flare, avoids his eye and stares at his own feet on the carpet, “you’re an asshole.”
”Because, I called you babe or, because, my appendix burst?” Sly keeps his mouth shut, he feels like he wants to yell so he clenches his teeth together and looks at the ground and tries to work out what’s wrong. Mizuki’s voice is bemused but still soft, still gentle, “ah, the appendix thing. You know I didn’t plan it, right?”

He’s joking but Sly is in no mood, he wants to scream but he has no idea why, he shrugs, shuffles his feet, feels the knot tighten, hears the creak of the fibres threatening to snap.

“I’m okay, the infections gone, the appendix is gone. I’m fine, Sly. I’ll be up in no time, we’ll be in the tower before you even know it.”
Sly scoffs, irritated, “I don’t give a shit about that.”

“Don’t you?” Mizuki looks confused but in a patient sort of way, like he’s feeling rather lost but isn’t too worried about getting found again.

Sly considers his words, realises he has no idea what he wants to say but opens his mouth anyway, “you’re not allowed to die. You’re not, okay?”

Mizuki’s mouth opens, his face has fallen a fraction but Sly can’t meet his eyes. He thinks of him screaming, of the sirens, of the lying on the balcony tiles, not knowing.

He thinks of being so scared he couldn’t fucking breathe.

He thinks he knows now.

What it means to love someone, and to do it completely, selflessly.

“You can’t die,” he repeats, feels his throat get thick, feels the knot finally begin to loosen, feels the heat of shame in the hinge of his jaw, in the underside of his chin, manages, “I won’t let you,” before his voice gets damp and he has to stop, jaw clenched again, trying very hard not to cry.

He feels ridiculous, he feels stupid.

It was only an appendix, it was only a few days in the hospital, but during that time he has felt like his life is falling apart.

Mizuki sighs, offers his hand out again, his voice is infinitely patient as he waits for Sly to take it, to draw nearer, “I’m not going to die, okay? Not today, not tomorrow, not any time soon,” Sly pulls a face at him, he feels grouchy and emotional and dramatic, all but flings himself onto the bed. “Were you worried about me?”

“Of course I was!” Sly is irked again, forgets his own embarrassment then sees how Mizuki is looking at him and feels it rush back, feels the slow drag of his hand up and down his side. His voice lowers, quietens, “I couldn’t even come see you.”

Mizuki sighs again, but this one sounds sad, “I know, but I’m home now. Everything’s okay.”

Sly makes another face, a grouchy, unhappy, uncertain one, “no it’s not,” Sly shakes his head, shuts his eyes and feels deep down into himself, into the depths of his chest, wills the knot to unfurl and feels it start to slip. His eyes open when Mizuki pushes a hand gently into his hair, moving the wayward strands off his face, tucking them back softly behind his ears so he can see him. Sly wishes he couldn’t but it’s too late now, besides, Mizuki has always seen him, even when he was hiding. “I haven’t been sleeping, I just-,” he pauses, thinks again of being scared, of not knowing how Mizuki is, of barely knowing where he is. “Kept thinking about, if something happened to you, I mean- people are allergic to anaesthetic, or, if you got sepsis, or, I don’t know. If you just didn’t come back. Come home.”

“Sly-”

“Granny told me I was being ridiculous.”

Mizuki hums, pets his hair vaguely, “Maybe a little bit. It was just an appendix, I wasn’t using it for anything.”

Sly opens his eyes, frowns, he feels like Mizuki isn’t taking him seriously at all, it doesn’t help that he can’t find the words he wants to explain himself, to talk about the knot in his chest and the tightening creaking of fibres. Well, he can find the words, he just doesn’t want to say them, they don’t feel true, not if he’s only saying them because something big has happened.

He decides to change the subject, he fears saying something he shouldn’t.

“You don’t use your brain much either, think they’ll remove that?”

Mizuki laughs, tugs gently on the back of Sly’s neck to get him to lie down beside him, wraps an arm around him and Sly feels the most peace he has in days. Mizuki’s heart beats steadily under his ear and his fingers absently trace up and down his side, tickling the hairs on his arm, worming into his hair, scratching against his scalp.

They stay there a while, Sly starts feeling like he’s going to fall asleep. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he hasn’t been sleeping, he feels exhausted, worn thin with it, stretched out too far.

“Mizuki,” he murmurs, he gets a faint hum in reply, “will you say it?”

He thinks he’s going to ask what he means but he doesn’t, Sly focuses on the beats of his heart, they stay steady even as he tilts his head so his breaths wash over his face, even as he presses closer, holds him a little tighter. “I love you.”

Sly wonders what he can say that isn’t the exact same thing, he answers very, very quietly, his mouth almost not moving, just air passing his lips, whispering out.

He knows Mizuki hears him though, when he presses his mouth to his forehead.

“Me too,” he whispers, and it feels good enough for now.

Chapter Text

Sly feels a bit clingy after Mizuki is discharged, a bit unwilling to leave his side. Luckily, Mizuki doesn’t mind one bit, he is still recovering from his wound infection and is pretty worn out for most of the time so they do lots of not doing much at all. Sly stays over almost every night and only goes to his Granny’s when she is off work.

Sly likes it, having a home. Having two homes.

He feels so comfortable at Mizuki’s, pottering around or watching TV or fixing them lunch, playing with Amaya or sitting on the balcony and watching the leaves turn orange and brown around them. Sly can see them there forever, the grey he’s imagined around Mizuki’s temples spreading, his wrinkles growing deeper, his skin getting thin and marked with age spots. Sometimes he looks at Mizuki and he aches, thinking about it, about them, lasting forever, being a thing that stays.

For the first time, he has something he wants to hold onto, for the first time, it is not a struggle to keep something he wants. For the first time, he doesn’t have to fight.

It's nice.

He likes bedtimes the most. Mizuki isn’t great at doing nothing so he usually settles himself in bed with his tablet and sketches designs for when he can tattoo again, or just sketches because he wants to. Sly is slowly reading through an anthology of short horror stories that Noiz bought him, using his coil every time he needs help with what a word means. It’s slow, the reading, but he likes it, likes learning a word then coming across it again and knowing what it means. He’s never really had free time to learn before, living had been such an effort there was no free time. Now living is easy and he has nothing but free time.

They settle down early, about ten or eleven and as soon as the light goes off Amaya jumps onto the bed and settles down by their feet, a warm lump between them to spend the night.

Some nights Sly lies awake long after Mizuki has fallen asleep, listening to the sound of him breathing, the gentle snores Amaya makes when she is really comfortable, thinks he must have done something right to deserve all this. He wishes his brother could see him so content, so happy.

Wishes he could see him at all.

He’s less painful now, most things are, softened, as if the way he treats himself has changed the memories. He doesn’t think it is his fault now, that his brother died, he doesn’t blame himself, he doesn’t beat himself up for it. Even if he did affect his health with a window left open or a cigarette smoked near him, he didn’t mean to, it was not malicious. Most things from the past don’t hurt so much. His parents leaving was not his fault, or his Granny's, or anyone. It’s barely even his parents fault. It was mostly Toue’s, for making the island somewhere inescapable, for making it a prison.

His feelings for Toue are uncertain, he is a bad man, he is sure of that, but with no understanding of his plan, his intentions, he finds it hard to judge him.

He hopes that when they eventually come face to face, he gets some answers.

Another night after a day spent together and today they have bickered most of the day, grating on each other with too much time spent in the other's company. Today they are irritated at each other for breathing, for asking stupid questions, for moving when the other was comfortable.

They get ready for bed in silence, Sly feels irked with Mizuki over his shoulder all the time and the plan for oval Tower on hold and his reduced antidepressant dose starting to impact him now he is down from the highest dose to the lowest. He doesn’t feel depressed, at least not yet, but he feels irritable, grouchy. Liable to snap.

He gets into bed but he’s not in the mood to read so he grabs the battered PSP Noiz had once gifted him and loads up a game, feels faintly better killing enemies and following along with the plot. Mizuki seems faintly irked by the noises but doesn’t voice it, bent over his tablet with his stylus, focused on whatever he is drawing. Mizuki normally tires first, but tonight he draws for a long time so Sly just keeps playing his game and ignores time passing.

He’s in the middle of a boss battle when Mizuki nudges him and for a moment he feels a flash of fury when he immediately dies to an attack he could have ducked if he hadn’t been distracted, looks up ready to be angry but-

“What do you think?”

MIzuki’s face, earnest and nervous and soft, apologetic. He offers over the tablet and Sly, immediately soothed into forgiveness by his expression, lets his PSP fall to the covers and takes it, stunned by what he sees.

It's a drawing of him, sat on Mizuki's couch.

People aren’t Mizuki’s thing, so it’s not perfect but it’s pretty fucking good. Sly stares at himself on the screen, he stares back, yellow gold eyes, eyebrows furrowed and his lips pouting. He recognises the look even though he’s never seen himself do it. It’s the look he gives Mizuki when he’s said something he doesn’t like very much, a sort of faintly annoyed frown. It’s a childish expression, a kid whose mother has said they can’t have any sweets until after dinner.

Sly studies it for a long while, the light on his hair, the curve of his nose and the crinkle of his forehead.

He doesn’t know what to say, looks to Mizuki who looks softly amused. Sly realises that he’s replicating the image on the screen, he is mildly perturbed, quickly changes his face to something else and hears Mizuki softly huff at him.

“Like it?”

Sly doesn’t know what to say, he wants to reach out and touch the screen but he knows better, he just nods wordlessly and Mizuki’s face softens, relaxes, “there’s another one, too, if you swipe left.”

Sly feels his face change again.

Mizuki has drawn him not once, but twice. Has spent time mapping out the contours of his face, his eyes, his hair, the curve of his jaw and the lines of his ears.

He swipes.

He laughs.

It’s him and Amaya, her proportions slightly off, slightly weird. They’re nose to nose, staring at each other as if having a battle to see who blinks first. His side profile isn’t quite right, Mizuki obviously struggled more with this one, with this pose.

“Cats are hard, no matter what I did, her face just never looked right, too squashed or too long.”

“It’s good,” he manages, then, “and here I thought you were mad at me.”

Mizuki snorts, swipes out of the gallery so Sly can see his various drafts, a few look like they might be him, some look like they’re meant to be Amaya, there is even one that might be Noiz. “Don’t get me wrong, you’ve been pissing me off all day, but I finally finished it, so, thought I’d show you.”

“You’ve been working on it a while.”

Mizuki smiles, “fucking weeks, I couldn’t get the colour of your eyes right, or your hair, or your anything. I still don’t think your eyes are right, they’re not- I don’t know, they’re just not, quite right.”

Sly sort of drowns out everything after the word weeks, it rattles around in his head. Mizuki sat in bed both with him and without him, working on this, hour after hour, changing and editing and perfecting, trying to get it right, trying to make it good. Mizuki putting in hours of time to try and recreate him perfectly.

It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for him.

“You like them?” Mizuki asks again, earnest and nervous. Sly wonders if he was worried about showing him, if he was worried Sly might think it was weird, if he thought he might not like them.

Sly doesn’t know what to say, feels something inside well up, hot and burning, like the feeling when you’re going to cry but not quite that, not a feeling of sadness but of overwhelming, desperate, glorious happiness.

He opens his mouth to say something but he just laughs instead, a bubbling burst, the feeling of pure joy. Mizuki laughs back, surprised, loses that nervous look in his eyes, startles as Sly reaches for him and puts his hands on his face, kisses him, smiling against his mouth. It’s messy, chaotic, Sly pushes his hand into his hair, scratches against his stubble, drapes his arms over his shoulders  and splays his fingers out across the nape of his neck, climbs into his lap.

“I love them,” he says, presses his forehead to Mizuki’s, kisses him again, pleased when Mizuki smiles in return, against his lips, his cheek. Mizuki murmurs something, Sly doesn’t hear him, Mizuki's hands are on his back, curling around his hip, the gap of his waist, his mouth is on his forehead, his jaw, his closed eyes. “I love them,” then, bubbling up and up and out so fast he can’t stop it-

“I love y-”

The moment stills, freezes. Sly freezes, still, with Mizuki’s mouth on his hairline and his arms around him and his legs under him and Sly’s hands on his neck, feeling his fluttering pulse.

There is a moment of panic, brief but terrifying, then Mizuki slides his hands up his back and nudges their noses together and speaks against his lips and it’s so intimate Sly thinks he could drown in it.

“You love me?”

Sly feels out of breath, it’s the closest he’s gotten so far and he feels petrified, teetering on the edge of a precipice with only Mizuki keeping him from falling. That would have been too much for him once, too overwhelming. Now he trusts that Mizuki wouldn’t let him fall. Now he knows Mizuki would fall instead if he had to. He would do anything for him, so he swallows with closed eyes and murmurs, “yeah. I think I do.”

“You think?” Mizuki’s backed off a little bit so he can watch him, as if he needs to see him to tell if he is lying, he still looks tender, the moment still feels unbearably intimate.

Sly hesitates then hates himself for it, he knows what the truth is and he has for a while, “I know.” He feels out of breath, as if saying just that had been exhausting, had been a huge effort when more had almost spilled free so easily, his voice is breathy when he speaks, low and careful. “I do.”

Mizuki hums against the curve where jaw meets neck, kisses him there, soft and wet and open mouthed, asks, against his throat, “do you mean it?”

There’s only one answer, so Sly inhales a shaky breath and whispers, “yes.”

Mizuki's breath falters across his skin, warm and shaky, “I never thought you'd say it.”

He keeps kissing his neck, it all feels very intense, Mizuki's mouth on him, the faint scrape of his teeth, the drag of his stubble.

“I didn’t,” he hums faintly when Mizuki works a hand into his shirt, running his fingertips up his spine then back down, slowly.

“Close enough.” He is faintly amused, Sly's eyes are closed, have been since he first kissed him, but they snap open when Mizuki pushes him back and down onto the mattress. “You gunna say it properly some day?”

Sly feels about a million times more vulnerable with Mizuki's stare on him, licks his lips nervously and watches Mizuki track the movement. There's something wild in his eyes, something wanting. 

“Probably.”

His eyes narrow very slightly, he shifts his weight, caging him in place with his arms and his hips, hums again, as if considering his words. “Probably?”

Sly wonders if he should be worried Mizuki doubts him, but somehow he isn't, Mizuki isn't asking out of lack of faith. “Yeah.”

Mizuki has dropped down closer, lying on top of him and for the first time Sly realises he is hard, he feels it, pressed against his thigh.

He's pretty sure somebody almost telling you they love you isn't meant to make you horny, but here they both are. Sly feels worked up, excited and nervous and eager, he doesn't think that's normal either.

“Will you say it now?”

Sly does retreat then, he'd barely managed to keep it in the first time, to actually say it outright will feel too intentional, too real even as he knows it's already too late for that. Mizuki knows, there’s not much to gain by not saying it. He opens his mouth and just exhales nervously, inclines his head a bit, suddenly shy. 

Mizuki ducks his head down, kisses him very, very softly, murmurs, “please,” in a voice so weak and shaky that he feels like he can't refuse him. 

“Feels like the wrong time. It always does.”

”Will you tell me, when the right time comes?”

”Yeah,” he answers quickly, he has no idea what the right time will be, has an idea he’ll just somehow know, will be able to tell that this is it, the perfect moment he’s been waiting for.

Mizuki smiles, kisses him again, slow and dragging, Sly feels himself unfurl, unfold from his own anxieties with Mizuki’s mouth on him, with his hands gentle and his body a soothing weight atop his.

“I love you,” Mizuki says it against his mouth, the words honeyed, sweet and rich and tempting. Sly wants to say it, he does.

Still feels like the wrong time. 

So he kisses him instead, wraps a leg around him and pulls him down closer, feels the pressure of weight atop him, the drag of fabric against skin, worms his hands into Mizuki’s shirt and scratches faintly at his sides.

Mizuki keeps his head lowered when they part, speaks almost urgently, “are you, I mean, have you, has it worked?”

He’s talking about his pills which is funny because Sly hasn’t even told him yet, he worked it out for himself, read the label when handing the meds over one morning. Sly had clocked the moment, his eyes on the dose, a faint squinting then realisation and he’d stood up when he could have just reached across the table, had put the meds by his breakfast and leaned down to kiss him.

It is a sacrifice Sly has made for both of them and he is grateful for it.

“I'm not sure, I haven't really tried it yet.”

“Do you want to?” Mizuki asks about an inch from his face, every breath washes over his skin and Sly feels set alight. He's said he’s not sure but it feels like it has worked, he feels different, even Mizuki asking amps up the feeling of something.

It’s working, he thinks, he’s just not sure yet how well.

“Yeah. I, uh, didn't want to try by myself.” Sort of a lie, he’d made an attempt early on, a hand around himself early in the morning, the surprise at finding himself hard in his sleep pants. But the feeling had gone and he’d managed a couple of strokes before he’d gone soft again and had given up. He hasn’t really tried since, he didn’t see the point if he wasn’t going to get anywhere. Problem is, not trying means he doesn’t know if he even could get anywhere.

“Were you waiting for me?”

Sly swallows, it feels more embarrassing admitting to this than it had almost saying he loves him, but he smiles faintly, manages, “yeah,” and feels his skin heat when Mizuki groans, low against his neck. He feels the hairs standing on edge, the vibration of it trailing up and trickling into his ear.

He hopes the tablets are working, or the lack of them, he hopes he didn’t wait for Mizuki only for this to end in disaster.

Mizuki doesn’t have the same anxieties, sucks a mark into his neck and moves back up again, kisses him, starts working on peeling his shirt off, seems to touch every inch of his torso as he worms it up and over his head, throwing it away the minute it is off. Sly feels like he can’t breathe, they’ve had sex a lot, have messed around a lot, but this time it feels different, he doesn’t know if it’s because it’s been so long or if it’s because the feelings are different.

It all feels very intense.

Mizuki pulls his own shirt off, sits up atop Sly’s thighs, he doesn’t do it slowly but Sly likes watching it regardless. He feels like every time he sees Mizuki his body has changed a little, when they’d first met he’d been ripped, all muscle and strength, he’s still strong now, still muscular, but there is softness too, he has squishy bits, the start of love handles. Sly knows he is conscious of his build, how he’s changed now he’s less committed to his diet and exercise, now he isn’t in the gym every day. He says Sly is making him fat but it is never really meant, besides, Sly likes him like this too. Time changes them both equally, it’s odd, having a visual reminder of how they’ve grown together.

Sly pokes at his tummy, feels the muscles of his abs, smiles, “chubby.”

Mizuki scoffs, bats his fingers away and pokes him back, pinches at the side of his hip bone, “oh, I’m the chubby one?”

Sly laughs, uses his moment of indignation to try to flip them.

Fails.

They end up on their sides, which wasn’t what he was going for but he supposes it is good enough, Mizuki snorts, starts saying something that sounds faintly mocking but stops very quickly when Sly presses his knee into his groin. Hitches in a breath and gets grabby, needy, digging his fingers into the meat of Sly's hip, his ass, his nails tearing and dragging down his skin. 

Sly’s hard, he knows he is for sure when Mizuki hooks a leg up over his side, pulls them closer, all tangled together, a mess of limbs and too many clothes and heavy breathing. Mizuki murmurs something that might just be Sly's name, it's not clear, his mouth trails across his face, his hands get to his boxers and artlessly pull them down, exposing him to the air. 

He feels tightly wound, over stimulated, overwhelmed with Mizuki's hands, hot and dragging and searing across his flesh, his mouth eager and desperate, wanting. He holds onto his hip, his thumb pressed into the gentle dip where skin stretches tight over bone, finds his mouth with his eyes closed, kisses him hard then soft, trailing his hand up his side then back down. 

“You okay?” He asks, and just like that things slow down, they get tender, Mizuki cradles him in his arms, his touch is soft, his eyes warm and molten and fond.

Sly nods, looks at him, thinks this is a gaze he will happily stay in, keeps his voice soft, intimate, “yeah. But,” Mizuki's expression changes a fraction, like he thinks he's changed his mind again. “You still have pants on.”

Mizuki laughs, relieved and amused, lets go of Sly for just a moment so he can wriggle out of his sleep pants. They both take a minute just to look, they've not been naked together since Sly came back, everything they've managed to do since has been quick and desperate and there hadn't been much point in Sly taking his clothes off if he couldn't partake.

“You're beautiful,” Mizuki looks besotted, Sly suddenly wonders if this is the right time, with Mizuki looking at him like he's the best thing he's ever seen. It isn’t so he just smiles, feels shy suddenly, like he wants to lower his head and avert his face and hide. “Not just when you're naked,” he adds, “all the time.”

Sly laughs, puts his hand on Mizuki's face and kisses the corner of his mouth, pushes his other hand into his hair and murmurs, “stop talking.”

Mizuki does what he asks, smiles against his mouth and pulls him closer, wrapped up around him, groans when Sly reaches for him, hopes he's not making a mistake by not prioritising himself. He'll be a bit disappointed if he's gone soft by the time Mizuki has gotten off.

Mizuki seems to get what he's doing, doesn't reach to return the favour until his hands are shaking and he's murmuring Sly's name like a blessing, until he's on the verge of cracking open.

Then he reaches for him, pulls him in and kisses him, open mouthed and wet, artless, all teeth and tongue.

Sly knows the second Mizuki puts his hand on him that he's not going to last, that this is going to be over embarrassingly fast, but he also doesn't care because things are working. He is hard and has stayed that way throughout, isn't flagging with a fist wrapped around him. 

It's sensational, the friction of his hand up and down, the pressure of his palm, the drag of his thumb across the sensitive tip. Sly whines and Mizuki swallows the sound. 

Despite the fact that Sly's only just been touched, he finishes first, his hands claw and grab and squeeze and he comes with Mizuki's mouth on his throat, his hand between his legs, his name spilling over his lips, his back arched.

From start to finish it was very fast, maybe a couple of minutes, it's far from his best showing but he's thrilled that it's worked at all, that he's had his first orgasm in fucking months. He's even more thrilled that it's with Mizuki, who laughs faintly and says, "I mean I knew I was good, but damn." 

Sly laughs too, breathless and boneless, still feeling the aftershocks, the wave of endorphins, his hand is on Mizuki but it's not moving. He doesn't seem to mind, scrapes his teeth against the hinge of his jaw, shifts his clean hand into his hair, pulls gently.

“You’re not that good,” Sly opines without feeling, manages to flip them as Mizuki objects through laughter that quickly stops when he heads south so he can put his mouth on him, so he can get Mizuki to the same place he’s just been in.

The message comes through from Noiz the next morning, he has the stuff. He sends it in his stupid code again but this time it doesn’t take Sly or Mizuki long to work out what he actually means by, ‘darts later? See if we can get a bullseye.’

The problem, Mizuki thinks as he sits on Koujaku’s couch reviewing the selection of hand guns, is that this isn’t darts, there will be no board, no scoring, no laughing with a drink. This time the bullseye will be a living, breathing, moving target. He is not looking forward to it.

Noiz is serious and solemn as he demonstrates the weapons, how to load them, how to fix them if they jam, the location of the safety and how to switch it off when they need to. He goes through recoil and correct stance and how to aim accurately.

Without the ability to actually shoot any of them ahead of time, there isn’t much they can get from Noiz’s detailed explanations, Mizuki understands that when he shoots the gun will jerk back but he has no idea how far or how strong. Noiz says how to fix a jam but Mizuki can’t see himself acting calmly if that happens; if they are under attack he doubts he will accurately remember and be able to do what he is being shown.

Sly is quiet, Koujkau potters in the kitchen absently, occasionally peeking through the door when he thinks none of them can see him, looking anxious and on edge. He continues to potter about even when the guns are away and their vague plans are finalised and they settle back to relax with food and alcohol.

Mizuki watches him, sees him get tenser and tenser, sees his anxieties grow as he fidgets and tidies and starts doing something with the bin in the kitchen that seems to take entirely too long. He can tell, when he comes back, that he’s reached his breaking point.

“When are you going?”

Noiz looks back at him, Koujaku is leaning against the door to the kitchen and though his posture seems relaxed, he really isn’t. Noiz’s voice is even when he speaks, his face emotionless and calm, “tomorrow.”

Something in Koujaku’s jaw twitches, “you’ll need an early night then.”

Sly glances between them and over to Mizuki who seems on edge even as he answers when it wasn’t really his turn, “yeah, you’re right,” he dispels the tension, “we better get going, It’s gunna be a busy day. You and Beni-Shigure still on?”

”Yep,” he nods shortly, gathers up their glasses and smiles very thinly at them as they awkwardly stand and start grabbing jackets. “We’ll be there, like we planned.”

”Thanks,” Mizuki smiles and this time everything feels less forced, steps forwards and wraps Koujaku up very loosely, very casually. They’re murmuring something to each other, and Koujaku’s expression is very scared, very tender when he moves back.

”Thank you.”

Mizuki nods at him, waves Noiz a brief goodbye and heads out alone, down the stairs past the shop and into the streets below. Sly lags behind, wonders which window he’ll need to scramble out of to get away unseen, awkwardly looks between Noiz and Koujkau and makes the choice pretty easily when he sees the fury in Koujaku’s face, the resignment in Noiz’s. He mumbles something vague and heads out, up onto the kitchen counter and through the window onto the gently sloping roof below. He wants to leave them to it, but curiosity burns through him and he stays where he is, if he angles himself just right he can sort of see them and he can definitely hear them.

There’s a noise, fingers on slippery fabric, the sound of footsteps faltering and dragging, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’ll come back.”

”Will you?” It’s not a question, it’s a doubt given voice, a worry, a fear.

“Of course I will,” Sly has never heard Noiz’s voice so gentle before, they’ve shifted now, he can make out their feet, close together on tatami. He hears it, when Noiz kisses him, “I promise.”

Koujaku scoffs, their feet part and do not come back together again, “don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

There is silence, Sly wills Noiz to say something, to do something to reassure him.

He doesn’t, there are his feet again, stood motionless, stupid and unsure.

Then leaving, walking away.

The door closing.

Something on the other side, smashing.

Sly thinks it’s time to go, slides off the roof and dangles a few feet above the ground, trusts his body to make the landing and feels the force in his knees as he hits solid earth. He looks up at Koujkau’s apartment once more, then turns and heads for home.

“What was that about?” Sly asks once they’re both home, they’d walked different routes and while Mizuki had used the front door, Sly had scrambled up the drainpipe to enter through the gym. They still can’t be seen together but Sly is used to it now, sees it as a mild inconvenience more than anything else. “You and Koujaku.”

Mizuki shrugs, stretches out his neck, “nothing, told him I’d look after Noiz for him, that’s all.”

Sly frowns, worried, takes off his jacket and kicks his shoes into a pile by the door, ”You can’t look after all of us.”

He inclines his head because Sly is right, Mizuki will only get himself hurt if he’s worrying about everyone else, he smiles though and offers his arms out to Sly, seems faintly amused when he takes a second to consider it before he heads over and lets himself be folded up. Sly feels anxious when Mizuki presses his nose into his hair, when he inhales then exhales right back into him, like he’s trying to remember the way he smells, when he whispers, soft. “I can try.”

“Who’s gunna look after you?”

It’s a stupid question, Mizuki laughs faintly, squeezes him tighter, “don’t ask questions you know the answer to.”

Sly doesn’t sleep well, he has another dream. He’s attached to a cold steel chair with leather straps at his arms and ankles, the room is whitewashed and clinical, like he’s in an operating theatre. There’s a large stretch of black in front of him, he can see his reflection in it as he sits struggling to free himself, as he hunches double to bite the buckle, to worm at it with his mouth until one arm is free, then the second.

He’s working on his ankles when he hears it, a sudden electronic hum and his head snaps up. The black stretch is illuminated. It’s a window into another room.

There are two men in there, they’re in all white head to toe, there are protective booties over their shoes and masks over their faces and caps on their heads but somehow he knows they are Virus and Trip. Virus sits in a chair to the side, looking casual.

Trip stands in front of a huge metal frame and Sly forgets all about freeing his ankle.

Mizuki is strapped to it, like they’re crucifying him, his neck is bloody from fighting to get free, it trickles off his hands and down his feet onto the gleaming white floor.

Sly sits there frozen as Trip steps forwards, a glittering metal tray beside him, he watches as he slowly drags his hand above the tools before selecting the one he desires.

A scalpel, small, shining.

Sly watches it glistening in his hand, as he adjusts his grip and it catches the lighting, shining like a beacon.

He is momentarily entranced, focused on the way the metal gleams.

It’s beautiful.

Until it cuts into Mizuki’s skin.

Until he starts screaming.

Time passes strangely, Mizuki keeps screaming and screaming but Sly is free now and up and hammering on the glass that separates them, he’s screaming himself hoarse, begging and pleading and cursing all in equal measure.

Sly is on the ground, slumped over exhausted, his hands are bruised and bleeding, his breathing is ragged and it takes him a moment to realise that Mizuki has stopped screaming, that all is silent.

He thinks it is over, something has happened. Mizuki has gotten free and killed them and he’s about to burst through the door opposite and grab him and whirl him to safety.

He stands, slow.

Realises how wrong he is.

Mizuki isn’t going anywhere.

Mizuki doesn’t have any fucking skin.

A scream rises unbidden and despite how wide his mouth is stretched, how hard he is yelling, everything is eerily, scarily quiet. Mizuki’s blood drips silently and Sly screams and screams and Mizuki doesn’t move.

He can’t move.

He won’t move ever again.

Sly wakes up gasping for air, he feels choked by the sheets, trapped by them like he was trapped behind the glass. Staggers out of bed soaking with sweat and when his hands touch the cold porcelain of the toilet he throws up acid and bile.

He’s hysterical by the time Mizuki gets to him, by the time he’s wrapped him up in a cage of legs, he’s sobbing and wailing and choking and screaming into the empty void of the bathroom. His mind is full of Mizuki, flayed, red raw and hurting and unmoving, his head slumped forwards.

His head is full of Mizuki.

Dead.

It takes him a very long time to calm down.

Every time he feels like he’s soothed he sees a flash of red, a pile of discarded skin and he’s retching and crying and shaking all over again.

Mizuki doesn’t say anything, he just sits quietly with him and holds him and strokes his hair and pulls him back gently when he tries to break free, when he throws up onto the tiles.

He just holds him.

When he eventually does calm down and manage to stay that way he fetches a warm, damp cloth and wipes his eyes and his mouth clean. Sly feels hollowed out, empty. He knows it was just a dream but it was so vivid, so real and so horrible.

“I got you,” Mizuki murmurs, he’s got his hand on Sly’s ankle as he rinses the cloth out and returns with it, wipes tears from his cheeks and bile from his arms. “I got you.”

They go back to bed, Mizuki wound around him, one of his hands tracing up and down his back, Sly closes his eyes, thinks again of Mizuki dangling there, just a pile of flesh and muscle and sinew. He still feels sick.

“I-” He manages, Mizuki hums in return but he doesn’t stop rubbing his back, “I wanna tell you. In case we don’t make it back.”

Mizuki sighs softly, presses his dry mouth to Sly’s forehead, tacky with dried sweat, “it’s not the right time.”

”But what if-”

”We’re going to make it back. You can tell me then. When it’s the right time.”

Sly wants to argue but he is exhausted, scared and anxious and worried, so he softens into Mizuki arms and murmurs, “okay.” Is asleep before he even realises it, doesn’t hear it when Mizuki whispers into the quiet room, doesn’t see the way his jaw hardens in resolve or feel the way his hands tighten on his body.

“You’re going to live. No matter what. I’m going to make sure you can be free.”

Chapter Text

Getting in is easier than it should be and Noiz is suspicious, even with the diversion Beni-Shigure are making at the gates, surely Toue would not be so foolish as to leave his Tower unguarded. Sly thinks it is a bit of good luck but when Noiz meets Mizuki’s eyes he can tell he doesn’t share the sentiment, he looks worried. Getting in was their biggest issue, the thing they didn’t work out how to do even with all their planning, and now it’s as simple as removing a cover from a maintenance hatch and crawling into the air duct system?

“Something’s not right,” Noiz murmurs, he’s managed to access a couple of the cameras on the inside of the building, they’re on the lower levels and only in hallways so they’re not of much help, the issue is that there is nobody. No guards, no civilians, no people on their way to their 9-5 shift at the evil factory or whatever people who work for Toue do. “It shouldn’t be this easy.”

“They know we’re coming,” Sly says and shrugs as two sets of alarmed eyes flash over to him, “what? I don’t know anything you don’t. But they’ve noticed us, maybe Koujaku’s place was bugged too, maybe Scratch are working with him now. Either way, they’re expecting us.”

”Should we turn back?”

Noiz looks pensive, Sly, offended, scoffs once at Mizuki and starts worming his way on hands and knees into the duct before anyone has time to stop him. It’s hardly the place for an argument so Noiz shrugs apologetically at Mizuki before he too hunches down and wriggles into the unknown behind Sly.

Mizuki isn’t quite so keen or so quick. Things have seemed weird since the moment they stepped into Crazy Kiko’s house. There is nobody around but the clubs seem quiet and the bars seem empty. The houses are unlit and no matter where they went within the walls there wasn’t another living soul, just silence and their feet on the paving slabs. Mizuki thinks somebody is watching them, is tracking their path through the Jail, is monitoring them on cameras in some control room somewhere.

Their first tip off had been in the hut Noiz had camped out in once, they’d laid low there for a while, gone through their plans and had another lesson in gun safety courtesy of Noiz who had distributed the guns between them. Sly had gotten bored while Noiz had headed out to do some recon, had nosied through drawers and recoiled as if scalded when he was flipping through a photo album, mouth parted and eyes confused.

The photo is of a group of scientists, they are wearing white labcoats and some of them are holding clipboards or empty test tubes, it’s a posed photo of a group of colleagues, that much is obvious.

Toue is in the photo, younger and less grey, smiling in the middle of the assembled group. Mizuki frowns, there’s a woman in the back who looks alarmingly like Sly’s Granny might have in her youth, the same pink hair and stern expression but softened with her age.

