"So, are you going to explain to me why Taiga just called me asking why he's being disowned?" Alex demands the moment they come back, equal parts exasperated as she is exhausted.

Tatsuya's smile is significantly brighter than when he left, and from the jittery curls at the edge of Hiroto's lips, they probably had quite a meaningful conversation somewhere in between.

"I decided that Hiroto's cuter than Taiga, so I'm keeping Hiroto instead."

"Oh, so it's Hiroto without the kun now? And I absolutely agree. Wise choice."

Hiroto, upon taking a second look, truly wonders just how these two don't have blood connections. Surely, they look nothing alike, but they have the same smile of the devil.

Tatsuya's hand is still on Hiroto's, as if he's trying to prove a point.

"So, did I manage to make Taiga cry?" Tatsuya asks, and Hiroto almost thinks there's a hint of excitement in his voice, like making a grown boy cry was going to be an achievement or something.

"Oh, he shouted 'I'm not crying' about three times to his dad on the other end, so I'm absolutely sure he wasn't crying," Alex says. "I'm gonna video call him tomorrow, so you can join me if you feel like making up with your brother."

"Okay!"

The conversation is so casual, spoken with tones used only in lighthearted, running jokes. They bat across context though. From exasperation, to sarcasm, to serious warnings folded between... Hiroto was impressed.

(No matter how you look at it, these two were close. Very close.)

Closer than Hiroto can see with just his eyes.

-

"Try saying my name."

Tatsuya stares right at Hiroto, face two inches away-- and the latter just combusts.

Making some sort of squeaking noise that sounded like "Myawwrrh!" he hops over the couch and curls up behind it, face buried in arms and flushed a hot red.

Alex and Tatsuya watch the whole scenario like an interested audience, no longer capable of being surprised by the painfully shy reactions.

"Stop releasing your gay pheromones in his direction, Tatsuya," Alex comments, turning back to her newspapers, "you're turning him into a cat."

"Ehhh," Tatsuya whines in response, "I'm just honestly trying to help him, though?"

-

KUROKO:

Hiroto-kun where r u
u can't just send us
dat pic and then
disappear again.

AOMINE:

Aisaka reply pls
Akashi is srsly going
to fly his ass over thr
n track u down

Hiroto's curled up on the couch. It's a lazy day of just nothing to do-- Alex went out on errands, and Tatsuya has prior engagements with his club or something.

He hovers his fingers over the keypad.

He had sent the image just so the others could know he was alive, he was around, and he was slowly but surely getting back up-- but in truth, that really settled nothing.

Delayed issues will eventually come back. He would have to reply eventually, because they want to see his face, they want to hear his voice, and they want to talk to him, too. They wanted to know if he was alright, and a picture isn't really enough to tell them enough of what they wanted from him.

So he musters up enough courage, and knowing he couldn't speak well enough yet-- he types.

AISAKA:

I'm okay.

My aunt lives in America
she had to take
custody of me so I had
to move suddenly.

He thinks for another very long moment. A whole bunch of people are now typing, according to the little line under the chat name. Kuroko, Aomine, wait, Midorima and Akashi are-- even Murasakibara??

He doesn't know if he'll be able to handle all the sudden, inevitable questions.

He's already feeling the churn of puke in his stomach, and he shrinks his neck into his sweater, curling up even further and making a whimpering noise into the couch, dreading any form of a reply and hating that he even sent it. Maybe he should've waited a little longer? He wanted to delete those messages now.

AISAKA:

Sorry I didn't
tell you guys earlier.

All typing stopped for a moment. Then,

KUROKO:

It's fine, Hiroto-kun

Aisaka felt like he could cry. The conflict rises in his throat and he just regrets, regrets. Why couldn't he have done this earlier? It was so easy. It was so simple-- there was no rejection, no questions, no torment.

Just acceptance, like nothing has ever changed.

(Nothing will ever be the same again. Not without dad, not without the club, not here in America, with no way to get back anytime yet.)

(But this. This he has with them, will remain the same and will never leave. He's sure of it-- it has to , right?)

The void in his chest is a little warmer, and he rolls over, falling asleep easily for the first time in many, many weeks.

Somehow he knows the world will still be there for him when he wakes up.

-

Alex comes home in the evening. Hiroto is asleep on the couch, and Tatsuya has a sharpie in his hand, set to draw a mole under the boy's eye.

They stare at each other.

"We'd look like reflections," Tatsuya says, with the most serious expression on his face.

"Ah," Alex responds, because that absolutely doesn't explain anything. "I'm going to tell Taiga."

"No! Alex, why hast thou forsaken me?!"

Hiroto stirs, curling up further into his pillow and murmuring something inaudible into the couch. Everyone else freezes. Then Hiroto stills again, breaths evening out as he falls back to sleep.

Tatsuya and Alex step quietly away, making sure to drape a blanket over him and speaking in hushed voices.

"So? You going to tell me what made you change your mind about your dramatic declaration of ruined brotherhood?"

"Alex, you really know how to hit exactly where it hurts, don't you?"

They sit around the couch, since Hiroto took up the whole thing by himself. Shutting off the TV and sighing, Tatsuya ran a hand through his hair.

"I didn't plan to," he admits dryly. "It's a shame, but it's the fault of my pride to begin with. I... was planning to just let it die with time."

Alex sees the necklace between Tatsuya's fingers. It's not around his neck, but it's intact, and she knows he'd kept it all this time, hidden in a box he pretended not to care about, safe in Taiga's old room so it never disappears.

