The Situation: Well, folks, it's another visit to Nikko Island. This place is getting really popular, you know? Anyways! The girls are at it again, the two stubborn males have been dragged into a date. That's about the explanation you'll get this time around. *sticks tongue out* 

The moment Raya's boots touched down on the well-kept dock, she breathed in deeply, a nostalgic grin flitting over her lips. Nikko was familiar to her, despite having only one visit under her belt. She didn't often get to return to islands she'd stopped at, and she relished the chance to come here in particular. Honoo loved the place, incidentally, but Raya found it charming for reasons other than the master smithy.

Now, though, was not the time for her to revel in the curiosity she felt humming beneath her skin.

She glanced up at Timor, who stepped off the ship after her, shoulders tense and hands clenched inside his pockets. He had to know she'd read him already, but he didn't seem inclined to openly express his discomfort with her. Annoying, yes, but she could deal with it; he'd had a rough time of it lately, as far as she knew.

"C'mon, Timmy, let's get a move on!" she urged him, snagging his arm and herding him along, down the docks and onto the main island; he hardly protested this time round, having been informed of the nature of their visit already. "Kiyomi said she's gonna wait for us up ahead! And ya never know, maybe she dragged your Prince Bratty with her!"

Timor's only response was to roll his eyes, though she thought she saw something not unlike eager anticipation cross his features.

How Kiyomi could attract trouble like the plague, Aoi would never know. Rather than question it at this point, he simply stood to the side of the worn path where they were waiting for their guests. The girl in question had her hands wrapped around one end of her scarf, as the other end happened to be caught in a tree. He honestly wasn't even sure how she'd managed to snag it on the branch. All he knew was that she'd yet to tear the fabric, so there was that.

"... why don't you climb up?" he questioned after Kiyomi froze- having thought she'd pulled to hard. "You could get it free--"

"But Raya-chan and Timmy-kun could be here soon!" Kiyomi protested.

Aoi's lips curled in distaste at Kiyomi's most recent choice of nickname for Timor- as he was rather certain she'd gained it from the before mentioned red-head.

"I don't see how that applies."

Ignoring him, Kiyomi went back to her tug-of-war with the tree. He simply sighed, his gaze switching to the path that led down to the docks. Within seconds he'd gone stiff, eyes catching sight of two figures making their way up to where the duo stood.

"...and I was thinking, ya know, how do ya think Aoi'd react if you... I dunno, blushed? I'm betting it'd be pretty damn hilarious, 'cause he'd either freak out or get like, weirdly angry, and the brat's adorable when he's pissed off--"

Raya broke off, blinking as Timor gently clapped a hand to the back of her head. It was an uncharacteristic gesture, as normally, if he'd wanted her attention, he would have simply walked off until she realized she was only talking to herself. But as she looked around, her gaze landed on the eternally-irate snowy-haired boy, and she understood perfectly.

A wicked grin curled her lips.

"Yo, Aoi, you did come!" she called out, practically bouncing on the soles of her feet in her excitement. She lived for this, honestly, this infuriatingly complex relationship between her resident assassin and the ass of a Dracule. Well, his being a Dracule, she supposed she couldn't have expected anything less of him. "That's not like you, hm? You here for a reason?"

Timor closed his eyes, bringing a hand up to close over his mouth; Raya had a way of getting under even his skin with her suggestive comments, if only because he could imagine well what Aoi might do in response.

Predictably, Aoi's face flushed an irritated red. He hooked a thumb in the direction of Kiyomi, whom seemed about to pitch over backwards as a result of the force she was putting into trying to free her scarf from the tree.

"If I leave her alone, she attracts trouble," he retorted. "That's reason enough, isn't it?"

It wasn't as if he was going to say that he'd been antsy ever since Kiyomi mentioned that she and Raya had been conspiring again. That would almost be like admitting the demon was right about something.

Raya's shoulders sagged slightly. Yeah, she knew Aoi well enough that it was obvious he wouldn't outright admit his undying love for Timor, but he could give her something to work with, couldn't he? Damn Dracules.

Still, her irritation dissolved the instant she took in Kiyomi's predicament. She blinked again, mouth open as if to question just how she could have gotten herself into such a mess, before she just took off running to meet up with her sister, calling over her shoulder that Timor should stick with Aoi while she sorted things out.

He didn't complain, crossing the short distance to stand at Aoi's side, an inch or so of space left between them. A cushion, perhaps, given that it had been a while since he and Aoi had been alone together. After the incident - as he'd taken to calling the moment when he essentially broke down into a sniveling mess - they'd gone off to visit one of Timor's old haunts, but it hadn't been long before Raya somehow tracked them down and demanded every last detail of their (obviously) eavesdropped conversation.

So Timor was wary, just a bit, to see how Aoi would act around him.

Aoi studied Timor for a moment, his mind working in a thousand different ways about how to handle this situation. Eventually, he shifted his gaze away. At the same time, he didn't move to give himself any personal space as he would have done had it been anyone else (well, perhaps with the exclusion of a certain redhead who lacked understanding of such a concept).

"... we should leave while they're distracted," he announced. "It'd be annoying to be stuck with them spying on us as they did before."

Timor nodded after sparing the redheaded sisters a brief glance. They wouldn't be missed, he thought, once something happened to snag Raya's attention, and something undoubtedly would. She didn't suffer from a short attention span, really, but her priorities could shift surprisingly quickly based on the situation.

Angling back to Aoi, he jerked his chin, indicating he could lead the way. Timor had never set foot on Nikko before, and though he wouldn't have admitted it, getting himself lost seemed a likely option.

Almost instantly, Aoi started down the path. He paused just as quickly, however, and glanced at Timor with something of an almost hesitant expression. After all, this was Aoi. He typically never took other's opinions into consideration.

"... is there anywhere in particular you want to see?" he questioned slowly. "There are two different parts to this island- the market and the forest."

He almost added that his hometown laid in the forest, but held himself back from mentioning it. The last time he'd shown someone around the island, his grandmother had insisted on being introduced. She'd- of course- been told about this visit as well. Or, to be more exact, she'd overheard Kiyomi's incessant chatter.

Timor began to shake his head, his way of saying their destination didn't matter to him - but he cut the motion short, furrowing his brow. Making conversation had become something tedious for him over the years, and usually, he spoke only when necessary. Because it was convenient, because it was easier. But things were different, and already he'd resolved to change to match them. He'd resolved to try, in any case.

"I don't have a preference," he said eventually, a little slowly, his voice betraying a hint of doubt. His hand moved unconsciously to slip just under his vest, resting over his heart, a gesture to both remind him of who he'd come to be and what he stood to lose again. "This is your home. I trust you."

