Hopelessness wrapped itself around Evan’s heart as the only person he survived with, the only person he had left that he loved, slowly died. He knew what he had to do. He knew he had to do it. That Barty wanted him to. But he couldn’t bring himself to murder the only person he had left.

His eyes went to Barty’s daggers the same way they had multiple times over the past few days as he deteriorated further. Judging from what he’s previously seen, Barty has a day, two maximum, before he is no longer him but Evan selfishly wants one more day with the love of his life. He heard Barty groan behind him as he regained consciousness.

“Please.” Evan heard the whisper from Barty’s lips. He had come to expect it. He knew it would come as soon as Barty regained consciousness, but every time it did Evan felt his chest constrict as his heart broke more for his love. It was the only thing he would say to Evan anymore. The only thing he ever did now was beg to die, beg for his fiancé to murder him. Evan missed when Barty would turn to him with a soft smile, kiss his freckles and tell him he loves him. He missed the way his name sounds on Barty’s lips.

Please. He didn’t know how long ago the begging had started, how long ago Barty had regained consciousness but the word felt like a thunder strike to Evan heart every time he heard it. Please. The whisper had turned to chanting, the word echoing through his head, each letter louder than the last. Evan felt himself rise to his feet and saw the sight of Barty’s daggers getting closer. Please. His hands wrapped their way around the handles. Please. He walked over to where Barty’s shivering form was chained to the bed, helpless to the disease changing the molecules of his blood. Please. He raised the dagger above his head. He just needed to make it stop; the pain, the begging, the sight of blood on Barty’s lips.

“Evan.” His motion stopped as a clammy hand wrapped itself around his other wrist, wild eyes meeting his own, a spark of the old Barty hiding behind his eyes, the begging had paused and it felt like heaven to Evan’s ringing ears.

“I love you.”

The first time Tsukasa tries to run his hands through Daiki's hair, Daiki almost punches him.

They're in the studio and Daiki is "overstaying his welcome", lounging on the small couch pushed to the side. The mood is calm, Yuusuke is humming about somewhere in the house while Natsumi and Grandpa are out shopping. Daiki is flipping through a magazine looking for some sort of treasure or article to catch his eye when Tsukasa enters, observes the room briefly, and sits down next to Daiki. Daiki eyes him briefly but Tsukasa doesn't speak, just grabs another magazine, drops it on his lap and begins to flip through it as well, one arm thrown across the back of the couch, just grazing Daiki's shoulders.

Tsukasa doesn't seem to have any ulterior motives, he doesn't even look at Daiki, but Daiki keeps half an eye on him anyways. Tsukasa is too open right now, it's weirding him out.

After a while, Daiki almost completely forgets the strangeness of the situation when suddenly there's a hand on his head and fingers lacing through his hair. It doesn't last long because almost as soon as Daiki realizes what's happening, every battle instinct in him fires up and he immediately grabs at the offending hand, twisting it back in his grasp.

Tsukasa looks startled, almost hurt (a childish kind of hurt, a pout mixed with an odd look of fear) when Daiki basically throws his hand back at him. Daiki isn't sure what reaction Tsukasa had been expecting, but it surely wasn't that. But Daiki isn't about to find out when half his body is ready to lunge for the nearest exist, so he just says, "Don't touch me."

Tsukasa opens him mouth, to protest perhaps, but he snaps his shut with an annoyed huff instead before grumbling out a bitter apology and standing up to call for Yuusuke.

Daiki only lets himself think about it later that night when his brain is too tired to keep ignoring the memory of Tsukas's fingers gently brushing down the back of his head. Daiki wonders what it'd be like to feel like the scene wasn’t going to end with Tsukasa's hand fisting in his hair and slamming his face into the table. Whether that was actually Tsukasa's plan, Daiki isn't sure. A soft part of him whispers its assurance that it wasn't, but his self protection is too loud with it's "but what if it was" that Daiki doesn't pay too much attention to it. Doesn't let himself pay too much attention to it.

Tsukasa starts to touch Daiki a lot after the whole mess in Daiki’s home world. Daiki learns pretty quickly the function of most interactions, but it’s still startling in the beginning. Tsukasa’s main habit that Daiki notices first is he’ll grab or push at Daiki’s shoulder to indicate where he’d like Daiki to go instead of just, you know, pointing, but Daiki becomes comfortable with this habit quicker than any of the others. This habit, at least, in it’s own way, makes sense. Daiki understands its function.

It’s harder to understand what Tsukasa wants when Tsukasa softly lets his hand trace down Daiki’s arm or tries to loosely tangle their fingers together.

The second time Tsukasa runs his hand through Daiki’s hair is after a battle. It's too quick for Daiki to stop it but long enough that the feeling of Tsukasa hand warmly combing Daiki's hair back sticks with the thief for longer than he wants to admit.