Sly hasn’t noticed Mizuki approaching, so he tries to pretend he is calm and asks, “what are you looking at?”

Sly shuts the album very quickly and that is all the confirmation Mizuki needs, continues to pretend he didn’t see anything even as Sly says something about it just being some random old shit, smiles at him as he speaks even though his eyes are creased with tension. “This place is weird, do you think someone lived here?”

Mizuki decides not to mention it, “Maybe, but way out like this? The middle of nowhere? Why would anyone want to live here?”

Mizuki is about to reply when there’s a noise from upstairs, a sort of scraping like a piece of furniture being moved across old floorboards.

Noiz didn’t sweep the house when they arrived.

Sly scrambles under the table when Mizuki all but shoves him towards it, tucks himself in by the wall and pulls the ratty tablecloth down so it covers as much as it can, it’s not a good hiding place, if somebody is in the house, they will find him.

Mizuki eases himself into a tall cupboard and when he shuts it the hinges squeak.

Then everything goes quiet, Sly listens to his own breathing, ragged and anxious, tries to be as quiet as he can, listening for noises from upstairs. More than anything, he hopes if there is someone in the house, that Noiz will not return and run into them.

It feels like it takes an age, then there are footsteps on the stairs, even and measured and terrifying, Sly feels the hairs on his arms stand up as the presence gets closer and closer and then finally-

“Grandpa?” A voice, a young, clear voice calling out into the room, Sly clamps his hand over his mouth to stifle the sounds of his breathing, feels himself break out into a sweat. There’s a pause then. “Oh. I forgot.”

There’s a stupid quality to the voice, childish and high pitched, juvenile.

Sly wonders if some kid lives out here, an orphan from the town who just wanted somewhere dry to sleep. But that wouldn’t explain the photograph of Toue and his Granny, or the lab coat hung over one of the dining table chairs, or the lack of food in the house.

He can see Mizuki vaguely through the tiny gap in the door of the cupboard, he looks confused and wary but not scared, more confused.

Sly shakes his head at him, telling him not to come out, it might sound like a kid but it could also be a trap. Toue’s reach is far, over the whole island, who’s to say he doesn’t already know about Noiz camping out here? Maybe he planted the photograph himself, left one of his cronies there to get anybody stupid enough to try and go against him. Maybe he was amused by their scheme, allowed them to get here but no further.

Toue reaches farther than they’d thought, Bug Bomb are under the control of Morphine now, seemingly they have been for a while but not made it obvious until the day of the raid where they’d covered all the other Rib teams logos with Morphine's own. Scratch could well be under their control too and there are any number of small teams who could be easily convinced to join forces with something bigger.

The person in the room shifts, murmurs something to himself, Sly doesn’t catch it all but it sounds like he’d heard somebody calling for him, like he’d heard his own name in the empty hut. He sighs again and leaves the room without noticing that things have moved, that there are finger prints left in the dust that lay undisturbed for so long. Sly stays where he is until the sounds die out altogether and the house is quiet, then he gives it ten more minutes before he leaves the hut altogether with Mizuki hot on his heels.

Neither of them bother to look back.

Maybe they should have.

Noiz is confused when he wriggles back out from under the wall and finds Mizuki and Sly curled up under a rather sparse bush, it’s a shit hiding place, he tells them, anyone with fucking eyes would have spotted them there.

Sly is not impressed at how amused he seems as he tries to brush foliage out of his tangle of hair, “there’s someone in the hut.”

“Someone?”

”We didn’t ask for a name.”

Noiz rolls his eyes at Mizuki, he still seems too flippant for Sly’s liking but then he gestures with his head to move away from the wall and they walk a few metres into the sparse forest where there is at least the illusion of privacy. “Was it one of the guards?” Mizuki shrugs and Noiz sighs, frustrated, “one of Toue’s guards, with the white hair?”

“I couldn’t really see.”

”Me neither,” Mizuki adds, shifting nervously from foot to foot, eyes darting through the trees as if looking for an approaching army or a sole skilled assassin. “Had a weird voice though, sort of, like one of those dodgy automated captions on a video.”

Noiz sighs, “so it was one of the guards,” Sly frowns, Mizuki looks deeply alarmed. “You know they’re androids, right?”

Mizuki blinks, “excuse me?”

”They’re androids, all of them, Toue created them as guards. There was one in the hut, it never moved, I thought it was completely broken.”

”Well it looks like it was just taking a nap, doesn’t it? Why the fuck wouldn’t you mention that before we went in there?”

Noiz raises his hands in self defence and Sly debates slapping him, “it was broken! I did all sorts to it and it never did anything, it’s got no power supply and they don’t need to sleep. I figured it had broken and ended up being dumped there!”

“You didn’t mention it, why?”

“It didn’t seem important.”

”Well it’s important now if it’s fucking awake isn’t it!”

Sly wonders if Mizuki and Noiz are going to come to blows, watches them have a hissed, furious argument in what is probably almost the most dangerous place on the island to do that. Wonders.

“It was looking for it’s Grandpa.”

Noiz and Mizuki both turn to look at him, Mizuki loosens his fists and Noiz’s mouth curls slightly less downwards, Sly hesitates, licks his lips. “I, I don’t think an android would be looking for it’s Grandpa. I doubt Toue made them in happy families. Maybe it’s, defective?”

“Defective?”

“It’s programming, maybe there’s something wrong with it.”

”I guess,” Noiz muses, but why would it suddenly wake up to look for it’s Grandpa? It was filthy, covered in dust, years of it, why wake up now?”

Sly shrugs, he has no idea and the group falls silent, somewhere behind them the ocean crashes against the cliffside, a bird swoops overhead with a harsh call, the wind rustles the dying leaves in the trees. It’s a nice spot, Sly thinks, peaceful and away from everything. He wonders, if he had come here instead of going North after he and Mizuki ended things, if he might have fallen in love with life organically, surrounded by trees and the ocean and the smell of coming rain. He doubts it, a nice view isn’t exactly a cure for depression but he finds it soothing anyway, watches branches sway and always settle gently back into place no matter what force pushes them.

“This would be a nice spot for a picnic,” he says without really thinking, settles down onto the spongy, moss covered forest floor and looks up through the patchy canopy of orange and brown and red to the sky above. “You know, once Toue’s dead.”

Mizuki looks down at him, considers this, thinks of Sly last night, screaming and hysterical and distressed

Joins him on the floor.

“Besides,” Sly adds faintly, fingers finding a crunchy leaf and squashing it in his palm so it dissolves into tiny fragments that the wind whips away. “He said he heard his voice. That’s why he woke up. Maybe someone’s looking for him.”

”As long as he’s not looking for us, defective or not, I don’t want him trailing us.”

Sly shakes his head, “I don’t think he will, I think that’s his home, that hut. If he’s really waiting for his Grandpa, I doubt he’d wander off. He sounded like a kid. You stay put, when you lose someone, so they can find you.”

“If you want to be found.”

“Don’t we all wanna be found?”

Noiz has nothing to say to that.

He thinks back on it, wanting to be found, as he crawls through the air ducts with Sly’s feet and ass blocking most of the view ahead. It’s slow going, hot and cramped and claustrophobic. Noiz knows, about the tunnels, about the things a person sees when they die. He thinks Sly went first not out of bravery, but so his strength wouldn’t waver.

Noiz wonders if he wants to be found, if he was happy once his brother found him. He was, of course, but only after a while to think about it, only after he learned his parents were not the ones looking. If his parents had found him, he would not have wanted it. His brother finding him feels like something that was meant to happen.

His parents finding him would be confusing, a threat, a promise of punishment.

His brother finding him is kindness, worry, regret.

Love.

He’d spent years searching, thrown every last penny he had into it, he’d told Noiz that much one of the times they’d talked, about working hard and living frugally and throwing everything he could into the search. It sounds like desperation. Maybe that is a kind of love too. Stubbornness, anger, bitterness. Perhaps all of these can come from love.

Love is not something Noiz is overly familiar with, not something he’d ever experienced much of before he got to Midorijima and certainly not before he met Sly and the host of people who come along with him. Mizuki gives love away so easily, overflows with it and passes it out like it is the only way to live, like generosity and friendship are the only things that matter. He acts like everyone he comes across deserves some of his to have and to keep. Noiz thinks he and Sly reacted to being abandoned by their parents very differently. Sly was insular and contained, thinking himself and those around him of somehow being undeserving, while Mizuki tries to give it out so he can get some back, so he can make himself worthy of something he never got.

And Noiz?

Well, he tries his best.

Often fails, falters.

He’s doing better though.

Koujaku is proof of that, flesh and blood proof that somewhere deep down he can love, he can feel and he can empathise and he can be a normal human being who feels normal things.

Sly comes to a stop suddenly and Noiz’s head goes into his ass and his hands are on his trainers and the three of them are squashed up together until Mizuki worms back and pulls at his shoe to make him do the same.

Sly doesn’t speak but the tunnel is lit around his body and Noiz knows they have reached the end, either that or a fork in the road, where they go now is up to Sly, Noiz is blind, he can only follow. He can only trust.

He’s getting better at trusting, at following.

As they sit there, muscles starting to ache from inaction, in tense, weighted silence, he thinks of Koujaku. His face, when he’d asked if he would come back. He’d been scared, anxious, worried. All of that, for Noiz. It feels like too much but he gets it now, when you care about someone you want them safe, you fear when they do something dangerous, you worry about the consequences for both people, them and yourself. He wishes he’d known what to say, to make him feel better.

But he’d had nothing to say so he’d kept silent and now he feels regret, hot and burning.

He’ll message him when they’re out of this god-forsaken duct, he tells himself. He doesn’t know what he’ll message him, but he’ll try to be honest, to be true.

He worries about Koujaku too.

He thinks that maybe, that’s what love is. Caring for other people, worrying about them and celebrating their wins and helping them through their lows. Letting people in has never been something Noiz was very good at, but with Koujaku it all feels sort of inevitable, it all feels like it sort of makes sense. Koujaku has shown him all his ugly parts, his past and his mistakes and the things that make him hate himself. It felt only natural to do the same in return. It felt like a deal they were making, ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine.’

Noiz had shown him alright.

Koujaku knows more than Sly now. One night, quietly across the pillows he had told Koujaku everything, his condition and his childhood and his mother. The room with the locks and the slot in the door for food and even before that, the slaps and things thrown and the words that went along with them. He’d told him everything and it hadn’t felt frightening, it had felt like the right thing to do. It had felt like he’s made the right choice, that this was the right person to share his soul with.

He knows, suddenly what he’s going to message him.

Feels a brief slash of panic then-

“Come on,” Sly’s voice, quiet but echoing eerily off the shiny metal, his body wriggling away from under Noiz’s fingertips, down and finally away altogether, out of the duct and into whatever is beyond.

It’s hardly the place for it, but Noiz types the message to Koujkau as they huddle together in what looks like some sort of archival room and discuss what to do next.

He doesn’t send it though.

Not yet.

“We need to work out where we are, like what floor.”

”Why does it matter what floor we’re on?”

”Because Toue will be at the top.”

”And how do you know that?”

”It’s obvious! Rich people love a penthouse, look at Noiz!” Mizuki does as he’s asked and Noiz shrugs, he does love a penthouse but that doesn’t mean Toue does. He could be the ‘working from a secure basement bunker’, type of villain, they just don’t know. Going up seems like a good idea though, there’s a balcony higher up that Toue used to make speeches on, before the wall went up and the island divided and he disappeared.

“We should go up,” Noiz offers rather flatly, Mizuki looks faintly annoyed and Sly nods at him in a manner so patronising that Noiz snorts. “We need to check it out, I’ll go have a look, you two stay here, if I’m not back in ten minutes get back in the duct and stay there.”

Sly tries to object, Mizuki grabs his sleeve hissing something at him like, ‘don’t try to be a hero’, but he’s slipped out of the door before either of them can stop him.

The hallway is long and and sterile, white with white lighting and white floors and white doors. His footsteps echo and despite there being doors everywhere not a single one of them is labelled. He listens at them, presses his ear to them. The murmur of machinery, the sound of typing on keyboards, the low grumble of conversation. Most of them are silent, giving nothing away.

Noiz is glad he convinced them all to wear disguises, he thinks he can’t look out of place in a lab coat and dress shoes, he’d even managed to copy one of the lanyards the staff wear and with it around his neck he hopes he will blend in.

He’s given up on the doors now, deciding instead to just confidently walk down the middle of the hallway like he is meant to be there, he can see a turn approaching, a door that is finally marked as the fire exit, light coming through a gridded window in the white wood. A door behind him swings open and closes right as he reaches it and is about to go through, he freezes for a second but it’s enough.

“You okay over there?”

Noiz doesn’t answer, he turns and faces whoever it is and is somewhat reassured when it is a middle aged woman with a neat bob and a pair of cat-eye glasses, “you don’t want to go that way, you’ll have to go up all those stairs.”

“I don’t mind.”

She smiles as she approaches, Noiz wonders if she is a wolf in sheeps clothing. “You new? I’ve not seen you before?”

“Uh, yeah, first day. I’m, a bit lost, actually.”

”What department you in?”

”Research,” it’s a remarkably vague answer but she smiles at him as he says it, winks knowingly.

“Ah, has Ito set you loose?”

“Yeah, he told me to familiarise myself with everything but, there’s no signs so, I’ve been wandering around for a while.”

”Between you and me,” she leans in, Noiz notices several things very quickly, she wears a wedding ring, there’s an earpiece in one of her ears, she smells like lavender. “Ito’s an ass. You should try and get into communications, much easier ride and better pay.”

“Small steps.”

She smiles, her hair swings, Noiz’s smile fades a fraction. There’s a tattoo on the back of her neck, the Morphine logo, it’s in very pale ink so he almost misses it but he sees the start of it and feels uneasy. “Here, hold this a second,” she all but dumps her bag onto him and he scrambles to grab it, “I’ll draw you a quick guide.”

“Thank you, that’s, very nice of you.”

She waves him away, leaning against the wall and drawing a quick rather primitive version of the tower, “this building is a nightmare, I almost wet myself my second week because I forgot where the bathrooms were.”

Noiz laughs faintly, he watches the woman draw the little map and when she turns back to him he realises what’s wrong with her. Behind her glasses her eyes are glossy and unfocused, her pupils are wider than they should be.

The earpiece, Noiz thinks, is pumping her full of music, not enough to completely get her out of control, just enough to keep her under control. She is still herself, motherly and kind and maternal, but she is encouraged by the music to work, to be efficient. She is encouraged not to question anything.

When the map is done she goes over it with Noiz, apologetically tells him she’s not sure what’s on the top few floors or in the basement, just saying she thinks that’s where the laboratories are and the top is where Toue works. She gives Noiz her name and doesn’t seem to notice when Noiz comes up with a fake one for her, he even agrees when she asks if she’ll see him in the canteen at lunch time.

She calls out that it was lovely to meet him as she heads back to work, waving over her shoulder as she hurries off with her hair blowing in the breeze her own motion creates.

When she forgets her handbag, Noiz keeps his mouth shut.

He waits until he is in another storage closet, there are two on each floor, neatly marked on the little map the stranger had drawn for him, to go through her bag.

Mostly it’s junk, a lip balm and a purse with loose change and an invite to a birthday party a few weeks away. But at the bottom there is a white plastic card, rounded at the corners. An access badge.

He’s not sure where it will get him access to, he has yet to actually see anywhere to scan it, for all he knows it could be what you use to pay for lunch in the cafeteria, and while he is hungry, he doesn’t think that will be of much use to him.

He studies the map for a few minutes, cataloguing it all within his mind as quickly as he can, hopes he’ll be able to get Sly and Mizuki to remember it just with an explanation if they get split up, then he tears it into pieces and dumps it at the bottom of a waste bin marked ‘confidential, for burning.’

Returns to them in the other supply closet.

“I stole a handbag.”

Mizuki and Sly withdraw from each other very quickly as if they’ve been caught doing something scandalous instead of just being in an embrace. Mizuki looks pensive, drawn tight and worried.

Sly doesn’t really look like he feels much of anything. “So much for keeping a low profile.”

”Well, I didn’t exactly steal it, she left it, so I just, helped myself to it.”

”So you stole it.”

Noiz shrugs, “got us an access card though, I don’t know how many doors it will open but it’s something.”

”The bare minimum, I’d say,” Sly snorts, taking it from Noiz’s hand and looking distinctly unimpressed.

Mizuki is watching Sly closely, as if he’s expecting him to do something very stupid. Noiz wonders what Mizuki thinks he’s going to do, wonders why he thinks it, wonders what they’ve been talking about while he was gone.

“Well, nothing else for it. Lead the way, Noiz.”

Noiz sighs faintly, whips out his coil and hears Sly huff in annoyance at him as he delays the inevitable, whatever that may be.

“Sorry, forgot to do something.”

Forgetting is not something Noiz does, Sly narrows his eyes, “something important?”

Noiz thinks about this for a minute, stares down at his coil screen and presses send, stares at the words reflected for a second then feels a faint jab of panic as Koujaku reads it and starts to type.

“I guess so,” he shrugs, gestures for them to follow and out they go, into the unknown, into the danger that lurks beyond.

It’s a bit anti-climactic actually, the building seems deserted, the key card gets them into the faintly neglected stairwell and they head up, checking they can get onto each floor as they go. When they hit floor ten, the card stops working.

They’re past the point of no return now and still they climb, one flight turns into two turns into six.

Sly is out of breath, Mizuki is doing a little better and Noiz is wheezing like an asthmatic pensioner.

“Too much pizza,” Sly jibes and Noiz glares at him, thrusts an elbow into his side that misses, opens his mouth to say-

“Fuck you-”

But doesn’t get to finish, the door in front of them swings open unbidden and they look up, unprepared and panicked, to see a figure silhouetted against the bright artificial light of the corridor beyond.

Chaos follows, uncoordinated and clumsy and idiotic. Mizuki immediately puts himself between Sly and the figure, unfortunately, so does Noiz and they both end up bouncing off each other and Sly is exposed, staring with parted lips at the person in front of them.

“You're the guy from the hut.” He recognises his boots, the bottom of the lab coat he wears. The gas mask is an odd choice, but he can tell it’s one of the guards because of his shock of pure white hair, besides, Noiz has told him that much already. He neglected to mention the gas mask though.

“You were in my hut?” He doesn't sound upset, he sounds about ten years old despite the fact that he looks older. His voice is muffled slightly by the respirator. Sly wonders if it serves an actual purpose. “Did you see my grandfather?”

“No,” Sly speaks carefully, glances very quickly to his side to find Noiz doing something on his coil, shocker, and Mizuki looking wary and curious in roughly equal measure. “Is he missing?”

“I was asleep for a long time.”

“Right.”

“I heard someone calling my name.”

“Who?”

The boy looks between them, the conversation is civil enough that Noiz and Mizuki have stopped trying to be a human shield and are trying to work out what's going on. 

“You,” he looks directly at Sly who balks, confused, “you called my name and I woke up.”

“Did I?”

“Yes, I heard you. You sounded very annoyed though. Grandfather is never annoyed when he talks to me. I wonder where he's gone. If he has to leave there's normally a note but I looked and I couldn't find one.”

“How long have you been asleep?”

“I'm not sure. But I am glad to have found you, master!”

Sly grimaces, well and truly repulsed. The name doesn't feel sexual coming from this childlike character but it still feels wrong.

“Master?”

“Yes! You woke me! I heard your voice and I woke up!”

“Okay,” Sly nods slowly, trying not to look as perturbed as he feels, he realises he’s doing the scrunchy face that Mizuki likes and quickly wipes the expression away. “Are you here to help us?”

“If master needs my help. You couldn’t open the door, so I opened it for you.”

“Thank you,” Sly tries to smile, he doesn’t trust whoever this weird android thing is, but if he says he wants to help he sees no reason not to let him, if it turns out he’s tricking them he’s sure Noiz can scramble his circuits later. “What’s your name?”

”Clear.”

“Okay, Clear,” this is Noiz, “do you know if there’s a surveillance room somewhere?”

“Of course,” Clear nods, then falls silent.

Mizuki starts to shift on his feet, Sly feels annoyed, Noiz looks a bit bemused.

Clear seems to be a massive fucking idiot.

“Can you get me in?”

“Of course,” he repeats, Noiz feels a nerve in his eye start to twitch, then, thankfully, “follow me.”

The surveillance room is two floors back down so they reverse their steps and Clear opens a second door off the stairwell that leads to a far less pristine hallway lined with plain wooden doors. He counts them off as they pass, his voice has a melodic, sing-songy lilt to it and it feels weirdly out of place considering where they are. He stops singing on door six, “here.”

Noiz steps forwards to read the weathered bronze plaque on the door, underneath is a smaller much newer plaque in black plastic, the engraved words are white and say-

“Operated by AI.”

Sly frowns, “AI? Isn’t that the thing people use to make that weird art of people with too many fingers?”

Noiz snorts, “among other things,” then, “come on, if it’s AI powered it should be empty.”

Noiz, as usual, is right. The room is large, there are screens stretching from floor to ceiling on two of the four walls and a cluster of desks with PCs that look very outdated in the centre of the room. A vending machine hums quietly in one corner, it’s halogen lights flickering every so often, bathing the room in sickly greens and blues.

Mizuki trails his hand across the edge of one of the desks as they enter and locks the door behind them, “nobody’s been in here in a long time, it’s filthy.”

”Why clean it? AI doesn’t care about dirt.”

“Surely somebody has to control the AI though.”

Noiz laughs, shakes his head, starts pottering around the wall of screens, feeling out cables and whipping a tablet out of god knows where, “not how AI works.”

Sly just hums, he’s not really interested in how it works, he’s glad they’re using it since it means there's nobody actually in the security control centre for the building. Still, it all seems too easy, the open duct cover, the empty hallways, the woman who left her access card behind and drew Noiz a map. With every lucky coincidence they run into, Sly grows more convinced that he was right.

They know they’re coming.

They’re in the control room for a long time, Clear occasionally chips in with something helpful about the building.

Sixteen floors, the top six are off limits to everyone but the guards and the higher ups, he doesn’t know what’s up there but he says the floor plan is mostly the same in the entire building, save for the occasional rooms that have been divided up or joined. He’s not sure where Toue is and when Mizuki mentiones Virus and Trip he shrugs, says he doesn’t know who they are at all.

Sly isn’t sure he believes him, but with that stupid gas mask he can’t read his expressions and his body language is minimal, robotic, which makes sense.

Sly doesn’t even think Clear knows he’s an android, he thinks Clear believes himself to be flesh and blood.

It makes Sly feel a little freaked out, that Clear doesn’t even know who he is under the mask.

“Done,” Noiz announces about an hour later, Sly unfolds himself from the floor and from Mizuki who’s wrapped arms around him like an octopus, stretches upwards and gives Mizuki a half-hearted glare when he pokes a finger into his exposed stomach.

“And, what exactly have you done?” Mizuki asks, standing and once again pulling Sly into his orbit with a loose arm around his neck.

“The cameras are showing a loop of the last three days.”

“Why didn’t you just disable them?”

”That would be very obvious, I’ve disabled the AI too, as much as I can. It’s good tech, modern, expensive. Very expensive.”

“So we’re invisible now?”

”As long as nobody sees us, yes.”

That seems unlikely, but Sly nods and Mizuki’s arm creaks tighter around him.

“Then lets hope they don’t.”

Mizuki, as it turns out, has tempted fate with an offer it cannot resist, all is quiet when they leave the control room and go back into the stairwell, it is when they head back up to the top floor that things start to go wrong.

A cluster of Toue’s android guards wait for them when the door opens. They skid to a halt, there are two ways out. Past them or back down.

Sly and Mizuki immediately start descending again, tripping and stumbling and dragging themselves down the moment the androids see them and start moving. Noiz starts to follow them, but he is distracted talking to Clear so when the door opens he doesn’t see the danger until it is too late. A hand whips out freakishly fast and grabs onto his collar, pulling him back and away, dragging him up the stairs he’d just managed to reach, wrenching his hand from the railings.

Clear is trying to fend them off with an umbrella of all things, is making minimal but not inconsequential progress. One of the androids topples and Noiz wrestles furiously trying to get away from robotic hands that hold him like a vice, kicking out with feet and elbows and making contact sometimes.

It’s not enough.

Sly, halfway onto the next landing, tries to go back, yells Noiz’s name and is furious when Mizuki grabs him around his middle and all but drags him down the stairs, ignoring his noisy protests and the way he thrashes furiously under his hands.

The access badge goes whizzing past their heads and hits the wall with a noise they can barely hear over Noiz screaming and screaming-

“Run! Run!”

Sly doesn’t want to run, but Mizuki has a tight grip on him and he’s scooped up the card and the door has chimed open and he’s been thrown through, landing heavily and in the second before he can scramble up he hears a sickening crunch from the stairwell.

Then Mizuki is through and the door swings shut and he can’t hear anything at all.

Mizuki pulls him into a disabled bathroom and locks the door behind them. Sly is about done being treated like a bag of potatoes and turns around to glare at him, fully ready to start an argument in the worst place on the island to do that.

But then he sees Mizuki’s face and he feels softened, Mizuki looks terrified, out of breath and anxious and nervous. “Are you okay?” He asks, catching his breath, holding a hand to his arm where Sly had dug his nails in and drawn blood in an attempt to get away, to protect Noiz.

“Noiz isn’t.”

”He’s got Clear.”

”What good is he?”

”He’s one of the androids, he’s more use to him than me or you would be.”

He might have a point, but Sly feels prickly and annoyed, Mizuki normally lets him make his own decisions and he doesn’t like that he’d had the choice to try and help Noiz taken away from him. “Well,” he breathes, “at least he won’t feel it when they torture him.”

”Sly,” Mizuki is using his very reasonable voice and Sly feels it prickle up his spine. “He’s smart and he’s tough. He’ll work something out. For all we know he can hack into them and make them work for him.”

“I guess.”

Sly still feels annoyed, feels it mingle and fight with the anxiety in his chest. He’d felt better with them all together, he has no idea where Noiz is or who with. He doesn’t know what they might be doing to him. He knows they have ways to hurt people even if they can’t feel pain.

“I’m sorry,” Mizuki offers but it’s obvious he doesn’t really mean it. “You’re my priority.”

”You told Koujaku you’d keep him safe.”

“I know I did,” Mizuki sighs, sits down on the closed toilet lid and grabs some toilet roll to dab at his arm. The scratches are nasty. Sly was really fighting him with every step they took away from Noiz. “But I need to keep you safe too. I can’t lose you.”

“But you can lose Noiz?”

Mizuki looks conflicted, looks guilty, “I- No, I don’t want to lose him either. I don’t want you to lose him, or Koujaku. But I- You’re my priority, and I know that means, we, abandoned Noiz. But, I- I didn’t exactly have time to think it through. At least he’s got a gun.”

Sly looks at Mizuki, sees him fighting with himself and sighs, leans against the counter where the sinks are and ties his hair back with a bobble he’d stolen from his brothers room. He didn’t mean to bring it, but he hopes it will give him some strength, some bravery he is currently lacking.

“Okay,” Mizuki looks over at him, smiles faintly, he can tell Sly is letting it go.

“Now what?”

“Now we find Toue.”

“And kill him,” Mizuki finishes, standing up to mirror Sly, discards the bloody toilet roll onto the floor and reaches for him, squeezes his hand. “We stick together.”

“Okay.”

So, hand in hand, they unlock the door and head back into danger, into the tower they are trying to destroy, step just that little bit closer to everything that Sly is afraid of.

Chapter Text

It’s not difficult to find what they are looking for, one of the doors is different, it’s red instead of white and it’s more ornate, there is gold engraved into the corners in pretty swirls and there is a crystal knob instead of a silver handle like the others.

“I think this is it,” Sly says, reaches out to touch the cold wood, wonders why they would make it so obvious, so distinctly different, it seems like a trap but there isn’t much they can do about it now. They’ve opened a lot of other doors, all identical, plain white with silver handles, they’ve found very little of use, Mizuki has pocketed a screwdriver he found and Sly has idly leafed through pages of schematics and designs for various things he doesn’t really understand. Noiz would be useful, he would know what the designs were for, would be able to say if they were worth taking as evidence of all Toue has been doing on the island. Sly flicks through them and leaves them where they sit, unsure if he’s stumbled across something important, something that might explain what’s been going on.

Mizuki puts a hand on his shoulder, reaches forwards and pushes the door open.

It looks almost like a ballroom, the floor is parquet and there are long windows filling the room with light, the walls are panelled in soft blue and ornate chandeliers shine down on it all.

Their steps echo as they step inside, the room is enormous in it’s emptiness, in it’s uselessness.

Sly turns to ask Mizuki what they need a ballroom for when the door swings shut behind them.

He spins round, there’s a blur of blonde hair and a thin smile he recognises.

It’s a trap, and they’ve walked right into it.

Clear is remarkably accurate with his umbrella, the androids fall steadily as Noiz does all he can to help, he backs himself into a wall to trap his captor behind him and uses his legs to kick another one over. Clear’s umbrella finds its eye and jams into its mechanical skull, there’s a sizzling pop and sparks fly out and then the body spasms and goes still.

It’s as dead as an android could be, Noiz mourns the loss of such impressive technology while at the same time feels infinitely thrilled that another one is down.

Clear yells for Noiz to duck and he does so just in time to avoid the umbrella that has been thrust into his captors throat, pinning him to the wall for just long enough for Noiz to worm free and for Clear to slam his heavy boots into its chest, caving it in. Oil pours out and something hisses and Noiz is fascinated, stands stupid, staring until Clear grabs him and he realises he can hear footsteps advancing.

Another wave is coming.

So quickly it sends Noiz reeling, Clear bends down to grab him by the legs and hefts him up into the air as if he weighs nothing, “the vent! Quickly, Noiz-san!”

Noiz does as he is told, Clear seems to be a good person to have on his side so he punches the vent cover out and bodily scrambles up into it, the moment he is inside he stretches out his hand and pulls Clear up and inside right as the guards get to them.

“Go, go!” Clear urges, pushing at his backside to get him moving.

It’s a long, hot, frantic scramble, Clear behind him all the way, silent now but moving along steadily behind him.

They crawl for what feels like hours, Clear chips in with directions every time they get to an intersection and Noiz listens blindly. He has no idea where they are, they haven’t changed floors, that much is certain but he carries on forwards and finally they get to a room of sorts.

It’s clearly some sort of maintenance room, there are banks of generators and air conditioning units hum, there’s a huge hot water tank for the heating system and various electrical panels.

“What is this?” He asks, out of breath. He thinks his arm is broken, it’s hanging funny at his side and he can’t raise it properly.

“The controls for the whole building,” Clear smiles, seems very pleased with himself. “You can do anything from here.”

”Anything?”

Clear shrugs, does a little spin that makes his lab coat flare out, despite himself, Noiz finds him faintly endearing, “the last room you’d want to have a terrorist in.”

“Terrorist?”

”I was dreaming, while I slept. For a very long time. I dreamed about you.”

Noiz feels suddenly on edge, backs off a little. First Sly is his ‘master’ and now he’s been dreaming about Noiz? He’s suddenly unsure if he’s a trick or not.

“You spoke to me, but you didn’t say my name so I stayed asleep. You said I could be useful for bringing the tower down.”

”If only I could get you to work.” Noiz murmurs, he remembers, in the hut trying to get the android active, trying to work out how to program it so it could help them. He’d failed, and yet, here Clear is, awake and helping.

Fate is a strange thing.

Noiz exhales, starts to look around the room, spares a brief moment to hope Mizuki and Sly are okay wherever they are, then gets out his coil and his tablet and gets to work.

Trip is on Mizuki in a second, slamming his fist into his stomach, his other hand gripping his shirt. Sly goes for him but Trip throws him off like he is nothing and he goes sliding across the polished floor.

Mizuki is a good fighter, but he’s been taken by surprise, sucker punched and caught off guard. Sly scrambles back up, joins the messy fray, kicks Trips feet out from under him and is about to stomp right on his arrogant blonde head when something grabs him, pins him in place.

It’s another guard, just one this time.

Sly very quickly realises it is not there to hurt him, it is there to keep him still, to make him watch.

Sly is fury incarnate, he is rage, he is hate. He thrashes and screams and claws with his nails and bites and kicks and writhes and he gets nowhere.

Trip is calm and controlled, allows Mizuki to get up almost politely then waits until he lunges and dodges it neatly, feints a punch to the right then goes to the left.

There’s a crack of bone, Sly thinks Mizuki’s nose is broken and blood starts streaming down his face and into his opened mouth. Mizuki has not fought in a while, he hasn’t needed to, Dry Juice are all but ended and he hasn’t had a Rib scrap in longer than either of them can remember, he is rusty, less strong than he used to be. Time has softened him and while Sly normally likes that, now he regrets it, being with him has make Mizuki weaker, has lowered his endurance and made him less quick. They’ve spent too long on the couch watching TV and not enough time working on themselves, Sly knows too he is not the person he used to be, the one who could outrun anyone, who could scramble up onto a roof to escape.

Love has made them weaker, and now Sly regrets it.

He winces with every punch Trip lands and hopes with every swing Mizuki takes. For every hit he lands, Trip seems to land five more, quick, sharp jabs and punches that smash into him.

Sly’s fighting and twisting and screaming-

“Mizuki!” and, “fuck you,” and “don’t you fucking touch him!”

Trip pays him no heed and the power difference between he and Mizuki becomes more obvious, Mizuki is tiring, out of breath and bleeding and bruised, panting. Trip stares at him with a blank, bored expression, kicks him so he goes down and walks over to him calmly as he coughs and splutters and sprays blood across the elegant floors. He wrenches him up by his hair and Sly is fighting and fighting and getting nowhere and this is it, the final blow.

He can’t do anything but scream, but watch as Trip twists his fingers into his hair and looks down at him. He can’t reach for his gun, or a knife or anything.

He wonders, faintly, why Mizuki hasn’t reached for a weapon.

