Cellbit would normally snort in response, but he doesn't now. He can't quite bring himself to. Instead, he stares at Roier’s fingers. They tap on the sink anxiously, leaving bloody fingerprints that turn into small puddles mere seconds later. He doesn't seem to notice it, so Cellbit doesn't comment.

“You make me mad,” Roier concludes. “Because you are an idiot and keep throwing yourself into situations you can't… bring yourself out of.”

He takes another gauze and a needle into the other hand, returning his gaze to Cellbit. His chin is pointed up, but his eyes- They pierce him, and the black smudged eyeliner only makes it more unsettling. Well. It would, if Cellbit cared about that. He doesn't. But- the eyeliner was smudged already when he first knocked on the door. There had been no time to ask, if Cellbit even would want to.

(He had been crying. Why? Cellbit wants to know, but Roier is everything he doesn't understand. There's just something he's missing, as always.)

“And you make me worried.” Roier murmurs, voice low yet almost like a growl. His hands tighten on the objects he's holding, knuckles turning white. “You make me worried. And you might die and you're a stupid idiot and I hate you for that.” His voice cracks.

There's a pause.

“Yeah.” Cellbit responds. He knows Roier doesn't like apologies. “I know.”

“You could have died. Tonight.” His voice is shaky, and his eyes shine. He's beautiful. He's about to cry. “God, you're so stupid.”

Cellbit swallows and feels his throat close up. He reaches forward, placing a gentle hand on Roier’s cheek. It's covered in blood. Cellbit thinks he feels sick, but Roier either doesn't notice or doesnt care. He has to… Gods. He can't see Roier cry. That'd just break him, he thinks. He can't deal with that now.

“I'm…” No, he can't say that. Not to Roier. “It won't happen again. We just- we had a fight and I… I fucked up. It won't happen again.”

Roier nods without a word. He swallows and moves away from the touch, his expression changing into something more controlled.

His hand comes up close to the wound, needle itching close before it stops. “Want anything to bite on?”

Roier knows a lot of things, both small and big, about Cellbit. Information that a lot of people would like to get their hands on. But he doesn't know everything. He doesn't know how it was for Cellbit back then. He doesn't know and he doesn't ask. Maybe that's why Cellbit keeps coming back.

“No.”

Roier hums and doesn't ask and there's that.

“You had a fight, you said.” Roier eventually says when they're near the end of stitching. Cellbit doesn't really know what the fuzzy-numbness he feels every time… something like this happens is, but by this point, it's gone. “Is Bagi- How's she holding up, then?”

Cellbit thinks back to his sister, eyes furious and a snarl on her face. He thinks back to how she screamed, how much blood she lost. He should have helped her, but-

He grits his teeth, fingers pressing hard into his own leg.

That damned demon barged in like-

God, he can't think about this. He doesn't want to.

Tina took her away with a cold gaze and a snarl of “Leave” and there was nothing he could have done. He tried, before. It always ended the same. And he was bleeding out, he was hurt- (It shouldn't have mattered, it shouldn't have made a difference, she was hurt worse, he should have tried harder-)

So. He can't even be sure. Tina took care of her, surely. (But in what way?) She wouldn't allow Bagi to die, they both know that.

“She's fine.” Cellbit says, realizing he was silent for too long. He uncurls his fingers and tries to breathe. “Staying at the motel tonight. We, um. Decided to stay away from each other for a little while.”

That's not true. They haven't decided anything, but he knows how Tina is.

“Ah.” Roier breathes out. He probably knows he's being lied to, but that's their thing. They don't ask questions. Cellbit cringes anyway. “So you're… you'll be staying?”

Roier’s hand on his chest - the one that's not stitching the wound, that is - flexes, fingers starting to drum. Anxious.

There's a pause.

I didn't mean to get myself attached. I didn't mean to get you attached, either.

“If… if you'll have me,” he murmurs, quiet and only a bit uncertain.

(Gods, he can practically hear Bagi taunting him right now. When did his face get so hot? This is- embarrassing, he can't belive in himself.)

Instead of calling Cellbit out, Roier bites his lip, eyes darting down. There's- something that maybe could be called a grin, if only he could see Roier's face better. They don't speak, but then-

“Of course, man.” Roier smiles eventually, looking up at him. There's something in his eyes that hasn't been there before.

“Of course,” Cellbit repeats, a small smile appearing on his face as well, despite everything.