Aoi hesitated once more, bringing one hand up to run through his hair as he thought. After a moment he sighed and started forward, well aware that if he wanted to avoid a lecture he was best off ignoring his urge to dismiss his grandmother's request.

"The forest, then," Aoi replied. "The idiots will have a harder time finding us there. It's called the Forest of Eternal Night, you'll see why as soon as we enter.... I grew up in one of the native villages."

The last part he'd added on without thought, then shook his head as if to dismiss the matter to himself. Sharing about himself... it wasn't something he was accustomed to, but it wasn't as if this was uncommon knowledge. While he considered this, he crossed the short distance needed to take them into the dark forest the path led into. He almost instantly relaxed, his eyes more accustomed to the dim lighting of the forest than the bright, open island.

Timor followed at his heels, his gaze flickering over the darkened forest with apparent interest the further they delved into it. As many forests and jungles as he'd navigated through to complete assignments, he couldn't remember visiting one this... mystifying.

"...Mihawk lived here?"

Raya had said something weeks ago regarding Mihawk's life on this island, as she'd somehow come to be aware of such information and was equally horrified and fascinated by it. He hadn't cared much at the time, but it suddenly dawned on him who Aoi was, as a son of Dracule Mihawk. He wasn't intimidated, far from it actually, but it changed his perspective of the white-haired boy slightly.

He'd had the same sort of revelation with Kiyomi and Raya, though he found their heritage less remarkable. Shanks was a powerful Yonko, but it was much easier to remain in his good graces than it was for Mihawk.

Aoi glanced at Timor, slightly surprised by the question. After all, Timor had been one of the few people that hadn't ever brought up his heritage, or at least, not that he could recall.

"He did," Aoi supplied after a moment. "Well, partially. He came to get away from the war in his own land, as well as to train from the swordmaster that lives here, so it wasn't his actual home. He was talented enough that it was easy enough for him to be accepted despite the usual... dislike for outsiders held at the time."

To be honest, there was still a distinct feeling that the forest natives held about outsiders. At the same time, it was rare for one to actually locate the village without the help of a native, so perhaps it was simply a lack of experience around them. Many of the natives never even left the forest for more than a few hours at a time- their bodies not used to the feeling of direct sunlight. Some of them had never seen the features that those outside the forest held.

"He and... my mother met here," Aoi added. "My grandmother insisted he stay with them."

It was strange how easily the details came out. He couldn't help but wonder if that could be excused with the reasoning that this was Timor and many strange things were brought about in Aoi when the man was around.

With a slow, careful nod, Timor catalogued this information for future reference. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get the occasion to meet with Mihawk - or if he even cared to - but having background knowledge of the man wouldn't hurt.

He untucked his hand from his vest, curling his fingers into a fist for a moment before slipping both into his pockets. Looking at Aoi again, he found he didn't want the conversation to die just yet, even if unease still ran rampant through his veins.

"...Ask anything," he said eventually, lifting a shoulder in a careless shrug. Vague as he was, he figured Aoi would understand the implication behind his words, that it was only fair if he offered up information equal to what Aoi had shared with him. Neither of them were known for storytelling, though Aoi knew considerably more about Timor than Timor did about him; still, fair was fair.

He'd been expecting something like that, even if he loathed the memories that swelled against his conscious mind as a result. Loathed. God. He hadn't felt such a passionate emotion towards his family for so long... His stomach nearly turned over as he raked a hand through his hair, knocking back his hat.

"My mother was... kind. In the beginning."

He couldn't look at Aoi as he spoke, though why, he wasn't sure.

"She'd sing me to sleep, before the twins were born. Then I was too old for it, she said. Too old for comfort. As I grew up, she sided with my... father more and more, I suppose thinking he had the right idea in wanting me to continue on whatever legacy they had for themselves. She wasn't.... she's not a beautiful woman," he amended after a moment's consideration. His mother was alive, the last he'd heard of her. "We look nothing alike. She's short, mousy, brown hair, brown eyes."

He shrugged again.

"As for my father... " Timor's lips sunk into a tragic frown, clearly unhappy with thoughts of his father crowding his mind. "I'm his spitting image. He's a bastard - which is where I get it from."

Aoi scowled, still not fond of the term that Timor referred to himself as. His eyes had only flickered from Timor occasionally as the man spoke, as to make sure that they were going the right direction. It was far too easy to get lost in the forest, even for a native.

"Don't call yourself that," he grumbled, then changed directions within seconds. He was well aware that a few words wasn't going to change Timor's way of talking. "I can't see you as a brunette. It's better this way."

That was about as close to comforting words that Aoi could manage on a typical basis.

"... my mother... sang to us as well. She had a horrible singing voice."

A humorless smile tugged at the corner of Timor's mouth, though he was quick to smother it, pressing his lips into a flat line. Talking about this was enough; he wasn't going to emote over it.

"My mother had a nice voice," he said, now consciously tempering his tone. "It's the only pleasant thing she passed along to the three of us."

Aoi blinked.

"... you sing?"

"I can."

Timor rarely ever chose to sing, finding no real value in the practice, but the few occasions he'd been asked to perform he'd been praised. He raised a curious brow at Aoi, silently asking if this was really so shocking for him.

Aoi shrugged in response to the unspoken question, uncertain of the exact answer. He couldn't picture Timor singing, yet he also couldn't imagine the man with a bad voice. Timor excelled at everything in Aoi's opinion, so why not singing as well?

"I see."

"Can you?"

He was interested in the answer, honestly, but he'd asked more because he disliked silence between them, even if he'd preferred it only a few weeks ago. Talking eased some of his nervous tension, as it made him feel as though Aoi wanted him there, that he wasn't simply tolerating his presence, as he'd done in the beginning.

Hesitation flickered across his face despite himself as Aoi considered his response. He nodded after a moment, albeit reluctantly.

"I can," Aoi admitted. "It's one of the few ways I don't take after her."

Timor was half-tempted to ask for a demonstration, but he caught himself before the words had even touched his lips. Raya's influence was seeping through, much to his chagrin; he could clearly picture her lording it over him if she ever caught wind of the information.

He'd have to make sure his tongue didn't slip when he and Raya regrouped.

A flutter of wings in the branches above him had Timor craning his head back, eyes flicking over the shadows dancing through the overhead leaves. A sudden calm stole over him the longer he watched the forest.

"...It's peaceful here," he said quietly.

Aoi instantly nodded agreement this time around, one of those rare, almost smiles appearing on his face.