Maybe he knows that would spell certain death for them, maybe he worries he will miss and they will both be wiped out. Maybe he is thinking of what will happen to them if they do kill one of them.

“Leave him alone,” Sly begs, “It’s me you want! You’ve always wanted me! You don’t need him!”

Mizuki meets his eye, his nose is still trickling blood and one of his eyes is swollen and red, he looks exhausted, he looks done but there is a spark in his eyes that gives Sly hope, he hasn’t given up yet, so Sly shouldn’t either.

“Let go of him,” Sly says, and, to his surprise, Trip does and Mizuki goes down hard onto the floor, catching himself too late and fighting to get back up, off his knees. Trip decides very quickly he won’t allow that, kicks him in the side and sends him sprawling again. Sly, who had very briefly stopped resisting, starts again, kicking so hard with his legs that they leave the ground, the guard holding him in place around his chest, pinning his arms down.

“That’s enough,” a cool, quiet voice behind them and everything stops, Virus has arrived and looks neutrally over the scuffle they are in, raises his eyebrows as if in disapproval and then smiles when Trip steps away from Mizuki and lopes over, brushing his waistcoat down. “Congratulations, on managing to get this far. I’m impressed, truly.”

“Fuck you,” Sly spits, feels the same fear he always does but this time it is tinged with rage, with cold burning fury. These men are the architects of evil, they blindly follow their leader and don’t care who they hurt doing it.

They’re barely even human.

“You may go,” Trip waves his hand vaguely and the guard holding Sly puts him down immediately, nodding politely and closing the door behind itself. Sly hears the latch click into place but not the sound of a lock, feels wary and unsure. Sly takes a step towards Mizuki but Virus makes a little noise, a warning sort of order to stop.

“I can bring the guard back at any time. Please, stay where you are.”

Sly wants to tell him to go fuck himself, but he resists

Sort of.

“Fuck you.”

Trip snorts, faintly amused even as Virus’ smile thins dangerously.

Clear is a very willing helper. When Noiz asks if he can go to other floors and leave something there for later, he nods enthusiastically and doesn’t ask what the suspicious bundles in Noiz’ backpack actually are. Probably for the best, Noiz thinks, Clear seems willing to help a friend of his master, he might be less willing if he knew they were planning.

“Such animosity,” Virus smiles eerily across the room at them, Sly glances briefly to Mizuki who is still sprawled across the floor, winded but catching his breath and watching everything keenly. Sly wishes he knew were Noiz was, Sly hopes he’s continuing with the plan as intended, he hopes he’s safe, wherever he is. “As if we are not brothers.”

Sly grimaces, they might be his biggest fans but they are not his brothers so he says at much, “You’re not my brothers, my brother’s dead.”

”Yes, such a shame, but then he was the first, such kinks need to be worked out for the successors. He’s older than you, did you know that?” Sly’s expression must falter faintly because Trip’s grin widens as he watches. “By mere minutes, but of course, Virus and I are far older. We were the true first, the experiment, though we were nowhere near as successful as you and your twin.”

”What are you talking about?”

“We are cut from the same cloth, you and us,” Virus gestures between the three of them, he ignores Mizuki completely, as if he’s not even there, as if he isn’t struggling upright with what's likely a few broken ribs. “Born of the same maker, flesh and blood.”

“Tae has kept many secrets from you. A shame, what she became, she was magnificent once, a true craftsman. And now?” his lip curls distastefully, “A dishevelled old woman, ashamed of her past, of the work she did.”

”You don’t get to speak about my Granny.”

Virus smiles, he can tell he's hit a nerve and he's enjoying it. ”No? Why is that?”

”You don’t know anything about her,” he can feel himself scowling, Virus’ eyes narrow, he is displeased.

“This really ought to be a civil discussion, brother. It’s unfortunate, but you leave us no options,” there’s a sudden flash of black when he snaps his fingers and Sly feels his blood grow cold as iridescent, inky coils slither through a hole in the wall and towards him. “You’ve met Hersia before.”

Sly takes a step back instinctively, bumps against Mizuki’s chest and feels very brief comfort when his hands land on him, warm through his shirt.

It doesn’t last.

Hersia is on him, her forked tongue flicking the shell of his ear as she wraps herself around him, her scaly head across one shoulder and her coils tightening around him.

“That’s better,” Virus smiles, he looks almost fond of the aberration currently holding Sly still, a silent but very tangible threat. “So, as I was saying, your grandmother was one of the best, a real pioneer in genetic engineering. But she got cold feet and she left her work and her pride and us, her first creations, the only real children she ever had, the children she made.”

Sly knows he should be patient but he’s not, Virus just keeps spouting nonsense and he feels like they’re being distracted, like this is a ploy to catch them unawares. “You’re not making sense, what do you mean she made you?”

Virus sighs, “always so impatient.” Hersia creaks closer, Sly feels her coils tight around his chest, feels his heart pounding, “all in good time. I suppose I should start from the beginning, I’m sure you remember the orphanage?”

Sly doesn’t bother to answer, the question is rhetorical and Virus will continue to talk regardless of anything he might say, “she found you there, I believe that’s the story she gave you but it’s not the truth. Tae and the truth haven’t been friends for a good many years, more than I care to count. Regardless, your parents did not find you there by chance, they did not choose you without influence. Imagine her surprise, when they bring you home and she recognises your face, one she has seen before, one designed and sculpted by her and her team.”

“Of course, she keeps that quiet, not even her daughter knew who she was before she adopted her. People keep things hidden, have many faces. Suffice to say you do not know your Granny as well as you think you do.”

“Would you get on with it?” Hersia hisses angrily, twisting around his neck, the feel of her unnaturally chilled scales sends a shiver down Sly’s spine but he ignores it and stands there, helpless.

Virus is annoyed now, his face has barely changed but his eyes are steely and cold, he is irritated that his big speech is being interrupted, that his villain exposition isn’t being received well.

“Fine, I’ll give you a summary. Tae is a scientist who worked with Toue. He was trying to genetically engineer a perfect human, lab grown, lab created, a being who he could control, influence, who could be shaped in whatever image he chose. Trip and I were the first but we were never quite right, too plastic, too surreal, we could never blend in with other people. We were, I suppose, a failure, though one that has been useful to him. You see, me and Trip don’t feel the way you do, we don’t possess enough emotion, we were, in many ways, empty vessels for him to command as he wishes. We have found our use, we were assigned it.” He sounds almost proud, not fully human, created and shaped into the monstrous people they are now. He’s always thought there was something off about them, that uncanny valley feeling when you see something almost human but not human enough at the same time.

Plastic skin stretched over metallic skulls, eyes that don’t blink as often as they should, an unnatural coldness to their skin.

Mizuki shifts next to him, Sly flashes him a glance and he looks as confused as Sly feels, “you and your twin were the next, designed and grown and nurtured until you were ready to be birthed, until we cut the cord, theoretically.”

”You’re saying I was made in a lab?” It’s definitely the most ridiculous thing he’s ever said, he’s stuck between blatant denial and reluctant belief, he supposes it could be true but it seems so far-fetched, like something out of a movie.

Virus inclines his head, he seems pleased Sly is listening. It feels patronising but Sly is in no position to object. “Your Granny was fundamental in your creation. You and your brother were made flesh, but there was a problem. You were made too closely in the others image, you were bonded together in a way we didn’t expect. So, of course, we cut the cord,” Trip mimics scissors with his fingers behind him, mouthing the snipping noises silently like some sort of demented mime. “And that was where the trouble started.”

”What cord? Why did I have a cord if I was born in a lab?”

“Your hair. Unnaturally sensitive, pale towards the ends like it’s dying the longer it gets. I’m sure you noticed his was too? Paler where it ended. You were born connected by it, joined together akin to Siamese twins. We cut the cord, but it was cut in your favour.”

Sly thinks he is starting to work something out, he’s not even sure he believes Virus, but if he does give him the benefit of the doubt things in his life are starting to make sense. His hair is sensitive, he’d scream if his parents tried to cut it as a child, hated it being touched. He’s noticed with his own eyes the way the colour fades as it moves further from his scalp, the last few inches, almost colourless altogether.

“Your Granny did the cutting, she was your mother, of sorts, your creator. She was proud of her work until she cut it. Your brother became sickly, you thrived and he did not. She watched you both grow and she felt guilt that she had impacted on his life. She, left the program, took you with her.”

“Stole you,” Trip cuts in and for the first time he looks something other than apathetic, he looks angry.

“She deposited you in that orphanage before you were old enough to remember her. Then came her daughter and her partner, then back you were, in her home, a surprise adoption to continue the family tradition. You horrified her at first, this creature she had made living in her home, an aberration against the natural order. But, of course, as normal humans do, she came to care for you.”

“You had my brother.” It makes him feel unwell, Sei starting his life locked up in the tower like a video game princess who needed rescuing, weak and unwell and there for Virus and Trip to do what they liked with. Sei never mentioned anything like that, Sly can only hope he was too young to remember any of it, he was only small when Granny brought him home, he hopes against all else that Sei never knew anything but the love of his family.

”We did, but he was of no use to us. He had a gift, when he was born, you both did. You had the music, and he the lights. It faded though, without practice, without the honing of a skill you were blessed with, it died away. That is the biggest failure, the biggest disappointment, that you did not keep your gift. You had it, for a while. When you Scrapped. You could speak to people, convince them, couldn’t you? And he just needed to look and you would do his bidding for him, would do anything he wanted.”

Sly just stares at him, remembering. He hasn’t Scrapped for a long time, but he remembers, asking people and them always saying yes. He doubted anyone wanted to Scrap him, he destroyed everyone he played against, he was infamous for it and people typically avoided him in search of a fight they might win instead.

He thinks he’s telling the truth.

“We trained him, for a while, but he was feeble, weak and pathetic and the effort exhausted him so Toue lost interest,” Sly feels his hackles rising but Hersia keeps him in check with every coil of her body around his.

“We still had you, after all, our living breathing experiment, we could watch you easily as you grew, I believe they call it field experimentation.”

“So what did you do with him?”

”Dumped in the hospital, we thought he wouldn’t live much longer, he was sickly, his heart was weak, all of him was weak. He was of no use to us so, off he went.”

“Granny found him there.”

”Of course. She recognised his face. She was brazen about it, we warned her it was no use, he was fated to die and the sooner the better.” Sly feels himself flare again but Hersia is an ever present threat so he exhales angrily and keeps his mouth shut. “She said she had to atone for her sins. So, we let her go, taking him with her. If we’d known how long he would live, perhaps we would have kept him. We could have found some use for him.”

”Like you found use for me?” Trip smiles, slow and growing and creepy, there’s a sudden keen spark in his eyes, “Someone who you could make do whatever you wanted? Someone you could take advantage of?”

”You came to us.”

”I was desperate.” He feels set ablaze with anger, they still believe they helped him, that they did him a favour when he was struggling, they see their actions as charity. When Scratch had hurt him it had been different, that had been an instant assault, an attack on his human dignity.

Virus and Trip had tricked him with false kindness he was not used to, could not yet see through, they had lured him in, made him start to trust and then they had coldly and calculatingly destroyed that over and over and over.

He feels sick.

”If that’s how you reason with it. But you were drawn to us nonetheless.”

”I was a teenager, a kid. I didn’t know what I was doing. You said you’d help me.”

”And we did, money in your pocket, free admission to any club or bar you’d like to go to, an offer of a place to live.”

“I’d rather fucking die than live with you.”

”So you said at the time,” Virus’ voice is cold, steely, Hersia doesn’t move but Sly feels her threat ever present, can see her sharp fangs glinting in his peripherals. He’s met Hersia before, years earlier when he was stupider and more naive than he is now, he’d been lured in with promises of money and food and of warm, new clothes. They’d tempted him in with gifts and trinkets. They’d groomed him. And then, when it had worked, they had used him.

He prefers not to think about it.

“You were a terrible loss, you could have done amazing things, with your voice and Toue’s talents, with our tutelage. You could have been powerful, loved and feared. But you chose a life of petty theft and street fights and drugs.”

“I wouldn’t say I chose it.”

Virus completely ignores him, “you’ve been a disappointment lately. Therapy? Mental health medication? Erectile dysfunction? Boring problems, mundane, normal. Toue did not create you to be normal.”

”Then what did he create me for?”

”To rule with an iron fist, to control and subdue and strive for greatness. To rule.”

”What, the Island?”

”To start.”

Mizuki huffs faintly, he sounds wryly amused, “so that’s it, world domination? Bit cliche, don’t you think?”

Trip looks angry, Virus warning, Sly grabs his wrist and gives him a look he hopes he understands. These are not people you mess with or mock, Mizuki flexes his wrist under his hand but backs down, nods faintly at him. Sly is to do the talking. Mizuki is just baggage at this point, somebody Sly wishes had never come with him, someone he wishes more than anything was safe at home.

Sly isn’t afraid to die, but he is afraid of taking Mizuki with him.

Sly thinks of Verter, shivers. Wonders if there is a hole hidden somewhere in the walls that he will come through, thinks of him pinning Mizuki down with sharp claws and sharper teeth and that mane of wild, tangled hair. He feels sick. He’s been told so much he can’t take it all in.

Him, his brother, his Granny. All of it manufactured and planned and invented.

His brother dying because Granny accidentally cut the hair in Sly’s favour.

Virus and Trip watching, making notes, observing like he was some sort of test subject, some animal trapped in a cage.

He realises something else, the answer to one of the biggest unanswered questions he's carried since childhood. “That’s why the island was closed. So we couldn’t escape.”

“Clever,” Virus smiles, seeming genuinely pleased, “we couldn’t risk you going and we made your Granny know if your parents took you that it would tally against her. Your parents talked about it, at first, the three of you going, but Tae knew about your brother by then, she’d seen him in the hospital. She knew she couldn’t raise him by herself, he needed you, his other half. She didn’t talk them out of it, exactly, but they decided not to take you. That decision saved your Granny a lot of trouble.”

“You would have killed her?”

”Is that what you think of us? Uncivilized thugs?” Virus scoffs, politely adjusts his cuff-links and smiles, amused, “No, we wouldn’t kill her, we’d just bring her back into the flock, make use of her knowledge and her skills, she’s wasted as a doctor. She was making great progress with the music and the lights, though we wouldn’t have needed either if she hadn’t mutilated you both at birth, if she’d not gone against us and taken you away. Why use music and lights when there’s a pair of people perfectly capable of doing that by themselves?”

“I’m sorry to have disappointed you.”

”On the contrary, you haven’t. Your true purpose has been lost but we’ve learnt so much from you. We only regret that we didn’t get to spend more time with your brother,” this time it is Mizuki who grabs Sly to stop him, “he would have been fascinating to study, or to dissect.”

“Fuck you,” Sly snarls, steps forward out of Mizuki’s grip, stops when Hersia tightens around his neck, forcing his head up, his head swims for a moment of disconcerting airlessness before she loosens and he stumbles back again. One step forward, several more back.

“The real question is, why do you want to stop us? This is what you were made for, don’t you want to be in control? To be worshiped like a God?”

Sly genuinely thinks about this, about opening his mouth to speak and of people listening, of them clamouring over each other desperate to hear him, to do whatever he bids.

It feels disgusting, unnatural.

“No. I don’t want that.”

“What do you want?”

Sly thinks about it even though the answer is obvious, glances to his left even though he doesn’t mean to and feels his face harden when Virus laughs, “oh, please, love has made you weak. You two were never meant to even meet. We allowed your dalliance at first, expecting it to end poorly. We realised you were no use to us when you tried to kill yourself, we didn’t make you to take the easy way out, we made you to lead and you couldn’t even convince Mizuki to keep you around. You are Toue’s greatest disappointment. Your brother we excuse, his weakness was our fault, but you? You got weaker with every day away from us, from our influence. If you weren’t so insistent on doing the right thing and stopping us we would have left you alone.”

“Until you had the Island under control, then what? You take me back? Into the fold, just like old times.”

“I suppose so. Koujaku too, we’ve watched him but he had no idea. Such stupidity, such a temper,” Mizuki makes a noise at his side. Noiz has not told him what he has told Sly and he is confused. “He was failed too. It’s a shame, he was magnificent, a true monster. The things he could have done if only we could have controlled him, but he was too wild, too violent. He would cause a scene and that’s not what we want.”

Sly is getting annoyed, they keep talking and talking but nothing is happening, nothing is progressing, “can’t you just find another island to control? You’ve got everyone this side of the wall sorted, why not just make an army and go somewhere else?”

“You think Toue would change his entire plan just to meet your whims? No, this island has been his goal since he came here, since Platinum Jail was built. He has his own reasons I’m sure, you should ask him yourself.”

There’s a noise behind them and Sly whips around as fast as he can, the double doors at the other end of the room have opened and there is a formal sitting room of sorts behind them, it would almost be a library if all the shelves weren’t empty.

Toue stands there, smiling politely, leaning on a golden tipped cane, “thank you, please call off your Allmate, Virus, we aren’t here to threaten or bully, now are we? We’re just here to talk.”

Sly is surprised, shudders as Hersia hisses angrily but obeys and slinks back over to Virus who rubs her repulsive head almost proudly, “Sly, Mizuki, so lovely to meet you both, but I’m afraid I need some time with the former, if you’d be so kind?”

Sly looks at him, this is the man he is to kill, the head of the evil mind-control plot but here he is, polite and smiling and cordial. He has no idea what the fuck is going on, turns to look at Mizuki who is just as wary, just as confused as he is, who flashes a quick look behind him to see Virus and Trip approaching and the doorway behind them unlocked, unguarded.

Virus and Trip are with Toue but they are silent, awaiting instruction and Hersia has disappeared altogether. Sly is sure she will return later, she is the smoking gun after all.

This is their only chance, Sly reaches for Mizuki’s hand, feels the returning squeeze, watches Toue’s smile widen a fraction as if he knows what he is about to do. Toue doesn’t need or want Mizuki, he is excess baggage to him, he opens his mouth, Toue’s eyes gleam-

“Run!”

Thankfully he doesn’t wait to check, he bolts for the door, Sly’s hand feels suddenly cold without his in it, his chest aches with hope he sends along with Mizuki as his footsteps echo then die out as he makes it through the door and hopefully away.

He has to get away, Sly can’t stand the alternative.

Virus and Trip start to chase him but stall as Toue lifts an elegant hand, “give him a chance, doesn’t he deserve that after making it all this way?”

“Nice of you,” Sly offers sarcastically, feel no less strong even without Mizuki beside him. He came here for a purpose and now he knows what he was made for, how he was made, he is determined to carry it out.

He is determined to see this to whatever end.

Toue doesn’t react to his rudeness, pulls out a pocket watch and the four of them stand silently as he watches the seconds tick down to his content. He’s giving him a head start but even with that Sly knows he will be recaptured soon enough.

“After him,” Toue smiles, “but please, I would like him alive,” Trip frowns, Virus inclines his head, “and no using those beastly Allmates.”

Sly watches them go, wonders where Hersia and Verter are hiding now, wonders if Virus and Trip will disobey orders and use them anyway, he hopes not, Sly stood no chance against them and Mizuki won’t either, even sober and stronger. They’ll tear him apart if they get the chance. He just hopes they don’t.

Toue smiles again, sweeps one hand towards the next room and Sly listens to the tap of his cane change from wood to carpet, feels his heart pounding in his chest, listens to the blood whooshing in his ears. He follows Toue and the doors swing closed behind themselves without any interference. “You did well, getting this far.”

“Am I supposed to thank you?”

”No, I wouldn’t expect that,” Toue circles him lazily, looking him up and down with genuine interest. “You have changed a lot since I last saw you. Though I did think you would come alone.”

“You already know Mizuki is with me.”

”I’m not talking about Mizuki,” Sly’s nostrils flare, Toue smiles very faintly and comes to a graceful stop in front of him. “Noiz is downstairs, I believe his associate was planting some explosives when my people located him,” Sly opens his mouth, “don’t worry, he’s quite safe. He is stupid even with all his intelligence, we could use somebody like him, and we could use you too, if you would be interested?”

“No, thanks.”

“A pity,” he seems genuinely sorrowful for a moment, “oh well, I suppose I should return you to Virus and Trip to do with what they will. My creations they may be, but I find them cold and unfeeling, you would have been a breath of fresh air, a mind possibly even to rival my own.”

“Why keep them if you dislike them so much?”

”They have their uses, as do all people in some manner or another,” his speech is eloquent, he elucidates his points with graceful movements of his hands, his tone is polite and his accent formal without seeming pretentious. Sly thinks people would listen to him even without mind control but doesn’t bother to say so, shifts on his feet and wonders where Mizuki is and with who.

“What if we cut a deal?”

”A deal?” Toue smiles, adjusts his monocle, “I’m listening.”

”You let me, and whoever I want to take leave the island, we never speak a word of what’s going to happen here, we just disappear somewhere else. You never hear from us again.”

Toue hums, he looks disappointed, “that is a shame, I rather liked the whole scheme. Breaking in, killing me, toppling the tower and freeing the island from the control it’s under, opening the borders and living free. Now you come to me and say you would sacrifice the island to save your own skin.”

”Not my own, other peoples. What if I stayed?”

Toue laughs, “don’t be ridiculous, you have no intention of staying. You detest Virus and Trip and I suppose you detest me too. Besides, Mizuki wouldn’t allow it, nor would Noiz, such loyal friends would not be so quick to abandon you.”

Sly considers this, confused, “you,” he hesitates, “you seem so normal. I don’t get why you want control, you’ve got Platinum Jail, you’re rich beyond belief, why do you want to do this?”

Toue inclines his head, gestures vaguely to a plush upholstered sofa and stands patiently as Sly debates if he’d rather stand for their conversation. Toue sits primly, neatly crossing his hands in his lap while Sly awkwardly lowers himself down as far away from him as he can.

“Like most people I always find myself craving a little more, being wealthy is a wonderful thing, I will not lie about that, but I always desire something else, I am never truly content with what I have nurtured here. The tower was the start but once it was built I once again felt ill at ease, I wanted something big, something more. I’m sure you’ve felt that way before?”

“I guess.”

“Please, don’t think of me as evil, I have no intentions to control the world and turn it into some sort of dictatorship, I rather think my inventions could help people, if only we could fine tune them, test them on more people. Virus and Trip though talented have had rather too much input thus far, bar brawls and crass orgies are not part of my grand plan. I suppose if the island succeeds I shall have to replace them, to dispose of them in some way, after they have served their purpose.”

“You don’t like them very much.”

”Nor do you. They are cruel, cold and calculating and get far too much pleasure from the pain of others. We taught them using the internet, I suppose that was a mistake, they learned too many bad things. We did much better with you, with real world learning. You learned compassion and kindness, sympathy and empathy. Eventually,” Sly’s mouth quirks up into a smile without him meaning it to. “They learned that the world is a cruel place so to survive they needed to be crueler. Their end will come sooner than they believe, they think themselves invincible, untouchable when the opposite is true.”

“You know I’m here to kill you, right?”

”I believe it,” Toue smiles crookedly, “what was going to be your method? The guns you obtained from Scratch? Something you found here? Perhaps your hands around my throat.”

“No,” Sly says, shakes his head, “nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

Sly opens his mouth to respond when the door bursts open.

They’ve found Mizuki.

Chapter Text

Noiz starts to get antsy when an hour has passed and Clear hasn’t returned, finishes setting up what he needs to and flicks his tablet over to the live CCTV, swipes through room after room, offices, the cafeteria, the grand atrium on the ground floor. The cameras on floor fifteen all seem to be faulty, flickering and jerking with a thick haze of static over them, he swipes between them annoyed until he finds what he’s looking for.

Mizuki, lying prone on the ground, Sly in action, a whirl of blue hair that cuts out almost the moment Noiz works out where they are. He swears, irritated at having lost the feed, decides to abandon Clear, time is of the essence so he grabs his various bits of tech and shoves them into his bag before shouldering it and wriggling once more into the duct system. Heading down, heading for the absolute motherlode that he placed there weeks before.

He only hopes it works.

He only hopes he can time it right.

A lot happens at once when the guards walk into the room and unceremoniously dump Mizuki onto plush carpet, Sly stands abruptly, the guards aim guns at him and Toue calmly stands, brushing imaginary dust off his trousers.

“What have you done to hi-”

”Stop,” Toue’s voice rings out, calm and clear and polite.

Sly stops, he can feel his breath rushing in and out, his heart pounding a staccato beat but he cannot move and he cannot speak.

He stands there frozen, alight with terror, he can move his eyes, he can breathe and he can certainly sweat but even with all his effort he can’t move an inch towards Mizuki who lies unmoving and bleeding.

“Did you think you and your brother were the only ones with powers?” Sly tries to watch him but he keeps moving out of his vision and the sound of his pleasant voice fills him with terror. A few minutes ago he had thought him misled but not evil, not somebody he would kill unless he had the choice, now he is rethinking things at a rapid pace. “I would not leave myself so unarmed. I know there is a knife in your jeans, and ones at your ankle and chest. I am not so foolish to be alone in a room with an assassin, even if he does seem reluctant.”

Across the room Mizuki stirs with a groan, Sly stares over at him even though he has to force his eyeballs up unnaturally to do so, he watches him move and breathe and struggle. Mizuki is still fighting.

Sly has to fight too.

“I have the ability you would have, had you known to practice. Once upon a time you could have done this exact thing to me and subdued me, subdued anybody you wanted to. But you were too far away and too different to what I’d wanted when I commissioned you. You lost your ability, and now I’m afraid you are going to Virus and Trip for them to do whatever they wish with you.” Toue is in front of him now, blocking his view of Mizuki and hard as he tries he still cannot move. “A shame, I rather liked talking to you, you’re very interesting as a person. As for Mizuki, I suppose he will get whatever fate he is destined to. I’ve watched the two of you for a while, you make an interesting couple, but, unfortunately all good things must come to an end.”

Toue straightens back up, snaps his fingers and suddenly Sly can move, jerks towards him alight with rage but is stopped by some invisible barrier, “now, now, play nice.” Sly scowls, “unfortunately I have to be elsewhere, it was lovely to meet both of you, but I’m afraid this will be our last encounter.”

Sly hadn’t wanted to kill him a moment ago, but watching him leave like he’s on a gentle stroll through the park infuriates him, he might think he’s not the bad guy, with his ideas of doing good, but nobody truly good ever could overlook such cruelty. Sly wants to throw a knife but when he reaches for his jeans his hand stops and will go no further despite his desperate mental pleas for his body to break free. The doors close behind him, a lock clicks into place.

This is it, Sly thinks. This is where they will die. Or where Mizuki will anyway, he knows better of Virus and trip than to think they will quickly despatch him, they’ve wanted for years and once they have him, they will keep him.

Mizuki groans from across the room, Sly turns to see him weakly propping himself up on bent knees, his arms shaking with the exertion of holding himself up. Toue can wait, Sly is across the room in an instant, hitting the floor so hard he jars both knees. He catches Mizuki, before he falls.

“You’re okay,” Mizuki sounds relieved, his breathing is laboured, his shirt is soaked with sweat and now Sly is closer he can see that his arm is broken, the bone sticking out white and scarlet red, he looks bruised and his nose is covered in crusted blood but otherwise he seems unhurt. Sly feels no relief.

“They’re going to kill you, Mizuki, you have to run.” His hands map over his body anxiously, he grunts when he moves across his chest, his rib is either broken or badly bruised but he continues to straighten up, to fight.

Mizuki shakes his head, finds Sly’s searching hands and holds them, “no. I can’t run. I have to protect you.”
”No you don’t,” Sly is beginning to feel panic, a choking sense of dread is building in his chest and he can’t breathe, his eyes are swimming and the sound of Mizuki moaning in pain as he manages to sit up sends a dart of terror through him. “They don’t want you.”

“Doesn’t matter now. We’ve lost Toue, Virus and Trip will be back. I’m staying with you.”

“But you’ll die,” Sly feels frantic, he feels like he’s about to tear apart, like the sheer mental effort of all this is going to make him implode, like a star does when it dies. “They’ll kill you and they’ll make me watch.”

He feels hysterical and Mizuki is so calm, so serene at their horrible fate, he struggles further up, holds his hurt arm to his chest and presses their joined hands against Sly’s frantically fluttering heart.

“Then you’ll be the last thing I see. Doesn’t sound too bad.”

Sly looks at him, opens his mouth to speak and just inhales a breath that shakes and cracks and is broken by the exhale, tears trickle down his face and his throat feels like it’s closing over and his head is pounding.

“I want to be the last thing you see when we’re old. When we’re all wrinkly, and we have to wear diapers and we stink of old people. Not now, it’s too soon, it’s not fair.”

“No,” Mizuki says, wipes softly at his eyes even though it must hurt, even though his arm continues to bleed sluggishly, “it isn’t, but if that’s how it ends, at least we’ll be together.”

“I don’t want you to die. I won’t let you. I won’t.”

Mizuki doesn’t say anything, he just pulls Sly closer, presses his nose into his neck and exhales, Sly feels it flutter all the way down to the base of his spine, “it’s okay, Sly. It’s okay. I love you, nothing is going to change that, okay? I’m going to love you until the day that you die, and I’d rather that be a long way off, but if it’s not, I’m grateful that I got to be with you at all.”

Sly flops into him, feels something with his words, something familiar but distant, like something he once knew but has long forgotten.

“It’ll be my fault. If you die. I’ll blame myself.”

“It won’t be. I’d go anywhere for you, I agreed to come here. All I want is to keep you safe, but, I might have failed this time.”

Sly draws back, sniffs up an alarming amount of snot and scrubs his hand across his sticky face, “no, no, you haven’t failed.”

”Then it’s not your fault,” Mizuki smiles and despite everything, their impending doom and the sound of footsteps approaching and the door swinging open and- “I love you.”

The perfect moment.

It comes and then goes just as fast, unused.

There’s no time to say it now, Virus and Trip have returned.

Verter is with them and before Sly can so much as move to try and shield Mizuki, Trip has snapped his fingers, his face pleased and vengeful and somehow still so emotionless, so unnatural-

“Eat.”

He’s running, then he’s jumping, Mizuki tells Sly not to look, not to watch- Please Sly don’t-

Sly opens his mouth, screams “NO!”

There’s the sound of impact, a heavy thud and Sly has squeezed his eyes shut, waits for the noise of bones snapping, of flesh becoming meat.

Of Mizuki screaming.

He waits for it all to end.

But there is silence.

Long and spreading and Sly opens his eyes, sees Trip’s jaw set hard and angry, Virus furious and motionless, stood staring at them where they sprawl on the floor, seemingly unhurt.

“Sly,” Mizuki sounds stunned, puts his hands on him and snaps him out of it. He laughs, “you did it, you used your power. You used the music.”

“What?” Sly feels so lost he might as well be in the middle of the ocean, miles from land. “I did?”
”Look, he’s stopped. He can’t move.”

Sly turns, he’s wary of Virus and Trip but they’ve remained still and he wonders absently if he’s somehow frozen both of them and Verter, who lies on the ground growling with his hackles raised but completely, freakishly still.

“We can do this, Sly,” Mizuki is in action, tugging him up and himself with it though it clearly hurts, clearly takes him a lot of effort and he sways faintly on his feet, using Sly as a crutch. “We can do this- You go find Toue, I’ll hold these two off.”

”It might wear off, I don’t- I don’t know how it works.”

”I’ll be fine, I’ve got a gun,” Sly stares at him, confused and frankly terrified of himself, of the fact that Toue was right about everything, he has fucking magical mind powers that can make people do their bidding but he has no idea how to do it or how to stop it.

He feels suddenly, like he doesn’t know anything at all.

Until Mizuki kisses him, hard and desperate and quick.

He knows one thing.

He knows Mizuki loves him.

So, he turns his back on him and he flees.

Noiz thinks he and Clear should have arranged some sort of plan of where to meet if they got split up, he thinks maybe Clear has been captured, is being interrogated as to his location.

Not that he knows Noiz’s current location but still, the idea of him being tortured doesn’t sit right even if he is an android, Noiz doesn’t even know if he can feel pain. He’s sure Virus and Trip will have ways to make him talk though.

Everything is as he left it, a few minutes of quick furtive work and it’s all ready to go, all he needs to do is push the button at the right moment.

He hopes, again, that he gets the right moment.

He checks the cameras on floor fifteen again but they still aren’t working, finding the right moment is going to be very difficult without them, but he’s still got that chip in one of Sly’s trainers. That should be tracking his movements and some of his vitals provided Sly hasn’t utterly fucked up the shoes in question. Which, knowing Sly, is a distinct possibility.

He pulls his coil out to check and promptly shits himself when there’s a clang and a body crashes out of one of the adjoining ducts and into one of the pillars, Noiz feels a spark of alarm when he sees the white hair but then a yellow scarf follows and he asks, stupid-

“Clear?”

“Noiz-san! I found you!” He steps forward, clumsy after his fall, Noiz reaches up to prevent the inevitable but he is too late, Clear’s heavy booted foot slides out across the smooth metal of the duct and straight into the box that activates the explosives. Noiz stares at it uncomprehendingly as it starts to count backwards from ten. “What’s that?”

“A series of massive bombs programmed to take down the entire tower.”

”Oh,” Clear says, squats down to look at it, “the numbers are getting smaller. What does that mean?”

”It means we need to run,” Noiz says calmly, then, as Clears blundering incompetence hits home. “Run!”

As it turns out, it doesn’t last quite long enough. He thinks again of needing practice and training, he wonders if he could make people obey for as long as he wanted, once. Not now though, because by the time he’s found and subdued Toue who seems freakishly thrilled that he’s gained his ability again, Mizuki is back in trouble and Sly is stuck in limbo once more.

He wrestles the old man out of the next room with more difficulty than he expected, despite his attempts to use the power on him it doesn’t work and they end up scuffling for control in a fight that wasn’t exactly professional to begin with.

But he gets him where he wants him, his arm locked around his neck and with Toue still fighting, still offering bizarre compliments about how proud of him he is, he manages to shove him through the doorway to the room Mizuki is still in.