They fall into comfortable silence after that, but it's… different from before. The tension is mostly gone and… Roier seems almost satisfied. Or something similar, anyhow. Because despite how good he is at reading people, Roier is… like an enigma he can never quite understand. There's just something about him, something Cellbit isn't getting.

(Maybe that's why he keeps coming back.)

Roier finishes the stitches and after pouring some more of that disinfectant, starts bandaging the injury. It's only then that Cellbit realises he's been staring at Roier the entire time. But- it's weird. It doesn't feel like he's going to throw up from stress because he had to keep watching, just to make sure Roier wouldn't hurt him. No. Roier would never do that. It's more like…

(“What is up with you today?” Bagi asks, eyes squinted. Her laptop has its screen turned off already, research long forgotten. She's been staring at him suspiciously for the last 10 minutes. “Why do you look like that?”

“What?” He rolls his eyes, giving her an unamused look. He looks fine, he knows this, because he checked himself before they left the motel. He's meeting up with Roier today, so obviously- Pause. That sounds… He's meeting up with an important and respected informat today, so obviously he has to look at least a bit put together. There's nothing unusual about that. “You're being weird, stop staring at me and do your research.”

Bagi clearly isn't convinced, creeping her face closer. Cellbit keeps up the gaze and- there it is, she sighs in disappointment, eyes darting down to his meal instead. But she doesn't steal the plate away, like he expected her to.

There's a pause. Ever so slowly, she raises her head and on her shocked face begins to grow a grin.

…uh oh. What is she-

“Are you wearing fucking perfume?”

He stops chewing. Meets her gaze. Tries to ignore the absolute horror growing as he realises his face is getting hot. He's blushing. What-

“...no,” he tries, but his voice comes out practically like a squeak. He curses himself for it.

“You are! Oh my Gods, are you serious?” Bagi cackles, suddenly gleeful. “Why are you-”

He watches the realisation paint on her face. Her mouth opens, but no words come out of it.

“...You're wearing perfume.” She says slowly, a smirk beginning to make itself known again. “For the meeting with that guy today?”

Cellbit silently starts chewing again, looking away. He takes a sip of his lemonade (which was supposed to be a coffee, but of course, he can't have anything nice in life) and sighs. “Let's- let's just eat and leave. We are-” He shoots her a look, which at least makes her look a bit bashful. “-not talking about this.”

Bagi leans back in her seat, eyes squinted once again. Considering. Was he too harsh on this? There's a growing ache in his stomach, because- Gods, he doesn't want to fuck up with her again. How can he- how can he fix this?

“Okay, maybe I am wearing perfume for the hot guy, but- Hey, no, listen to-! That's just good manners! There's nothing weird about that!”

“Oh my Gods, I have to tell Felps. Does Felps know? Doesn't matter, I'll tell him anyway.” Bagi grins, not bothered at all that she was interrupting him. She looks very eager to eat quickly and get out of here, suddenly.

He sips on his lemonade instead, jaw tensing and untensing. Ugh. Gods.

“You so have a crush, that is crazy.” She continues, eyes wide. “I can't believe this, what?”

She laughs again and doesn't stop, even when Cellbit gives her his remaining fries and salad.

A crush. How stupid is that?)

It's more like adoration. He's enjoying watching Roier work. Gods. Gods, that is- He is not dealing with that tonight.

Roier grins at him, obvious to his thoughts. “All done! Come on.”

On shaky legs, Cellbit stands up to follow Roier out of the door. When Roier's back is turned, he reaches his hand out to touch the bandage gently, looking down at it. It's… good. Suspiciously good, even, he'd say. But. This is Roier. He's like that, Cellbit found. Full of surprises.

The house is dark. Obviously, because it's night and Pepito and Jaiden are sleeping-

“Oh.” Cellbit murmurs, a small wince on his face. “I hope I didn't wake Jaiden up.” He likes Jaiden. It just wouldn't do to make her angry, and he knows she likes her sleep.

Roier full on stops in the middle of his tracks. His shoulders come up, but his back is to Cellbit, he can't see his expression, can't understand-

“Jaiden's gone.”

…what?

Cellbit pauses as well, but for a different reason. Oh. He isn't… He isn't good at dealing with this. Oh Gods.

But then Roier suddenly turns around, a smile on his face. It doesn't look quite right. “Er, I mean-! Not like that!” He laughs and it sounds just like the one that Cellbit hears a lot while interrogating people. But never before from Roier. He's anxious. Why? Covering something up, surely, but…

“Huh.” He just says, smartly.