"It is. It's one of the best things about this place," he said, then paused as he considered something for a moment, head cocked back in the same manner as Timor's. He knew it was less common, but sometimes the large bats that inhabited the forest were willing to listen to someone calling them. At the same time, he doubted they wouldn't have noticed of one of those reclusive creatures had come close. Even as that thought crossed his mind, a new thought occurred to him. "Your hair... it's pale enough that the creatures here might not mind you. Beyond by our scent, our appearances are a sign of who we are to the animals. You'd fit in."

Absently fingering the ends of his hair, Timor raised both brows, his expression oddly unguarded. Animals had never liked him much; in the beginning, he'd snap at them, too furious at the world to leave even the gentlest of creatures unscathed; beyond that, they sensed the wrongness of him. They smelled the fear, the blood. They smelled all the death he carried around with him. And they hissed and they snarled, they kept away from him.

He couldn't blame them, either.

"...They'll mind," he said evenly, and he tipped his hat down a fraction, shadowing his eyes. "Beasts can recognize fellow beasts."

Aoi snorted, a scowl replacing his smile.

"That's almost as bad as bastard," he complained. "Besides, if they minded fellow beasts," his tone left no question of his opinion on the matter, "how would they interact with each other? Be less condemning."

That said, he turned his eyes to the forest around them, searching for any sign of the less human wary creatures that roamed the forest. They were deep enough in that there happened to be plenty of chances of spotting something. The panthers tended to be the most curious, but there were plenty of other creatures that roamed the trees.

Timor couldn't help it; his body moved on instinct alone, clasping a hand to the back of Aoi's neck to draw him closer so that Timor could press a kiss to the top of his head. He lingered there a moment, expression soft.

"You're either kind, or naive," he murmured against Aoi's hair, not unkindly. "Brat."

A sputtered protest escaped his lips when he was drawn in, but died before he moved into votail language. Instead, his face flooded with heat.

"I-idiot," he muttered instead. "I'm not either one of those things. I'm just... I just know you is all."

Timor simply patted Aoi's head before drifting away a bit, hands situated comfortably in his pockets again. He couldn't deny that, that Aoi knew him, better than anyone else did, probably. Even Raya, as earnest as she was in pursuing their friendship, couldn't hold a candle to Aoi's understanding of Timor. That should have bothered him, he thought, but he found it comforting instead, that there was someone so close to him who just knew.

His face still burning red, Aoi instantly started walking again the moment he'd been released. His eyes studied anything but Timor, as he wasn't about to look at him while his face was still red.

"... see, they're curious."

Grateful for a distraction, Aoi gestured to where he could just barely pick out the sight of a furry face hiding in the shadows further along the path.

Timor paused. He cocked his head, chin lifted slightly to allow him a view beneath the rim of his hat. The thick undergrowth afforded him precious few glimpses of the dark-furred creature, but the tension that had instantly pooled in his shoulders fell away once he'd managed to catch the animal's eyes. It was wary, understandably so, but didn't appear hostile to either of them.

Which was new for Timor, and unexpectedly satisfying.

Aoi, satisfied that Timor seemed welcoming to the event, raised his fingers to his lips and released a whistle similar to the one used for the large cats. The animal shifted in the bushes, revealing the fact that it was larger than Aoi had initially figured, not instantly responding. Soon, however, it emerged from the bushes and eyed them with obvious consideration. Much like any other wild animal, the wolves and wild dogs that roamed the forest tended to be welcoming or distrustful depending on the day. This particular creature- a mutt with russet fur- seemed no different.

"I'd say he doesn't mind," Aoi commented, his tone childishly smug when the mutt relaxed, it's fur settling flat along its body.

"Your inner brat is showing," Timor replied smoothly, allowing something of Raya's snide remarks to manifest, though just briefly. He was too intrigued by the canine to bother filtering himself.

Indignation crossed Aoi's face.

"You're the one who said the animals would mind," he retorted. "I'm just pointing out that you're wrong."

That said, he turned a palm skywards towards the animal. The mutt perked it's ears, but didn't move. Aoi grumbled something unintelligible beneath his breath, but left the hand up.

"... I'm not sure if it'll come closer."

He easily kept from adding that Kiyomi was much better with the animals than he was. No matter how often he spent time trying to get them to like him, it was as if every animal in the forest hated him. Kiyomi had told him on multiple occasions it was his sour nature, but he'd yet to understand how that could have anything to do with it.

"That's fine," Timor said, though even as he spoke, he was unclasping one of the compartments on his tactical belt, pulling out a small, delicately wrapped package. He undid the wrappings and placed it carefully on the ground.

Sanji had made lunch for him and Raya (really, exclusively for Raya, with the redhead stubbornly dividing her portion in half to share with Timor), but he doubted he'd ever eat it. His palette was dishearteningly simple for the grand dishes that Sanji produced on a daily basis.

Perhaps it could be put to better use in this situation.

The animal sniffed the air the second the package came into view. The second it seemed to come to a decision, it shifted one foot forward, eyeing the two males uncertainly for a moment. When nothing served to discourage it, it warily moved closer, putting its nose to the food when close enough.

Aoi barely resisted the urge to put his hand forward and pet the mutt at that moment. He'd been warned far too many times not to hastily touch a wild animal, especially when they were eating. You needed it's permission first, as there was no surer way to get attacked. That in mind, he cautiously shifted closer, squatting down and holding his hand closer to the mutt. It stiffened, a low noise escaping it's throat. After a second, however, the noise died away as it realized Aoi wasn't stealing its food.

"... I think he'll let you touch him."

Timor wasn't entirely sure that was the best idea, but he crouched beside Aoi, hand extended, palm facing upwards. His knowledge of animals was disproportionately vast for the amount of time he'd actually spent in their company, and he vaguely recalled that he'd taken up the habit of studying them for the purpose of executing Zoan-type Devil Fruit users. Regardless of how he'd come across it, though, he knew how to approach a wild animal - that didn't instantly wish to sink its teeth into his throat - without horrific consequences.

The mutt stiffened slightly, shifting it's head up from the meal that it'd begun to eat. Stiffing the offered hand, it seemed to bare it's teeth in a slight warning at first. Once it once again came to the conclusion, however, that the offered meal wasn't in danger, it relaxed. While they were perhaps not as friendly as the felines, the canines on the island weren't hostile, persay.

Although, Aoi had never had much luck in either department. For some reason (he'd been repeatedly told the most likely reason but he was ignoring that for now) none of the animals in the forest were comfortable around him.

Timor cautiously brushed a hand along the mutt's ear, pressing his fingertips gently into the soft fur. The mutt's eyes followed his movements at first, but seeing Timor had no violent intentions, it shifted its gaze back to the food it was quickly devouring. Timor almost smiled, his lips twitching at the corners with a strange mirth.

"I think I like this island," he said quietly.