“You could have been amazing, you could still be amazing, just think of what we could do together. You and your friends, I could offer protection, we could rule together, first the Island then the world.”

”Shut up,” he’s making Sly feel more and more unnerved the more he rambles on, he might not be evil, but he’s definitely insane. When he does shut up Sly is surprised, thinks he’s somehow used his powers right this time, but when he looks up he sees why he has gone so quiet, it is because he thinks he is saved.

Virus is holding a long, curved knife against Mizuki’s throat. He’s already drawn blood, a thin trickle runs down his neck and onto his shirt. Sly freezes. He has Toue exactly where he wants him but he will not act with the knife there, so close to ending a life he holds dear.

“Mizuki,” His voice shakes. He doesn’t know what to do, Trip fists a hand into Mizuki’s hair and yanks his head back, the knife cuts deeper, there is more blood now, reddening his neck and the pale hands of Virus. He is asking a question he already knows the answer to.

He is afraid of the answer.

“It’s okay,” Mizuki says, swallows and Sly watches as fresh blood wells with the movement. “It’s okay. Do it.”

“Mizuki.”

Virus and Trip look very pleased with themselves. Sly wonders if this was their plan all along, use Toue up to a point then get him killed so they can enact his plan with the levels of violence they enjoy. Sly thinks he might have been a pawn all this time, working with Virus and Trip even as he tried to destroy them.

“It’s okay, Sly. I love you.”

Sly knows what he means, what he is saying, but he still can’t do it, not if it means Mizuki will die, not if it means he doesn’t get to be with him. He can’t live without him. Their plan is a failure and they’re all going to die and Toue will go on to enslave the entire world, Virus and Trip will succeed and life will become unbearable for all under their thumb. Killing Toue changes nothing, Sly suddenly realises, he is a problem, yes, but neither the biggest or the worst.

“I can’t-, I-”

The whole building rocks, there’s a noise so loud Sly thinks it blows out his eardrums, everything is noise and trickling of plaster and chaos. Mizuki wrenches the knife away and punches Virus so he falls but Sly doesn’t see it, he’s looking at grey hair under his hands, the neck he’s got his bicep twisted around so tight his face is turning purple.

They’re both on the floor now but Sly has him pinned, has somehow managed to cling onto him despite the shaking and the rapidly increasing destruction of everything around them.

Things come back slowly, Toue trying to claw his way free and Mizuki, bleeding and upright and shellshocked, fighting Trip in a way so sloppy and uncoordinated that Sly knows what has happened.

Noiz has done it, Toue was lying when he said they’d found him. He’s blown the charges and the tower is going to come down with all of them in it.

Sound returns, an alarm blaring and red lights flashing and screaming somewhere in the distance, Virus wrestles Trip free of Mizuki and yells, “leave him!”

Trip looks furious but does as he is told, straightens his waistcoat and stalks out, slamming the door behind them and leaving them alone with Toue whose legs are kicking feebly against the flooring, his dress shoes desperately trying to get purchase.

Sly doesn’t think for a good few minutes, his mind blanks out and everything is fuzzy and-

‘End it.’

A voice that is not his own, a voice he hasn't heard for a long time. 

A voice he has missed. 

His hands find Toue’s head and he wrenches it with so much force he feels something pop under his hands. He thinks his neck is broken but he’s not sure, he twisted with some force but his body twisted with it so he doesn't know if he's actually dead or not.

Turns out it's pretty hard to break someone's neck.

He’s still not thinking, when he reaches into his jeans and removes the knife tucked inside the waistband, when he holds it above his head and drives it in, through the skull, he feels the pressure of bone then the slide becomes easily and Toue lies still and blood pours out of the top of his head. His grip on the handle is strong but when he tries to yank it back out the serrated blade sticks in his skull and thick blood oozes out. He can't get it out but he has more, Toue said as much, when he was still able to speak, while he was still breathing.

He’s done it.

Toue is dead.

The tower is falling.

He stands up, confused, shaky, feels something wet on his nose and reaches up to find his head is bleeding, it’s trickling down his face and across his eye, he swipes it away, looks around for Mizuki.

Finds him.

He stands motionless, staring at him across the expanse of white room. Sly can’t read his expression as he takes a step back, as his mouth opens and he says something he can’t hear over the alarms and the growing buzzing in his head.

He shouts something back, he’s not sure what, Mizuki takes another step back, mouth open, yelling.

The the ceiling caves in and Sly doesn’t see him again after that.

The scramble out of the building is insane, the vents go between floors but they go straight down in one smooth duct from top to bottom, one wrong move and Noiz or Clear are hurtling down five floors with nothing to greet them at the bottom except a quick death. Clear goes first, he presses his feet to one wall and his back to the other and slowly shimmies down until he reaches the next level.

Considering they have under ten minutes to get out before the building starts crumbling underneath them, it takes a very long fucking time. Noiz can’t sweat, but if he could he thinks he’d be dripping with it, urgency fuels him, he slides down behind Clear, stopping at every lower floor to breathe for a second in the horizontal vent before going vertical once more.

They’re almost there, two floors down left to go when the bombs go off, the alarms start screaming and Clear, below him, loses his grip and falls the remaining two storeys down.

Noiz tries to look down, past his own legs to see him but he can’t, the vent is starting to shake and debris is tumbling down onto him, dust and small bits of plaster, he swallows and thinks of Sly and Mizuki, of Koujaku and of his brother, all people who need him home in one piece.

He pauses for a second, to see what Koujaku replied to him, laughs, and with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, he simply.

Let’s go.

The building is a maze and it seems every way Sly turns there is something blocking him, a pile of rubble, a door that is locked, a stairway that suddenly leads to nowhere. The building still crumbles and vibrates and collapses under him as he makes his way to what he hopes is the exit, to what he hopes is a life he gets to keep living.

He turns a corner and sees a tall red door, much bigger than all the others and ornate, carved and gilded with golden leaf, it stands propped open and with nowhere else to go he squeezes himself between the heavy doors and steps in.

He’s in a throne room, or perhaps a banquet hall. Some sort of grand room, the walls are panelled with dark wood and the lighting is dim and atmospheric, it’s weirdly quiet inside even with the alarm and the screaming and the flashing of the emergency system.

It doesn’t feel right, but there’s a door open on the other side of the room and he can see light through a window, it’s the way out, seemingly the only way out, so he starts walking through, his footsteps dampened by the plush carpet.

His breathing is ragged, his head has started to pound and he thinks he’s lost a fair bit of blood, absently uses his sleeve to try and clear it from his eyes.

Loses his sight, just for a second, but long enough.

There’s a flash of movement, a horrible hissing screech and the rattle of a tail and then she’s on him. Hersia, sinking her fangs into his legs and wrapping around him, tripping him, sending him sprawling to the floor, screaming to match the people outside the tower.

The fight is over before it begins and long before Verter comes skulking out from under a table with a growl that freezes his blood.

It’s over long before all the bones in his legs are crushed, before Verter tears his face and abdomen and back apart with his claws, long before Hersia whips her tail into his face and he loses his sight for so long that he can’t do much but try and curl up into a ball while it returns.

Sly is going to die. He knows that.

His body is mangled, pain sparks behind his eyes and he sways in and out of consciousness, but somehow, he still fights, his body moves without him, there’s a knife in his hand and he swipes and stabs and sometimes he connects.

They’re playing with him.

If they wanted him dead, he would have been dead ten minutes ago, the second he stepped into the room. But they’re playing with their food and it’s either going to end badly for him, or for them. He's not sure which yet.

They’re not real, Sly knows that, he is not being attacked by a real snake or a real lion, they’re Virus and Trips beastly Allmates, the animal versions of them, cruel and playful and spiteful.

He wishes, for a moment, that he'd brought Ren with him, feels brief comfort, remembering him curled up on the couch with Amaya, feels strength return with the knowledge that they are waiting for him to come home.

His knife connects, Verter roars and backs away, Hersia hisses again, threatening him and slowly, cruelly, twisting tighter and tighter around his legs.

Sly feels his knee dislocate, then slowly, agonisingly while he screams, his tibia breaks, twisted beyond possible recovery.

It doesn’t take long for his fibula to follow and his femur is creaking and screaming agony at him before he manages to connect a weak punch with her head. She dislikes this, loosens on his legs and her aggression is her own undoing. Sly knows what will happen next, she will go for his face, so he finds a knife in the growing pool of blood under him and she all but launches herself onto it. A spray of metallic sparks erupts and her robotic eyes flicker and Sly knows he's hit her where it hurts. Her programming chip is in her head, Sly knows this because Noiz told him, with her programming chip gone she is without personality, just a fresh out of the box Allmate with no spite and no owner to serve.

She seems confused with all her circuits reset, flickers her tongue against his face to lap up some of his blood, then she too is gone.

Sly is still going to die, he knows this, but at least it will be on his own terms and not under the claws and teeth of those horrible abominations.

He catches his breath, his vision swimming, his legs crushed into virtual pulp that he’s surprised doesn’t slide right out of his jeans when he starts feebly dragging himself along the floor, the carpet scraping him with every move. He stops, the pain is so intense his vision swims and blackens and he passes out.

He comes to with a voice in his ear, it’s the voice from earlier, the one he has missed but it is not gentle, it is not soft, it screams at him.

‘GET UP!’

“I can’t.” He knows he’s not actually talking to anyone, he knows he can only hear the voice because he is dying, somehow, he doesn’t mind.

The voice again, louder and clearer and bolder, ‘get up!’

Sly feels out of himself, he is floating elsewhere, watches with detachment as his hands claw into the carpet and his arms twist his body up, watches his legs, broken and shattered and crushed, find purchase on the ground and with a sickening twist he is back in himself.

He thinks he preferred the watching.

“Now what?” He’s not sure he’s addressing the voice, he might be addressing himself, he’s not entirely sure but the voice is back and this time it is gentle, soft and warm and comforting.

‘You need to run.’

Sly turns, stumbles, rights himself on the doorway out, blinks at it, confused, he doesn’t remember being that close to it, has no memory of taking steps, looks behind him, sees a trail of blood and thinks- oh.

As the chandelier falls with an almighty crash from the ceiling, sending crystal fragments everywhere like a frag grenade might.

The room is crumbling behind him when the voice speaks again.

This time it screams, long and shrill and urgent and his body listens.

Sei screams at him to run, so he does.

He keeps blacking out, every time he comes to he is somewhere else, a stairwell or an office or seemingly nowhere at all. His hearing is muffled like he is underwater, his vision is shot, he can make out shapes and colours but nothing else, he reaches some sort of utility area with a map on the wall and has to press himself up against it to make any sense of it. Two floors to ground level, then two basements.

He knows he shouldn’t be able to stand, but somehow he’s managing it, stumbling, falling, slipping down the stairs towards the way out.

He will not escape the lion and the snake just to die to a collapsing building, he is going to die outside, under a beautiful blue sky, looking up at the clouds, looking for his brother.

When Noiz comes to he is looking up at Clear’s face blocking out the sky, the mask has fallen off where the straps have snapped and there are bare wires exposed in his neck, his fingers spark and send faint shocks into Noiz where he holds his face, worried. He got hurt, when he fell.

He looks sort of beautiful, white hair silhouetted against the sky.

“Noiz-san! You’re okay!”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Noiz isn’t in pain, obviously, but something feels weird, feels off. His body feels uncomfortable, aching and sore.

Noiz has never felt sore before.

He doesn’t like it very much.

“Where are we?”

Clear doesn’t answer, he just pulls Noiz so he’s sitting up. He must have dragged Noiz out of the tower after he let go, after he fell. He’s put them a safe distance away from the disaster but with the increase in consciousness comes the noise, the screaming and the flicker of fire and the sound of concrete toppling.

Noiz stares, stunned, watching the tower crumble inwards from the top down, just as he’d intended.

“Fucking hell,” he murmurs.

”Language.”

”Sorry,” then, “what?”

Clear just blinks at him, changes the subject, “do you think your friends are okay?”

Noiz considers this, he’d lost everything when he fell, his tablet and his coil and his other things, he’s got no way to find out and when he speaks his voice is very small, is very scared, “I hope so.”

Clear doesn’t say anything, just reaches out to hold his hand and like that, they watch the tower fall.

Sly knows he is fatally hurt, his body screams at him with pain but he's getting used to it, there is blood obscuring his vision and one of his eyes is blurry and unfocused, he doesn't think of much as he walks. The building is beginning to crumble around him, he can hear it but it seems distant, detached from him as he stumbles further away from the red door where everything was changed. He thought he'd feel different, but he feels just the same as always. His legs are destroyed, he knows, they won't move right and he's dragging himself along the walls more than walking. 

He's not even sure what he's walking towards, the future? The rest of the island? 

Mizuki? 

Who saw him kill a man without a moments hesitation, who saw the look in his eyes when he'd grabbed a head in both hands and wrenched it violently to one side. 

Who'd seen him check he was dead with a single sharp stab of a blade into the back of his lifeless skull.

He continues to move forward, though he's not sure what it is towards. 

There's an alarm going off but he thinks his eardrums have blown out because it doesn't seem as loud, as shrill as it should, there are red and white lights flashing all around him, an emergency alert for a disaster he has caused.

He stumbles when he gets to the stairs and there are so many, all but throws himself down each flight only to force himself back up, to keep moving, to keep travelling down and down as plaster trickles down onto him. His will to live should come as a surprise to him, but he doesn't really feel anything. 

There's something calling to him, in the primitive part of his brain, that tells him to keep going, that tells him there is something to reach, a tangible end goal he is struggling towards. 

Everything is so loud, he can hear the creaking of his bones, the way each breath cracks through broken ribs, the pounding of his heart, the drop of his blood onto the concrete of the stairwell. 

He's near the bottom now, he's not sure how, but he knows. 

Something, somewhere, tells him to take a left, to leave the stairs and enter a white door. So, he does. 

It's the room from his dreams, with the shapes suspended in amber liquid, with test tubes and beakers and computers and rows upon rows of filing cabinets. He knows he shouldn't linger, the building shakes so badly glass vials are flying from their perches and smashing, the building seems to be alive around him, vibrating, roaring its final breaths. 

There's a single manilla file on the desk, the only paperwork left out. There's something stamped onto it in red but his eyes aren't working right and there's blood everywhere and when he reaches out to grab it he realizes his thumb is at the wrong angle, sticking out straight to the side grotesquely. 

He gets the file, he keeps going. 

Hallways and hallways all the same, all white and modern and cold, antiseptic. Sterile. 

He doesn't see anyone. 

He must be closer to the main doors now, he can hear a wave of wailing and screaming and panic. It all blends into one note in his head, an endless drone of suffering, of fear. He doesn't know what they're making such a fuss about. 

He's been mostly stumbling, staggering, tipping down to the floor and back up, but now he straightens and limps and forces himself forwards on his two mangled legs. 

He thinks of the snake, squeezing and biting and the lion clawing. 

He's surprised his legs are still attached. 

He wonders where Mizuki is, if he will ever talk to him again after seeing what he has. Sly wouldn't blame him if he didn't but his thoughts are getting staggered, weak, he thinks of something then it is gone like it never existed. He thinks again, of what a person sees when they die, and finally he looks up. 

Mizuki stands at the end of the hallway, Sly can't make him out properly, his left eye is done for and the right is flooded with rapidly congealing blood, but it's him and it's no dying vision, he's real. Sly can tell when he shouts his name. When he starts running. 

Then, the ceiling caves in, and Sly can't tell anything after that.

Chapter Text

It used to be that there were two distinct halves of Mizuki’s life.

Before Sly.

And after Sly.

But now that all changes, now there are still two but they are different.

There is before the raid.

And there is after.

Chapter Text

Mizuki’s mind is  a blur, a whirl, a confusing mess of noises and colours and shapes all smashing together into one thing, one entity.

The aftermath.

There’s screaming, shouting, hands coming to join his, joists and timbers and lumps of concrete scrabbled at with sore, bleeding hands. There’s a flash of something white, oval shaped.

A fingernail?

He’s not sure.

Voices now, familiar but distant and distorted, white and green and so much red.

Somebody tells him to run, so he runs.

The hospital, a mass of wailing, screaming, terrified humanity that cluster and block him from his goal, from his target as his brain whirls and synapses frantically fire, trying to catch up with everything around him.

With the still body in his arms.

With the blood that drips down his hands.

Sly’s Granny, pink hair dishevelled and eyes wide and then the body is gone, whisked away and an alarm sounds and people come running in a rainbow of shades but mostly blues. Mizuki slumps against the wall, watches through the window of the room beyond where the body sags on a white bed.

Hospitals are normally quiet but this one is deafening, voices clamour over each other and a trolley with squeaky wheels comes racing down the hallway and into the room where everything is so loud, so obnoxious and bright and busy.

He feels sick, his head throbs with pain and he wants desperately to shut down, to close his eyes.

Something tells him not to, to stay upright, to keep watching.

So he does.

He’s not really taking anything in now, the colours are all blending together into an ugly brown, the shouting has lost it’s tone, it’s urgency. It’s a drone of suffering and he doesn’t want to listen to it but he is given no choice.

The shapes erupt from the room, he blinks, startled and things clear.

Sly’s body on a hospital bed, unmoving and his skin the palest it’s ever been.

Mizuki wants to say something, to do something as he’s wheeled away but his body won’t work, he tries to propel himself forwards to do something, maybe to hold on, but he sways and his knees buckle and he’s back on the wall like he never tried.

Pink hair, closer now, her face streaked with blood and her dress smeared with it like she painted it on with a wide brush. She’s talking but Mizuki’s ears are ringing with a shrill, buzzing tone and though he tries to read her lips he’s got no idea what she’s trying to communicate to him. Something shakes him, jostles his body and for the first time he becomes aware of his own pain, of the screaming headache behind his temples.

Sly’s Granny touches his face with cool fingers, there’s blood in her cuticles and down her stumpy, age-spotted fingers. Mizuki frowns, something is wrong here and he needs to work it out.

Her eyes are wet, her mouth a tight line, her hands are shaking against his skin.

He turns his head, sees the trail of blood down the hallway at the same time she touches his head and pain explodes behind his eyes, there’s a sensation of falling, of missing a step, a jolt of panic.

Then he passes out.

When he comes to he is alone, sat on a cold metal chair in a long sterile corridor lined with them. He feels cold, sick, his head throbs and he reaches up to find a bandage wrapped around his forehead, his skin sticky with dried blood.

He adjusts slowly, the artificial lights are too bright and the white walls are dazzling.

There’s a man sat opposite him.

He’s missing an arm.

Mizuki blinks, not trusting his own eyes, looks again.

He was right, his arm is gone. There’s a thick bandage wrapped around where it was and it is saturated with blood, the man is pale and sweaty, unmoving as he sits there.

Mizuki feels panic, feels fear, stands to get away and slips in the pool of red congealing on the linoleum flooring, stumbles and falls and his clothes are slick with someone else’s blood.

He’s not really sure where he’s going when he gets up, wasn’t really sure why he was sat there anyway, the hallway is full of wounded people, they’re yelling or screaming or groaning or completely still. 

Mizuki thinks some of them might be dead already.

But he doesn’t want to stay there with them, with the man with no arm, with the pool of congealing blood. So, he walks.

He goes up a flight of stairs, then another, then a third. He wants fresh air, he wants to feel the wind on his skin instead of the clinical cool of the hospitals. He sees a door marked emergency exit and goes through it.

The roof is flat, the cold air hits his skin and he feels more awake, more alert, shuts his eyes for a second to catalogue his injuries, to work out what hurts. His head throbs, his arms ache and one of his legs is tender in several places.

But he’s in one piece, and he’s alive. He stumbles over to some kind of air conditioning unit with big fans in the sides, and sits atop it, staring across the island at the sky, trying to put everything together, to work out what has happened.

His eyes head North, to Platinum Jail.

To a tower in ruins and the gates breached.

He’s confused, then his brain finally catches up and he’s back in the sterile hospital, ignoring the desperate, screaming humanity that clog every hallway.

He is looking for Sly.

He doesn’t find him.

Clear has vanished. Noiz would say he’d disappointed but he’s not, he’d helped him as much as possible and now he’s gone somewhere else, maybe he’s looking for his Grandfather amongst the people fleeing desperately from the tower that still shakes even as it is mostly destroyed.

Noiz has never blown up a building before, he wonders, faintly, if his brother will be proud of him.

If he will be horrified.

He feels weird, his body still aches and occasionally there is a sharp stinging pain even though he thinks he’s mostly unhurt, he pats his pockets absently and realises he’s lost his coil somewhere in the ruins. He debates looking for it for a stupid moment, then takes a step back as another earth-shattering rumble sounds and the final pillars collapse, the whole building heaving as if it has life.

His coil is done for, he just prays Sly won’t suffer the same fate.

Clear had been of incredible use when he’d heard Mizuki screaming, when he’d grabbed a Noiz stunned still with shock and dragged him forwards, when he’d moved huge slabs of concrete aside, when he’d lifted strong metal beams away even as his arms sparked and hissed.

He’d left the excavation to Mizuki and Noiz who scraped at the rubble with desperate, bleeding hands, who’d searched for a hint of blue, a sign of life, a sliver of skin.

A voice had told him to dig. Insistent, desperate, pleading.

‘Dig, please, dig.’

They either found him very quickly, or very slowly.

Noiz isn’t actually sure, instinct had driven him, desperation and panic.

The voice repeating it's refrain.

‘Dig. Dig. DIG!’

Noiz thinks he’s dead. He looks dead, all his limbs are at funny angles, when they manage to pull him free his head lolls like a rag doll, his eyes glassy and unseeing, his chest seemingly unmoving.

Noiz wants to reach out to do something to help but Mizuki bundles him up and sets off running without a word.

Noiz thinks he’s in shock, he thinks they’re all in shock.

He wonders if there was a voice for him too, telling him to run.

Somewhere between finding Sly and Mizuki leaving, Clear had vanished.

Noiz stands alone in the ruins, staring at the red splattered on so many bits of rock and plastic and glass and tile.

For possibly the first time in his life, he has no idea what to do.

He thinks of Koujaku's message. 

‘tell me to my face. Asshole.’

And with that, he knows what he needs to do.

Mizuki comes to in a dimly lit room, confused again, his head still pounding like his whole brain is pulsating inside his too-tight skull.

Sly’s Granny is there again, she must have shaken him awake, “you’re hurt.”

”I’m fine,” he argues, remembers, asks, “where’s Sly?”

Tae’s face falters slightly, she shifts back and debates her words for a moment, “he’s in emergency surgery, has been for a while. A few hours.”

Mizuki thought he’d passed out again, but maybe he’d been sleeping. He wonders how Tae even found him, wonders where he is.

“Hours?”

”It’s a miracle he’s even alive. What happened?”

Mizuki shakes his head, he doesn’t quite remember, he recalls scraping his hands across rocks, remembers running but everything before is hazy. Black scales, dark fur, two matching blonde heads in a grand ballroom.

What happened isn’t important to him right now, it’s over and done with, the problem is solved. He just wishes he’d known how high the cost would be.

“We-” He starts, then things go black again and he's out.

Noiz thinks he might struggle to locate Koujaku with the Island in chaos.

Noiz is wrong.

He heads out the way they came in even though he doesn’t really need to now, with the tower toppled and the ruler dead the Jail is freed, those with enough sense are fleeing like rats to the world on the other side of the wall.

Noiz just becomes another of them, nobody spares him a look, nobody questions him, he is able to walk calmly into the residential district and duck under the wall and shimmy his way out and under. A couple of people follow him, end up looking lost and confused in the woods.

Noiz doesn’t bother with them, turns and sets off into the town at a jog, feeling his body ache, feeling it sweat.

Now doesn’t seem like the time to worry about that.

Most people are heading towards the wall, towards all the commotion, he runs against the tide, feeling desperation urging him on.

Virus and Trip are here somewhere, if they managed to escape the tower. Noiz is wary of them, scans for blonde hair and matching suits, for cold, dead blue eyes.

He doesn’t find them.

He finds a massacre.

The situation at the hospital gets no better, Tae sets him up in the on call room on a springy sofa that is well past the point of needing replacing, tells him she’s needed elsewhere but she’ll be back when she gets news. She tells him to rest since he’s refusing treatment.

How is he meant to rest, with Sly on an operating table somewhere, when he could be dying.

He doesn’t rest.

How could he?

Despite the horde of people rushing towards the Jail, Noiz comes across a throng who clearly have no intention of going anywhere at all. They block the narrow entrance to a back alley, yelling and screaming and wailing and panicking.

Even after the tower, it’s suddenly very loud, Noiz winces as the noise assaults him, looks for a way past them to whatever it is that fascinates and disgusts them so much.

That’s when he notices it, the trail of blood trickling between their feet, slipping slowly across the rough asphalt and seeping into tiny cracks.

Then he hears it, somehow over all the noise.

A sick squelching, the sound of wet flesh squashing and tearing. The sound of viscera, of organs and skin tearing and bones grinding and crunching.

He knows before he starts shoving through the crowd, before he sees the first flash of black hair.

He knows.

He has found Koujaku.

Noise at the door, the squeak as it is shoved open against it’s warped frame, figures in the doorway, blocking out the light, then, “Mizuki!”

Mizuki stands up, he doesn’t know why, he feels out of control of his body.

He feels out of control of everything.

“What happened? Are you okay?” They’ve stepped in properly now, so he can see them. Tio, looking worried, Kin alarmed. “Where’s Sly?”

Tio puts his hand on his broken arm, reaches up to the bandage on his head gently as if trying to figure out how badly he is hurt, Mizuki opens his mouth to answer and his voice breaks, cracks, he shakes his head and Tio just looks at him with wide eyes. Breathes, “I don’t know,” and feels everything hit like a blow. “They had to take him for surgery and I- I don’t know if he’s- They’re not sure- He might not make it.”

Tio doesn’t know what to say, tracks his eyes across his face and onto his body as if searching for something else that might be wrong, if Mizuki was in his right mind, he’d realise he has no idea how to help, is trying to change the subject so Mizuki won’t dwell on it.

Sly in surgery, perhaps about to die. Alone on a cold metal table surrounded by strangers.

“Your arms broken, we- You need to get it treated.”

Mizuki sniffs, looks down. In all the chaos, he’s forgotten that a shard of bone is sticking out of his forearm, that his hand is covered in sticky congealed blood, that he is in pain. He shakes his head. He feels like he wants to sleep again. He can see it’s broken but he feels nothing, even Tio’s tender fingers don’t seem real, like he is being touched by a mannequin, by something unreal. “It’s fine.”

“Mizuki- I,” Tio starts, stops, stumbling over his words and sighing, frustrated with himself, with the whole situation. “Do you want us to wait with you?”

“Wait for what?”

Tio shifts his hand to squeeze his softly, his eyes are creased and worried. Kin hovers behind him in the dim light, his face shadowed and drawn, tense. “For news.”

Mizuki considers what ‘news’ could mean, news could mean that he’ll make it but he’ll be brain damaged, or disabled or have amnesia. News could mean that he’s dead. News could mean that he’s somehow going to be okay, but that seems impossible, ridiculous, stupid even to consider.

He nods, murmurs, “okay.”

And they squeeze onto the couch, the three of them. Tio reaches out to hold his bloodied hand and Kin props his arm up on the back so he can feel the warmth, they sit there and they wait for news.

Whatever news might be.

Blood.

That’s what Noiz notices first. It’s splashed up Koujaku’s front where his Kimono has slipped off his shoulders, it’s matted into his loose hair, splattered across his face.

Eyes.

The second thing he notices, narrowed and furious, livid, unseeing, like some wild beast let free of it’s captors. Like something hungry.

Virus.

On the pavement, his body twisted  and broken and oozing, his unnatural blue eyes wide and still and unseeing.

Dead.

Or well past.

But Koujaku doesn’t stop and blood still falls, slowly, oozing thickly from the gouges in his face, from the wound in his scalp that gets wider and wider and the crowd scream and gasp and turn their faces away.

Virus’ skull smashed under a heavy, brutal, out of control foot. The dull grey of his brain exposed to the air and splatted. Behind him, someone collapses.

Voices call Koujaku’s name, some beg him to stop, some are terrified.

More are disgusted, horrified.

Frightened.

Noiz has never feared Koujaku before, but staring at him now as he stamps and stamps and stamps, he is.

Mizuki becomes aware of a buzzing annoyance, as if there is a fat bluebottle flying around in between his ears, like there is a cricket chirruping inside his brain.

He shakes his head and Kin looks at him sideways, assessing. His gaze seems critical somehow and Mizuki frowns at him, feels reassured when he drapes his hand over the back of his neck and starts squeezing the tense skin there.

The buzzing stops and Mizuki is relieved for a moment.

But then it starts again.

“What is that noise?” He asks, his voice tense and high-strung, anxious and annoyed and upset.

“Your coil.”

Mizuki feels stupid, feels like he’s been punched so hard that for a moment he forgets who he is and what’s going on. “Oh.”

He tilts it towards himself clumsily, his arm won’t move right and there is still a shard of bone sticking starkly out of his bloodied skin.

46 missed calls.

142 messages.

He blinks at it and turns the screen off again, shuts his eyes and looks up at the ceiling.

None of the messages are from Sly, nor are the missed calls.

Right now, nobody else matters.

“Koujaku!” He shouts but above the noise of everyone else and the sick squelching of what remains of Virus he can’t hear him, doesn’t see him even as he steps forwards, his eyes don’t land on him, they stay focused on the ground, on the corpse he continues to defile.

Noiz puts hands on him and Koujaku rears like a wild cat, teeth bared and face coated in thick blood, it congeals at the corners of his mouth and settles into every wrinkle around his eyes. He looks at him, and Noiz recoils, lifts his hands up, watches the steam rise from Koujaku’s burning skin, the way his chest heaves, the way his eyes see nothing but his target.

Noiz needs to make him see him.

“Stop,” his voice is quiet but the amassed audience have quieted too, morbidly curious, they are waiting to see what will happen, for another blood bath.

They are waiting to see Koujaku fall even lower.

But Noiz won’t let that happen.

Noiz reaches out again, slow, backs off when Koujaku growls a warning at him, snarls with bloodied teeth. Noiz takes a breath, tries to steady himself, to remember all that Koujaku has become to him, and all Noiz means to him. Reaches out again and catches his hand, his skin is hot and sticky with blood, it’s clotted onto his palms and crusted into his fingernails, the whorls of his fingerprints.

“He’s dead,” Noiz murmurs, keeps his gaze on Koujaku, on his eyes which are slowly changing, losing their sharpness, their hate. “It’s over. The tower’s fallen.”

Koujaku doesn’t understand, tears his hand free but lets Noiz follow him, put a hand onto his shoulder then up onto his neck. His skin is so tacky it feels disgusting but Noiz persists, keeps his voice low and intimate, “hey, it’s just me. Just Noiz. It’s okay.”

Koujaku still heaves for breath but he seems calmer somehow, he swipes a hand across his face leaving drag marks in the blood dried there and Noiz realises his mouth is foaming.

He looks like a monster, but Noiz knows he isn’t.

“It’s over,” Noiz puts a hand on his face and barely winces when Koujaku bares his teeth at him, “it’s over. He’s dead. It’s done.”

“He’s dead.”

“He’s dead,” Noiz offers softly, watches his eyes as they become less glazed over, as he comes slowly back to himself, “he’s dead. It’s over. The towers fallen.”

The crowd still murmur amongst themselves, still weep or stare in silent, open-mouthed horror.

Noiz only has eyes for Koujaku as he comes back to himself.

As he comes back to Noiz.

Somehow, Mizuki falls asleep, wakes up to the sound of warped wood shuddering in it’s frame and falls sideways when Kin jumps up to give whoever is on the other side help with forcing it open. Tae all but falls inside, stumbles into Kin who steadies her with careful hands, eyes wide as he sees the state she is in, her dress slick with blood, her hair escaping from her bun in wild tendrils.

Her eyes, wet with tears.

Mizuki stands up and Tio does with him, a hand on his back and another on his shoulder to steady him as he stumbles, his blood pressure dipping as he rises too quickly, the blood loss finally catching up. 

“Is he?” He can’t make himself keep talking, Tio squeezes his bicep, Kin gently eases the door shut so the four of them can have some semblance of privacy.

Tae shakes her head but it’s not clear what it means, it could mean he’s not dead, or it could mean he is. But she opens her mouth and there’s a very faint upturn of her lips at the corners, a fragile hope, “he’s stable.”

“He’s gunna live?”

Tae regards Tio, her smile gets a little broader but still cautious, still wary, “yes. Unless, something else happens. But, he’s still in surgery, they’ve got all his vitals under control, they’ve stopped most of the bleeding. He’s going to be in a lot longer still, I- Several more hours. They need to try and, work on his legs, there’s three specialists having a meeting now about how to progress, about what to do. So, they’re going to come up with a quick plan for now but it’s, he’s got a long road ahead of him, more surgeries and, they’re probably going to have to put him into a coma. Again,” her voice breaks very faintly and Kin awkwardly puts an arm around her neck, gives her a vague squeeze, Tae pats his hand absently and swipes at her eyes, sniffing and straightening herself up.

“He’s going to live?” Mizuki asks, he hasn’t been listening to most of what she’s been saying, he feels very unwell suddenly, lights are flashing in front of his eyes and he feels red hot, sweaty and his body has started to tingle.

“Yes, he’s going to live.”

Mizuki says something, he’s not sure what but it comes out slurred and before Tae has a chance to frown he’s out, blackness encroaches his vision then swamps it and he hits the floor.

Koujaku flees the scene pretty soon after he seems to snap back into himself, Noiz is left stood there staring at the blood congealing on the road, watching as it trickles down into a drain.

Koujaku’s right hand man is sprawled over on the cracked concrete not far away, his nose is bleeding and Noiz only sees him when he starts to stand up, shaking violently.