“Erm. Yeah! You know, just- For a little while! We're just taking a break from each other, you know?” Roier stutters awkwardly, that smile still wide on his face. It brightens suddenly. “You know, like you and Bagi! A… bit. But we didn't fight or anything, just-!” There's another pause, but this time Roier is watching his expression closely. His face sours slightly at whatever he finds. “...you know.”

Cellbit has no idea, despite how many ‘you-know's Roier just uttered. “Um. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Roier nods, seemingly relieved. He stands still for a moment longer before reaching out to flick off the bathroom light, making the hallway fall into complete darkness. (Are there no windows here? No, that doesn't seem right. He's sure there were some the last time he was here.)

“Um. Anyway, now that you're here-” Roier grasps his hand tightly and begins leading him deeper into the house. “You know how you're like, an even bigger nerd than me?”

“I'm not a-”

“So, I was thinking- You could even help me with Pepito a bit! You know, he's such a little geek, I don't know who he got it from…” Roier doesn't even stop talking as they get to a hallway with many doors. Bedrooms, Cellbit thinks. He doesn't lower his voice either. Cellbit winces in sympathy for the kid. He hopes they haven't woken him up. “He just reads and reads! Ugh, I swear, I need to start taking more of those books away, his eyesight is already so bad!”

Bad eyesight doesn't come from just reading, Cellbit wants to interrupt. He wants to say a lot of things, actually. But… It is Roier's house. He's a guest. If Roier is so eager to change the subject and then rant about his child, then who's Cellbit to stop him, really?

The door to the- bedroom, it's a bedroom, is opened and Roier pulls him inside, closing it right behind them.

“And, he's still a little stupid, but I'm sure you-” Roier suddenly stops talking, yet again. He looks into Cellbit’s eyes, an alarmed look on his face. “You… like kids, right? I mean, you must like kids, but even if you didn't- You'd… you'd like Pepito! Because, I mean-”

“Um. I guess I do?” Cellbit interrupts, only because Roier looks like he's about to kneel over from over explaining himself.

A beat.

“Cool! I mean, no, that's good… Yes, I'm just…” He laughs and pulls away from Cellbit, walking deeper into the room alone. He stops in the middle of it, eyes locked on the bed. A large one. “...I'm- I'm sorry, I must be acting like a terrible host right now. Oh. I'm just…”

He makes some vague motions with his hands and smiles.

Cellbit winces internally. It's… just a bit awkward.

“No, it's… it's fine. Seriously, you're good. You're… good.” Oh Gods. What does he say to that? “I'm, um. Just. Thank you for taking care of me. That's already enough. You don't need to explain yourself, seriously. It's… fine.”

Roier stares at him. Stares some more. His hand comes up to his chest, almost as if he was… scratching at something underneath his shirt. But it's dark and Cellbit isn't really sure what expression he has and-

“Oh.” Roier breathes out. There's something. Something he's missing, again. “Ah… Alright.”

He's… muttering something to himself, Cellbit’s pretty sure. But… Then Roier clears his throat and puts his hand down, tense. Almost like he didn't realise it moved. He looks at the closet and back at Cellbit, in thought.

“You'll be fine in your clothes for tonight, right?”

“Um, yeah.” He's only in his pants anyway. His shirt was way too soaked with blood (hers, but by his fault) and even if it wasn't, Roier already took care of it. As in… shredding it with his hands. He's probably not getting that back. “We can work something out tomorrow. It's okay.”

Roier nods and sits down on the bed.

Cellbit stares. He is… pretty sure Jaiden has her own room. And Roier mentioned she's gone, so why… why is he here?

And he immediately curses himself for thinking like that. Maybe Jaiden isn't comfortable with people sleeping in her room, especially when she doesn't know about it. Roier would surely know that.

So he walks closer to the bed and lays down, slowly.

The bed is big. Big enough for- three people maybe, if he had to guess. So it isn't like it's awkward, but…

He doesn't really know what to do. Sharing a bed isn't something he does, it's just not. It'd be different if they were sharing heat while in the wild or something like that, but- That's not the case.

He feels Roier lay down next to him. When he looks at him out of the corner of the eye, he's smiling. A hand on his face, gently touching his own cheek. Inspecting. And then he turns on his side, towards Cellbit. Who very pointedly tries to pretend he wasn't staring.

He swallows.

“Goodnight.” Cellbit mutters quietly and turns as well, laying on his stomach. His hand automatically goes to rest under the pillow, reaching for a knife or a gun. It finds neither.