"It's a nice place," Aoi agreed in the same, quiet tone. "It's one of the few places on the Grand Line I don't mind staying for extended periods of times."

He didn't have a place like that, he realized. Somewhere he could go to feel safe, comfortable. Somewhere he wanted to be. Except when he was with Aoi. Then it didn't seem to matter where he was.

"Could I come back?" he asked, without looking at Aoi, knowing he'd prefer it that way. "Once we're finished today, would that be alright?"

Aoi blinked, slightly surprised the question. For no inconceivable reason, a light heat flooded his cheeks.

"... yeah," he agreed. "If you want, I suppose you could. It's not like I'm gonna stop you."

Timor affectionately patted the mutt's head before standing up, hands slid into his pockets.

"Thank you," he said, his expression a bit closed, if only to staunch the warm smile he felt threatening to curl his lips. "We should get going."

Aoi nodded, shifting his head to the side as if to study the forest. In reality, he was simply doing his best to hide the growing heat in his cheeks. He wasn't sure what about this situation had put it there, but it was there nonetheless, much to Aoi's annoyance.

"Right... we should," he agreed, moving to carefully edge past the mutt. It gave him a rather narrowed gaze in response but didn't otherwise react. "... the village isn't far from here."

Timor fell into step beside Aoi. He chanced a final look over his shoulder and saw the mutt swallow down the last of the food before slinking back into the foliage, its dark fur swallowed whole by the greeny within moments. An odd thought hit him - that he could learn a thing or two about stealth from these creatures - but immediately squashed the burgeoning idea.

He was fine as he was. He didn't need to impress anyone, not anymore.

Soon enough, they'd reached the outskirts of the village. Aoi wasn't all that surprised when the children playing in one of the first yards they came across paused to stare at the duo. He shot them a look and instantly the kids returned to their game as everyone was rather familiar with the fact that questioning that particular native resulted in few answers. At that same moment, however, Aoi paused eyeing a particular house a few dozen feet into the village with a pursed lipped expression before glancing to Timor.

"... I'd really rather not, but I'm supposed to introduce you to my grandmother," he grumbled. "She insists every time I bring someone to the island."

"You bring people here?" Timor asked, bemused. He couldn't reconcile the idea of anti-social Aoi volunteering to bring people to his home island.

"Not by choice," Aoi answered instantly. "Katana came here awhile back... Kiyomi let it slip. Before that there was another group with Raya, Irie, and all them, but she didn't hear about that one. I don't usually choose to get stuck as a tour guide."

He hesitated, his gaze dropping as that heat came to his cheeks unbidden.

"... it's not like you're as troublesome, though, alright? So, it's..."

He gave up on his words then, stubbornly turning and starting down the street again. Just because he'd been told that perhaps trying to actually be honest didn't mean that he actually had to share. He didn't have to tell Timor that it he really didn't mind showing the man around and that it wasn't like when he'd been forced to give the other tours.

He wasn't surprised Katana had paid the island a visit. Her connection to Aoi - however faint it may be - was reason enough. And the ragtag group Raya belonged to had probably been arranged by their authors. Satisfied he hadn't missed some crucial part of Aoi's personality, Timor followed the boy through the village, quiet and content.

Once he'd reached the house, Aoi pushed the door open without hesitation.

"I'm home!"

"Welcome home," came the response from the kitchen. The elderly woman appeared in view within a few moments. "Oh! Is that your guest? Well, don't just stand there, come in here and sit down. Aoi, make tea."

"Why do I have--"

"Don't be a brat. The tea, Aoi."

"... dammit."

And with that, the boy shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged into the kitchen. Even to save his "good" image in front of Timor, he knew better than to ignore a direct order from his Grandmother.

Timor watched Aoi trudge off, a flicker of amusement passing over his face. He turned to look at the elderly woman, guessing by her age and her familiarity with Aoi that she was likely the grandmother he'd spoken of. Somewhat uncomfortable, as Timor hadn't had to be properly polite in quite some time, he offered his hand once he'd stepped closer to her.

"Angelus Timor," he said byway of an introduction. "Aoi's... I owe Aoi a lot."

He wasn't sure, exactly, how Aoi wanted to define their relationship, and thought that was an adequate summary until he had confirmation.

Aoi tensed at the counter where he'd begun pulling together the tea. In his mind he'd instantly rejected the title for their relationship that he knew Kiyomi had most likely given to his grandmother. The woman herself bypassed the offered hand and moved to clasp his cheeks with her hands.

"Hm..." she mused, shifting his head back and forth. "You'll do, I think. Pleasure to meet you. Hope this brat of a grandson of mine hasn't given you too much trouble."

That said, she released his face and moved towards the table.

"Sit, get comfortable."

Timor only blinked, as he had the moment the woman took him by the cheeks to inspect him. He glanced at Aoi, doubt flashing through his passive gaze, but did as the woman instructed and settled himself in a chair, though he was far from comfortable. For too long he'd trained himself to be ready at a moment's notice, for anything, really, and the result of that was that he sat on the edge of seats, spine straight - perfectly poised to fly off should he feel the need to.

So he could only half-fulfill her order. He hoped that was enough.

"Aoi's always trouble," he said simply. "But I don't mind."

She shot a look at Aoi's back; the boy not giving the remark the justice of a response.

"Well, I'm glad for that," she replied. "Honestly, I doubt there's a person he knows that he doesn't give trouble to. Oh, I know, why don't I show you those pictures like I did that other nice girl that came by..."

Aoi spun around, the teacup in his hand slipping to the ground. His cheeks had flooded red within seconds.

"Don't!"

Casting a look between Aoi and his grandmother, Timor furrowed his brow. Even before the incident, he wouldn't have prodded at something that so obviously upset Aoi - probably, anyway. In any case, now, in the aftermath, he wasn't going to do anything to get on Aoi's bad side.

"If Aoi doesn't want me to see them, that's fine, Miss."

"Nonsense," she retorted instantly. "You can't go by everything he wants, dear, I'll tell you that now. You'll never get anywhere."

As she spoke, she stood and started for the cabinet settled in the back of the room. Aoi glowered after her, but instantly dropped the expression when she glanced at him over her shoulder.

"Well, are you going to clean up that mess or not?"

"... I am," he grumbled, starting to gather up the broken cup.

"Good. Now... here it is," she mused, plucking one of the albums up and moving back to the table. "Here, look this over. I won't take no for an answer."

With another doubtful glance at Aoi, Timor slid the album closer and flipped open to the first page. He blinked. A young Mihawk and a woman who very much resembled Aoi stared back at him. He couldn't help the strange expression that overtook his face, a mix of confusion and unease, as something about seeing the Warlord so young and so... lively stirred something unpleasantly in Timor's gut.