“What happened to him?” He asks, accepting Noiz’s hand when he stumbles and almost goes back down, he pales when they part and his fingers are stained pink, rubs them absently on his jeans looking disgusted.

Noiz doesn’t know what to say to that, not without revealing things about Koujaku that he knows he wants to keep secret, so he shrugs and says something vague, “you’ll find out.” Changes the subject, “did you see the video?”

“I think everyone did.”

”Good,” Noiz nods, thinks about following Koujaku, “the Towers fallen.”

“The tower? Oval tower?”

There’s only one tower on the island but Noiz decides this isn’t the time to be a smart ass, so he nods instead, wonders what his follow up question will be, wonders if he’ll be able to answer it.

“My sisters in there,” he seems tinged with faint hope, his hands are shaky as he tries to neaten out his hair, as he pulls his clothes straight and wipes blood off his chin.

“She might be out by now.”

Noiz hopes she is out, he hopes she’s alive and unhurt. He hopes everyone is alive and unhurt but he knows there’s no way that can have happened, the tower must have had a lot of staff, he thinks some of them must have gotten trapped. He wonders if anybody will try to dig them out.

“I- Oh, God, I- I better go see- I- Thank you, Noiz, right? You’re Koujaku’s, something.”

Noiz huffs, amused, “yeah, I’m his something. I’ll see if he’s okay.”

His face softens and he puts a hand on Noiz’s filthy arm, “thank you, Noiz,” he replies with significant feeling, gratitude, then somebody runs past yelling about the tower being down and the walls being breached and Kou is swept up in it, in the growing crowd heading through town.

Noiz doesn’t know anything about the walls, he’d set charges in the tower but he hadn’t bothered with the wall that divides the island. He just assumed people would do what they did with the Berlin wall, tear it down themselves. It seems he was right.

He guesses Kou had no intention to check on Koujaku himself after the brutal display he just saw.

Noiz doesn’t blame him.

When he comes to he’s in a hospital bed and it is dark outside the window, Tio is sleeping in an uncomfortable looking chair and Kin is pacing in front of the adjoining bathroom door. He moves to sit up and groans when pain lances through his arm, looking down he sees his arm bandaged up, his skin is mostly clean of blood other than what’s crusted into his cuticles and the whorls of his fingerprints.

Tio awakes with a start, jerking up with a quick panicked exhale, Kin looks up and just like that they are all the three, waiting again.

“Your arm needed surgery,” Kin offers, pulling up the other chair and putting his hand on the back of Tio’s neck, starts working out the tension there. “You lost quite a bit of blood, so, we donated some, cause they’re running low. And, you’ve got, I dunno, pins and stuff in it to keep the bone in place. Uh, and stitches, in your head.”

Mizuki nods, he feels completely exhausted, like the smallest movement would be the end of him, he sinks back into the pillows and shuts his eyes, overwhelmed and tired and worried.

“Any news?”

“Still in surgery, orthopaedics are in there and, vascular, I think? And some, nerve pain person, I dunno, Tae uses big words,” Mizuki smiles faintly. “She’s still seeing to people who got hurt, I tried to tell her to rest but, uh, she would not listen to me,”

“Scary, isn’t she?”

“Extremely.”

Mizuki huffs a weak laugh, thinks again of Sly on a cold metal table and feels sick, asks only to distract himself, “you gave blood?”

“They were running out, so we got a drive going, messaged some people, half the island seems to have come.”

Mizuki hums, it’s a nice gesture of the island being unified again.

“Don’t think quite as many people would have shown up if they knew how much of it was going to Sly, but, what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

”That’s true,” Mizuki squeezes the hand Tio offers. “He’ll be okay.”

He’s mostly talking to himself, but Kin looks up and Tio smiles, “of course he will. You both will.”

Mizuki just wishes he could believe him.

Koujaku’s place is quiet other than the shower running when Noiz arrives, he shuts the door behind himself quietly, makes note of Koujaku’s blood saturated clothes strewn across the room and picks them all up so they don’t stain the tatami. He doesn’t really know what to do with them, now they’ve been off him for a little while the blood has started to coagulate and it’s sticky when he ditches the whole mess into the kitchen bin. It’s not one of Koujaku's favourite kimono, so he hopes he won’t mind, Noiz doubts it could be salvaged.

He strips out of his shoes and jeans and pads into the bathroom, unsure of what he’ll find.

Koujaku’s bathroom is traditional, a wet-room of sorts with a separate bath and shower. The room is thick with steam and it’s sweltering, Noiz ditches his stupid lab coat and shirt and looks at his feet, at the pink water lapping over his toes. Blood is difficult to wash off, he knows, it clings when you don’t want it to and Koujaku's hair was dripping with it.

He feels a little nauseous, finally raises his gaze to see Koujaku and is no less alarmed when he sees what he’s doing.

He’s got a shower puff, a ridiculous pink thing he insists is good for exfoliation and he is scrubbing his skin with it, the same area, over and over and over. His eyes are blank and unseeing, his skin pink with irritation and the water seems way too hot, his body is reddened but now it isn’t with blood.

Koujaku skitters back when Noiz approaches slowly, “get away from me!” Noiz stops moving but he doesn’t get any further away, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You can’t, remember?” Noiz is increasingly thinking that is a lie, the ache in his ribs attests to that, the horrible thrum of pain behind his eyebrows. He’s never experienced pain but he thinks that’s what it is, what people have described to him, what he’s seen.

“I still don’t want to.”

“You won’t,” Koujaku won’t look at him, Noiz reaches out into the shower and hisses when the water hits him, it’s obscenely hot and he grits his teeth in discomfort as he turns the knob to the left.

He’s never felt heat before, he’s never known what a hot shower is really like but he knows they’re meant to be nice, that people enjoy them. What Koujaku is doing feels like punishment.

The whole being able to feel pain thing should definitely concern him, but there’s so much other stuff going on that he pushes it to the back of his mind to worry about later.

“You won’t hurt me,” Noiz says, reaches very slowly for the shower puff but backs off when Koujaku pulls it back, starts rubbing it across hands that already look red raw. “Koujaku.”

“I’m dirty,” he says flatly, grabs a nail brush and starts scrubbing it across his fingers, the noise of it scraping across skin is horrible. “There’s blood on my hands.”

“Your hands are clean.”

Koujaku shakes his head, ignores him, reaches for a hard sponge he uses to clean the bathroom. Noiz wonders for a moment what sorts of bacteria are on it, how quickly it will break through fragile skin then decides he’s had enough.

He steps under the water and now he gets it, the gentle heat is soothing, comforting, the soft cascade of water running down his body. He is rougher than he means to be when he yanks the sponge away and grabs Koujaku’s hands and shoves them in front of his face so he can see them. He’s being a bit rough, a bit unkind but he thinks it’ll work. Koujaku doesn’t typically like it when Noiz is too gentle with him, they’ve been like that since the start, why have a reasoned discussion when you can hold onto annoyance until you snap and cause an argument that ends with you both tumbling into bed and only making up after? The only time they really open up and talk is in the afterglow.

They both have a lot they don’t like talking about.

“They’re clean.”

Koujaku shakes his head again, makes a movement with his throat like he’s going to throw up but swallows it back down and his face starts to fall, to show emotion.

“There’s blood on them, but I can’t see it. I need to get it off, there’s so much blood on them.”

Noiz doesn’t say anything, listens to Koujaku’s breath hitch and crack, watches his face crumple and fall and fade, childish and scared.

“It’s- I’m covered in it, and it’s- Virus, and my mother and- And all those Yakuza and-” Noiz steps forwards, he’s still holding Koujaku's wrists, mostly so he doesn’t hurt himself.

But then Koujaku’s knees buckle and he goes down and he ends up sprawled, naked and shaking on the bathroom floor with Noiz stood above him.

“Once it’s on you, you can’t get it off. It sticks. I don’t want it to stick to you.”

“It’s not going to stick to me,” Noiz says flatly, lowers himself down too and then backs away when Koujaku does vomit. His body heaves with it and he’s shaking like a leaf, Noiz doesn’t really like vomit but he does like Koujaku so he ignores it swirling down the drain and around his bent knees.

“I can’t get it off,” he says between retches, his voice breaking, staring up at Noiz almost desperately, as if begging him for help, for some way to make him clean. “it won’t come off.”

“I know,” Noiz’s voice is soft, tender, thinks for the first time of Sly and Mizuki, of the blood dripping from Sly’s limp body, of the way it coated Mizuki, stuck to him even as he ran, even as he tried desperately to save his life. “I know it won’t.”

He pushes a gentle hand into Koujaku’s hair, it feels matted and tangled, he can’t even imagine how rough with it he must have been while trying to get clean. He watches tears spill down Koujaku’s face, the way his lip trembles.

He feels very soft.

“It’s okay, Schatz, it’s okay,” he has no idea why that’s slipped out, he remembers his mother calling him that when he was very small, before she realised there was something wrong with him, before she started resenting him. Koujaku makes a little noise, sags into his body, shaking, sits there still as Noiz folds him into his arms, as he squeezes. “I have blood on my hands too.”

They stay in the shower a long time, Koujaku goes quiet finally but he doesn’t stop shaking even as Noiz shampoos his hair and tries to gently untangle it with conditioner and a wide toothed comb. He keeps finding mats of blood that Koujaku had missed, tries his best to wash them away before he sees them even as the water runs pink.

He doesn’t expect Koujaku to fall asleep after all he’s been through, but he does and Noiz watches him from the floor feeling exhausted, reaches for Koujaku's discarded coil. He doesn’t know the password but he doesn’t need it, fights the urge to snoop and messages Mizuki instead, he asks if he’s okay.

He’s too afraid to ask about Sly.

He falls asleep too, waiting for the answer, wakes to the light of the moon and Koujaku’s hand on his shoulder, telling him to come to bed. He won’t meet Noiz’s eyes but when they sink down onto the futon Koujaku reaches for him and they lie there in a tangle of limbs, both exhausted.

They do not talk.

The answer comes through as they lie in each other arms, but the answer does not come from Mizuki, it comes from Tio.

‘Mizuki ’s  asleep , he needed surgery he broke his arm- he’ll  be okay. Sly still in surgery.’

‘we don’t know if Sly will be okay . Me and Kin are staying at hospital. Room B12 ’

Then

‘We’re glad you’re alright’

He replies quickly, asks them to keep him updated and waits for the confirmation to ping through before he locks the coil and puts it away, becomes aware of Koujaku watching him.

Noiz can't imagine Sly not being okay, can't imagine him just not turning up anymore, not teasing him and laughing with him. The idea makes him feel hollow, like a part of him has been scooped out.

“Are you religious?” Noiz asks quietly, breaking the gentle silence between them.

“No. Why?”

“I just,” he starts saying, feels very cracked open suddenly, very scared and very young. Thinks again of his mother, saying grace, of promising to pray for somebody who was going through a hard time. He’s got a pretty messed up relationship with religion, but he remembers his mothers unshakable faith in something bigger than herself, something that could fix anything that might be broken. “Feel like we should pray.”

“Who are we paying for?” Koujaku asks, trying to move back to see his face but not succeeding. 

Noiz will not let him see him cry. 

“Sly.” His voice is weaker than he would like, breathier, he feels pain bloom in his chest at the idea of Sly, dead on an operating table surrounded by strangers. 

Koujaku exhales quietly, presses his mouth to his hair, “we can pray.”

So they do. 

Noiz isn't sure it will do much good.

Chapter Text

DAYS AFTER RAID - 1

Tae discharges Mizuki a few hours after the next day dawns, he’s got a mild head injury and is told to watch out for symptoms of delayed concussion, he’s got an appointment with the fracture clinic for his broken arm and a prescription for mild painkillers.

What he doesn’t have, is news about Sly who is still (presumably) under sedation on a cold metal table surrounded by strangers.

Tae is rushed off her feet but she passes Mizuki a plastic payment card for the cafeteria, offers him vague directions and leaves to do her actual job.

The hospital is still a mess but the cafeteria is deserted other than one lone worker who looks like she’d really rather be somewhere else altogether as she absently loads up his tray with half a ton of food then forgets to ask him for payment altogether as a call comes through to her coil. Mizuki vaguely holds up the card he’s been given and she says something faintly ominous about money not meaning anything anymore.

Mizuki is too tired and worried and sore to argue with her so he nods his thanks and finds a table tucked away in a corner behind a pillar. He’s not really all that hungry but luckily most of the food is portioned out into little trays and boxes so he can always take it with him wherever he goes after this.

If he goes anywhere.

The banana he starts to unpeel is entirely too green to be anything close to soft and he gets pith under his fingernails as he works on it, wondering where Sly is in relation to him.

Wondering if he’ll make it.

He eats the banana absently, he was right, it’s not soft at all and has a bitter taste that coats his mouth as he looks around the large, deserted room.

He wonders what she meant, about money.

Then, all at once, the televisions scattered around the room change from a constant display of the hospital being on red alert, limited beds and services available, to a video.

A video of fucking Noiz.

It’s from before the raid, that much is obvious, he’s sat on the floor in front of a white wall with his legs crossed and a serious look on his face.

‘If you’re seeing this,’ he says, ‘the tower has fallen and Toue is dead.’

Mizuki puts his banana down, reaches for his drink and fails to notice when his hands crumple the cheap plastic and water slops down his front.

‘This was not a terrorist act, not a random act of violence, this was a planned, rehearsed action by a small group of people who knew the fate of this island were Toue to continue without intervention. You will be aware of the rave, the fighting and violence afterwards from those who attended, from those who do not normally display such tendencies. Those of you who frequent Grime will be familiar with the music and with the lights, as well as the presence of Virus and Trip who at this point are hopefully also deceased. We’ll talk about them more later, so please, do keep watching.’

Mizuki does, it’s a long video, half an hour, maybe longer and it explains everything, the music and the lights, the twins, Toue. There are things in it Mizuki doesn't even know, about bioengineering human beings and about experiments done on the resulting people. There's a section about Virus and Trip and their Allmates, about the sick way they treated people. 

Once it ends the cafeteria falls silent only for it to loop again.

Mizuki is stunned.

Sly was made in a lab, Tae is not his adoptive grandparent but his kidnapper of sorts, she helped to create him. She helped to create his brother. Noiz is careful to mention no names but for Mizuki it is obvious who he is talking about, the adopted children, the threads of their lives are familiar to him.

Mizuki has no idea what to do with that let alone the long lasting ramifications of their leadership being gone.

The cafeteria worker was right about the money, it’s meaningless now. The boring workings of the island have been stopped, stilted, have been aborted since the moment the tower fell.

There are no banks operating, no deliveries from the mainland, hell, they might even lose power completely.

They will truly be alone for the first time, self sufficient in a way they’ve never really had to be before.

Mizuki isn’t quite sure what to do about that, what to think about it. He thinks maybe he should be worried but he doesn't have the energy.

He watches the video through again, wishes he could pause on the photos Noiz must have inserted after the initial recording, his voice speaking over them calmly and clearly. For the first time, he sees some of Noiz’s upbringing, he was born to speak, he has been almost groomed to be a leader even as he’s strived to be nothing like that since he got to the island. Mizuki doesn't blame him, his parents weren't exactly great. Mizuki isn't surprised he wanted to be nothing like them.

This time, at the end of the video there’s another short clip pasted in.

This was clearly after the raid, he looks a mess, he’s at Koujaku’s place, Mizuki recognises his decor. He’s asking, imploring, begging for medical assistance from the mainland.

Mizuki wonders if anyone will come, he wonders if they’ll arrive too late for Sly who lies somewhere upstairs on a cold metal table, surrounded by strangers.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 2

Tae finds him much later, he’s still sitting in the cafeteria with his tray of cold, congealing food, he’s still absentmindedly listening to Noiz explain everything, he’s still listening to Noiz begging for help.

She seems subdued, quiet, and when she sits opposite him she won’t meet his eyes.

She's seen the video. The whole hospital has. Possibly the whole island.

“I never intended for this to happen,” she says quietly, her eyes flickering nervously across Mizuki’s tray.

“Nobody did.”

“I was never going to tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

”It’s my fault his brother died,” she speaks this very quickly then looks overwhelmed and helps herself to one of the three brownies on Mizuki’s tray, her hands shaking as she unwraps it. Her eyes glisten then spill over as she takes a bite, seems unable to swallow and puts a hand over her face, “I cut the cord in Sly’s favour.”

“On purpose?” Mizuki doesn’t really understand what she means, how there even was a cord if they were manufactured in some sort of laboratory, but he understands guilt, he understands shame. She shakes her head, looks up at Mizuki for a second, her cornflower eyes weepy, looks away just as fast. “Then it’s not your fault.”

“Not sure he’ll see it that way,” she says, but she does smile faintly when Mizuki reaches for her hand, when he squeezes it.

“Guess we have to wait until he wakes up.”

They stay where they are, people come and go, helping themselves politely to whatever they want and lingering to watch the video, to look for familiar faces. Some just wander in, looking confused and shell-shocked, sitting down and just staying there as if they are a lost child looking for their parent. Mizuki thinks they’re from Platinum Jail, thinks they’re finally in control of their own lives and now have no idea what to do.

Mizuki wonders how long it will take for the island to fall into chaos, for looting and hoarding to begin, thinks of his kitchen cupboards, can't remember how full they are.

Tae stays with him, once she calms down she sits and watches the full video quietly, asks Mizuki if he thinks people will come, she says they need doctors, specialists that the Island simply doesn’t have. Mizuki isn’t sure, so he says so.

Various members of staff come over occasionally to give them updates on Sly, most of which are that he’s still in surgery which isn’t overly helpful or comforting. Mizuki feels sicker and sicker every time somebody approaches them and Tae seems tightly wound, irritated.

It’s not entirely surprising that she eventually snaps. A young woman in a white tunic comes over to their table and before she can even open her mouth, Tae has spoken over whatever she was going to say. “Unless he’s out of surgery I don’t want to hear it. Don’t you think we’re worried enough without these useless updates? Please, I’m old and I’m tired, come back if he’s awake or dead. Do you understand me?”

The girl seems take aback but looks between them and softens very faintly, apologises quietly and leaves.

Nobody bothers them after that.

Tae starts talking, eats another brownie, tells Mizuki about Sly as a child, with his parents and then without them but with his brother. A troublemaker, a rebel, a little shit who constantly pushed her buttons for fun.

Who loved his brother deeply.

She talks about the two of them, so different but so close, the brother stuck in his bed, tired and sickly, listening to Sly talk about whatever ridiculous, dangerous situation he’d gotten himself into. She tells Mizuki that sometimes, if she couldn’t sleep and she knew they were both together, she’d creep downstairs and sit outside the door to listen to them talk, to hear his brothers laugh.

But then things had gotten bad and his brother had been in hospital and Sly had gone off the rails completely and there had been this horrible, looming chasm between them and only gotten worse the less she’d tried to cross it. Mizuki listens to her and he thinks she is a good woman who has made many mistakes and is crushed by regret, by guilt at all she did and all she did not do.

The house had been so quiet, she says, no talking upstairs, no Sly sneaking in at stupid times of the early morning after a fight or a night of partying and doing drugs. Just silence, the ticking clock, the fridge humming, the drone of the television.

It had been hard, she says, when his brother had died. Things had been falling apart for a while before then but with his death it only got worse. Sly was hurting, angry, confused.

Tae had felt it was her fault, for cutting the cord so recklessly, so without care and attention. If she had cut it better, she says, maybe he would have lived. 

Or maybe they both would have died. 

She seems distressed by this, murmurs quietly that it seems very likely now that she will lose them both, that her house will forever be quiet, that she will forever be haunted by what she might have been able to have if only she hadn’t cut that cord so damn poorly.

She's mourning Sly and he's not even dead yet.

Mizuki has little to say, opens his mouth to try and comfort her somehow but is cut off when a man in a knee-length lab coat arrives at their table and takes a seat. There’s a stethoscope around his neck and a fob watch hangs the wrong way up from his pocket.

They look at him, Mizuki feeling numb, Tae feeling everything.

“Tell us,” Mizuki insists, his voice flat and emotionless, watches the man take a breath to steady himself, feels himself come untethered.

Sly flat-lined during surgery.

Twice. 

Tae squeezes his hand across the table. She’s trembling.

Mizuki looks at the doctor, says okay, says, and? 

The doctor says they brought him back, he's still in critical condition, he's on a ventilator in the ICU in a medicated coma but if they want to see him, they can. Tae says she will visit later, steadies herself and says she needs to get back to work, aims Mizuki a very weak smile and bustles off with the third brownie, leaving Mizuki and the doctor alone.

The doctor warms it will be a shock, that he looks terrible. 

It doesn’t do enough to prepare him. 

There's so much equipment around him, attached to him, things beep and hum and a ventilator slowly creaks up and down, breathing for him. There's a bag of pinkish urine over one side of the bed and a bag of red liquid catches whatever is coming out of the tube in his side. 

A punctured lung, the doctor explains, they need to drain the fluid so he doesn't drown on it.

Mizuki says that's what killed his brother and the doctor just looks at him quietly, clearly doesn’t know what to say.

He'll need more surgery, he needs extensive metal work in his legs to get the bones back together. He’s hopeful people from the mainland will come to help the survivors.

Mizuki nods but he’s not really listening and eventually the doctor excuses himself and leaves them alone.

Sly doesn’t look much like a survivor.

He can’t really see his face, there’s a clear plastic mask over his nose and mouth, thick pipes coming from it, his head is bandaged almost entirely from forehead to chin. When Mizuki moves tentatively closer he sees a chunk of his nose is missing, neat black sutures have brought the skin back together but flesh is gone, cartilage. One of his eyes is covered and the other is closed, his eyelashes matted with blood.

Mizuki remembers how he had felt in his arms, limp, heavy, like an oversized doll.

He wonders if this is the last of his nine lives, he wonders if he even has any left after all the stupid things he has done in his short life.

He wonders if they've already spoken their last words to each other. If there will be no more that Sly can hear.

He can’t even remember, as he sits there staring at his broken body.

He can’t remember the last thing they said to each other.

He hopes it was something kind.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 4

It’s been a weird sort of day, Kin thinks to himself as he leaves the continued chaos of the lower levels and heads to his mothers ward in an empty elevator. He feels like he notices the soothing music for the first time, is sure there wasn’t a pleasant ding when he reaches his floor.

Everything has felt different since the raid.

The ward is desolate, no staff sit behind the desks, no orderlies come through with piles of clean laundry, no ward sisters are doing their rounds. There is nobody in sight except the patients, most of whom are asleep.

It’s late after all.

It’s still dark out but Kin knows that the sun will rise soon and dawn will break over an island utterly changed, forever different.

He’s not sure how he feels about it, he sort of prefers not to think about it,

Change has a habit of freaking him out.

Which is exactly why he’d left Tio at home and had headed back here to see his mother, his constant. Though he has to admit, Tio is a constant too these days.

She’s awake even though it’s approaching four in the morning, she hears him approaching and calls out, “Kin?”

He stops in his tracks, it’s been a long time since she remembered she had a son, he’s used to being addressed by his fathers name. Hearing his own is a shock.

“Hey, mom,” he smiles quickly once he recovers, sitting down beside her bed and handing her purse over before she can ask. “I missed you.”

“This is a terrible hotel,” she remarks, displeased, Kin laughs even though he thinks her lucidity has passed now, reaches for her hand and is comforted when her warm fingers curl around his. “I’ve been asking for a cocktail for hours and nobody wil bring me one.”

”I can get you one, what do you want?”

“Something fruity.”

“I can do that,” he says, already thinking of the vending machine in the hallway outside the ward. He's not sure what's in it but if he sticks it in a plastic cup he doesn't think she'll notice there's no alcohol in it. “Won’t be long.”

She doesn’t say anything as he leaves but she is smiling, stuck inside her own head, her own delusions. Still happy.

Kin wishes it was that easy.

When he gets back she has forgotten who he is again, talks nonsense to him and calls him several different names, some he doesn’t even recognise. But it’s okay, because for a second she knew him and she loved him, for a second he was her son again.

For a second, everything was perfect, his mother was his mother and the tower still stood and everything was fine.

For a second he forgot.

Life is not that simple.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 19

“Do you think everyone saw it?”

“Don’t think they had a choice,” Koujaku opines, amused. He’s getting dressed, rooting around in his wardrobe for his most pedestrian clothes. They’re going to help in the clean up of Oval Tower. Nobody is naive enough to call it a rescue. “Given that you put it on every screen possible.”

“It’s still playing in town.”

”I know, I could hear it all of last night.”

“You could?” Koujaku aims him a look, pulls on a very boring green t-shirt that he doesn't realise isn't actually his, “sounds quite nice, being soothed to sleep by my lovely voice.”

Koujaku snorts, tells him to fuck off and, failing to find any bottoms he’s willing to risk getting ruined, snags a dirty pair of Noiz’s off the floor and pulls them on, looking disgusted. “Any contact from the mainland?”

”Yeah, BBC want to do an interview, reporters from fucking everywhere are planning to come over, a couple of doctors, a trauma surgeon. The president of Japan is sending somebody, allegedly.”

”Politics,” Koujaku says dismissively, grabs a hooded jacket that also isn't his and gestures for Noiz to get out of the way so he can unlock the door, stops when he sees Noiz looking uncharacteristically pensive, worried. “What? You worried about it or something?”

“Nah, I don't really care, I'm sort of the face of it now and Mizuki's in no state to help anyone. It's just, if I’m on TV, they might see me.”

“Your parents?” Noiz nods, Koujaku grimaces, “well fuck them, they’re not welcome here and I’ll be sure to tell them that if they are stupid enough to show up.”

Noiz moves to let him open the door but when Koujaku locks up behind them and steps away to set off, Noiz pulls him still with a hand gripping the edge of his shirt hem, Koujaku, irritated now by the mere mention of Noiz’s scummy parents, turns round about to say that they don’t have to go if Noiz doesn’t want to.

But his words dry up because Noiz looks mortified, his face is red all the way up to his ears and his eyes are averted, almost shy.

It’s sort of giving blushing schoolgirl but Koujaku knows what’s coming even before Noiz opens his mouth and starts awkwardly stammering at him.

Koujaku is fairly easy to irritate, he’s always had a temper for better or for worse and watching Noiz act so pathetic is grating on him, “would you just spit it out, not like you’ve not told me before.”

Noiz baulks faintly then laughs, shrugs and mumbles, still clearly uncertain, “you told me to say it to your face.”

”Yeah. So? Are you going to?”

Noiz watches him, then he gets a stupid little shit-eating grin on his face and he’s back to playing cool, blase, shrugs, “nah.”

Koujaku suddenly thinks his embarrassment was an act to trick him into thinking he was going to say it.

Koujaku is not best pleased at once again being teased by Noiz, scoffs loudly, grabs Noiz back rather harshly and is pleased to note that the shells of his ears are still faintly red even as he acts nonchalant.

“Something wrong, old man?” He asks and Koujaku is sort of done with playing around now, Noiz had wormed his way in with his stupid insults and endearing lack of common sense and his adorable sideways smile. He's stupid and immature and childish to a fault but also deeply mature and grown up far beyond his years.

Koujaku is a little obsessed with him. 

Unfortunately Noiz is also a massive pain in his arse who makes him regret his life choices one second and be deeply sure he's made the right ones the next.

Koujaku is adult enough to admit that he is in too deep, that the initial fling is something significantly more, hell, he can just about accept that he’s most likely bisexual which is something he’d never thought about until Noiz came along.

If Noiz won’t say it, he will.

“You’re an asshole,” he deadpans, then while Noiz is laughing, amused at having turned this around on Koujkau. “I love you.”

Noiz baulks and Koujaku finds it very satisfying to finally be able to one-up him, watches him turn red again. Then, right as he’s about to start crowing about how Noiz is an idiot, he wrinkles his nose up and says, grinning, “ew.”

Koujaku stares at him blankly, throws his hands up in defeat and sets off, not really caring if Noiz follows or not. 

Stupid blonde bastard.

They walk in what feels like a tense silence until they get to the gates of the tower, torn down by those imprisoned inside. Koujaku thinks about how quickly his name was cleared even with the video of him ripping Virus to pieces circulating. Noiz's various videos have him as some kind of hero who stepped in to eliminate an evil. Nobody but Noiz knows he had his own selfish reasons to want both the twins dead. Nobody but Noiz knows how he'd reacted afterwards, how he'd shaken and puked and rocked himself to sleep. 

How he hates himself for it even though he knows it was the right thing to do.

It's mostly due to Noiz that he's been assigned as the leader of the excavation efforts, though he has to admit that he is seriously under qualified for the role. He supposes it's nice to be accepted back into the fold but he still feels a bit like a fraud, like a wolf in sheeps clothing. He's always felt like that. Sort of like an imposter in his own skin. 

It's one thing he and Noiz have in common. 

He and Sly too, he supposes. Wonders how he's doing, wonders if Mizuki has gone home yet or if he's still camping at the hospital. It's not good for him, he thinks, to just stay there all this time in the vain hope that Sly will miraculously wake up. 

He doesn't blame him though, he'd do the same for the idiot next to him. Albeit begrudgingly.

He turns to look at Noiz as they step through the gates to a place Koujaku has never been before, to a place Noiz destroyed. 

Noiz smiles effervescently at him. It's suspicious and Koujaku has barely had time to narrow his eyes before Noiz sways into his side with a gentle bump and murmurs, conscious of the people around them, “for the record. I love you too.”

Koujaku, as usual, forgives too easily, trusts too much, is about to say something about him being a sap when Noiz continues and ruins it. 

“You've got a good ass for such an old man.”

Koujaku feels justified when he jabs an elbow into his side. Confused when Noiz reacts quickly and appropriately.

It's going to take a while to get used to the fact that Noiz can feel pain now.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 36

Mizuki wakes up to Taes face swimming above his, blinks until she comes into focus, she looks troubled but she always does. “They're going to wake him up today.”

The last vestiges of sleep slip away heavily, Mizuki heaves himself upright with a groan, the sofa isn't really big enough for him so he's been hunched up all night, his back aches. 

“Can I be there?”

Tae looks away, looks at her own sensible leather shoes, opens her mouth then sighs and closes it, sits down next to him and puts her warm hand on his shoulder gently. “It's best you're not.”

Mizuki wants to argue but he knows she's right, they've been over it a million times, what will happen when they take him out of the medicated coma he's in. They've discussed him not coming out of it, brain damage; from severe to minor, paralysis, horrific pain, amnesia. The list goes on and on. 

They hadn't bothered talking about him coming out the same as he's always been, none of them see that as an option, they hope for the best but prepare him for the worst. Mizuki doesn't know what he would do, if Sly was severely brain damaged, if he wasn't him anymore. He thinks they'd learn to cope with paralysis, they'd have to. They'd get through it together, somehow.

Thinking all of this makes his head hurt and his eyes burn, he lowers his head between his shoulders and murmurs a faint, “okay.”

“If it helps,” Tae adds softly, “they won't let me be there either.”

“Can you wait with me? Until we know?”

Tae makes a little noise, a soft breath almost like a hitching sob, “of course I can.”

They are waiting a long time, the doctor in charge of Sly's case comes to see them just before midnight. He was woken at 10am.

The doctor sits opposite them in the break room, regarding the mess of blankets and pillows Tae and Mizuki have been using throughout their long vigil.

He was in a lot of pain when they woke him, he explains, he took a while to stabilise, they had to get the medication right and he's still in some pain despite their best efforts, the doctor says his pain will improve as his body heals. Mizuki nods along, feeling Taes hand gripping his tightly.

He was incoherent at first, talking about being skinned alive and a white box with locks on it and falling and his brother.

He heard his voice again, the doctor says he told him to run. 

Mizuki doesn't doubt it.

But once they got his pain under better control and calmed him down he'd answered all their questions and had got them mostly right. Mizuki wonders what they asked him, where he was, who he was, what had happened? 

The doctor says they've put him back under but they're going to start to slowly reduce the medication so he can wake up by himself when his body is ready. They can see him tomorrow. 

Tomorrow feels so far away. Mizuki wants to go now and before he can say anything Tae has. The doctor sighs but allows them to go provided they are quick and quiet.  

He looks a lot better than he had at first but he still doesn't look quite like him, the tube in his lung is gone and he's breathing by himself so the bulky mask is as well. His face is unbandaged other than his eye and the stitches have been removed, his skin looks red and angry, raised and sore. The cuts have been neatly sealed and they'll heal well, they are healing well but to Mizuki they look fresh and vivid, brutal.

Mizuki hovers at the end of the bed and Tae carefully runs her hand through his hair, looking hopeful and frightened and relieved.

Mizuki feels none of that, he feels nothing, 

Tired, maybe, sore possibly. But no range of emotions, no emotions at all.

Tae seems reassured by the news and leaves Mizuki with a squeeze of his arm and the promise that this is good news, that this is a good sign. 

DAYS AFTER RAID - 57

Mizuki doesn't want to sit next to Sly when he's unconscious, when he's in a coma. He could pretend he's asleep but he knows he isn't so that doesn't work. Besides, Sly snores when he sleeps, he wiggles around and twitches. He's never this quiet, this still.

He's sitting there staring out of the window when somebody walks in and takes a seat next to him quietly. Mizuki doesn't bother to address them, Sly is something of a hero thanks to Noiz's various videos so he doubts somebody is here to antagonise them.

“How are you holding up?”

Mizuki looks over, he doesn't recognise the man, he's wearing a nice maroon jumper over a crisp white shirt and his tie has a golden clip in it. Mizuki decides he doesn't care who he is, shrugs, “not sure.”

“It must be a lot to adjust to.”

“Adjust?” Mizuki asks, his voice blank. “I don't think you can adjust to this. An adjustment would be a new pair of glasses. This isn't an adjustment.”

“What is it then?”

Mizuki thinks about this, looks at the wreck of Sly's face, of a face he has loved though so much and will continue to love through so much more. “It's a tsunami. An earthquake. A hurricane.”

The man shifts in his seat, his pants rustle against the plastic. 

It feels violently loud in the room that has always been so quiet.