He freezes when it happens while the others begin their walk home. Tsukasa calls for him, claims they'll leave him behind, and Daiki just laughs and reminds him he doesn't care and isn't there for Tsukasa to boss around. He pretends his slow gait after them is to prove that, not because he isn't sure how close he wants to get to Tsukasa right now.

(Close enough that Tsukasa can never leave him again and far enough that Tsukasa can never ever hurt him again)

The first time they kiss (in the amnesiac’s mind) Daiki is much more willing and placid underneath Tsukasa's hands and Tsukasa notices. When they break for air at one point Tsukasa gives an annoyed little huff and mumbles, “You'll let me do this..." but Daiki doesn't let him finish. Tsukasa doesn't understand, kissing is easy. You know what someone wants when they kiss you and you can maneuver the situation into what you want pretty efficiently.

Daiki has no idea what Tsukasa wants when he runs his hand through his hair.

Of course, Daiki doesn't say any of this. He knows it'll break the mood and he's waited long enough for this so he shuts the man up instead by grabbing onto his shirt and slamming his body back into his with a laugh.

(Tsukasa goes readily with only minor complaints).

The third time Daiki is too sick and weak to fight Tsukasa off so he just grumbles about it instead. It’s been several months since Daiki’s seen any of them, three months and seventeen days, to be exact, and it’s almost two in the morning when he stumbles into the Hikari photo studio and crashes into the couch. It’s been moved, Daiki thinks briefly. It bothers him more than it should. More than he wants it too. The idea of Tsukasa and the others moving through the worlds and changing without him.

He blames the fever.

The first to come into the living room is Grandpa, which surprises Daiki. The older man is quiet and collected as he switches on the lights and only lets out a gentle, “Ah..” when he spots Daiki, eyes gone wide, before turning to go to the kitchen to collect some medicine and a cool wash cloth. Natsumi is next, awakened by her grandpa’s bustling and Yuusuke isn’t far behind her.

Tsukasa doesn’t find him until ten in the morning. Grandpa stays in the kitchen, milling around and preparing various medical concoctions Daiki knows he will refuse to drink, while Yuusuke and Natsumi leave to go buy some of Daiki’s favourite treats. “For when you’re better,” Yuusuke grins at him. Daiki can’t tell if he’s trying to give him an incentive to get better faster, or to stay when he’s no longer bedridden with fever. He finds he doesn’t care and gives Yuusuke a small smirk, almost gentle enough to be considered a smile, and a huff of laughter instead of responding.   

When Tsukasa finally does come out to find Daiki, the first thing he does is laugh. He approaches Daiki, who’s snuggly wrapped in a thick comforter, with a good natured grin, and an insult (“I guess fools can catch colds.”) before dragging one of the living room chairs closer to the sick man and sitting down. He reaches for Daiki’s hair almost immediately, it’s plastered to his forehead from the sweat, so Daiki quickly growls out a warning.

Tsukasa, of course, gets annoyed. Pulling back, he crosses his arms, and makes a show of looking away from Daiki. It’s childish, but neither of them have ever been very mature when dealing with each other. With feigned indifference, Tsukasa goes, “Fine, I won’t touch you then.” Daiki quickly returns the irritation with a scowl, huffing out, “Good,” and effectively trapping the two in an extended silence.

It takes ten minutes of Daiki making distressed sounds and writhing on the couch for Tsukasa go back on his word and reach out to brush back Daiki's hair anyways.

"Why do you do it?" Daiki asks, eyes narrowed in both suspicion and fear.

"I want to." Tsukasa replies as he gently moves Daiki’s hair from his eyes and begins combing his fingers through the tangles collected over the night.

“Why.” Daiki repeats, insistent. He needs to know. He needs to understand, to quiet the voice still so loud in his head with its repeating message of, “He’s going to hurt you, he’s going to hurt you, he’s going to hurt you.”

Tsukasa’s hand still momentarily. Looking down he catches Daiki’s gaze and suddenly Daiki can see something in Tsukasa softening before being replaced with a look of assurance. Daiki remembers this gaze. It’s the same one Tsukasa gave him in his homeworld, telling him, “That feeling is your beloved treasure.” Daiki remembers hazily how warm Tsukasa’s hand felt clutching his.

“Because I like you,” Tsukasa tells him. Plain and simple. Almost aggravatingly so, but practically everything about Tsukasa was aggravating in some way. Daiki stares back up at him, blinking almost owlishly.

“Oh,” there’s not a lot Daiki can think of to respond to that, so Tsukasa just grins, pleased with his victory, and returns his attention to the tangles in Daiki’s hair.