His grandmother smiled fondly, tapping the woman with a single finger.

"That there is my Ann. I'm sure you can guess her relation to our little brat, here. A lot of the first pages are from when she was young, that changes the further in you go."

Oh.

The more pages Timor turned, the more he understood just why seeing a young Mihawk bothered him as much as it did. Mihawk had been happy, once upon a time. He'd smiled, he'd laughed. He'd loved. Now, so much of that was gone from him - the little he knew of Mihawk and Aoi's strained relationship was evidence of that.

He'd never cared before what fates befell other people. Even when he was younger, before he was Timor, he'd been selfish, only giving a damn about himself and his siblings. But... this was painful, to know what Mihawk eventually lost while looking at snapshots of the brighter portion of his life.

"...She's beautiful," Timor eventually commented, feeling it was probably rude to remain stoically silent throughout the whole meeting.

"She was," his grandmother agreed, an almost wistful tone in her voice. "Aoi takes after her a lot, as you can see. Well, he didn't get her ability to light up a room, but we can't have everything."

"... thanks," Aoi grumbled from the counter.

"Hush," she childed. "Don't be rude."

He sighed and returned to pouring out the tea.

"Aoi is cute," Timor said absently, finally turning to a page that showed him a glimpse of two white-haired toddlers. "And he's bright enough."

"My, my," she mused. "I stand corrected. I wonder how much of what Kiyomi told me is true..."

Aoi almost dropped another cup as he transferred them to the table. His cheeks had flooded red.

"... don't listen to anything she says," he grumbled.

His grandmother ignored him, leaning forward to tap the picture of the toddlers.

"This is from when Ann was still alive. Aoi was such a cute crybaby back then."

"He complains a lot now, but I've never seen him cry." Timor frowned. That felt unfair, somehow. That Aoi had seen him at the height of his emotional breakdown, teary-eyed and broken, but he'd never seen Aoi so much as sniffle.

"He's too proud," she replied, shooting the boy a look that made this seem like a crime. Aoi rolled his eyes in response. "The kid's horrible at showing those sort of feelings, now."

"... you make that sound like a bad thing," Aoi complained, sitting down.

"It is," she answered simply. "Oh, that there... that picture is shortly after I started taking care of him full time."

She pointed to a picture of Aoi alone, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked as impatient as ever, his cheeks puffed out and his eyes narrowed. Obviously, he hadn't been happy to be told to stop and have his picture taken.

"Unfortunately, he'd already become a brat at that age."

Despite himself, Timor's mouth curved into a faint smile.

"I was worse," he promised, adding again, "I really don't mind it."

"Worse?"

Her expression questioned how this was possible. Aoi dropped his head onto his arms, glowering at the book. Internally, he was wondering how he could make it disappear at some point without being punished.

"Well, it looks like he's found the perfect match, then," she announced, sending yet another flood of red to Aoi's cheeks. "I'm glad."

Timor cocked his head.

"Perfect match?" he echoed.

He'd guessed Kiyomi had probably said something, based on what Aoi's grandmother had said before, so he wasn't surprised by the connotations of her words. Rather, he was surprised she thought they went well together, as he was still of the mind that he was far, far beneath Aoi in terms of their moral standings.

Aoi couldn't have possibly turned any redder than he was.

"Yes," his grandmother confirmed. "Perfect match. Why, there's no doubt from what I've heard from you since you've arrived and the stories Kiyomi has told me. You're quite something to be able to handle him so easily. You seem like a dear, too. I don't mind giving him over to you."

Aoi simply buried his head in his arms, even his ears burning. He knew better than to tell her to shut up, but he wished nothing more in that moment.

"I think it's the other way around," Timor said thoughtfully, moving a hand through his hair in contemplation. Aoi's reaction registered vaguely in his mind, but he was too distracted to really consider doing something to placate the boy. "I told you I owe Aoi a lot. That's the truth. I'm the one with worse baggage - if anything, I'm relying on Aoi."

She considered this for a moment, tapping her fingers on the top of the album page.

"Well, that works, too," she decided after a moment. "He likes taking care of people, too, even if he'd never say as much. He likes being relied on."

"I don't--"

"Ignore what he says, it's the truth," she interrupted. "Baggage or no, I think I like this."

Timor blinked.

Ah. Right. Perhaps he should have been a bit more conscious of where this conversation was going.

He looked at Aoi, saw the indignant fire in his blue eyes, the intense red scrawl adorning his cheeks. Timor released a short sigh. He might as well use this as an opportunity to set something straight.

"I'm not sure what Kiyomi's told you," he said, "but Aoi and I are only friends."

Because Aoi himself had never said they were anything different. Actually, if Timor recalled correctly, he'd never even promoted their relationship to that of friends.

His grandmother shrugged, a musing look on her face.

"Friends is more than anyone else has gotten," she announced. "Well, Kiyomi excluded, in a long time. I'd say that is all the proof I need for what Kiyomi has told me. Don't worry though, dear, I won't press the issue. It might take time given the brat you've settled on."

"I'm fine with being a friend," Timor said, with utter conviction. "It's more than I've had in years."

He paused.

"Except for Ace, I suppose."

"Ace?" his grandmother questioned, a bright expression on her face. "Well, that's a name I've heard, too. Kiyomi's been telling me all about how she thinks Irie and him would be rather cute together. It looks like this just gets better and better."

"Ace... and Irie?"

That... worked. As strange as it seemed, in Timor's head... it worked.

"Yes," his grandmother affirmed. "Apparently, and these details are all from Kiyomi so take them with a grain of salt, they met at a bar one night and were instantly attracted to each other."

Aoi snorted. He highly doubted that was the case.

"It's such an interesting story when you get into it," she continued, rather pleased with her memory of it all.

Timor didn't doubt it. Love at first sight wasn't uncommon for Ace, though it was rare that his feelings were ever returned. And, generally, he'd wake up the next morning, sick with a hangover but determined not to let Timor see it, and be completely over the girl whose name he couldn't even remember.

If Irie made him happy, though, Timor was grateful.

"Irie would be good for him," he said, nodding a bit.

"Mhm," his grandmother hummed in response, eyes flickering back to the book before them as she sensed a closing topic. "Hm... let's see... I'm sure there's a few more cute pictures in here..."

As she spoke, she flipped the page. From there, the pictures focused primarily on Aoi, Kiyomi, and another child.

Timor scanned the pages, raising a brow at the addition of another boy to Aoi and Kiyomi's duo, though he wasn't particularly interested in his identity. If he wasn't with them now (and based on how close they seemed in the pictures, they would be together if possible) then something had happened, and Timor didn't have any desire to pry. As free as he was with his own information, he knew what it took for Aoi to open up about anything.