“This is the end of the fucking world,” Mizuki breathes, then, with his head in his hands, for the first time since the tower.

He cries.

The man sits beside him in silence while Mizuki breaks apart, stays with his legs lazily crossed, completely ignoring him. Mizuki thinks that's pretty considerate, once he gets himself a bit more under control and looks over, embarrassed by his show of emotion. 

“A lot of people find crying helpful, a release of whatever has been built up inside. Do you agree with that?”

Mizuki is finding it hard to deal with anything let alone introspection, rubs his eyes roughly with the heel of his palm and wonders if Sly can hear them. He hopes he can't, he doesn't want Sly to hear him upset, to hear him so hopeless.

“Not really. It tends to make me feel worse.”

The man inclines his head, smiling very faintly, offers over a box of tissues and changes the subject. “Have you been home since the tower fell?”

Mizuki sniffs, wipes his eyes again and feels so exhausted he could sleep forever. “No,” he shakes his head, clears his throat. Tries terribly hard to pull himself together. Fails. “No. I didn't wanna leave him.”

The man considers this, his voice is very soft and measured, Mizuki finds it oddly soothing. “You need to take care of yourself. You're no use to anyone if you're a mess, Mizuki.”

“What if he doesn't wake up and I'm not here?”

“You mean if he dies?” Mizuki doesn't want to think about that but he nods, feels his eyes continuing to leak even though he wishes they wouldn't. He's as powerless to stop his tears as he is to keep Sly alive. “Do you think he will?”

“No,” he says quickly then, “yes. Fuck, I don't know. The doctors say he's doing well but he's no different.”

“He's breathing by himself.”

“That's hardly an achievement.”

“No? What would be an achievement?”

“Him waking up. Him being okay. Like he used to be.”

“He's not going to be like he used to be, neither of you are. I'm sure you didn't expect this when you were planning your raid.”

“I thought we'd all die. I thought Virus and Trip would kill us. That might have been better.”

The man looks at him and sighs, he seems worried, there's a faint crease in between his eyebrows. Mizuki wonders again, who he is and why he is here. He especially wonders why he is worried about Mizuki when Sly lies comatose in front of them. Mizuki expects to be told not to say things like that, but instead the man reaches over and puts a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Go home, Mizuki. Take a shower, shave, eat something that isn't from a cafeteria, get a good night's sleep in a proper bed. He'll still be waiting for you when you come back tomorrow.”

“What if he isn't?”

“He's not going to suddenly die, Mizuki. There will be signs if he's getting worse but they'll be noticed and treated and you will get called. You're his next of kin.”

Mizuki shakes his head, frowns at the mere idea of leaving, at the idea of getting a phone call and arriving too late. “Tae is.”

“No, she isn't, she put your name on all his paperwork. You have the final say in everything, his treatment, his medication, his surgeries, everything.” Mizuki looks at him, stunned. “Tae knows how much he means to you, and how much you mean to him.”

The man stands up and Mizuki follows suit even though he had no intention of listening to him, of leaving Sly. He feels weirdly compelled to listen to him, his words are so reasonable, his voice calm and measured. “Who are you?”

He smiles, “I'm his therapist, and, somewhat, his friend too.”

Mizuki's face falls rather flat, unimpressed, he feels weirdly offended, “who sent you to talk to me?”

The therapist looks genuinely surprised, possibly offended for a moment but his voice is as kind and clear as ever. “I sent myself. I have become rather fond of Sly and I know quite a lot about you, mostly things he has told me. I know he would want you to be taken care of. I know he would want somebody to make sure you're okay. That you're coping.”

Mizuki feels his eyes start to flood again, his throat thicken, just at that word, the idea. 

Coping.

It's not really something he can do at the moment and that's overwhelming and scary and shameful. He feels suddenly very, very old, tired and sore and scared. He feels like he's aged years in the time he's been here, keeping vigil at Sly's bedside. He feels, sometimes, that if he sits there long enough he'll get stuck, that he'll end up as a skeleton still propped up on one arm, waiting for Sly to wake. 

“And I can tell that you're not coping,” Mizuki sniffs, wishing desperately that he could hide his tears and look blasé, look strong. But he can't. “And that's okay. It is. You've been through a lot, you're still going through a lot. But there are things you can do to make the situation a little bit easier on yourself.”

“I'm not super important at the moment.”

The therapist considers this, sighs softly though his nose, “you are to him. You're the most important person to him. Do you really think he'd want the most important person in his life to suffer this much? So needlessly?” Mizuki frowns but the therapist quickly corrects himself, “I'm not saying the way you feel is wrong because it isn't, I'm saying that you need to look after yourself so you can look after him. He's going to need you when he wakes up.”

Mizuki hadn't really thought about that, he's been so fixated on whether Sly would wake up that he hadn't really considered what would happen after. He's too scared, he thinks, to imagine their new reality, whatever it might be.

He opens his mouth to say something that minimises everything, that he'll be fine, that they've been through worse. Both would be lies but that's what his mouth wants to say. 

What comes out though is, “I'm so tired.”

His voice cracks and trembles and his hands are shaking and he wants so desperately to crawl into his warm bed and forget that any of this ever happened. He's crying so much his throat hurts, his head pounds and his body feels suddenly unbearably heavy.

The man tuts softly but Mizuki doesn't hear it, he's trying so hard to control himself, to stop crying, to sit back down beside Sly and make sure he's okay. 

He's started watching his chest lately, making sure he's breathing, feels sick with anxiety every time it takes a second longer than the last. There's something wrong with him, he knows that. He doesn't want to eat, he barely sleeps. Most of the time he feels nothing. Other times he is crushed by the weight of everything.

The therapist reaches out, puts a warm, grounding hand onto his bicep and leaves it there, “can you call a friend to come and get you?”

Mizuki sniffs, feels faintly like he's being babied even though the man is nothing but kind. “I can walk myself home.”

“I know you can. Call them anyway. It'll do you good to have some company that's awake, that you can talk to if you want to.”

Mizuki listens to him, he thanks him for coming to see them and the therapist says he'll come back as often as he can to see how they're both doing. When Mizuki thanks him before he leaves he really, truly means it. He understands why Sly likes him. He seems like somebody who genuinely wants to help, who is really interested in what you have to say.

He sits there for a while longer beside Sly then decides there's no point, he's no closer to waking up and now Mizuki's thinking about his bed he can't stop.

He's so very tired. 

He phones Tio, asks if he can come get him. Tio says yes so fast, with so much worry in his voice that Mizuki starts crying again, big fat tears roll down his face as he tells Tio that everything's okay, he just wants to go home. 

He wants them both to go home. 

Tio says that he'll be there in ten minutes and asks Mizuki if he can meet him outside since the hospital has been in chaos since the tower collapsed.

Mizuki watches Sly, is too afraid to say goodbye. Thinks of true love's kiss, from the fairytales, a kiss that can break any spell or enchantment.

He feels stupid, leaning over Sly to kiss him first on the forehead then, when nothing happens, gently on the lips. It feels wrong to kiss him and to have him be completely unresponsive, but it feels better than saying goodbye. 

He's too scared to say goodbye, so he hovers in the doorway, sniffs and takes a breath of sterile air and whispers, soft, “see you soon. I love you.”

When he walks away he doesn't look back.

Chapter Text

DAYS AFTER RAID - 58

Tio isn't expecting to have to literally tuck Mizuki into bed the day he calls from the hospital with his voice all thick and his words shaking. 

But he does.

He finds Mizuki outside the hospital and he doesn't want to talk which is fine, Tio isn't going to make him so they walk in silence. People notice Mizuki, some smile, wanting to thank their saviour then notice his wet eyes and politely avert their gazes. Some gather in groups to whisper about him as he passes. Mizuki's too upset to notice them and Tio tries his best to ignore them, even with their hero status their relationship hadn't gone down well with many people. He's heard all sorts of rumours, everyone has, that Sly has somehow drugged Mizuki into being with him. That Sly is forcing Mizuki to be with him because he threatens him with blackmail every time he tries to drop him. 

It's funny, Tio thinks, that none of the rumours have Mizuki being the one doing all the chasing, the one determined to make their relationship work. 

It's funny that none of the rumours are to do with them being utterly besotted with each other.

Mizuki's hands are shaking too much to get the keys in the door so Tio opens it for him. 

It's weird, the apartment is like a time capsule, the one place that has stayed the same before and after the tower fell. Kin has been coming in to feed Amaya and sort out her litter tray but that's all he does. There's still dirty plates on the dining table, a half drunk mug of coffee, a pile of unfolded laundry strewn across the sofa.

Mizuki looks around, looks lost. Tells Tio he's tired. 

Tio believes him but he can also see that Mizuki needs a shower, his hair is greasy and he doesn't smell very good. He suggests it and says he can make something to eat quickly while Mizuki's in there. Mizuki looks reluctant but Tio waffles on about sleeping better when you're clean and well fed and Mizuki begrudgingly slumps off into the bathroom. 

He's falling asleep while he eats, it's nothing exciting, most of the food in his fridge is well past it's expiration date. His freezer holds better options so they sit at the dining table eating high protein ready meals that boast being macro counted.

Whatever that means. 

Tio follows him awkwardly when he murmurs about sleep again, he's not been in Mizuki's bedroom for a long time. It looks much the same, same furniture and opulent red sheets, same lamps on the bedside tables. But there are little signs of Sly everywhere, there's a cluster of empty glasses on the nightstand nearest to the door and dirty clothes half under the ottoman at the end of the bed. 

“He's messy, huh?” Tio asks without thinking then feels awful as Mizuki looks up at him over the duvet he's untwisting. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” Mizuki shakes his head, vaguely plumps his pillows then decides he can't be bothered to do any more and just flops down onto the bed face-first. He's only in a t-shirt and shorts so he'll sleep just fine. He lies there listening to Tio fuss, shutting the blinds and turning the light off and kicking all the dirty laundry into one pile.

Tio thinks he might hang around for a bit after Mizuki falls asleep to get things back in order, he might even have time to cook him something decent, to get some meal prep done for him. Mizuki has gone quiet and Tio has gotten the laundry out into the hallway, assuming he's asleep and he can get started on his plan.

“Tio?” His voice is very soft but he still hears it through the ajar door. He sounds sleepy and somehow every word he says seems utterly without hope.

Tio aches, hearing him sound so broken.

“Yeah?” He pops his head back into the room, Mizuki has squirmed under the covers and lies holding Sly's pillow to his chest, his eyes focused on something very far away.

“Do you think he's gonna make it?”

Tio opens his mouth, devastated. Doesn't know what to say, doesn't know enough to judge something like that. He thinks Mizuki is looking for comfort but he doesn't want to lie, to give him hope if it is only false, if it is a guess. 

“I don't know,” he manages, swallows thickly, feels like he might cry at his own admission, at the sudden sickening feeling of being utterly useless. “I really want him to.”

“I do as well.”

“He's tough, I don't think he'd let something like this take him down, not now he has so much to live for.”

Mizuki does look at him then, for a second, mouth downturned and eyes clouding with tears, murmurs a flat, “yeah.” Shuts his eyes, settles down against the pillows, breathes.

Tio won't let himself cry, not here with Mizuki already struggling, he won't add to his load with his own feelings. He exhales shakily into the stale air of Mizuki's kitchen and watches Amaya hop up onto the counter. 

She meows at him suddenly, long and complaining, she must be hungry. 

He laughs, her problems must be so small, so easy. Hungry, wanting cuddles, wanting to play, waiting for the litter tray to be clean so she can use it. 

She breaks him out of his spell a little, he finds treats in a cupboard and puts some onto a saucer, listens to her continued complaints as he doesn't immediately give her them. 

“Very big noises for such a little girl, hm?” She ignores him but he feels faintly better, this is something he can do, something that will chip away at the huge weight on Mizuki's shoulders.

He watches her crunch happily from the dining table, Tio isn't sure he should give her food on the table where the humans eat but honestly he's got no idea. She seems happy enough and he watches her for a minute, feels calmer, thinks he understands why Mizuki got her and why he was such a wreck when she went missing. 

There are other things he can do, he tells himself as he loads the washing machine and sets it going, as he starts binning mouldy food from the fridge, as he starts cleaning. 

Mizuki is at the bottom of a mountain, colossal, terrifying, impossible to climb, impossible even to start.

But if Tio chips away at the top, the climb becomes smaller, the task less insurmountable.

He can't climb the mountain for him or even with him, but he can damn sure work on shrinking the stupid thing.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 59

Mizuki is in the driver's seat of a car, he's never driven but he knows how to somehow, he changes gear and merges smoothly onto a dual carriageway. It's a nice car, leather seats and lots of screens in the dashboard, there's something in one of the vents that smells a bit like Sly. An air freshener of some kind. The window is down and it smells like spring, like maybe it just rained and all the plants are greedily sucking it up, grateful for it as the warm sun comes out again. 

Mizuki smiles, he likes driving, sometimes he just sets off and keeps going until he doesn't know where he is, until he is somewhere nobody knows him. 

He likes coming home to Sly though. 

The thought makes him smile and he turns to put the radio on when he sees him, Sly, asleep in the passenger seat, hair blowing faintly in the wind, curled up against the window. 

Mizuki forgot he was coming with him, absently squeezes his thigh just to watch him twitch in his sleep, remembers why the radio isn't on. 

He debates staying on the same road for a while but he usually likes to go off the beaten track, find somewhere new, so he signals and pulls off.

They're driving though quiet country lanes before long, there's an occasional dilapidated house left to rot, lots of farmland. He fights the urge to point out a field of cows when he passes, as much as Sly likes to be a passenger princess and look at their surroundings, he won't like being woken up. He murmurs it to himself instead and smiles at his own stupidity. 

They're approaching a hill on a blind bend so he slows the car, goes down a gear, looks at the mirror that will show anything coming. 

It's all clear, they're good to go. 

When they crest the hill, Mizuki does wake Sly up, he uncurls reluctantly, scrunches his eyes up against the light, frowns.

It's worth it though, for the look in his eyes when he takes in the vast spread of greenery around them, when his mouth tilts upwards in a soft smile. 

They're gaining speed going down the steep incline so Mizuki taps the brakes. 

Nothing happens. 

Sly doesn't realise anything is wrong until it's far too late.

Until the car smashes into a tree at the bottom of the hill and he flies out of the shattered windscreen, his body horrifically distorted.

Mizuki's seat belt holds him in place, steals his air but not for long. 

Sly is gone and there is blood across the hood of the car and on the quaint country road and Mizuki screams his name until a car comes out of nowhere going too fast and all he can do is sit there and the seatbelt won't come undone and the door won't open and-

Impact.

“Mizuki! Wake up!”

He wakes with a start then feels quickly soothed by the hand in his, falls back against the pillows in the dim light. Feels exhausted, his head pounds and he can hear the windshield shattering over and over in his head.

Mizuki squeezes the fingers around his, feeling set adrift. “Sly?” He asks, realising something isn't quite right, the fingers are too thick and too short, the palm too smooth, the grip not tight enough. 

“It's me, Mizuki.”

“Oh,” Mizuki says faintly, releases what he now realises is Tio's hand, rubs his palm over his eyes and asks, “what are you doing in my bedroom?”

When he uncovers his face to look at him he looks like a deer in the headlights, mouth open with no words, eyes apologetic and panicked. 

“Oh,” he repeats, a bit flatter this time, a bit duller. “I forgot.”

“Mizuki,” Tio says beseechingly, reaches for his hand again and smiles very faintly when Mizuki squeezes it and uses it to pull himself upright. “I'm sorry, I just- You were screaming.”

“Yeah,” he nods, feels it again, the sensation of terror, the blind panic, the tree approaching and the car not stopping and the doors not opening. “Just a bad dream.”

Tio considers this for a minute then sighs and smiles properly this time, faintly reassured, “are you hungry? You've been asleep for ages.”

That makes Mizuki panic more than the dream, the idea of sleeping through the emergency call or of having missed visiting time altogether. “What time is it?”

“Only just gone ten, but we got back here about two so, you must have needed it. I um,” he does look mildly uncomfortable now, fiddles with Sly's pillows until he realises what he's doing and stops too quickly. “I bought some food for you and made you some stuff you can just heat up. And, uh, I tidied up a bit too.”

Mizuki huffs softly, “you've been here all night? Tio shrugs and Mizuki really means it when he says, “thank you,” then, after a little silence. “I love you, dude.”

Tio laughs, “love you too, bro.”

Mizuki doesn't go to the hospital that day, Kin is visiting his mother so he goes to sit with Sly for a bit on his way out. He video calls Mizuki so he can see him and say hello and say anything else he wants to. 

He garbles a bit, he feels stupid with two people listening in, he tells Sly that he's okay, that Tio is taking good care of him. He tells him he'll see him soon, he tells him, quietly, that he loves him before Kin ends the call.

Kin comes over once he's done and the three of them hang out and even though there's a faint undercurrent of anxiety coursing through Mizuki at all times, he does feel better than he has in days.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 60

When Mizuki gets to the hospital it's a lot later than he normally arrives but the same friendly nurse is still working the desk and brings him a drink. She's bubbly and energetic and horrifically clumsy.

He finds himself thinking that Yuu would love her. He might ask him to come with him one day, people offer to sometimes but it feels weird. People have only just found out they're together, having them visit Sly when they don't know him at all feels odd. Mizuki knows they're mostly offering for him but still, something about visiting somebody in hospital feels intimate, private. He's not sure he wants somebody else there.

She brings him a can of diet coke and manages to catch the polythene cup full of ice before it goes everywhere. She tells him to shout if he needs her. She calls him honey. Mizuki likes her. He shoots off a quick text to Yuu before he loses his nerve and then puts his coil on silent like he does every time he visits.

Normally he sits quietly with Sly and waits for him to wake up but today he talks. He tells Sly all about his awful dream and about Tio sorting out the apartment for him, about the awful overnight oats he made for him. He tells Sly how much Amaya misses him, how she's taken to curling up on his pillow to sleep and how she makes biscuits on one of his hoodies. 

Sly's face twitches, like he's trying to smile and Mizuki watches him and feels sudden peace, sudden comfort. It's almost like he can hear him. Mizuki suddenly hopes he can.

“You need to wake up soon or she might turn against me. You know she likes you more.”

A noise at the door but Mizuki doesn't turn, it could be a HCA come to do something for Sly or it could be a nurse. It could be anyone really. 

“Who's that?”

Mizuki recognises the voice, it's Sly's therapist, he sounds like he's smiling, Mizuki wonders if he can tell he's been home like he suggested. 

“My cat. Well, our cat. She definitely likes him more.”

“Didn't have him down as a cat person.”

“He might not be, but he likes ours. They play hide and seek sometimes, he'll hide somewhere with treats and wait for her to find him.”

The therapist sits down next to Mizuki, he was right, he is smiling, “I see you went home.”

“Yeah. My friend sorted me out food and stuff, cleaned the place up for me. I slept for ages.”

“Do you feel better for it?”

Mizuki sighs, he wants the answer to be no but he finds he can't lie, “yeah, a lot better. I'm still exhausted but not as bad. Was nice being in my own bed.” He hesitates then adds, “it still smells like him, a little bit. I should probably wash the sheets but…”

“Why should you? Dirty sheets won't kill you. Did it comfort you? Or did it upset you?”

Mizuki thinks about this, it had been a bit of a shock at first, like a physical blow that had made his chest hurt. After a while though he'd pulled over Sly's pillow to smell and it was almost like he was just at his granny's or hadn't come to bed yet. “It comforted me. It was almost like he was there.”

“Then don't wash them, if they help you feel better who cares if they're a bit grubby? Not like anybody else has to sleep in them,” he shrugs, smiles, “except your cat, of course.”

Mizuki smiles back, thinks of her waiting for him at home, thinks of her by herself for the last two months other than the times Kin had popped round. She must have been awfully lonely, Mizuki wonders if she thought they'd both abandoned her. He thinks he'll pick up some more treats on the way back, though how he's meant to pay is a bit beyond him given that the island is still without any form of banking. 

They sit in silence for a while and Mizuki thinks he might head home soon, the day is getting slowly darker and he thinks of Amaya and of his warm bed that smells of Sly.

“It's good that you're talking to him.”

“Only if he can hear me.”

“He might be able to, some people in comas remember hearing all sorts of things, others don't remember anything at all. Do you think he can hear you?”

Mizuki exhales, drinks the last of his coke, watches the ice in the cup settle again, “I'm not sure, I hope so.”

“Let's say he can, what would you want to tell him?”

This takes a bit longer to think about but the therapist is patient, looks from Mizuki to Sly and back but his gaze isn't demanding or impatient. Mildly curious, interested. 

Kind. 

“I'd tell him to, try to wake up, if he can. That Amayas waiting for him. That I've got a present for him,” he smiles wryly at that, Sly is rather magpie-like, he likes little trinkets and silly gifts. Mizuki thinks it's because for most of his life he had nothing that was really his, or maybe it's because nobody else in his life has ever bought him a gift just because. “And I'd tell him it's okay. That he did what was needed,” he sighs gustily, “and that it doesn't change anything. I think, he'd be worried, about what I saw him do.”

“And what did you see him do? If you're comfortable sharing.”

Mizuki looks up, his expression sharp. The island knows what happened but they don't know how or who did it, as far as they're concerned Toue died when the tower collapsed. “This doesn't leave this room.”

“Of course.”

“He killed Toue. He sort of had to, he'd, I don't know what they talked about but the two of them went off to talk and I guess Sly didn't like his reasons for trying to ensnare the island.” Mizuki laughs suddenly, it's a bit out of place, “I'm just glad he did so I didn't have to. I don't think I could have done it. I had no real reason to. I didn't like what he was doing but he found out a lot more than I did in there.”

“Made in a lab, if I've interpreted your friend's video correctly.”

Mizuki nods, “yeah, him and his brother. I talked to Tae about it. It must have been hard for her but she did the right thing, getting him out of there. Then getting his brother. It just, it feels like so much of his past is built on misunderstandings and lies. His parents didn't just abandon him, they probably wanted to take him but Toue wouldn't let him out of his grip.”

“Do you think that will help him?”

“I don't know. Maybe. Maybe he'll be more hurt that Tae lied. Guess I can ask him when he wakes up.”

“Sounds like a plan,” the therapist smiles, puts a warm hand onto Mizuki's shoulder and reaches for his briefcase. “But unfortunately I do have to go, there's a meeting tonight at the gates to try and sort various issues out. A lot of people are keen for you to go.”

Mizuki shakes his head immediately, he's been invited to all sorts of things but he's never gone, the idea of all those questioning eyes on him is terrifying. “I've heard about it. I won't be there though.”

“Fair enough, well I'm sure I'll see you soon Mizuki, 

DAYS AFTER RAID - 71

Things get a little better after that, Mizuki actually goes home after he's seen Sly and though he doesn't sleep brilliantly it's still better than being on a crappy couch. He wakes up and takes a shower and eats a decent breakfast and packs a lunch and takes it with him. 

It's still a bit depressing, just sitting quietly in Sly's room but the reduction in medication has already started to be noticeable. He moves a bit, sometimes, his face will twitch, his hands will move. It's not much but it is something.

One day when Mizuki is sitting there thinking it might be time to go home for the day, Sly's hand curls up under his like he's trying to hold on. Mizuki stays late that day, holding onto him, feeling something a bit like hope start to bloom in his chest.

Tae bumps into him on his way out and she can tell he's a bit happier, she seems pleased with Sly's progress too. She suggests he doesn't visit over the weekend, that maybe he should see his friends or just come for a couple of hours and do something for himself. Mizuki says he'll consider it and though she narrows her eyes at his blatant evasion she pats him on the arm and gives up. 

DAYS AFTER RAID - 73

He listens to her a little bit, he visits on Saturday but on Sunday he goes over to Tio and Kins place for a late brunch. He'd completely forgotten that they'd moved in together, he's forgotten a lot of things that happened before the raid. It's nice, the food is good and the company is better but he's worried the whole time, keeps checking his coil terrified something has happened and he's missed it. 

Kin politely pretends not to notice and Tio does his best to do the same but he eventually mentions it. 

“He's fine, Mizuki. Nothing will have happened in the last five minutes since you checked. He's in a hospital, surrounded by medical professionals. He is in the best place he can possibly be in.”

“I know, I do, I just- I worry about him.”

“I get that, I do. But you need to relax a little bit, you'll make yourself sick worrying like this.”

“You'd be the same if it was me.” Kin weighs in, rolls the dice even though the board game has basically been abandoned at this point.

“I'd be cursing you for being so fucking stupid and getting yourself hurt, again. Besides, I'm convinced you're invincible.”

“He's not invincible. Nobody is. This wasn't Sly's fault. He got mauled, nobody expected that.”

Tio considers this, looks like he's thinking about apologising but doesn't bother, asks carefully, “what happened in there? I know he got hurt when the tower fell but, what do you mean he got mauled? By what?”

Mizuki stands up suddenly, he doesn't like to think about it, “I don't want to talk about it.” He feels suddenly sick, thinks of the snake and of the lion. Thinks of Sly saving him. Thinks that he couldn't do the same in return. 

Tio is saying something but Mizuki can't hear it, the blood is whooshing through his head and his pulse is deafening. His chest feels tight, his throat blocked, his vision starts to swim with shapes and colours and black begins to encroach from the outside in. 

He has to get out, manages to say something that sounds a bit like sorry and a bit like thank you. He turns tail. 

He flees, Tio shouting after him and Kin staring at him with concerned narrowed eyes. 

He can't bring himself to go back to the hospital after that. He takes a week off, feels shaky and sick. He keeps playing it over, the snake coiled around Sly, the lion in the second before it leapt. He can't get it out of his head, what they must have done to Sly who was alone and defenceless, scared and in pain.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 83

It's Kin at the door. Two in the afternoon on a Wednesday. Mizuki doesn't want to answer but he only knocks once then patiently waits while Mizuki decides if he's going to ignore whoever it is. 

He doesn't. Kin offers him a wonky smile and asks if he can come in. He and Kin are something like friends now and Mizuki finds it odd that he's even asked but says yes nonetheless. 

“Are you okay?” Is the next thing Kin asks him, sitting next to him on the sofa with a crease between his eyebrows. He waits for a reply but when one isn't forthcoming he carries on, his voice very gentle. “I'm not a doctor, but I think you might have PTSD.”

Mizuki blinks at him, says, “what?”

Kin sighs softly, “I was in a house fire when I was little, I got out mostly okay but I burnt my palms really badly,” he holds them up, there's scar tissue there that Mizuki has never noticed. “My mom fell, getting me out, she hit her head. Really hard, on the steps outside. I saw it all, I remember it really vividly even though I was little.”

“Okay,” Mizuki shrugs. It's a sad story but he doesn't really get how it relates to him.

“Seeing somebody you love go through something like that is really traumatic. The way they look, the smell of blood, the sounds. They stick in your head and sometimes when you remember them you sort of, go back, in your head, to when it happened.”

Mizuki thinks about this, he tries not to remember picking Sly up once they'd dug him free, tries to forget the wailing screams and the sound of metal buckling. 

This time though, he lets himself remember, the voice screaming at him to dig then to run. The warmth of Sly's blood, his body hanging limply in his arms, his ears ringing from the alarm and the screaming. 

So much screaming.

He hears it when he falls asleep.

“There was so much blood,” he manages and his voice is very quiet, he's staring at his own hands, clenched in his lap. “It was sticky, warm. There was a smell of metal. His head was just, flopping, on his neck, like every bone was broken.”

Kin doesn't say anything for a minute, lets his words hang in the air, sits forwards with his hands dangling between his legs. He offers, gently, “there was a crunch, when my mother's head hit the step. There's this, one chocolate bar, with honeycomb,” he exhales gustily but he sounds faintly amused at himself, maybe embarrassed about what he's about to say. “I swear, when you bite into it, it makes that same exact sound. To this day I can't be in a room with somebody eating one. Even the packaging freaks me out sometimes, I can hear the noise even though it's all wrapped up.”

“That's messed up,” Mizuki says, glances over at Kin and sees him smiling, their eyes meet and much to Mizuki's surprise, when he starts laughing Kin does too. “Honeycomb, really?”

Kin shrugs, still smiling, “yeah, it's just the noise, takes me right back. I'm better with it now but I still freak out if I smell smoke, if I hear a fire crackle or something that sounds like a fire.”

“That's understandable, that's scary for a kid.”

“It's scary for anyone,” Mizuki's face drops a little bit, although the conversation had shifted to Kins trauma, he can feel it start to shift back. “Do you have anyone to talk to?”

Mizuki sighs, sinks back into the cushions, “Sly's therapist comes and sits with me sometimes.”

“Sorry, Sly has a therapist?”

“Long story. He's nice though.”

“Can he find you someone to talk to?”

Mizuki hums, considering this, “I don't think I need anyone, I'll be okay once he wakes up. It's just, not knowing if he will, that's what fucking sucks. I just need him to wake up. That's it.”

Kin looks at him like he doesn't believe him but he lets it go and they end up hanging out for a while, playing mario kart and then watching TV. 

It feels like normality, it feels like Sly is just at his Granny's place or at Noiz's, it feels, just for a moment, like the tower never even happened.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 84

Mizuki has no idea what time it is when he wakes up to his coil ringing, he groans at it and reaches for it clumsily, knocking over a glass of water in the process. Weirdly, in his half asleep state he's more worried about his carpet than he is about whoever is calling him at this time. He wastes time, in fact, dragging a dirty t-shirt onto the puddle to try and soak some of it up. Vaguely satisfied at his progress he flops back into bed and answers the call. 

He's back out of bed very quickly. 

He doesn't bother to get dressed, to pull on a shirt and socks and something that isn't ratty pyjama bottoms. He rams his feet into untied trainers that he'll only realise later aren't a matching pair, fumbles with his keys in his blind, all consuming panic.

Heads out into the dark night, apartment door left wide open.

His feet hit the pavement and he runs like he's never run before. 

Chapter Text

DAYS AFTER RAID - 84

When Mizuki skids onto the ward and into Sly's room he's so out of breath he's basically hypoxic, his body feels not his, like a robot he is in charge of. He feels out of himself, panicked and frantic and terrified. 

Tae looks up at him. 

His arrival was hardly quiet after all and she looks utterly alarmed to see him standing there heaving for breath and sweating, his chin bleeding where he'd tripped over his own laces and fallen, scraping it on the pavement. There's little bits of gravel embedded into the skin of his hands too where he'd thrown them out instinctively to lessen the damage.

Mizuki thinks he probably looks pretty deranged.

“Mizuki,” Tae remarks, eyes wide, guiding him towards a seat he has no intention of taking, “what on earth are you doing here?”

Mizuki can barely talk, he's run so fast his throat and chest burn, his lungs ache but he manages to slur out in between desperate gulps of air that he got a call.

Tae looks livid, she huffs a very annoyed breath but manages to offer him reassurance, “he's fine, Mizuki. Some idiot unplugged some equipment so it showed he was flat-lining.”

“Flat-lining,” Mizuki manages, sinks into the chair on legs that suddenly wobble and falter in their exhaustion, after their overuse.

“He wasn't, but some idiot saw the monitor and called a code. I guess a different idiot called you.”

“He's okay?”

“He's fine,” Tae snaps but she's obviously not upset at him, puts a hand on his shoulder to comfort him then withdraws it with a grimace and wipes her hand on her dress.

“Sorry,” Mizuki pants, laughs then immediately coughs as it burns his throat, “I ran really fast.”

“And for no reason,” Mizuki's never seen Tae quite this angry before, he really pities whichever poor souls made the mistakes that brought him here. “You should sit with him a while, calm yourself down. I need to have words with some people.”

With that she stalks off with a face like thunder, Mizuki watches her go, feels his breath start to come a little easier, looks at Sly.

Face still, eyes shut, as if he were just sleeping.

Then, everything hits at once, the call and the running and the furious terror of being too late, of getting there too late and of Sly having died all by himself and-

He bursts into tears, hysterical, noisy, hitching things. He already couldn't catch his breath and now it's a million times worse, his chest heaves and his legs ache and his throat burns with every harsh breath he sucks in and sobs back out. 

He's still not quite himself when Tae comes back, the sheer relief of it being a false alarm has hit him like a freight train and he feels utterly destroyed by it. He can breathe a bit easier now but he still hitches and chokes occasionally, his eyes still leak. 

Tae takes one look at him and calls out, remarkably loudly given how early in the morning it is, “am I the only one who works here?”

Mizuki laughs then chokes on his own spit, coughs as Tae bustles over looking worried and starts taking his vitals like he's about to drop dead. She starts grumbling about idiots and incompetent staff and about how tired she is and Mizuki feels himself calm down a little bit under her warm hands.

“Finally!” Tae snaps as somebody comes into the room, Mizuki looks over, it's the nurse he likes, she looks faintly terrified of Tae but she softens when she sees him sat there, dishevelled and bleeding and scared. “He's freezing cold, find him something to wear.”

She does more than that, she comes back with a jumper she helps him pull on and a blanket she wraps around his shoulders gently. Tae is picking all the gravel out of his damaged hands, dropping each piece into a metal kidney dish. Mizuki focuses on the gentle clang each one makes as it hits. Doesn't look up again until she comes in with a plastic cup of something hot.

“Drink this honey,” she encourages him, keeping hold of the container until she's sure he has a good grip on it, her fingers lingering on his skin, staining with his blood. Mizuki takes a sip, it's tea with what feels like about a million sugars, it's almost undrinkable but it was kind of her so he drinks it anyway. She sits carefully on the edge of Sly's bed and tilts his head up gently to look at his grazed chin. “You really ran, huh?”

“Thought he was gonna die,” Mizuki admits and she looks apologetic and guilty and worried in equal measure. “Glad he's not.”

“Not on my watch,” Tae says insistently, tuts, “honestly Mizuki, you've made a right mess of yourself.”

“I was in a hurry.”

“Yes,” Tae remarks, smiles as she starts bandaging up his hand, “I can see that.”