…Fuck, he left his weapons in his backpack. Which is in the entrance of the house.

“Goodnight,” Roier whispers back, a smile audible in his voice.

No, he can't go for it now. What would Roier think? And besides… he has a kid. Surely, this place is warded against everything, to hell and back. It's fine. And just for one night.

It's fine.

(Later, when Cellbit will wake up, he'll realize he forgot many things. Like his nightly prayer to Felps and cleaning his knife. Writing down in his notebook what exactly happened on the hunt. Cursing Tina in his thoughts.

But with the chaos of Pepito waking them both up early and immediately wanting to play, what he won't remember is that Roier never washed his face after Cellbit touched it with his bloody hands. He won't notice it either.

Perhaps the most embarrassing thing of all is getting caught in an act. It's been like this for as long as Kaiser can remember; from a teacher spotting him copying homework to an old man catching him door ditching with Bruno, all he has ever felt is embarrassment. Shame and embarrassment, overtaking him whole.

The knowledge is the worst. You know the person noticed you– they know, and that alone produces enough shame to put Kaiser into a panic attack. And then the ancipetation and the anxiety; they always say something, it's just a matter of when. Will they do it in private, or around people? Will they only send a look or will they scream, or maybe just hit your shoulder?

The shame, the embarrassment… Kaiser knows, in the back of his mind, that it should not be like that. The thought of a cashier scanning his groceries should not make him want to throw up.

And yet it is exactly like that. Ever since he can remember.

…he tries not to let it bother him. It's just hard sometimes.

Because despite what everyone might think, Kaiser doesn't have many boxers. And all of them are either too small or uncomfortable to wear, other than one pair.

(The thought of going into a store and trying to pick them out while not only the workers observe him, but the other customers will too– He cannot even think of standing there so awkwardly; everyone who takes one look at him would know he doesn't have an idea what he's doing. What would they think? What if he does something wrong and the customers notify the workers and then they kick him out– but not before ridiculing him in front of everyone, God, he can already hear what they would say, feel the shame. He cannot do that. He can't.)

So he does what he does best. Uses the computer. Buys them online.

He does his own laundry (obviously) and tries his best to hide the different underwear. He doesn't speak about it– doesn't dare think.

And yet. When Arthur creeps into his room at night (or when he inevitably does into Arthur's) his friend is always in boxers and a loose fitting, old t-shirt. Kaiser tries not to stare each time, he does, but it's… hard not to. It's not because he likes Arthur's ass or anything– (well…) but Arthur looks… like himself. Comfortable. Used to it all. And of course he is, he's a man, and not the kind that Kaiser is, he's a man man. A normal one.

He tries not to think about it, but it's hard when Arthur starts coming into his room directly after showering and spends most of his time there– sometimes, he forgets his clothes. It's not… a big deal. It shouldn't be a big deal, not anything other than a start of a joke, but…

Arthur leaves his boxers on Kaiser's bed. Sometimes.

If they're dirty, he usually remembers to take them back to his room to throw them into the bin, but it's less common if they're clean. Not just underwear either, all kinds of things end up in his room nowadays. Shirts, belts, money, guitar picks… everything, really.

And… Kaiser would never steal someone's underwear. Especially his friend's. That's just– weird, that has to be weird.

He doesn't want to be thinking about it, but he can't stop– it's awful and embarrassing and he'd rather Arthur stopped doing it. Even if him being there makes Kaiser feel better and light with laughter and when Arthur is next to him, breathing and fine, he can actually sleep instead of turning all night, and everytime he finds something that isn't his in the closet he's overcome by such domesticity and happiness and content– he knows they're close and something like a family, but to find proof of it…

So. It's… something. Not an problem, but an issue nonetheless.

But by the end of the day, it always ends with shame and a panic attack, no matter what pills he takes, or how much he tries to do the correct breathing exercises.

Which is exactly why he's sitting on the bathroom floor after Arthur asked him if he knew where his boxers went.

And it's not like Kaiser is stupid, he can lie, he knows how to lie, but he just cannot get a word out when all he can think about is taking that stupid piece of material into his own pile of dirty clothes and putting it deep into his closet after the laundry was done; Arthur surely has to know he's the one who took it, because who else would? And what kind of person does that, who steals fucking underwear of other people? What sort of person does that?

His skin burns and his chest feels tight– he wants to claw it all off, along with the boxers (not his) on his body.

It's embarrassing. It's weird. Why does he have to be so fucking weird?