Aoi simply continued to glower at the album- perhaps he could "accidentally" spill something on the shelf in the upcoming days. That would prevent this from happening every time someone visited the island. His grandmother, on the other hand, simply flipped through the album, humming pleasantly to herself, until the pictures ended.

"Ah, recently I haven't gotten him to stand still and let me take one," she declared. "So that's where these end."

Timor closed the book, hand settled on the cover almost fondly. He blinked upon realizing how strange that might seem and carefully slid the album across the table to Aoi's grandmother, hands dropping back into his lap. He hesitated, unsure if what he wanted to say was worth saying, then minutely shook his head.

He wanted to be different - speaking out of turn would be a part of that.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "For showing me this."

He meant it, because he knew so little of the Aoi before now, before they met, before everything. And somehow it calmed him to know that Aoi was Aoi, now and in the past.

Aoi's sour expression let up somewhat as his brow furrowed in response to Timor's words. His cheeks were warm, but for the moment he was distracted by the fact that Timor seemed genuinely happy to have seen the pictures. It was strange- he had to admit.

"It's no problem, dear," Aoi's grandmother replied with a warm smile. "No problem at all. I'm glad you enjoyed it."

That said, she slipped from her seat, eyes turning thoughtfully to her clock. She seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding to herself and stepping around the table, her teacup in hand.

"I seem to have lost track of the time. I was supposed to be meeting the others...ah," she paused, halfway to the sink, a mischievous smile on her lips. "Perhaps this is for the best. Leaving two lovebirds alone in the house... anything could happen."

Aoi could only stare at her, his face slowly turning as red as possible.

Timor cocked his head to the side, passive eyes curious, brow furrowed. He had to wonder what, exactly, Kiyomi had told the elderly woman, for her assumptions to be so... suggestive. He imagined the redhead knew as much as Raya did, especially after the incident, but perhaps he'd underestimated her ability to read people.

"I won't take advantage of Aoi."

Predictably, Aoi's reaction was a mix of sputtered curses focused on the fact that it didn't matter if Timor would or wouldn't, Aoi could handle himself. His grandmother simply chuckled and crossed the few steps left between her and the sink.

"Oh, I imagine not. You don't seem the type. But, it's not taking advantage of if both of you agree. Either way, I best be going. It was a pleasure meeting you."

That said, she started for the doorway, humming to herself once again. Aoi's curses fell flat as he simply glowered after her.

"Damn old bat."

"I heard that!" She called from the hall, causing the boy to blanch slightly. "Just you wait till later, brat."

"I'm not scared of you," he grumbled, the low volume of the words a stark contrast to the words themselves.

A faint smile crossed Timor's lips. What a lively family this was. He figured adding Irie into the mix only made things more volatile, as he knew her tendency to tease Aoi to an insufferable level, but he also figured that only made their relationship that much closer.

He couldn't remember the last time he and his siblings had acted as a family like that.

Closing his eyes a moment, he forced the thought back into some forgotten corner of his mind. He would save that for another time, when he was alone and didn't have to worry about someone (namely Aoi) guessing his thoughts. Pushing his chair back, Timor rose to his feet and moved to stand closer to Aoi, though with what he deemed to be a respectable distance still between them. A few feet seemed enough. He inclined his head, asking if he could be of any assistance.

Aoi's attention turned away from the doorway at Timor's approach, his brow furrowing in response to the unspoken question. He then shrugged, his own way of saying that he was fine.

"Is there anything in particular you would like to see?" He asked, well aware that there was little chance that Timor would voice anything- as he had yet to do so. "This was the only place I had to bring you, so everything else is up to you, really."

"I don't know the island," Timor admitted with a slight shrug. "And in any case, it doesn't really matter. I'm fine as long as you're here."

Aoi turned his head away to hide how Timor's comment did little good to his still red cheeks.

"A bunch of help that is," he grumbled, raising one hand to rub at one of said cheeks. "Although, it's not like there's much to see, here. The forest is pretty much the same wherever you go, full of animals and whatever. The village doesn't change either, just a bunch of kids and nosey adults. The marketplace changes a lot, but it's always crowded. Most of the time that I'm here, I stick to my room or the training grounds."

He simply shrugged as he finished, well aware how anti-social that made him. He was Aoi, after all. Someone could tell that much after spending two seconds with him.

Timor leaned back against the counter, absently plucking his knife from its sheath. Raya had mentioned something recently about his unhealthy attachment to the blade, how it seemed to have grown worse after his stint on the slaver ship. She didn't blame him, of course, saying that she completely understood how he wouldn't want to feel helpless again like that. But she worried for him, she wanted to help - she just wasn't sure how, and he couldn't give her a decent answer.

Without thinking, he touched the tips of his fingers to the back of his head, where he could still feel the rough, raised scar tissue of his wound.

Consciously lowering his hand, wrapping his fingers tight around the dagger, he turned his eyes to Aoi.

"I'm not here to inconvenience you, Aoi," he said. "Do whatever you'd normally do."

"... fine," Aoi grumbled. "Then we won't do anything."

That said, he stood up and wordlessly started through a doorway towards the back of the kitchen. He didn't bother to explain where he was going, as in his mind the conversation meant that Timor would follow him either way. Within a few seconds he'd made it down the hall and opened the last door. After all, hanging out in the kitchen held the chance that his grandmother would return and be troublesome, or Kiyomi would appear with the demon in tow. Neither option sounded appealing.

"My room," he offered in explanation as he stepped inside. "Just sit anywhere."

The room was rather simple given that he spent little time on the island anymore. His bed laid in the far corner, the tall, body-length mirror still standing on the opposite side. He had replaced his things in their rightful spots after his last hissy-fit (following the events on the slaver ship) so it was rather clean for once. Beyond those few items, the room held a desk as well as a bookshelf, which was mostly bare beyond a few informational books and an ornate, wooden box that had once held his pistols when they were first purchased.

He took a quick sweep of the room, picking out the few personal items that were visible, the overall baren feeling it gave off. It seemed very Aoi, in a way that was almost sad.

Timor stood against the closed door, hands slid idly into his pockets. He'd replaced his knife in its sheath but couldn't keep from curling his hands into fists to as to keep them occupied. He didn't want to seem dependent on a blade to feel secure.

"I'll stand," he said after a moment, allowing the tension to drain from his stiff shoulders.

"Why?" Aoi questioned, dropping down on his bed, fingers curling into the fabric of his comforter. "I have a desk chair. It's not like there isn't anywhere to sit."