Mizuki ends up staying at Sly's bedside until the next day dawns, holding his hand, stroking his hair, talking to him. The ward is quiet and Tae has gone home, she'd come to check on them a few times looking irritated and harassed every time. On her last visit she'd apologised to Mizuki for scaring him for nothing, the staff have been spoken to, she says. 

Mizuki doesn't doubt it. 

Mizuki's surprised the staff still have jobs. 

The morning is peaceful, somebody brings him something to eat and his head is bowed down the whole time, cheeks ablaze with shame. Mizuki wonders if it's the person who phoned him, wants to say it's okay but doesn't have the energy to. Besides, it's not okay really, he just doesn't have energy to think about it all that much.

He's exhausted, eats the food and sinks back into the chair and wishes, not for the first time, that he could curl up next to Sly in bed. He falls asleep thinking of him, his blue hair wild and beautiful, splayed out across his chest, the early morning light dappling his skin in yellow. 

He wakes to the sound of laughter, raucous and bubbly and boisterous. It sounds familiar but he can't place it until Yuu comes bounding into the room with a polythene cup of something and a beaming smile. 

“That nurse on the desk is something else,” Mizuki blinks at him slowly, “cute as anything.”

“Junko?”

“Yeah, with the red hair?” Mizuki nods, rubs sleep out of his eyes, accepts the cup he's offered. “That's for you, she told me you had a rough night.”

Mizuki rolls his eyes, that seems like an understatement, “think I've had worse.” He looks into the cup, praying it's not more awful tea and it's pleased when he sees something orange and fizzy instead.

“What happened to your hands?”

Mizuki sighs, glances over at Sly right as his eyelids flicker, “it's a long story.”

Yuu drags a chair over, it's very loud and Sly's mouth tilts faintly down, like he wishes he'd be fucking quiet. “I got time.”

Mizuki thinks things with Sly are going well, he's still reactive, still twitches or grips his hand or frowns.

Which is why it's so hard when his progress slows then stops, when it plateaus.

A strange feeling of melancholy starts to settle heavily into Mizuki's bones. He wakes, jogs, showers, eats.

Sits quietly next to an unmoving body in a hospital bed. 

Does all the normal stuff. 

It's not enough. 

He feels weird, like he's somehow two feet removed from everything, like when he puts his feet down they don't land where he intends them to. He feels increasingly out of himself, there's a weird feeling in his chest all the time, in his neck, tightening his throat. He finds himself sat at home, half watching the TV and half somewhere else entirely. 

Tio thinks he's still in shock, agrees with Kin that he has PTSD but this is too calm for that, too still and unmoving and suppressed. He doesn't feel traumatised, he doesn't really feel anything. 

A month passes, then two. 

Sly's still breathing on his own. It's good progress but it was hard won and slow. It doesn't feel any different. There are still catheter bags and scars on his legs and wounds on his face, red and angry. 

There's still an IV stand to feed him and a clip on his finger and a cannula in his hand and his eyes are still closed. 

Mizuki stops talking to him when he visits, just sits next to him quietly until visiting is over and the nurses kindly throw him out. 

DAYS AFTER RAID - 136

He picks up a bottle of whiskey on the way home. 

It's either a bad idea or a really good one. He feels no different, drinking it. No warmth, no flush to his cheeks, no tipsy fumbling.

Just a vast spread of nothing. 

The apartment is so quiet. His life is so quiet.

Gone are the days where he dashed to his coil every time it chimed in case there was news. There is never news these days. 

Why bother? 

DAYS AFTER RAID - 137

He wakes up feeling awful, he's overslept so now he's running late to visiting time but he makes no rush to get ready. He arrives 15 minutes before he has to leave, takes his solemn perch. Wonders how much more of his life is going to be just like this, sitting, waiting. 

“I'm sick of waiting.”

His eyes flick up, to Sly's unconscious face, peaceful as if he were sleeping. He feels a wave of guilt so strong he fears it will topple him. Reaches for Sly's hand with no caution for the needle taped into it. 

“I didn't mean it. I don't, I don't mean it, Sly, I'll wait, I can wait,” he feels sick, panicked and anxious. It feels like a betrayal. 

It feels like giving up. 

There's no point explaining himself to someone who is unconscious so he stumbles out of the room before he can be thrown out. He feels choked suddenly, like he's drowning and will stay that way until Sly stirs, until he can pull him out. 

He runs. 

In jeans and a hoodie with his keys jangling in his pocket with every step. He keeps his head down and his emotions in check and he runs until he can't anymore. Until he runs out of land.

He's not been to the beach since he was a child but he finds himself suddenly collapsed onto hands and knees in the swell, puking bile onto the rough mix of sand and pebbles.

Watching the water wash it all away as if it never happened. 

DAYS AFTER RAID - 143

Mizuki realises what he is so afraid of. What keeps him awake at night and holds his chest in a crushing grip, what chokes him and makes food taste like ash in his mouth. 

He is terrified of Sly waking up and not knowing him. Of becoming a stranger once more. 

He is terrified of having to start again.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 156

Weirdly, it's Noiz who breaks him out of it, who helps. He's barely seen him since the tower fell but he doesn't feel resentful about it, Noiz has been busy clearing their names, showing the masses the oppression they'd been living under. He's been helping with the island now it's fallen into chaos, he's been setting up food banks and helping with the clean up of the tower. Noiz is pretty well respected now, people wait with excitement for his next video, they hang onto his every word.

Mizuki's just glad it's Noiz and not him.

Noiz turns up unannounced and mostly unwanted with a pizza and a pack of beers, let's himself in and settles down while Mizuki gapes at him in the doorway. He's wondering where the hell he got a pizza from but that doesn't seem like the most important question right now.

“Tio says you're being weird,” he offers around a slice of pizza, putting his feet up on the coffee table, finding the TV remote, “what's up?”

Mizuki ignores him, shrugs, grabs himself a beer and screws the sharp cap off absently. 

Doesn't sit down.

“He's gonna wake up.”

Mizuki is annoyed immediately, “I know he is. That's what I'm worried about,” Noiz frowns, takes the beer off him and offers the pizza over in apology. “What if he's not the same?”

“You'll deal with it, we all will.”

“Yes but I don't want to deal with it.”

Noiz assesses him, jiggles the pizza box at him insistently until he relents and takes a slice, it's not particularly hot but it's covered in meat and looks passable. Mizuki feels a bit like he wants to throw the pizza, box and all into Noiz's face. He's so calm and collected and reasonable and Mizuki feels increasingly on edge, prickly.

“You see,” Noiz remarks, wiping tomato sauce off his chin and rubbing it on his pants, “the thing is that you won't get a choice. You'll have to.”

Mizuki looks at him, Noiz's face has softened a little bit, barely noticeable but Mizuki can tell he's trying to help. Mizuki can tell he's worried too. Noiz doesn't have a lot of people, not a lot of friends, to lose one would be devastating. 

Noiz opens a beer for him, gestures with his head to the couch and only hands the drink over when Mizuki relents and sits next to him, the pizza resting on their thighs. 

“None of us will have a choice. But that's the way life is, sometimes you have to do things you don't want to. Especially when you love someone.”

Mizuki thinks about that a lot, about doing things you don't want to for people you love. 

He thinks a lot about waiting, about patience, about the slow trickle of time.

About sitting in a hospital room next to an unmoving body in silence.

He's done a lot of things he didn't want to for Sly in the past. It makes him ask himself.

Why the fuck can't you do it now?

DAYS AFTER RAID - 157

Mizuki can't sleep. He's still thinking about what Noiz said. He's thinking of the way he's avoiding Sly now, as if they'll argue or something, as if Sly can argue. 

He is tired so he should be able to just shut his eyes and drift off but he can't. He lies there for a bit, maybe an hour or so without much luck, his body feels tired but his brain is very much awake. He pulls over Sly's pillow but it doesn't really smell like him anymore, Mizuki had tried his best not to clean it but he'd had to give it a quick spot scrub the other day after Amaya sat on it with shit on her arse. He'd been annoyed more because it was Sly's pillow, Amaya occasionally having a bit of poo on her arse isn't completely unheard of and he's gotten pretty used to checking her bum any time she's used the tray. Keeps tissues around just in case she needs a quick wipe. Mizuki thinks she's got IBS but isn't actually sure if a cat can have that. He should probably take her to a vet but he's been a bit busy with other things.

The pillow doesn't help, on other nights it makes him feel grounded, safe and comfortable. Tonight it smells like cleaning products and still very faintly of cat shit.

He sits up displeased, strips the cover off and chucks it into the dirty washing basket feeling annoyed. Sly's getting closer to waking up, he's moving more and sometimes reacts to things around him. He's not woken up properly yet, sometimes his eyelids will flutter and Mizuki will think that this is it only for him to go back to being comatose.

He's on the lowest dose of the medication he has been so far, the doctors say he could wake up anytime. Mizuki is looking forward to it and dreading it in equal measure. What if Sly doesn't know him? He was hard enough to convince to give them a try the first time, he doesn't know if he can do it again. He doesn't even think that would be fair. 

He just hopes it doesn't come to that. 

He huffs, annoyed at his own train of thought because now he is worried. He wants to be there when he wakes up, it's a lot better than wanting to be there in case he dies but both fill him with anxiety.

He decides to go for a jog, it's been a while since he did any exercise that wasn't just running from his problems and he thinks it might do him good to hit the streets for a bit. To clear his head and really tire his body out.

He doesn't mean to jog to the hospital but that's where he ends up.

The nurse on the desk just rolls her eyes and tells him she hasn't seen him when he walks onto the ward. They're pretty lenient with the visiting times as it is but Mizuki doesn't normally turn up past midnight. Mizuki thinks he'll have to do something to thank all the staff when Sly is discharged. 

Whenever that is. 

Mizuki isn't stupid enough to think that Sly will wake up and they'll go straight home, he knows he'll be in hospital for a hell of a lot longer yet. Him being awake is the first step towards a discharge though, the first step towards things feeling a little bit more normal. 

Sly looks the same as ever, peaceful as if he were just asleep. There's been talk recently about completely replacing the bones in his lower legs with metal ones instead. A trauma specialist is flying in from Ireland at some point, Mizuki can't quite remember when. He's better with knees but he's pretty good with bones in general and he's managed a few crush injury patients very successfully.

He doesn't speak a word of Japanese and though Noiz has translated a few times at Sly's multidisciplinary meetings, he really struggles with the accent.

Sly's face is healing and everything but his eye looks a lot better than it had even just a couple of weeks ago. Mizuki eases into the dark room and doesn't bother to put on the desk lamp, just sits there in the dark and exhales.

The room smells like Sly.

“Sorry it's so late, I couldn't sleep,” he's looking at the ceiling, listening to Sly breathe deep and even. “Don't let me wake you.”

It's a stupid thing to say and he smiles at himself absently, he would in fact quite like to wake Sly. 

“There's someone flying in soon to look at your legs, he's meant to be really good.” Sly twitches a little bit, like he's trying unconsciously to respond. “You might be getting some metal bones. You'll basically be a cyborg. Pretty cool, huh?”

There's not much else to say, Mizuki looks at Sly lying there, vulnerable and helpless and feels guilt again. It's softer though, somehow, he sighs and opens his mouth and says, quietly, “I'm sorry. I'll wait. As long as it takes. It's just, it's been a really long time and, sometimes I, feel a bit hopeless. I feel a bit useless. But I'll wait, I can wait.”

Sly's hand twitches on the sheets, makes a weak clenching motion like it often does. Mizuki thinks it is an invitation, an accepted apology. He moves his chair forwards and reaches out to touch him, smiles when the fingers move again under his grip. 

“I miss you.”

Sly doesn't respond and Mizuki doesn't really have anything else left to say so he wriggles himself down into the chair. Lulled by the warm room and the steady breathing and the smell of Sly, he falls asleep. 

Wakes up to a noise.

Blinks sleep away and frowns up at the unfamiliar ceiling, uncomprehending for a minute as the last vestiges of sleep leave him. His back hurts and his neck is aching, he's been sitting in a cheap plastic chair for an unknown amount of time, his chin on his chest, his head hanging down.

He wonders what woke him, thinks maybe a member of staff passed by or a patient in another room got up for some reason. 

But then he hears it again, a sort of little rumbling groan. 

It still takes him a minute to realise what it is. 

It's Sly. Still comatose, still silent. 

For a minute he panics, thinks something is wrong, wonders if he should press the call button to get help.

He makes another noise, he doesn't sound very happy and his face is a bit scrunched up. Mizuki wonders if he's somehow in pain despite the amount of drugs he knows he gets through his IV. One of his hands is moving a bit, a little clenching motion over and over like he's trying desperately to grab something.

It takes Mizuki an embarrassingly long amount of time to realise what it is. 

He's having a nightmare. Mizuki's not sure if you can have a nightmare in a coma and he doesn't like the idea very much but then, he considers, he's not really in a coma anymore. He's slowly coming out of one. 

Mizuki wonders if he even knows what's happened to him. He suddenly doesn't want to be there when he wakes up. The idea of trying to explain everything with Sly in absolute hysterics sounds awful. 

People keep talking to him about trauma.

That would be trauma.

He's moved forwards without really thinking about it, holds Sly's twitching hand in one of his and gently strokes his hair with the other.

Murmuring all the while, “it's okay,” and “I got you,” and “I'm right here.”

Sly grips his hand as if he meant to, like it was deliberate. Mizuki feels himself soften, feels his erratic panic ebb away and is overwhelmed with hope once more. He squeezes Sly's hand gently, feels his eyes flood when it is weakly squeezed back. 

“You know I'm here, don't you?” Sly's lip twitches at the side, he's gone quiet, his face has relaxed. His nightmare seems to be over. “I think you've known all this time.”

Sly doesn't reply, of course he doesn't, he's not woken up yet but Mizuki can still feel that he's fighting to, that he's really trying his hardest to return to the world of the living. 

“I'm not going anywhere,” Mizuki murmurs, bends down to kiss his forehead, the healing scars on his skin feel bumpy and raised. “I'll be right here. I'm just waiting for you. I'll keep waiting. You take as long as you need. I'm going to be here when you wake up. I'm going to be the first face you see.”

Sly smiles, faintly, barely discernable.

Mizuki doesn't see it, he's still whispering words into his skin, swallowing back hot tears. 

Hoping.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 163

When Sly finally goes for surgery to try and align the shattered bones in his legs, Mizuki is a nervous wreck. He knows logically that Sly is very unlikely to die on the table but he still worries about that along with a whole host of other things. 

Infection. 

Rejection. 

Failure.

Sly spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair unable to use his legs. 

Sly, without any legs at all. 

Tio and Kin are on full distraction duties for the duration, they pick him up from the hospital foyer and they go on a long, rambling, aimless walk. Tio updates him on the efforts to clean up the site of the fall, the strides the island is making to cope with no government. Noiz's latest video has really caused a stir and it does genuinely distract and interest Mizuki for a fair amount of time. The problem is that the story ends, the conversion stops for a moment and he remembers again, the cold metal table, the strangers. 

Sly, alone.

The food shortages they're now experiencing across the island mean lunch is a rather depressing affair and so is dinner when the time arrives but Mizuki doesn't care about the food. Kin says maybe they need to start a system of rationing, of some kind of food tokens people can use to ensure food is distributed fairly. Tio says it's a bit late for that, places have already been raided including Kins restaurant which had been emptied of anything non-perishable. There is a food bank, Noiz organised that but even they're running low now and people often turn up desperate and leave empty handed.

There's talk of some kind of soup kitchen, some brave souls have been to the mainland in small boats or dinghies to try and get supplies for one. But with no system of banking and cash becoming rare, most have come back without much. Some people have family near the coast and have managed to make contact. It's unsure as to whether they'll actually help or not, but it's something.

Sly is being fed via a central line and Mizuki has been worried about that too, about what they'll do when the hospital runs out of the bags that supply all his nutrition. 

That at least is sorted now, the Irish doctor who is currently working on Sly had been shocked to learn they'd been left so abandoned and had called in international help through the red cross. Mizuki thinks it makes sense, who would want to help an island that has been fiercely independent? An island that killed its own leader? A lot of people on the mainland seem to think Noiz is talking a bunch of nonsense in his videos, they think the takeover was a ploy to assert some sort of tyrannical rule. 

Ironic, really. 

But the doctor seems very nice and very experienced even though Mizuki doesn't know what he's saying until a few minutes after. Noiz does better with his accent in person and the doctor, Rory, starts talking slower to aid in his efforts translating. It's a frustrating process at times but they'd agreed on a plan and then once that was done and the meeting over Mizuki thought that would be the last time he'd see Rory until the day of the surgery.

Mizuki was wrong.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 161

Mizuki is sitting at Sly's bedside as normal, gently murmuring to him about his day or how he slept or how he'd kill to eat some vegetables if they hadn't all rotted.

When Noiz walks in, followed by Rory.

Rory is a slight man but fit, very tall and sort of wiry with dark red hair and a lot of freckles. He smiles at Mizuki and asks something in the casual way he seems to say everything, gesturing to the seat next to him politely. Smiles easily when Mizuki nods that it's okay for him to sit down.

“You the husband?” Noiz asks, amused, Mizuki watches Rory's eyes sparkle, his mouth still upturned, his eyes gentle, trustworthy. He's wearing a gold cross around his neck and Mizuki is wary for about a minute then decides he doesn't care. Religion isn't a big thing on the island, not like it is in the rest of the world and he doubts any doctor would refuse to treat somebody so desperately in need of care just because they're gay.

“Something like that.”

Rory laughs when he gets his translation, claps a warm hand on Mizuki's shoulder and asks, through Noiz, “any questions, worries? Anything you want to ask me before we start planning for this?”

He's in Sly's room for a very long time but he doesn't seem to mind, he smiles or he looks serious or he seems concerned but overall he seems sure, he seems confident.

The doctors on the island are good, yes, but they've been isolated for so long that they're very behind modern medicine. Rory has access to every article, every breakthrough, every new drug or procedure or technique.

Mizuki thinks Sly is safe in his hands. Mizuki thinks they are safe in his hands.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 163

The three of them are sitting watching a movie with a single chocolate biscuit each and a mug of tea without milk because there isn't any on the island when Mizuki gets the text. 

It's from Tae, she says he's all done, he's recovering in post-op but he's done really well and the surgery was a success. 

Mizuki feels himself deflate at the sight of the words in plain black and white, and feels the tension ebb away suddenly. Isn't particularly alarmed to find he's crying with sheer relief. Laughs wetly when Tio flops against his side and puts his arms around him, when he tells him he knew he was being stupid for no reason. 

They walk him to the hospital and wave goodbye looking less worried than they normally do when they see him. 

He heads upstairs, a familiar path. 

He heads up. 

To Sly.

Rory is there much to Mizuki's surprise, he looks tired but pleased, writing something in Sly's chart, mimes a sigh of relief at him and smiles again. Mizuki feels a bit lost without Noiz to translate but Rory doesn't really say anything. He draws for him then points at areas on Sly's legs to make sure he understands. He draws the bones in his legs, adds screws and pins and plates slowly but carefully. Draws the metal femurs they've put in to replace his mess of shattered bones. Points to Sly's uncovered legs. 

Mizuki had expected the external cages but it looks very different to how he had envisioned. They're very big for a start, he can see every point on Sly's skin where they'd had to make cuts to pull the rods though. It's very neat but it feels brutal, it feels like even more damage to Sly's already battered body. 

Mizuki nods along and tries to follow as best he can, feeling exhaustion sinking in, the crash after a day on high alert. Rory must be exhausted too, it had not been a quick surgery and Mizuki knows he will have been there for all of it. 

Noiz turns up right as it seems Rory is done, they exchange a few words that Mizuki doesn't understand. Mizuki watches emotions play over Noiz's face and wishes he understood even a few words but he doesn't.

“More feed is coming,” Noiz says, seeming pleased with whatever had been discussed, “might take a few days though.”

“He might have woken up by then.”

“That's what Rory said,” Noiz smiles faintly, assesses the cages on Sly's legs neutrally and looks up to Mizuki. “So stop panicking that he's going to die.”

“Plenty more to panic about.” Noiz rolls his eyes but concedes because Mizuki is right. Every time they think the worst is over it somehow isn't. The worst just seems to keep going.

Chapter Text

Sly wakes up in increments, he rouses briefly, his eyelids flutter but his head feels like it weighs a million pounds and everything hurts, there’s a brief bit of light, maybe a voice, then everything goes black again.

The next time it is dark and it is quiet, he gets his eyes partially opened, an unfamiliar ceiling, worn tiles and a damp patch, a strip light that is thankfully off, pressure all over his body like he is under a heavy blanket. He opens his mouth but his lips feel dry and cracked, his throat is stuck, unable to say a word.

His eyes close again, and he is back out.

Darkness again, a sound like a machine gently whirring, the tap of something over and over, repetitive, anxious. He exhales and his face creases, breathing hurts and though he tries he cannot move his lips and he cannot speak. He hears a noise like a groan, a short, breathy little exhale of discomfort, fabric shifting, a voice, unfamiliar, a cool hand on his forehead.

He is out again.

He finally rouses decently a while later, he has no idea how much later though, he wakes briefly and sleeps often, he has no memory of when he last woke, or how long he has slept for, he simply knows that he has slept. His consciousness has come back enough that he knows he is in the hospital, he can’t lift his head and his eyes scrunch against the light but he can see shapes of people in blue, they’re doing something to his legs but he can’t tell what, he can’t really feel what. His whole body feels numb, unbearably heavy.

He feels his leg lift, there's an awful tearing feeling like his skin is being flayed off, he groans, there are alarmed noises, somebody is holding his wrist, the pressure of their fingers digs into his skin. There’s a hand on his face again, against his cheek, stroking softly.

The pain flares again, crests.

He passes out.

Darkness.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 177

It’s dark again, his eyes are opened properly now, though it’s taken him a while of lying there to manage it and he still can’t move anything else, there’s a warm weight on his hand, something atop his leg. He feels drunk, stoned, high out of his fucking mind, there’s a delay between his brain and his body, a big one, he tells his eyes to look to the left then has to wait for them to actually do it. It doesn’t help and it exhausts him, he realises for the first time that he is very badly hurt. He’s sort of surprised he’s even alive to be honest, his memory of what happened has come back hazily, but he remembers the snake and the lion.

He remembers Toue.

The way Mizuki looked at him with blood splattered up his face, matted into his hair, the way he’d taken a step back as if to protect himself.

There's another memory too, or maybe a dream, it's very hard for him to tell. Mizuki saying gently that it's okay, that Sly did what he had to. Mizuki saying that he would be there when he woke up. 

No matter how long it takes.

He thinks he’s going to be sick, groans softly and thinks that if he is sick, he’s going to choke on it and die.

The pressure on his hand is lax, he thinks someone is holding it but very, very gently, like they’ve just curled their fingers around his and left them loosely there.

His tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth and his chest hurts when he exhales, but he finally manages a single word, weak and quiet, slurred, “Mizuki?”

He said he'd be here when he woke up.

Sly will be pretty annoyed if he isn't.

A flurry of movement he can’t keep up with, that knocks him sick with all the sounds of clothes moving and the chair legs screeching back and something colliding with metal with a resonant, hollow sort of clang.

“Hey, hey,” Mizuki’s voice is frantic but soothing as he moves so Sly can see him, one knee carefully planted on the side of the bed, his worried face swimming into his vision and his hands on his face and neck, gentle. “I’m here, I’m here.”

The hand on his left cheek doesn’t feel right, the one on his right is warm and rough, solid, the one on his left feels almost numb , like Mizuki is somehow not making full contact with his skin. Sly is too exhausted to worry about it.

“H-How are you feeling?” His voice stutters, he sounds petrified with anxiety, his eyes are dark and sunken into his head and his hair is a greasy mess.

“I-” Sly begins, then realises he doesn’t know how to answer, his throat still hurts and his voice is raspy, “you look like shit.”

Mizuki laughs but it is tinged with hysteria, Sly watches his eyes get wet, watches as he exhales shakily, feels the warmth of it on his face, “yeah, I do.”

Sly’s throat works to laugh but his body doesn’t seem to like that idea, his chest catches and his throat burns and when he coughs it hurts his entire body, all the way down to his toes, he can’t even raise a hand to cover his mouth. He shuts his eyes against the pain, sees it behind his eyes as flashes of bright white, his head is pounding, his body feels unbearably heavy.

There’s something against his lips, something cool and cold, he parts his lips to drink and coughs again, sprays water everywhere, swallows what dregs he got and tries again.

It goes better the second time. His mouth feels suddenly flooded with saliva, like it was a dried up oasis that had been rapidly introduced to a water park.

Mizuki helps him take a couple more sips, he feels like he can talk now, his voice is still strained but it doesn’t rasp anymore and it isn’t as painful, “don’t strain yourself. Your body needs to rest.”

“I’ve done a lot of that already.”

“You need to do a bit more,” Mizuki is back where he can see him now, he’s discarded the plastic cup somewhere Sly can’t see and sits carefully on the edge of the bed, watching Sly's reactions as he eases down to make sure he doesn’t hurt him.

Sly can feel the heavy weight of unconsciousness again, at the back of his mind like he is being physically pulled under, he fights it as much as he can but when Mizuki starts gently stroking his hair it is too much and he is under.

Darkness, once more.

Mizuki manages to hold it together while Sly is awake, sits there after he fades back out, gently carding fingers through his hair. 

Promptly bursts into tears. 

All his fears seem unfounded and the relief is so massive that he feels utterly overwhelmed by it, knocked back like it was a physical force. He ends up bent double over Sly, his head on his chest, clutching his hand so hard it would hurt him if he was conscious, choking on his own spit and saliva. 

Hysterical.

He's hysterical.

That's the only word for it.

He's still hysterical when Tae pops in between patients to check on them. 

Mizuki's pretty sure he scares the shit out of her and he knows he has when she roughly pulls him upright and asks what's wrong and starts checking Sly's vitals.

Mizuki can't speak, he can't breathe. He thinks the worst is over now.

He's wrong.

But he doesn't know that yet. 

He manages to gasp out between sobs that Sly had woken up, Tae looks alarmed but her hands on his shoulders ground him and he swallows and tells himself to calm down. 

Says, overwhelmed again, “he knew me, Tae. He knew me.”

He's never called her Tae before.

“What else?” She demands, looking harried and frantic. “What else did he say?”

“He told me I looked like shit.”

Tae smiles faintly, lifts a hand up like she's going to touch his hair then grimaces and changes her mind, “he's right.” She laughs and it's a beautiful thing. Mizuki has never seen her laugh, he's only seen her with her lips downturned and her face creased with stress.

Her laughing feels like the end of it, if Tae can laugh, anything can happen.

He thinks, again, that the worst is over now. 

He's still wrong.

He still doesn't know that.

Tae looks at him with her eyes all wet and she smiles and it's fragile and hopeful and relieved.

Mizuki still doesn't know her well but it feels right to stand up and pull her into a hug, to squeeze her to say, quiet and stupid, “everything's going to be okay.”

They stand like that a long time, in each other's arms and it feels right, here are two people joined by their unshakable love for a third, brought together in grief and unified in their celebration. Tae kisses his cheek before she goes, squeezes his shoulder and tells him to go home to rest. 

For the first time, Mizuki listens to her. He mirrors her when he kisses Sly goodbye, tells him he won't be gone long. Tells him he loves him.

It's the first time he's said it in a while. It never got any less true, it just became harder to say when Sly couldn't react, when Mizuki couldn't watch him want to say it back. 

He wonders if he'll say it, when he wakes up again.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 179

His legs are destroyed, they’ve tilted the bed up slightly so he can see them, one of his limbs sticks out from under the hospital blanket and there's a weird metal contraption around it. He can tell there's one on the other leg too by the way the blanket drapes across it. He stares at the healed wounds, the depressions in his skin where metal rods pierce through. He thinks of the snake again, the lion.

He thinks about the damage they must have done.

He feels more alert than last time he woke up, he can turn his head now, a little bit at least, can tell someone is in the chair by his side, it’s easier to talk too, “Mizuki?”

“I had to send him to bed,” Granny’s voice answers, she shifts closer, moving the chair she’s on so she’s more in his line of vision. “He’s upstairs.”

“Upstairs?”

“The on-call room,” she smiles, squeezes his hand and Sly notices for the first time the splint on his thumb, keeping it in place, “I told him to go home but he won’t leave you. And I won’t either.”

“Noiz?”

She chuckles vaguely and Sly frowns, “he’s busy, but he’s visited. A lot has happened while you were asleep, he’s making the things Toue did known to everyone on the island.”

“What things?”

She squeezes his hand, “nothing you need to worry about now,” Sly wants to argue, but he knows he doesn’t have the energy, so he just vaguely nods and Granny changes the subject. “Hungry?”

Sly considers this, his whole body feels crazy so it's hard to tell all the sensations apart. His head hurts and his legs ache but underneath it all he feels it, a hollowness in his belly. “Yeah.”

She comes back with what is basically mush, it doesn't look appealing but he guesses he hasn't eaten food in a while. Thinks again of the snake and of the lion. 

Wonders if they messed up any of his organs. 

Despite its appearance, it tastes okay, fairly sweet, he thinks it might be some kind of smoothie, or mashed fruit. Tae feeds him with a spoon, carefully and slowly, wiping his face gently clean when she needs to. 

“I used to feed you like this when you were a baby.” She says, smiles, scrapes the spoon across the bowl to get the last bits out and offers him it, waits patiently as he swallows. 

“You didn't know me as a baby.” He's not arguing, not really, he's not got the energy for that. 

“Well, you were a baby to me. You were pretty young when they brought you home, I spoon fed you sometimes, played the aeroplane game with you. I was so happy, to have a grandson, to have all this family around me, Haruka and Nain, you.”

“Granny-”

“Let me finish,” she says softly, puts the bowl away and stays sitting on the side of his bed, reaches out for his hands. “I never thought I would get a family, and I know it's been tough for you, losing your parents and your brother. I know you went through a lot and I wasn't always there for you. But I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere. Okay?”

Sly feels exhausted, bone deep tired, he murmurs, “okay,” and wishes he had the energy to think of something nice to say back. Something to acknowledge this moment of tenderness, of love between them, but already his eyes are drifting shut and his brain is going quiet.

“Rest,” Tae murmurs, squeezes his hand, “I'm so proud of you.”

Sly falls asleep with her voice echoing in his ears, the feeling of her wrinkles hands holding his, her love filling the room.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 182

A lot happens after Sly wakes up and not just to him. The red cross arrive with supplies and medical personnel and thankfully, with plenty of food. They set up in a small play area just past the main street under little canopies bearing their emblem. They get the soup kitchen up and running and work all hours of the day and night, distributing food parcels, helping those displaced by the collapse of Platinum Jail. They help clear rubble and talk to the people whose lives have turned upside down. Their medical staff flood into the hospital, relieving the staff there who have been working almost nonstop since the tower fell. 

Noiz starts holding more community meetings, they're every other week now and every time more people turn up. He's still making his videos and drip feeding Toue’s evil to the islanders. He's getting requests to be interviewed by the media, only in Japan but Noiz thinks it'll go global eventually. There'll be scientists interested in Toue’s work, there'll be nutters too, people who think the island did the wrong thing, people who think the whole island is experiencing some sort of shared delusion. Noiz tells him this all over text or through quick, exhausted phone calls. Noiz hasn't visited yet but Koujaku reports that when he got the message that Sly was awake he'd locked himself in the bathroom and Koujaku had heard him crying. He's been brighter since, Koujaku says, more like himself and though he's still throwing himself into his work, he seems less manic, less like he's just trying to distract himself. 

Yuu’s been to visit too, had brought food for Mizuki and for Junko, the nurse he's taken a shine to despite the fact that he's only met her once before. Mizuki sits next to Sly, watching him sleep, listening to Yuu talking to her, to both of them laughing. 

A lot more people are laughing these days. It's nice.

Mizuki lives in the hospital again, now Sly's awake he needs all sorts of things. Scans and imaging and neurological exams and aftercare. He needs his central line taking out now he can eat by himself and his IV removing and he needs to start physio at some point.

He's still sleeping a lot but he's awake at least a few hours a day and they are crammed with medical personnel poking and prodding him. Mizuki understands, he just wishes he had more time with him.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 187

Sly is told about the coma, about all the things the surgeons had to do to save his life. They wanted to wait until they were sure he could handle it, until they were sure he wasn't going to deteriorate. Tae stands in the room with Rory, a translator from the red cross and the senior doctor overseeing Sly's case as they tell him, watches emotions play on his face and holds his hand. He doesn't say much, he just thanks them then asks for Mizuki.

Tae finds him in the cafeteria where more staff from the red cross and some volunteers from the island have gathered to give food and support to the hospital workers. Mizuki is sitting in a corner eating some kind of pre-packed cold noodle dish that is actually pretty good, watching all the goings-on.

She sits down opposite him and watches him react, it takes a minute, he's still not sleeping great and living in the on-call room isn't helping. She smiles though when he looks up and sees her and he smiles back. 

“He's asking for you,” she says, politely waving away a volunteer who comes over and asks if she is hungry. “They've told him about how long he was out, about the surgeries, about his injuries.”

Mizuki nods slowly, eats his last mouthful and puts the plastic fork into the container, “how did he take it?”

Tae sighs, “hard to tell. I think he wants to talk to you about it. I don't think he realised it had been that long.”

“How long has it been?” Mizuki asks, the days have all blurred into one, he wakes, sleeps, eats, visits the hospital. All the anxiety and stress and fear muddle his brain.

“Six months, approaching seven.”

“Jesus,” Mizuki breathes, then, unsure of what to say and wanting to get to Sly before he wakes up, “I better go see him. Thanks, Tae.”

“My turn to sleep now,” she jokes, or at least Mizuki thinks she does, he finds it hard to tell. “Wake me in twelve hours if I'm not already up.”