There's a knock on the door and Kaiser wants to cry; he should have known he'd get caught, he should have just not done it. It's not like it's his house, even, he's living here because Ivete and Arthur wanted him to– where would he go if they decided they hate him? To the Order, where they'd see each other anyway? No, he wouldn't be able to take that; maybe moving to… America would work? He doesn't know enough English to communicate without misunderstandings, but if his father was there once and did fine, surely Kaiser can do it too?

“Kaiserrrr, come on. Are you this bummed about losing in Uno?” Arthur's voice comes from behind the door, only partially muffled. He's audibly smiling, yet there's a tightness to his words; he's probably thinking Kaiser could be having another attack. “I promise I'm going to let you win next round.”

Which… he's clearly not having any sort of attack. Obviously.

There's a pause. “Kaiser?” Another knock on the door, but this one seems more like Arthur put his hand on the wood instead, not even wanting to make a noise. “It's okay if you don't want to talk, we don't even have to play tonight– just open the door? So I know you're alright?”

And fuck, how can he do that? Meet Arthur face on?

“...I'm fine,” he tries to say instead, keeping his voice clear of coming out shaky as much as he can.

He doesn't think it works. It comes out both broken and creaking, too loud to be a whisper but too quiet to be a normal answer. Kaiser winces.

“...please open the door.”

Kaiser does. He's not that stupid.

It unlocks with a quiet click and less than a second later Arthur is already coming in and looking him up and down, concern clear in his eyes.

“I'm fine.” Kaiser repeats, and this time, puts more confidence behind it.

Arthur stops and looks, and steps closer to pull Kaiser into a hug.

Kaiser– Kaiser feels like crying. He doesn't, because that'd make Arthur more worried and he never wants that, but… It's a near thing.

“Do you want to go back to your room?” Arthur asks softly into his ear, and Kaiser knows that he means together. Only…

He doesn't know. Arthur doesn't know it was him.

Kaiser feels his mouth go dry and his throat tighten. He nods anyway, because– what, he's supposed to break it to Arthur? When he knows it'd make Arthur hate him? He can't do that.

And Arthur is as gentle as he always is when it's the two of them when he leads Kaiser into his room, and Kaiser wants to scream and never open his mouth again. Arthur's so fucking nice. How can he deserve someone like that?

The guitar, once again, is already in his room. Arthur sits him down on the bed and covers his shoulders with a blanket; he takes the guitar into his hand and leans back, so their shoulders are touching.

He plays.

Well. Strums, at the very least. Calming sounds that repeat themselves over and over before changing into a different tune.

Kaiser stares at the strings and thinks about things that don't matter to avoid thinking of… that.

He always wanted to play the guitar. But he never learned as a child and after that there was no time– if he asked Arthur now, he'd probably be glad to teach Kaiser. Sometimes Agatha asks about something to do with it and Arthur goes on a rant, or the Dragões Metalicos stop him to make conversation and if none of them have somewhere to be, they'll talk for hours. It's something he enjoys. It'd be nice to share that.

Kaiser… Fuck. He can't just sit here and pretend nothing happened.

“...Arthur.” His voice is quiet and raspy; if he were not so stressed he'd probably enjoy it more.

Arthur hums and doesn't stop the strumming– good, there's something to focus on, something to distract him from breaking down.

Kaiser tries to breathe. It's not that big of a deal. Arthur can hate him and it is a big deal, but saying it itself is not. He can do it. Easily. No problem.

“‘m sorry.” He feels tears prickle his eyes. So fucking embarrassing. Why is he crying over this?

“...for what?” Arthur's trying to stay calm; Kaiser knows him too well not to be able to tell. Fucking stupid Kaiser worrying him again with his stupid problems.

Fucking hell. Blood rises to his face and all he feels is hotness and he wants to die. Just say it. Just say it. “I took your boxers.”

Arthur blinks. He tilts his head and pauses the strumming. “You…”

“I didn't mean to!” He did. He did; why is he lying through his teeth? You think you can save this? Go on, Kaiser, start the fucking show, see if it'll make a difference. “They were just in my room and I didn't notice when I was doing the laundry and I'm so sorry, I didn't realise they were yours and I took them, and I–”

“Kaiser– Kaiser, it's okay!” Arthur interrupts with a chuckle; a laugh he knows very well. Arthur only chuckles this way when he has to deal with Kaiser's breakdowns. “Man, seriously– it's not a big deal. It's fine; don't even worry about it. Seriously.”

The breath catches in his throat. Not a big deal. Of course Arthur wouldn't care. What was he thinking? Of course it's fine.