Timor said nothing at first, his face turned away from Aoi. Then a slow breath left his lips, and his dropped his gaze to his shoes.

"...I haven't felt... at ease in a while. I sat because your grandmother asked before. I feel more equipped to... act when standing."

He realized how ludicrous he sounded, but he couldn't help it, so he didn't bother trying to hide it, not with Aoi.

Aoi considered this silently for a moment, then simply nodded, his fingers relaxing somewhat.

"Oh. Then I guess you can stand. It's not like it changes anything."

Timor nodded. He settled a hand at the back of his neck, replaying the previous conversation in his head. Something nagged at him, something that overrode his irritation at appearing so utterly pathetic as of late.

"Aoi... can I ask you something?"

Aoi blinked, rather surprised to be honest. It wasn't very "Timor-like" to be asking about things.

"... I guess."

"Are you sure about this?"

He tilted his head to catch Aoi's eye, his free hand resting on his chest to indicate just what he meant by this - himself, them. However much he trusted Aoi (enough to risk his entire way of life for him), he couldn't reconcile the idea that someone wanted to bother with him in the way that Aoi had alluded to. He wasn't someone you typically wrote home about, to say it nicely. And the talk with Aoi's grandmother... though it had eased some of his doubts, more of them had sprung up in the process, and though he knew Aoi was likely to react badly to such a question - he had to ask.

It took a moment, but the implications of the words slowly sank in. Instantly, Aoi scowled, looking away as he did. Sure about this? He hadn't been sure about anything since that damn ship, if he was going to be honest. Suddenly, things around them had shifted, making so many unfamiliar feelings raise to the surface. That familiar irritation flickered through him- the same frustrated feeling that had stirred after Raya had first implied that there was more than just friendship going on.

"... you're here, aren't you?" he grumbled, his tone challenging.

He was aware that perhaps that was far from the right response to give- but it was the one he had. Aoi wasn't exactly known for being forthcoming with his feelings, even in situations when he was aware that he actually knew better.

"That's not enough, Aoi."

He spoke sharply, more so than he'd intended, but it felt right. Timor was more than content to walk out that door if it meant that Aoi would be happier with his absence, but though he'd been able to read Aoi well for some time now, with this he was at a loss.

"Your grandmother said it before. You like taking care of people. Your friendship with Kiyomi is evidence enough. And I'm broken, Aoi, you know that. You once said you'd help fix me, but that was before..."

He narrowed his eyes, biting back something he knew would push Aoi to his limits.

"You said that, and you meant it. But wanting to mend someone and wanting to be with them are two completely different things. And to be perfectly honest, I've been broken for years now - I can live like that. That's not what I want from you. I want you to be my friend because you want to, not because you feel obligated to."

Damnit. He hadn't meant to divulge so much of himself. But once he'd started he couldn't simply stop. For too long everything had been chained inside him, and now that the lock was all but shattered, he could hardly hold it in any longer. He thought it was a miracle he hadn't brought this up earlier, only stopped by his reluctance to put Aoi into uncomfortable situations.

Aoi bristled; his eyes flickering back to Timor. That scowl was still on his lips, his fingers curling into the top of his bed once again. He had to resist the urge not to retreat further back, so that his back was against the wall and there was more space between him and this situation.

"I don't do things out of obligation," he snapped almost instantly. "If I don't want to do something, I don't do it. As so many people have pleasantly put it, I'm a brat, remember?"

He paused, once again well aware that the answer he was giving wasn't near enough. He bit the inside of his cheek, scowl deepening.

"Dammit. It's not like..."

He trailed off, pursing his lips. To be honest, he wasn't completely sure what it was he was going to say. Conversations like these... he didn't have them. Kiyomi knew him by heart and rarely did they actually discuss matters, typically he would snap at her and she would translate it to mean whatever she wished. Irie... their conversations turned into yelling matches. This was new territory and Aoi hated not knowing how to deal with it.

"... it's not like I ever said I didn't want to," he muttered sourly, his harsh tone not matching the soft nature of his words. "And I didn't really think...."

He trailed off once again, this time stubbornly shutting his mouth. Just because Timor was suddenly all talkative didn't mean Aoi had to say things like that.

Timor sighed, sliding a hand down his face. They were hopeless, the both of them. This was uncharted territory that neither of them had thought they would have to tread - Aoi because he believed no one would stay long enough for him to take this route, Timor because... well, who would want to with him?

But here they were, together, confused and irritated at their own faults. Hopeless didn't even begin to describe them, if he was being honest.

So of course it was Raya's voice he heard in the back of his head, urging him to take a leap of faith that he thought he wouldn't be able to recover from should he fail to land.

"Aoi," he said suddenly, without looking out from his closed fingers, "I'm going to have to apologize to your grandmother later."

With that said, he pushed away from the door and crossed the room in a few long strides, catching Aoi by the front of his shirt and leaning down until he could press their lips together.

Aoi froze, shocked not beginning to describe the emotion that hit him at that moment. For a second- and it was a second at that- he allowed the sudden kiss. Then, however, he snatched his hands from his bed to shove against Timor's chest, at the same time scrambling to move backwards on his bed despite Timor's hold on his shirt.

"W-w-w-what the hell?!" He sputtered, face as hot as possible. "That... you can't just..."

Timor's hand fell from his shirt.

"That's how I feel, Aoi. Whether I'm a friend or not, that's it. Tell me to leave and I will, if that's what you want."

He crossed his arms, weight shifted to one leg - waiting.

Aoi's back hit his wall within seconds of Timor releasing his shirt, given that he'd scrambled back as far as he could. One of his hands clasped his mouth, his face about as indignant as possible considering that he was somewhere between a glower and still just complete and utter shock.

"That--" he began, cutting himself off once again. He cleared his throat, looking away from Timor as the heat crept up even his ears. "It's not like... that's not friends, you know."

Timor cocked a brow, as if to ask You think I don't know that?

"It's what you're comfortable with," he said simply. "And I was truthful when I said that was enough for me. Friend is a far more intimate term than you might think for me."

"We were friends before the ship."

The words escaped his mouth without a thought, his other hand clamping down over his lips within seconds of them. Fuming- although this anger directed at himself- he locked his jaw while still refusing to look directly at Timor.

All at once, his expression softened. This wasn't what he'd intended to do today, so soon after what they'd been through together. So soon after he'd welcomed back his tumultuous, wretched emotions. Neither of them needed this pressure. They were fine as they were.

"We were," he agreed, his voice level, as he'd regained a bit of his composure. "But that doesn't mean anything really changed afterwards. Apart from my breakdown, in any case."