"I guess you could call it a stroke of bad luck," he says, chortling, "or would it be good luck? I'm not sure. Hiroto is... how do you say this-- he's surprising."

And somehow, Alex doesn't chase for further elaboration.

-

Hiroto wakes up at 5AM, and he can't fall back asleep.

Tatsuya isn't with him today. The boy doesn't live here, after all-- he needed to go home every once in a while, really.

So Hiroto picks up his phone, and reads through the messages. Apparently there's a new kid in the club, and Tetsu is his trainer? Oh, it's the pretty boy from that time.

Nijimura and Haizaki are furious at him, the former sending him various degrees of death threats and the latter just repeatedly shouting 'I'll kick your ass if you come back, don't come back' with various different swears in each version of the phrase.

It's too easy, he thinks.

It's too easy. Why is this so easy? It's ridiculous. Hiroto thought that he'd never be able to speak to Haizaki again-- not after they fell out, hard.

He doesn't know how to respond to anything Haizaki sends him.

It just-- it just felt wrong.

Is Haizaki trying to act like that last conversation never happened? Hiroto can't do that. Hiroto can't live knowing how much he'd hurt him, was hurt by him, and they never settled it before leaving.

It just-- it just sucked.

He felt like a terrible person. A terrible friend, a terrible-- a terrible everything. He's supposed to be an adult. He shouldn't-- he should know how to open up to these things, yet-- yet, his mind just cowers and shrivels and-- and he's so pathetic.

He's calling Haizaki before he even thinks it through.

Clutching the gray kitten plushie tightly, tightly-- he tries not to whimper as the anxiety eats him whole. He wants to hang up. After three rings with no response, he almost cries.

"Hello?"

Then it picks up.

"Shougo?" he says, his voice a little croak laced with relieved, relieved tears. "It's... it's Hiroto... are you--"

"Wait, hold up a little--" the boy on the other end flusters a little. There's a muffled 'shut up you dipshit' on the other end, and a shuffle that meant Haizaki was moving. After a moment, Haizaki's voice is clear again. "Hiroto?"

This time, Hiroto doesn't manage an answer.

He just succumbs to the emotions and lets out a noise that sounds like a choked sob and a strangled whine.

"Wha-- Hiroto? It's-- heck! Isn't it like, five in the morning over there? Why are you awake? Dude are you fucking crying of all things Hiroto--"

When Haizaki just panics over the phone, a part of Hiroto is a little amused. The other part of him just starts crying, because there's just too much in his head and he just-- just couldn't let it process inside.

What's with this? He's never really... cried like this before. He can't even remember the last time he showed this kind of weakness.

Maybe that time with Ogi?

But that was slightly different. He didn't... cry as much.

He sniffles, pressing his eyes into his arm. He tucks Hai-chan under his arm, "it's just--" he can't even speak without sounding like a bloated frog. "I'm... Shougo I'm-- I'm sorry, okay? That time--"

Now that he thought about it, he had

n't cried this hard since his past life's teenage years.

"It's fine," Haizaki speaks quickly, like he's been waiting ages just to say it, and it didn't matter-- he just didn't care anymore. "I didn't-- we just-- didn't understand each other."

That's sugarcoating, and they both know it.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Haizaki quickly fixes, "none of that matters anymore. I don't care about it now-- I just... look, god, you're making me go all cheesy! What am I, Tetsuya? Geez!"

Somehow, Haizaki's exasperated voice cracks a smile out of Hiroto.

"I'm not mad about that!" Haizaki explodes, and Hiroto can hear his flustered embarrassment from his tone alone, "I'm mad because you bloody ran across a continent without telling us! I swear, Hiroto, I will punch you to kingdom come if you pull that fuckery on us again!"

Hiroto laughs a little, forgetting his tears.

"Yeah," his tears are not gone, but there's a little cheer in his voice. "I'm sorry, Shougo."

His apology doesn't hurt anymore.

-

Let's just say, of all things Tatsuya expected to walk into at 8am, it was not shirtless Hiroto doing a one-armed handstand.

He spends a very long moment having an internal gay panic. He spends the next moment thinking about glorious abs. Then he turns away and reconsiders his life decisions.

Hiroto notices him and falls out of position, crumbling into a roll before getting up to face the boy. "Morning?" Hiroto asks, when the other fails to compose anything.

"Uhm, yeah," Tatsuya manages, because he can definitely absolutely think very clearly right now, "morning."

Hiroto shrugs on a shirt, and straps on his wrist brace.

"Uhm," Tatsuya finds his voice, "what were you... doing?"

Hiroto tilts his head to the side, "training?" he asks back, like it was evident. "I've... neglected myself. So... I've to start over."

So he was working out because he's weakened considerably over his little slump. Yeah, makes sense...

"This is bad for me, mentally," Tatsuya clutches his heart and mourns in the corner, wiping a tear from his eye. "Taiga, save me."

Hiroto is a little confused at him, but he shrugs. He'd rather worry about food right now than Tatsuya over there acting weird.

Hiroto steps toward the desk. He sets his kitten plushie among the picture frames, and when he finds his parents' photo on the drawer, he smiles.

"I'll be going now," he whispers.

The pain is still there, and Hiroto knows it's not going to fade anytime soon.

But he's not alone anymore. So one day-- one day, he'll forget this sadness, and it'll be something stronger within him, a motivation to move forward. And when that time comes-- surely, he'll be able to move forward, without hesitation.

"I'll do my best."

He turns around, and leaves the room. Today, his shoulders are lighter than before.