Kaiser looks away and tries to get his breathing under control; embarrassing, embarrassing, embarrassing. Why was he so anxious about doing this? He shouldn't be hyperventilating over this, it's not a big deal, it was never a big deal.

“...yeah. Okay.”

Arthur stares. He pushes the guitar to the side and shuffles closer to Kaiser. “Not a big deal. I can always buy more– it's okay.”

Fucking…

Kaiser closes his eyes as tight as he can. He won't cry, he can't cry, this isn't something he should be crying over.

It's okay.

He– He can't…

Arthur's arm slides under his armpit. It goes to his back while Arthur places his chin on Kaiser's shoulder. Stable, here, close, weight, not hurt…

“It's okay. Just breathe. We're all fine, cutie.”

He tries. He really, really tries. But he can't stop thinking about it, can't stop being so aware of them fitting to his skin comfortably– it doesn't bother him at all and that's what hurts.

“I can't– I'm sorry, I can't, I can't–” He tries to breathe. The air is escaping his lungs and refusing to come back and he's getting dizzy now; he knows this, he just has to calm down, just has to breathe, it's okay.

Arthur's finger slowly make circles into his skin and it's so gentle. He wonders what Arthur would think if he did that just a bit lower– what would he say if he knew how much of a weirdo Kaiser really is?

But he doesn't dare to ask that out loud. He doesn't want to know.

It takes a while; of minutes where he's almost there and remembers exactly why he's crying and everything starts again, silent sharp inhaling of air and the occasional murmur of Arthur's “it's okay”.

…Kaiser doesn't want to talk. His heart is still beating uncontrollably fast when he rests his head on Arthur's shoulder, and if he speaks, he's going to die. He can't do this. He can't.

Arthur's hand goes up into his hair– twirling the long strands between fingers. “Yeah?” His voice is a low murmur, familiar and safe.

…this guy. He knows Kaiser as much as Kaiser knows him. It makes him smile, just a tiny bit.

He does not want to speak– probably can't, anyway. Just nods against Arthur's skin.

“Mmhm. What's going on, then?”

“It's nothing. Stupid.” He moves his own hands too– tightly grips the back of Arthur's shirt between his fingers. “Fucking–”

Well. He can speak, as awful as it is. And Arthur knows that. Obviously he does. He knows how much of a fuck-up Kaiser is in this case; how words stop making sense at times like this and every sentence turns into a chain– chains that keep multiplying and weighing him down until he's drowning again.

“I'm just being stupid. It's nothing.”

He can practically see the smile on Arthur's face. “Is it really stupid, or you just think that?”

Of course it's stupid. Not only the… act itself is weird and stupid and embarrassing– he couldn't even say it. How much more stupid can that get?

Kaiser lets himself snort. “Stupid.”

Arthur tugs him a bit closer in response; guides Kaiser's head deeper into his neck, covers more of his back. Safe. “I don't think it's stupid if you feel bad about it, you know.”

Of course you don't.

“I took your boxers, dude, that's just weird. It's stupid.”

“I'd take Joui's boxers if I could, if that makes you feel better?”

It doesn't, but it would be funny to see that. Just a bit.

“Pffh. Sure you would.”

He snorts and knows a pout has appeared on Arthur's face. He can see it with his eyes closed at this point. Arthur does it a lot, especially when they play board games. An event that has become familiar to him by now; it's surprisingly nice to get all together and just… be.

(Kaiser can appreciate game nights at his big age; back when it was only him and his mother, there weren't a lot of board games they could play, just the two of them. Maybe cards, but Kaiser didn't like those too much, so they never did that often.)

“I can always take yours, don't test me.” Arthur snickers and he…

…no. He cannot bear to even imagine Arthur's expression if he were to open the drawers in Kaiser's room. There's a reason he hates having people in here when he himself is not present, why he locks the door when they go out, even if all other ones stay open wide.

There's a pause. Kaiser doesn't speak. Arthur falls silent.

“That's a joke. I wouldn't do that, if you don't want me to.”

Kaiser swallows. It's okay. Arthur is fine. He's not nosy like that. It's okay. He wouldn't just do that. “Yeah. I don't."

This time, Arthur's hand goes all the way down to the ends of his hair when he brushes it. He does it a couple of times before wrapping around Kaiser's back once more; tight but loose enough to get out of if he wanted to.

“Well– guess we have to go shopping, then. Tomorrow, if you want to?”

…shopping. “What?”