“Will do.” Mizuki nods, they've started sleeping in shifts so Sly will always have one of them if he needs them. It's a good system and Tae’s work load has been reduced with the arrival of doctors and surgeons from the mainland. Doctors without borders, Mizuki thinks they're called. Both of them have a bit more breathing room with Sly awake and neurologically intact. Tae has even started saying she might go home after her shifts now he's awake, says a woman her age needs rest with a wry little smile.

She's yet to actually do it though.

Sly looks pretty neutral when Mizuki arrives at his room and hovers in the doorway, watching him. Try as he might Mizuki can't read him at all, doesn't know if he's upset or freaked out or worried. He looks at him and he gets nothing. Mizuki thinks he'd be panicking if he found out he'd been comatose for six months but he doesn't really know how Sly would manage something like that. He's not sure how most people would manage something like that.

“Six months, huh?” Sly opens with, smiling in invitation, Mizuki just shrugs, sits down next to him. “No wonder you look so awful.” Mizuki thinks that was meant to be a joke, that he was meant to laugh. But it isn't funny so he doesn't. Sly's voice turns a bit quieter, a bit more intimate. “You okay?”

Mizuki shakes his head dismissively, the last thing Sly needs is to be worried about him at a time like this. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

Sly just looks at him and Mizuki knows he can see right through him even with one of his eyes all fucked up. He feels very exposed, very vulnerable under his stare. He hasn't felt like that in six months. It feels very overwhelming to have Sly look at him.

Sly can tell he is lying, rolls his eyes at him. “I was a nervous wreck when you got your appendix out and that was barely any time, don't you go pretending you've been chilling this whole time. You can't fool me.”

Mizuki considers this, remembers Sly, upset and mad at him for daring to worry him, smiles, “well, I did get sepsis.”

“You did? Granny didn't tell me that,” Mizuki hadn't either but he doesn't mention that, tries to vaguely wave an arm but doesn't have the energy so his hand just flops about on his wrist. “Well, doesn't matter now, I still win.”

“Yeah,” Mizuki says, feeling like he is about to break apart. Even hearing Sly's voice is like a balm, like a blessing. His life has been so dreadfully, terrifyingly quiet without him. “You definitely win.”

“So are you okay?”

Mizuki considers this, breathes shakily, he's wanted to hear Sly's voice for months, wanted to see him with his eyes open and his gaze on him. It's completely overwhelming to be sat here with him awake, with Sly knowing him and asking if he's okay like Sly isn't in a much worse state.

“Better now you've woken up,” he says, swallowing, doesn't trust himself to say more.

Sly's voice is low, considerate but he's still prying, still trying to get the truth out of him. “Six months is a really long time, Mizuki.”

“Don't I know it.” He's trying to joke, to lighten everything. He thought when Sly woke up all his anxiety would go away but it's still there, creeping in at the edges of what should be a happy moment.

“You've got a beard,” Sly remarks calmly, looks like he wants to reach out to touch but can't, tilts his head on the pillow, “you've never had a beard before.”

“It's not a beard.”

“It's getting there,” Sly is still trying to get something out of him, he's worried but it seems misplaced with him lying in a hospital bed. “What have you been doing then? While I've been in here.”

“I don't really wanna talk about it,” Mizuki answers too quickly, he feels sick just thinking about it. The waiting, the fear, the slow, lingering death of hope. “You're awake, that's all that matters.”

Sly sighs but leaves it for now, carries on watching him as Mizuki stares at his own hands, clenched in his lap. 

“Thought you might want to talk to me once I woke up,” he says but it's not an attack, he's trying very gently to get Mizuki to open up, to be honest with him. It's working quite well.

“Of course I do.”

“So talk to me.”

Mizuki sighs, all this time wanting to see Sly awake and now he can't look at him, “I've spent the last six months thinking you were either going to die, or you were going to wake up and not know me.”

He doesn't look up to see how he reacts to this, looks at his own hands, nervously clenching and unclenching. “It's-” He feels his throat get thick and stops again, not sure what he was about to say. 

Silence falls again, Sly lies there quietly letting him gather his thoughts. The room is a lot quieter with most of the life sustaining equipment gone, the silence feels deafening, crushing.

“I don't think I can live without you,” Mizuki breathes out, feels fragile again, brittle, like one touch would shatter him completely. 

Sly's face falls, silence envelops them again, Mizuki feels dread rising, panic grow, fear swell. “That's a bit much.”

Mizuki looks up to see Sly twisting his face up, feigning disgust with his eyes all soft and worried and fond. Then he smiles and, unfortunately, for some reason that is what does it. 

Mizuki opens his mouth to laugh but it comes out wet, broken and hurting, Sly's smile dies again as Mizuki's eyes spill over and he manages, “I really missed you.”

Sly doesn't answer for a second, he looks upset which isn't what Mizuki wanted, he flips his hand over and waits for Mizuki to take it. Squeezes. “I'm here now, you don't need to miss me.”

Mizuki doesn't trust himself to answer, wipes his eyes, tells himself to calm down, tells himself he's overreacting. It doesn't help very much. 

“I dreamed about you.” Sly says suddenly, “You would talk to me sometimes, sometimes you'd just be there with me.”

Mizuki looks up, as upset as he is he wants to hear what Sly has to say, he wants to know what he's been experiencing while he's been out of it. “I had a nightmare once, I was running, and I fell into a cave. I couldn't find the way out, it was dark, it stank of mould. I was in there for ages, running in circles I think, never getting anywhere. I was scared, in the dark, underground, all by myself.”

Mizuki wonders if this was the nightmare he'd witnessed or if there were many, he hopes for the former.

“I gave up in the end, I lay down on the damp rock, I stopped looking for the exit. I thought that was it, I'd never get out.”

“Then what?”

“I heard your voice, you were upset for some reason, crying I think. You told me to take as long as I needed, that you'd be the first face I saw when I got out.”

“And did you?”

Sly smiles at him, squeezes his hand again, asks, “what do you think?”

DAYS AFTER RAID - 192

The days start to look very different now Sly is awake, he's gotten into a more regular sleep schedule so Mizuki usually sits with him until he falls asleep in the early evening then goes home. He plays with Amaya, takes photos and videos to show Sly the next day. He cooks food and tidies up and does the washing and watches TV. Always passing time until he can see him again.

Sly is still kept busy, physio has been in and he's able to use his arms a bit more now, able to lift them and despite the small amount of nerve damage in them, they think he'll retain full use of them. 

His legs are another story, he's dosed up on painkillers but the physio on his legs is really painful so they can't do much. The prognosis isn't good and Rory, despite doing great work on the prosthetics and the alignment of his bones, isn't able to fix all the tissue and nerve damage. 

Mizuki knows there's a chance he won't walk again but nobody wants to say it out loud either to him or to Sly. Mizuki thinks about that a lot, Sly in a wheelchair, unable to walk.

He's not sure how he feels about it, he knows they could adapt to it over time and they'd eventually get used to it but it still feels so unnatural. Sly is a creature of movement, running and climbing and active, mobile. Mizuki can't picture him living his life as normal in a wheelchair. 

He doesn't think Sly would take it very well if they said there was nothing they could do for him. 

Besides, it's only a fear at the moment and there's still a plan for ongoing intensive physio and possibly more surgery if it could help. It's going to be a very long road until Sly is even discharged, let alone trying to walk. 

It's different this time, the waiting, because Mizuki's not sure what he's waiting for. Full recovery? Discharge? Normality? 

Mizuki doesn't think there is a normal anymore, not since the tower fell. He thinks normal has changed for everyone.

Sly's a lot brighter than he was when he first woke up, now he's awake during normal hours he's asking for things to do, for books and a tablet so he can watch stuff. Mizuki dutifully brings anything he asks for, he doesn't need his tablet since business is not open as normal and won't be for the foreseeable. The island as a whole is doing a lot better, Noiz has located some of the companies who used to ship supplies to Platinum Jail and has set up new contracts with them. Medicines and food start to show up again and Noiz thinks he's close to working out how to set back up the payment system again and open up the islands bank. 

Things are going well, Sly is himself and Mizuki feels slight less set adrift with every visit and every smile Sly sends his way when he sees him. 

He still looks at him sometimes and sees the way he was, battered and bleeding, broken. It freaks him out and he stammers his words or loses them completely and Sly changes the subject, distracts him, reaches for him. 

He's finally shaved and Sly gives him a round of applause as he sits down next to him, Mizuki smiling, endeared at his stupidity.

They spend their time talking about the island, about Noiz and Koujaku and Tio and Kin, about Mizuki's friend who keeps turning up with cakes for the nurse on the desk. Sly grimaces and says they're obnoxious. 

He's not wrong. 

DAYS AFTER RAID - 193

“There's a tube in my dick, isn't there?"

"A catheter?" Tae asks, Sly shrugs, he doesn't know what it's called, he just knows it's there. "Yes." 

"You didn't, put it in, did you?"

"Of course I didn't, we have nurses for that."

"Good."

"Honestly Sly, I think you forget I'm a doctor, I've seen plenty of penises before."

"Not mine!"

She gives him a look. "They had to cut your clothes off to assess your bleeding when you got here."

"Gross."

"Hey, what you guys talking about?"

"He's throwing a fit because I saw his penis."

Mizuki pulls a face, senses that Sly is uncomfortable and leans over to kiss his cheek, "sad I didn't."

"You're not funny." 

DAYS AFTER RAID - 200

It's getting late but Sly is still awake, he'd had a bad night with breakthrough pain and Mizuki thinks he's worried about going back to sleep in case it happens again. They've gone quiet, Sly is slowly reading a book and Mizuki is just looking out of the window at the clouds that blow by. It's peaceful, serene, Mizuki almost can't believe that life is this nice again, this simple. Just him and Sly, quiet together. 

It's perfect. 

Sly, apparently, disagrees.

“Mizuki,” he hums assent, “do you think you could shift me over a bit?”

“What?”

“Like, shove me over in the bed. I'm uncomfortable.”

“Well I won't shove you but sure, I can move you over if you want. Won't that be worse though? All squashed up at the edge?”

“Nope,” Sly answers with a little pop on the ‘p’, smiling in the way that usually means he's up to something.

Mizuki does it anyway, it's a bit awkward leaning over the bed and carefully getting arms under him to move him over. Sly inhales like it hurts but says it's fine, Mizuki doesn't believe him but he gets him moved like he'd asked, fusses with his pillows while Sly watches him. 

“Better?” He asks, fiddling with his covers for lack of something else to do. 

“Yeah,” Sly says, then pats the empty bed next to him and says, “come on.”

Mizuki laughs, “come on, what?”

“Get in.”

“You're serious.”

It's not a very big bed, sure there's more room now Sly's moved over but it's hardly generous and Mizuki really doesn't think it's a good idea. 

“Very,” Sly nods then, beseeching, “come on. Please?”

Mizuki sighs, he's never been very good at saying no to Sly and especially so when he looks at him like that with his face all open and trusting. 

He mumbles an assent, kicks his shoes off and gingerly worms his way into the space left, very worried about hurting Sly. He eases down carefully on his side, watches Sly watch him as he settles and lies still. 

Sly can't get onto his side but he twists himself a bit so he almost is, looking at him across the pillow. Mizuki lies there pretty stiffly, worried about falling out of the bed.

“Comfy?”

“Not particularly,” Mizuki replies but he does smile, it's nice lying next to him like this, looking at him in the dim light. 

Sly huffs, amused, lifts a hand to touch his jaw, “thank fuck you shaved, you looked like a right pervert with that moustache you had.”

“At least I can grow facial hair.”

“You're welcome to it,” Mizuki looks at him, his expression still very open, very safe, watches him bite his lip almost shyly, mouth tilted up at the corners. 

Tender.

Mizuki feels very tender, looking at him, shifts to put an arm around his middle and presses their foreheads together, closes his eyes. Breathes in his smell, his breath, the very essence of him. 

“I love you,” he whispers with his eyes still shut, feels Sly's fingers on his cheek, the palm of his hand.

“You too,” Sly responds in the very same breath that Mizuki had used to say it, quick and without doubt, without fear. 

Mizuki feels himself fill up all the way from his toes to the top of his head, a rush of affection so strong he would willingly drown in it. He opens his eyes for a second to see Sly's shut, his face lax and serene. Puts a hand on his cheek, kisses him for the first time since he woke up. 

Sly hums, shifts his hand onto the warm skin of his neck. They are slow, unhurried, lingering touches as they part and meet.

“And here I thought you'd hate me,” Sly murmurs, groaning in mild discomfort as he tries to move closer, to get further into his arms. It's a bit of a failed attempt but Mizuki thinks the bed is just too small to allow that sort of thing. 

“Why would I hate you?” Mizuki asks, running his fingers over Sly's face reverentially, the point of his nose, the soft curve of his lips. 

“You looked at me after I killed Toue, you looked, I don't know. You looked something.”

“You did what you had to.”

“I was pretty thorough.”

“I'd be very disappointed if you didn't check he was dead, we've watched enough horror films for you to know how much it annoys me when they don't check.”

Sly laughs, worms his way closer to rest his head on Mizuki's shoulder, it's a pretty awkward position but neither of them mind much. It's nice being close again. 

“Besides, you've seen Noiz's videos. He had it coming. I think I was more worried about the explosion to be honest.”

“Big explosion,” Sly murmurs but Mizuki can tell he's falling asleep, his words start to slur and his breathing deepens. “Crafty fucker didn't even warn us.”

“I don't think he expected it. Clear set it off by accident.”

“I forgot about him. He was weird.”

“Yeah,” Mizuki murmurs, cards gentle fingers through Sly's hair and is glad that Tae refused to let the staff cut it to make it easier to wash him. “Very weird.”

And just like that, Sly is asleep, awkwardly twisted but comfortable and happy in Mizuki's arms. Mizuki doubts he'll fall asleep, thinks he'll lie there a while counting his blessings then try to extricate himself without waking him up. 

But, inevitably, he falls asleep too, with the smell of Sly around him and the soft sound of his breathing.

Chapter Text

DAYS AFTER RAID - 203

Noiz does not expect the first thing Sly says to him when he visits after he wakes up to be- “Hey, can you get me my coil?”

But it is, so he rolls with it.

“Your coil's fucked.”

Sly rolls his eyes, well. His eye.

Weird. 

“Then give me your coil.”  Noiz tuts but does as he asks, “you not got me a new one yet?”

“Obviously, I didn't bring it though.”

“Why not?”

“I wasn't sure you were going to be awake. Mizuki said you're sleeping a lot.”

“Who's fault is that?”

“Literally yours?”

Sly huffs, his hands fumble on the coil, with one eye totally fucked he's lost all depth perception, it's sort of like being drunk but with none of the benefits. He ignores Noiz completely and starts scrolling through his messages without really caring what he sees. He has a lot of contacts but most are named with case numbers. His clients, Sly guesses. The ones with vaguely normal names are less than ten. 

“Who's dumbass one?”

“You.”

“Dumbass two?”

“Mizuki.”

“So is dumbass three Koujaku?”

“That's Tio.”

“Why the fuck do you have his number?”

“I couldn't possibly disclose that.”

Sly gives him a look, it's a bit less effective with only one functioning eye but it does the trick. “I was there when you agreed to the job.”

“Well in that case he's a client of mine.”

“I'm guessing the angry face with the bow is Koujaku? Or the eggplant.”

“Kin’s the eggplant.” Sly looks at him, faintly worried but mostly disturbed. “Rumour has it his dicks huge. I've not yet seen it to confirm.”

Sly considers this for a moment then, alarmed, “what do you mean, yet?”

“Mind your business.”

Sly rolls his eyes again, opens Mizuki's contact and feels faintly sick as he absently scrolls up the messages. Most of them are from Noiz and went without reply. Most of them are asking if Mizuki's okay, telling him he should go home because Noiz has sent him food and he needs to eat it. 

Most of them seem worried in a way Noiz isn't very often, most of them seem like Mizuki has been a mess since Sly got hurt. 

Sly doesn't really want to think about it, starts awkwardly typing out a message and has to backtrack several times. For the first time he misses his eye. For the first time he realises he may have been taking his sight for granted his whole life. 

Rather like the issue with Mizuki, he prefers not to think about it. 

“What do you want my coil for anyway?”

“Wanna send Mizuki a saucy selfie.”

Noiz looks at him, blinks, “saucy?” His expression is deadpan, “from your hospital bed, which you can't get out of? While you're still shitting into bed pans”

“Look there's all kinds of freaks out there, who's to say he won't be super into it?”

“Trust me, he won't be,” Noiz is still joking but there's an undercurrent of truth in his voice. Sly wonders how many hours Mizuki has sat at his bedside, hysterical with worry, just counting the hours until he woke up again.

He decides not to worry about it, he's back now and things can go right back to the way they were, him and Mizuki against the world. 

He strikes a pose, puts his fingers up in a peace sign and takes the photo. 

Hits send.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 205

“What happened to Virus and Trip?”

Noiz doesn't look up from his laptop, he's been busy with something ever since he arrived. Mizuki says he's basically the island's leader now so he's got a lot on his plate. Sly doesn't mind that he's occupied, he's not really in the mood for conversation today anyway, someone had made a comment about the scars on his face and now he can't stop thinking about them, wondering how bad they are. 

“Beni-Shigure got Trip, Koujaku got Virus.”

”They’re dead?”

“Very, very dead, they- Tore them apart.”

”Good. Wish I could have seen it.”

”You can, there’s lots of photos, a couple of videos too.”

“Can I see?”

Noiz just regards him for a minute, he must find whatever he is looking for because he shrugs, “sure.”

He offers over his coil already playing. The video is chaotic, the camera keeps swinging around and there is screaming and yelling and cursing. Koujaku is in the middle, his kimono hanging messily around his waist, his hair loose and wild, he looks like an uncaged beast. Sly watches absently as he tears into Virus, as he pushes someone who tries in vain to stop him. He waits until he starts stamping on his head to hand the coil back. 

“Good for him,” he smiles, “I bet that felt good.”

DAYS AFTER RAID - 207

“Are you happy to see me or is that just a tube in your penis?” Noiz quips, grinning as he steps into Sly's room and dumps himself in the chair by his bed.

Sly throws his head back in annoyance and rolls his eyes, feels mildly soothed when Noiz scans worried eyes over him quickly and presses a Nintendo switch into his hands.

“Does everybody know about the catheter?”

“I mean, you’ve been here for weeks, they weren’t just gonna let you piss the bed over and over.”

“I guess not,” Sly considers, grimacing at the idea.

“I mean I'm sure I could have a word if you'd rather do that?”

“Eat shit.”

“From your bed pan?”

Sly throws a book at him.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 208

“Why won't you let me see my face?” His Granny averts her eyes and tries to feign being casual but Sly knows her tells, she doesn't want to talk about this. “You're not subtle, there's a gap where a mirror was in the bathroom so I know you took it out on purpose. What don't you want me to see?” They're trying to encourage him to be independent now so occasionally some of the staff come and take him to the toilet in a wheelchair, help him transfer to the seat then leave him to do his business. It's still pretty undignified but it's better than a bed pan.

Granny sighs, she looks exhausted and she looks upset, Sly feels bad for being demanding, he can see how much his injuries are taking out of her, he sees her droop with fatigue, he hears that she's barely been home since he was admitted. “You've got a lot of damage, we didn't want you to see it and have it affect your mental health. You need to focus on healing and knowing might make that harder, might make things more difficult for you.”

It's a logical reason, but that isn't what Sly latches onto, he's sick of his mental stability being used against him, especially for something as important as how he's going to look for the rest of his fucking life. “My mental health? What, are you going to have my therapist talk to me about how my face is fucked up?”

Sly's never particularly cared about how he looks, he knows he's not ugly but not absolutely stunning either, he looks fine and that has always been fine, he's got plenty of scars already, he's not worried about a few more. The only thing he can think of being a problem is Mizuki, but he's already seen Sly's face in various stages of healing and he'd shown absolutely no revulsion whatsoever. Not that Sly thought he would, but he'd had a niggling fear in the back of his mind that after what he'd done, what he'd become, Mizuki would change his mind about him, realise he was wrong. Mizuki changing his mind about him is one of his biggest fears but even then the idea of Mizuki not wanting him because he finds him unattractive isn't something he's ever worried much about. He isn't planning on starting now. 

“That was the idea. We've worked out a care plan for you.”

That sounds like it took a lot of work but Sly thinks it was a waste of time, “I don't want a care plan I want to see my face, if he has to be here for it, that's fine, bring him here.”

“Are you sure?”

Sly feels himself getting wound up, he feels himself getting upset, “what's affecting my mental health is that everyone else knows what I look like and I don’t, everyone who comes into this room can see me and I can't. And it's driving me crazy. I can't-” He only realises his hands are shaking when Tae takes them in her own, she's warm and her hands are rough from many years of scrubbing them clean to see patients, his voice has gotten thick and he can feel the faint Prickling of tears behind his eyelids. “I need to see.”

There's an electronic bleeping, Granny's pager has gone off but she ignores it, squeezes his hands, “I'll speak to him, get him here as soon as I can. I promise.”

“Nobody else– Not you or Noiz or Mizuki, just him.”

“Okay,” she says, let's go of him to check her pager and sighs, Sly doesn't think she's up to dealing with whatever she's needed for, but he also knows she has no choice. He feels guilt for taking up so much of her valuable time. 

True to her word there is a gentle tap on the door only a couple of hours later, it's dark outside, Sly has no idea what time because his room doesn't have a clock, he yells vaguely for them to come in. Some of the newer nurses knock, the friendly HCA who is all smiles and mindless small talk, but most people just come and go as they need to, he's used to it now. You don't get much privacy in a hospital. 

Whoever it is twats about behind the now opened door doing something, Sly thinks he can hear sellotape being unstuck and torn apart with teeth so he zones out, maybe it's a maintenance worker or something. He looks back up when he hears the sound of the twist lock on the door sliding into place, the screech of rarely used metal sliding into it's rusted counterpart. 

For a moment he feels panic, he's still pretty vulnerable and despite what people are saying about him now being a hero on the island, he still holds on to that primitive part of his brain that locks onto threats. 

It's his therapist, who smiles and straightens his glasses and walks towards the bed looking familiar, neutral, who regards his face with a clinical expression and no emotions discernible on his face. “So nobody else can come in, Tae-San said you appreciated privacy and I intend to give you that.”

“I didn't expect you to be here so soon.” It's a general remark, like pointing out the weather or asking how somebody is, but, of course, his therapist reads into it. 

“If you've changed your mind that's not a problem, I'm more than happy to just see how you're doing generally.”

Sly rolls his eyes, “I haven't.”

“I didn't think you would have, your Granny said you were very insistent about it. What concerns me is-”

Sly doesn't want to interrupt him, he likes him, he respects him, but all this talking of feelings and the lead up to it is making him feel worse, jittery and nervous. "Can I just see it, please? I get that you don't want me to get upset about it or whatever and that we need to talk about it but I just want to see it. It's my fucking face!"

His therapist regards him silently, he looks weird sitting in a cheap chair next to his hospital bed, he's not even in a shirt like normal, just a jumper that's fraying at the neckline. Sly thinks maybe he wasn't even at work today, he wonders if he's inconvenienced him or if he was more than happy to do it. He thinks the second is more likely. 

He says nothing, reaches into the bag at his feet and pulls out a plain plastic framed mirror, "I won't stop you, I agree with you that it is your face and your choice." Sly tries to take the mirror from him but he moves it away slightly, "I just need you to understand what you're doing. To appreciate that this could change things for you, for the rest of your life. I don't want you to rush into anything.”

"I just wanna know what people see when they look at me. I know it's bad, I was there when it happened, I felt my face get split open, I saw my eye get clawed. Nothing I see is going to shock me. I can feel the damage with my hands. I understand what I’m doing.”

Another moment where he is considered, where his words are weighed, then the therapist inclines his head and hands over the mirror. "I believe you."

Sly's immediate instinct is to look straight away, to flip the mirror over and see what he has become, but now he's in the moment he feels wary, he has an idea, the bridge of his nose, his eyebrow, the lines of his forehead. His eye. 

“There's no rush.”

Sly glances briefly at him, he looks relaxed, sturdy. Sly thinks of his Granny kissing his cheek, of Mizuki crying with relief when he woke up, of Noiz laughing when he joked about the catheter. Sly has changed, but nothing any of them did made it seem like they saw him as anything other than a person they love. 

He holds all their love inside, cradled like a warm bundle inside his chest, he feels it envelop him now, shuts his eyes and lets it soothe all the worried parts of him, and when he opens his eyes he feels stronger. 

“Okay,” his voice is small but he feels buoyed, there are nice things living inside him now, he tells himself no matter how bad it is, how changed he is, he'll still trust and believe that he is loved. Unconditional, people call it, Sly thinks he understands that now. 

He takes a breath, holds the mirror up, flips it round. 

He sees what everyone else sees. 

It's bad. 

It's really bad.

But somehow, “I thought it would be worse.”

“Your Granny insisted the plastics team do your sutures, they've done a very good job.”

Sly nods, the wounds are deep, wide, long, but they were obviously and he thinks they will heal smooth and fairly flat rather than jagged like so many of them on his arms and legs. They might be the neatest scars he's ever had, they thin out at each end and widen in the middle where the claws really slashed through his skin. There's a chunk missing from the bridge of his nose but otherwise the scars don't pit into his skin, they stand out above it, raised and red and still in the very early stages of healing. 

He tilts the mirror, it's hard to get used to his reduced vision, his depth perception is shot and his peripheral vision isn't much better but it's a lot easier to just hold a mirror than it is to do anything fiddly. His eyebrow on the left side has been cleft into two with a red scar through the middle. They're almost uniform, the scars, all four claws made contact at the same time and left at the same time.

It's bad, but it's also sort of fine, sure he's scarred to all hell and always will be, but he doesn't feel disfigured or mauled, he still looks like him. 

He looks at his eye last, he'd been focused on the scars because he'd thought they would be the worst thing. Besides, nobody has actually told him what's wrong with his eye yet. 

He sees, and suddenly he understands why nobody has told him. 

It's a quick look, he sees a milky iris and his sclera is red with burst blood vessels, it looks like something dead, like something rotten is stuck into his eye socket. 

He puts the mirror down quickly, he feels a nausea building in his stomach. 

He wishes he didn't look. 

“Talk to me, how are you feeling?”

“I didn't think my eye would be that bad. It's– It's gone, isn't it? That's why nobody will talk to me about it, because they can't save it.”

His therapist opens his mouth, he looks vaguely apologetic. Sly wonders how much he'd actually been told about his condition, he wonders if everyone knew his eye couldn't be saved except him. He thinks that should make him angry but it doesn't. 

“I'll look really fucking stupid in an eye patch,” the therapist laughs then looks like he didn't mean to, Sly closes his good eye and wonders if there's any hope, he can sense light, he can angle his head towards the ceiling and work out that the bulbs are on, but that's it. He doesn't know much about eyes in regard to medicine or in general, but this doesn't seem like something he can come back from. 

“The ophthalmology department is working on something for you, something better than an eye patch,” Sly vaguely smiles at this, “I'm sure Tae-san could arrange for the consultant to come and talk to you about it, if you'd like?”

“Yeah, that might be good.”

He leaves the mirror on Sly's side table. 

Sly doesn't think he meant to. 

He hides it under his pillow, so nobody will take it away.

DAYS AFTER RAID - 210

The consultant comes to see him, he dumbs it down a lot for him but Sly gets the gist pretty quickly and fills in the blanks himself, there's no way to fix his vision or the appearance of his eye. There are options, he can keep the eye as it is with no problem, his sclera should return to white again in time but his iris will stay that pallid, dead milky white forever. Or, he can have the eye removed and they can see if they can get him some kind of prosthetic. Sly's not sure how he feels about his eye being removed, he doesn't feel great about it and feels worse when the consultant apologizes and says that nobody on the island has ever had to make a prosthetic eye before. There's a guy who works in orthopedics who makes prostheses for arms and legs who is willing to try, but they have no idea how it will turn out. The consultant is honest when he says they're not even sure how to make one at all let alone make one that looks good. 

He leaves some printed information about the surgery if he does decide to remove his eye, tells Sly to have a read of it and that if he decides that's what he wants at any time, to get in touch and they will arrange it. 

DAYS AFTER RAID - 211

He's not meeting his eye, won't look up at him, won't lift his head, Mizuki hasn't been in the room long when he realizes something is up. 

“Sly, what's wrong?” He tries with gentle hands to lift his face up so he can look at him but Sly moves away, grimaces. “Hey, talk to me.”

Sly clears his throat, he's never considered himself as ugly before but suddenly under Mizuki's gaze he does, he feels damaged and ruined. Spoiled. 

“I saw my face.”

Mizuki holds onto his breath then it puffs out as a sigh, “okay, how do you feel?”

“I-” he begins, then stops because he has no idea. “My eye, it's.”

“It's what?” His voice is soft, his hands tender. 

“It's disgusting,” he spits out the words, he's tried not to look at it since but he couldn't help himself, keeps staring at it, the dead color, the horrible white blankness of it. “It's– it looks dead, like it shouldn't be there.”

Mizuki clearly doesn't know what to say, he looks worried, is searching for words but can't find any. 

“It's okay, I mean, there's nothing I can do about it now, so,” despite his attempt at brave words he feels himself beginning to crumble, his throat feels thick and when he exhales it shakes. Mizuki squeezes his hand and when his eyes spill over he carefully wipes his tears away. Sly half expects to see blood on his fingers and is surprised his left eye can even still make tears. “I'm fine, it's just–”

“A shock?”

“Yeah,” Sly manages wetly, hears the door open then rapidly close again as whoever it is realizes they're intruding on a private moment. “Granny used to say I had my mothers eyes.”

Mizuki smiles, doesn't bother to say that's impossible even though they both know it is, he just wipes his weepy eyes and holds his hand, “you've still got one of them.”

“I guess,” he shrugs, tries with minimal effort to pull himself together, “I didn't think this would be the thing I'd be most upset about, it seems so stupid.”

“It's your face, of course you're upset about it.”

Sly shakes his head, out of everything he'd learned about himself in Toue Tower, of everything that had happened, he didn't think being ugly was going to be the thing that got him. He'd basically found out that his entire life was a lie, that Granny had lied to him about Sei for his entire life with them, the idea that he's more upset about his face being fucked up seems stupid. 

“I find out me and Sei were made in a fucking evil lab and I'm crying because I'm ugly,” he laughs softly, it seems so ridiculous, so incredibly childish compared to all the other shit that he's just found out. 

“You've never told me his name before,” Mizuki's voice is low and evenly-pitched, it's like a balm over Sly, Mizuki is so solid, so sturdy, so ever-present, Sly appreciates him more now than ever. 

Sly didn't realise that, looks up at Mizuki finally and is soothed when he doesn't grimace or flinch away under his cold, dead white stare, when he carries on rubbing a thumb over his scarred cheek like he couldn't imagine doing anything else. Sly feels himself soften, sag, shifts forwards so their foreheads are pressed together and takes a second to breathe. 

“And you're not ugly.”

He tries to think of something to say, something to change the subject maybe, he shuts his eyes and exhales long and shaky, feeling like Mizuki is the only thing keeping him grounded. 

He's not good with his words, there are a million things he wants to say to Mizuki, to thank him for everything he's done for him, but he doesn't know how to say any of them, so he focuses on the sound of him breathing, the smell of his cologne. 

“I'm glad I have you.”

It's not quite what he wants to say, but it will do, for now, it is enough. 

He hears Mizuki smile somehow, senses the way his lips turn up at the edges, he feels him grow tender and soft, protective and adoring. 

“I love you too.”

“Even my dodgy eye?” He asks, he still feels jittery, worse when Mizuki shifts away to laugh quietly. 

“Especially your dodgy eye,” he smiles, then kisses Sly's closed lid as if to prove a point. 

DAYS AFTER RAID - 236

Sly is finally discharged as summer turns to autumn, the ambulance is brought out once more to slowly deliver him to Tae's house where she will look after him until his care needs get less demanding. Sly had wanted to go to Mizuki's but he's still very high risk for complications and needs help with pretty much everything so he needs to be with someone who knows what they're doing.

A hospital bed has been put in Tae’s living room along with a commode and a wheelchair to encourage Sly to do things for himself. Sly isn't pleased at the prospect of his granny dealing with his bowel movements and his personal hygiene but he admits he didn't want Mizuki doing it either. Plus, as much as Mizuki is willing to help he's got no idea how to care for the wounds on Sly's legs or how to do his exercises. Tae knows these things and though Sly still isn't pleased about it, he agrees it's the best option. 

Tae says the bed in Sly's room is Mizuki's whenever he wants it but encourages him to spend time at home as well. She doesn't want him to burn out, to be living out of a suitcase and sleeping in a single bed with a very old, very springy mattress.

Mizuki's starting to relax a bit, he spends most of the day with Sly then kisses him goodnight in the early evening and goes home. He cooks for the three of them in Tae's kitchen and they sit and eat together, Sly in his wheelchair at the dining table. Tae shows Mizuki how to properly move Sly from the bed to his chair or the commode. Sly still insists Mizuki go upstairs when he uses the commode and not come back until it's emptied and cleaned. Mizuki doesn't think he'd be bothered about sitting with Sly while he relieved himself or about seeing the results but if Sly isn't comfortable then Mizuki won't argue with him.

It's nice, they sit and talk and Sly is clearly slightly frustrated at being stuck in the house but Mizuki tries to keep him busy. He brings coloring books and games and magazines and anything else he can think of. 

Noiz comes to visit with a second hand smart TV that can actually have things like a DVD player attached. He comes back a couple of days later with said DVD player and a stack of movies.

Some nights when Noiz is free he video calls them and Mizuki and Sly take turns playing on the switch with him. Koujaku usually potters in the background or watches TV at Noiz's side, Sly heckling them any time they dare to show each other affection.

It's nice, it's really nice. 

Sly can't walk and he can't get out of bed without help and he's in pain pretty often but it's manageable. 

Mizuki thinks that the worst is over. 

That it's all up from here. 

He's still wrong.