To speak of the incident so casually actually pained Timor. It was a moment of his life he'd rather forget altogether, not simply because it embarrassed him, to know his weakest points had been bared for the world to see. Not because it was Aoi who'd been there to witness his crumbling. He regretted it because of where it left him - scared and furious with the world, with himself, with Aoi.

Everything had been so much simpler before, and he wasn't sure the desire to return to those days didn't show on his face.

Aoi's hands dropped from his mouth. His palms braced against the top of his bed, he lurched forward slightly, a rather frustrated expression escaping the careful lock he kept on his expressions. After all, it was rare for something other than irritation or pure anger to actually be allowed to show.

"But it did," he retorted. "It did, and that's why... dammit. I... I'm not going to tell you to leave. So... just stop thinking that. You're not allowed to leave. I told you that. Disappearing, leaving, nothing. So... dammit."

He rocked back into his original position of his back against the wall, irritation replacing the brief break in his expression. That unreasonable anger was there again- the emotion that crept in when he wasn't sure how to deal with what was going on. Aoi didn't share. He didn't tell people things like that. Another curse escaped his lips as he looked away from Timor once again, biting in the inside of his cheek.

It wasn't as if he hadn't said it before, though. So... perhaps it would sink in this time.

His mouth opened, but no words came. Timor sank into a crouch, hands braced on his knees. This wasn't... He hadn't wanted to put Aoi on the spot like this, he hadn't wanted Aoi to comfort him, not again. Being so dependent on Aoi wasn't a good thing, whatever his grandmother thought of the matter. Timor had never been truly independent, but he knew this level of need was wrong in some way. It made him act irrationally, it made him angry, it made him... pushy. And he hated it.

But he didn't think he could free himself of it even if he tried.

"I'm sorry," he said, slowly, softly. "I'm sorry, I... won't leave. I couldn't, anyway, not anymore. We're far past that, Aoi."

Aoi relaxed slightly, his eyes flickering back to Timor. A frown found his lips, then, at the sight that met his gaze. After a few seconds he shifted away from the wall and closer to where Timor was crouched, although he made no indication to actually close the rest of the distance.

"Good," he said firmly. "Because I wouldn't let you, anyways."

That said, he furrowed his brow, one hand lightly, and almost unconsciously, touching his own lips once again.

"And... it's not friends, alright?" he pressed. "Ki... Kiyomi is a... friend. You're..."

He trailed off, frustration passing through him as he failed to find the right word. He sighed, frustrated, and cursed lightly before continuing.

"Timor. So, it's different. It's... it just is."

"...I'm sorry," he said again, teeth clenched, eyes closed.

He was pathetic, so utterly pathetic. Raya had told him it was plain as day how they felt about each other, that anyone could see it with just a glance. But Timor doubted everything now, his status with Aoi included. Adjusting to his new self was more difficult than he could have imagined, and he hated it, with everything he had.

"This - everything - isn't easy for me, but I shouldn't push you. I promised myself I would follow your pace."

Aoi scowled, leaning forward to flick Timor's forehead.

"Idiot. If you were doing something wrong, I'd tell you. I'm not the type to stay silent. So, just..." he trailed off, then forced himself to continue, aware that leaving it there wouldn't work. "Be yourself, dammit."

Timor smiled, just a bit, though there was an inherent bitterness about the gesture that he just couldn't shake. He rubbed his forehead absently.

"That's difficult, Aoi. I may be yours, but that doesn't make it any simpler to figure out what that means now."

Aoi rolled his eyes, settling comfortably where he was as he dropped his hand back in his lap.

"It means, do whatever you want. That's what I always do."

"I'm not you, Aoi. It isn't that simple."

Timor shifted, crossing his legs in front of him at the ankles, hands resting on his knees. He didn't look up at Aoi.

"...I don't want to do anything. I want to do everything. There's Timor, who wants nothing more than to shut everything off and find someone to give him clear, concise orders; then there's Echo, who... wants you."

Aoi reddened, but carefully (although not without effort) pushed that aside for the moment. Instead, he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

"Then make it simple. At this second, what do you want? Not in the future, not ten minutes from now. At this second, what do you want to do?"

Strangely enough, he didn't have to think hard about the question - the answer was there at the forefront of his mind, because he'd been suppressing it for some time now, and Aoi's question gave it the opportunity to slip past his guard.

"Sleep," he said, without preamble. "I want to sleep. I don't remember the last time I actually slept."

"Then sleep," Aoi answered simply, once again rocking forward on his bed. This time, he leaned down to grab Timor's hand and pull him up. "This is a bedroom, you know. And there is a bed."

He had to roll his eyes at that. Timor allowed Aoi to pull him up, and he settled himself on the edge of Aoi's bed, a half-smile on his lips. They really were idiots.

"Don't make me apologize twice to your grandmother."

"Why would--" Aoi began, cutting off when the words clicked. His face turning red, he quickly edged himself back towards the wall again. At the same time, he adverted his gaze, crossing his arms over his chest. "... it's not like you have to apologize to her, idiot."

"I will. I'm trying to be more polite with people. Katana thinks it's worth something."

Still smiling, though unaware of it, Timor lay down atop Aoi's bed, curled up so as to take up as little space as possible. It wasn't strictly because he didn't want to inconvenience Aoi any more than he had to; a part of him remembered, vaguely, how he and his siblings would crawl into the same bed at night, when their parents were out and the world beared down on them, and how those were the nights where his sleep passed the most comfortably.

"That's great and all, but apologizing to her means you have to tell her that..." Aoi muttered, switching directions when he came to close to a certain word. "Sharing everything isn't included in politeness. Besides, you only promised not to... take advantage, so... don't apologize."

"...If... you say so, Aoi..." he murmured, unfamiliar fatigue lacing his words.

How long had it been since he last allowed himself to acknowledge his tiredness? Even after everything with Aoi, he hadn't slept, hadn't tried to, not really. That was the last of his walls, he thought then, and it only came down because he was comfortable. Here, with Aoi, he didn't have to worry that danger would stalk him through the night. He could rest for once.

"I do," Aoi retorted. "So, remember that."

Even as he said the words, he simply drew his knees up to his chest, eyes settled on Timor. He was comfortable like this- as it was much preferred to serious conversation. If Timor's stay on the island simply turned to Timor napping while Aoi watched him... well, there were worse ways to spend a vacation- most of which they had already participated in. That thought in mind, he settled his chin atop his knees and relaxed; Aoi was well aware he'd probably be there for awhile, after all, so it was best to get settled in.

Feeling himself begin to nod off, Timor (with effort) blinked open his eyes. Aoi was there, which was more than enough for him. Closing his eyes again, his breathing soon evened out, turning deeper with each passing moment, until he was fast asleep, dreamless as usual.