Arthur breaks the hug. He leans away just far enough so they can see each other's face. He's smiling.

“...I guess.” He looks down at the guitar and tries not to bite his lip. Arthur would notice that one.

“To buy me more boxers, duh. We can get you some as well– Man, we need to get a matching set!” He tilts his head and the smile doesn't wash away and it's… honest. Not some ploy to get Kaiser to look stupid or make him the butt of a joke. (How would he do that, if he doesn't know? Arthur has no reason to believe he is anything but a man. And that's good. It's… good. He doesn't need anyone to know. Or want. Obviously.)

He thinks of being in a store with Arthur– Arthur who is loud and shameless and would take up all the attention with a grin. He'd make jokes and try to get him to buy something stupid like the boxers with the hearts on them, but it'd be easy to buy in the same size. He could get something good. Feel the fabric before purchase, see how the material stretches, actually see if he likes it before he wears it.

Fuck it.

“Yeah. I'm free tomorrow.”

Arthur grins in response. “Neat.” He looks back at the door and back at Kaiser; “...Did you really not want to play Uno? I'm feeling up for a game.”

“Can we just- sit here for a moment? I want… I want to hear you play for a bit longer.”

“Awh. Of course, man.”

Kaiser feels his cheeks blush– but he just snorts in response. He leans on Arthur's side and lets himself relax. Of course it'd be okay. Of course Arthur wouldn't care. He's just like that, isn't he?

The library is quiet, like always.

None of her classmates bother her here- at least not that frequently. She does not know if they're afraid of the librarian or the principal or something else entirely, but here she can breathe and not have to watch her back every second and it's good.

Mister Álvaro does not help with the bullying. None of the teachers really do, just give her a fake smile and pat her on the back and say to “just ignore them, it'll pass” and offer fake assurances and more fake smiles and none of them really care and she's so angry, why is nobody helping-?

But it's fine.

It's not like she needs help.

Mister Álvaro has given her a job. She can do that. She can do this one thing correctly.

And maybe… maybe then he will see that she's good.

Because she is; she's not a murderer, she's not a killer, she's not like her mother, not anything her classmates say she is.

So she tries not to let it get to her. Lina is enough, even if they don't meet often and that asshole keeps telling her rumors that aren't true and she has to explain herself every time they see each other- but it's fine.

Lina is nice.

Sometimes, Mister Álvaro lets her stay in the library ever after dark- Sometimes, Lina even joins her.

(Only when nobody can see. They can never let anyone see.)

But today, Agatha is alone.

She dusts the top of the shelves off, rearranges the books back into their correct places, and does her job.

She does not think about the book, hidden behind the secret fucking entrance to a bunker. About the dark leather cover and rituals and sigils and magic. She can do her job. She doesn't need to bother anyone with this.

She just sits down at the table, in a dark corner of the library, and reads a book that she doesn't care about.

She hopes that Mister Álvaro doesn't kick her out tonight. She doesn't want to go home.

-

It stares back. It stares back. It barks and growls and she– she doesn't want to die. But they're here and the dogs are covered in blood and they only ever laugh and she doesn't want to see, she doesn't want to watch– the fangs pierce the skin and there's blood; so much blood, so much pain, so much screaming. She doesn't want to watch. She has to. She doesn't want to die. They'll hurt her if she stops. The man on the floor (bloody and hurt in a way Agatha isn't used to yet, not yet) reaches his hand out for her. One of the dogs bites couple of his fingers off. It growls. She can't stop shaking. It turns to stare at her. It lunges. Agatha screams. It doesn't matter that it jumps at something- someone behind her, because it still hurts, it hurts and all there is is the blood and the darkness and the laughter in the distance. Eyes on her.

There's guts and blood and meat and blood and muscle and Blood and screaming. She doesn't want to die. She doesn't want to die. It splatters on her face. Her hands are sticky with blood. Is it hers? It is not? Does it matter? Red is on the floor and organs are falling into it– her own insides twist and fuck, God, she doesn't want to die here. She doesn't want the pain. The fear.

Hands reach for her. Someone reaches for her. She doesn't want to die. She knows what she has to do. There's nothing here for her. Just her teeth and her hands and the knowledge– she has killed before. She has hurt before. She knows how to do it. There's a knife in her hand. It's sharp and efficient and hers and she knows it's good. She knows exactly how much it hurts. And fuck, will she make it hurt.

The dog launches. The bald guy with the dull knife reaches out. The girl with– A girl with pink hair… An angry dog barks. It's going to kill her. She will die if she doesn't kill it first. She bares her teeth– grips her knife– knife? There's no knives for her here– She doesn't want to die. She won't let them kill her. She can't. (Don't, don't, please– Please don't touch me, please, please, leave me alone–)

“Don't fucking touch me!” She snarls and screams and stabs. She doesn't want the pain. She doesn't want to die. The girl– A girl– The hands leave and nobody is near; there's a scream and then not– good, good, they're dead and nobody can hurt her anymore, it's fine, it's… It's not fine. She needs to get out, she needs to get away from this fucking place and the fucking–

A dog whines. It's just her and the dying dog (can't hurt her, it's hurt, it can't hurt her now) and the fast beating of her heart and the heavy breathing. She coughs and tries to inhale and just coughs more. But she's fine. Not dead yet. Fuck. Fuck. Her hands are— they're…

She can feel the blood, feel it under her nails, drying on her skin and turning sticky and… her hands are not red. It doesn't… She…

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She doesn't– she can't…

It's bright. It's never bright in the cells. There's no shadows hovering over her. There's never not a shadow hovering over her at school. She…

“Mia. You go. Take Lupi with you.”

…no. What?

It's the fucking old guy that– oh God. She's going to die. She's going to die. She doesn't want to die. Please. Please, I don't want to die, please– Don't hurt me, go away, please, go away– Fucking leave me alone! Don't touch me, don't come closer!

She grips the knife in her hand. She… doesn't know. Something trickles down her arm. She can't die here. She can't. But all she has is her teeth– her knife. That won't do anything against a guy with a fucking sword. She's going to die.

I'm going to kill you. I will. Don't fucking come closer or I swear–

She wheezes. There's no fucking air, she can't fucking breathe– God, she doesn't want to die. Please. Please.

They're not quite sure when transcending became a longer process that took time, just that it did.

Over time, a quick 5 seconds became hours, and eventually Agatha began to order him out of the occult room and locking the door during her own transcending. For privacy, she says.

Dante… gets it. He thinks.

It is scary. You close your eyes, thinking that you're going to be gone for a few seconds, like always, and come back to see hours have passed. 3 hours here, 10 hours there, a whole night- it's disorientating at best. Vulnerable, for sure.

But they still don't know why. The best guess they have is Kian, but there's… nothing to work with, really.

He has gone through it, seen others do- but nothing other than that. It's not like they have the time to waste on this; Kian is still a danger and with the extension of the Ordo, there's always something more important to do.

But. There's time now. There's a reason to, now.

Carina says she doesn't want her family to ask questions. It's her first time dealing with any sort of ritual- she has no idea what to expect.

He has a reason now.

Dante draws the circle on the floor and slowly explains all he knows about the process- he answers every single question Carina asks. And there are… a lot of them.

She doesn't seem as anxious as-

…She doesn't seem to be as anxious as he imagined. Certainly, is less than anyone else would in her position.

And the questions are nice. Not just because he's confident about his knowledge in this; Carina is interested. Visibly, and that's… something new. The Ordo is… better about using the paranormal now, but to find someone so eager to learn about it isn't easy. It's nice.

She waits until he's finished, and when all is said and done, steps into the circle and sits down in the middle.

Dante… stares. She doesn't seem to be in discomfort, even with her furrowed eyebrows, just… focused, maybe.

He looks at the time - 14:06 - and gets his notebook out. Agatha will appreciate having some more information, and he himself wants to know more.

And Carina asked.

She asked. She asked him to keep watch over her, to be the one to explain it to her, and God, if that doesn't make his heart threaten to stop.

It isn't… it isn't like Jasmin.

Nothing- nobody will ever be like Jasmin.

But it's familiar.

He watched Jasmin transcend for the first time too; only then, he was way more stressed and way more close- the only reason he didn't hold Jasmin's hand was because she told him she'd be fine.

That wasn't like anything happening now.

He doesn't need to hold his breath and stare obsessively at anyone's chest to be sure they're breathing and still alive. There's no anxiety now. He knows how it works. It's a little longer, yes, but he knows that even if Carina was too weak (which she isn't), the only thing happening would be her being thrown out of the circle. She wouldn't die. There's no reason to worry. He knows how it works.

So he makes himself comfortable. Arthur is gone by now- he's not sure where, but Dante would know if anything happened, so he's not too worried.

One last look at the door; he might need to get water or some food from the kitchen later, depending on how long this'll take. But leaving Carina alone isn't what he's going to do, especially not when she just started.