"If you don't mind—" Shion babbles as Nezumi picks up the GPS and shakes it once pathetically. He wills it to work, but alas. "I'm just interested in knowing more about you. It doesn't have to be anything big—we can start small. What about—"

Nezumi releases the cursed thing and presses his palms to his closed eyes. His eyelashes are wet and still dripping. Fuck today.

"—your family—"

Something in Nezumi's soul sputters and stills like a broken propeller.

Nope.

He grunts loudly, cutting Shion off. Is this what he's come to? Resorting to caveman communication? He considers snarling 'No talk. Nezumi done.' But there's a line to these things.

This is my limit, he realizes. I can't do any more of this right now.

"Shion," Nezumi starts. The bottom of his hands are not supplying near enough pressure to kill the headache forming under his eyelids. "Hotel first. Feelings later. Alright?"

"Of course." Shion says, quickly, as if recoiling from a burn. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," Nezumi soothes, voice a half-step above a whisper. "Not your fault."

Shion doesn't reply, and Nezumi refuses to lower his hands to examine his face. He can imagine it well enough— Shion's mouth slightly open, head tilted just a little in confusion, tongue sparking with so many questions he's going to get lost. They'll all come out at once, of course, and Nezumi will tease them away, one by one.

But no sound comes from his companion's direction.

Instinct reassures him that Shion's still watching— the hair on the back of Nezumi's neck stands on end as physical proof. The distant sound of a car alarm going off in a neighboring parking lot echoes through the windows. Realization settles deep in Nezumi's stomach— Shion's choosing not to ask because he's waiting for him to answer.

Nezumi's not the only one who's learned how the other works, it seems. He forces himself to speak.

"Just because my eyes are covered doesn't mean I can't feel you gawking, Shion. Let's get moving."

Please.

Nezumi hears the scrape of keys against the dashboard and the tell-tale sound of the engine thrumming to life. The car slushes out of the gas station, tires splashing through the puddles of water built up at the curb. Nezumi doesn't hear the windshield wipers, so he can only assume that the still-drizzling rain must be easy enough to see through.

His hands fall to his sides as Nezumi melts into the almost-rhythmic whoosh of the cars driving alongside them. Motion replaces stillness and Nezumi's eyes open slowly. For a moment, everything is a blur of mechanical grey and rainy glow; headlights shine beside them with a misty halo; a dark cellphone tower looms menacingly in an empty lot, red light at the top blinking steadily.

Nezumi realizes the view is pretty, in a developing-world kind of way. Still, he would prefer the sight of something natural, trees, flowers, water—

Water.

"Sorry," Nezumi finds himself saying, quite against his will.

"What?"

"For the beach and—for the beach."

The impulse to elaborate is there, but quickly mashed down. To say anything would just be an excuse at this point.

"Can we go back? Tomorrow?"

Don't plan for tomorrow, we're on a road trip you're not supposed to decide that much in advance— Screw it.

Nezumi finds himself nodding. A solid plan sounds good right about now.

"I'm glad. I hope it rains again," Shion remarks offhandedly.

"Haven't you been drenched enough already?"

"No." The idiot grins and then adds in a softer voice, "I'm making up for lost time, I think."

Nezumi forces a laugh. "I don't see how getting soaked is 'making up' for anything. Most people would trade that experience out for something better."

"The rain feels good and I like it. I don't want to trade it out." There's a little heat behind Shion's words and something brilliant flashes behind his eyes. Nezumi finds himself focusing for a little too long on Shion's eyelashes of all things—just a little longer than he expects. His stomach flips rebelliously.

"Want to pull over and we can find some puddles for you to splash in?"

Shion actually seems to consider it. "I don't think it would be the same. It has to be a storm."

"Oh, look at you, being specific."

"Are you making fun of me?" Shion frowns.

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet."

Shion grumbles, and Nezumi finds himself chuckling. Flirting. Huh.

Glancing out the window, Nezumi spots a billboard about a minute away. It's advertising some fast-food chain that he can't determine looks appealing or disgusting. Nezumi's a half-second away from asking for a second opinion when—

"I just think—" Shion announces, enthusiasm obviously draining his articulacy. "I just think travelling and feeling what's around us is what it is like to be alive, so we should experience it. Fully! And the rain just makes it…more. More—something."

He weakens, "Maybe I'm glamourizing it."

Nezumi fights a laugh. "You probably are."

Shion shrugs his shoulders before glancing behind them and changing lanes. "I'm okay with that, I think."

Huh, Nezumi thinks again. He finds he's okay with it too.

The back of the fast-food billboard is blank, but still lit. Nezumi wonders what they'll hang up there. He wonders if it even matters. Occasionally he feels Shion's eyes on him, as he looks out the window. He tries to visualize them, a warm purple, like melted grape candy—

Nezumi chokes on his own air. What the fuck does that even mean?

"Are you okay?" Shion asks frantically over Nezumi's sudden coughing fit.

Nezumi only waves a hand, hurriedly compartmentalizing every feeling having to do with fucking grape candy to some dark corner of his mind where they'll never be touched or analyzed again. Travel with Shion for a little bit and suddenly he's a poet. Shit.

The car passes by a particularly sketchy video store, and Shion announces far too loudly, "Since the GPS is down, we'll likely have to take whatever hotel we see first."

"That's fine. If you can take it." Nezumi warns, having gathered himself enough to reflect on the luxury chamber that was Inukashi's house. It really didn't make much of a difference to have a GPS.

"I've liked everywhere we've stayed so far, I don't think it will be a problem." Shion grins. Nezumi raises an eyebrow.

"You have a high-tolerance for cracked walls and rodents."

Shion snorts, shaking his head. "It's not that, I just think it's worth it. Travelling. And it's nice to have a bed, even if it's a little hard."

Just don't think of who's been there first—Nezumi swallows his comment, seeing Shion's soft smile.

"What are you making that face for?"

Shion's smile fades.

"I'm happy," he announces quietly. He fiddles with the air conditioner knob uncertainly. "I don't know. Is that a problem?"

"No," Nezumi says over the pang of guilt in his stomach. "That's a good thing."

Shion brightens immediately. "Yes. It is, isn't it? How strange."

"You're the strange one." Nezumi says, waving a hand and noticing the way Shion's eyes glaze slightly at the motion. What is he thinking about? "Shion?"

Shion's 'ah?' is almost lost over the sound of a car honking behind them. Shion's eyes widen marginally as they snap to the road.

Nezumi twists in his seat, resting his back against the door, so he can look at Shion's profile. It's stupid perfect, illuminated by the muted yellow of the streetlights outside the window. The same hazy shine that catches the raindrops on the glass silhouettes Shion's honest features and accentuates his slightly swollen lips.

Shion catches his eyes and Nezumi loses his words.

20 minutes ago, they were kissing.

It's a simple enough realization, but Nezumi half-expects the ball to drop now that he's let himself acknowledge it. Now's the moment for the ground to crack underneath them as the god of road trips appears in the sky and shouts at Nezumi that he has spat on the most sacred of all rules: don't kiss your travel companion, especially not in the fucking car— but.

But no.

They kissed— yet the car moves forward, the drizzle falls, and the world, a little softer than usual, stays where it is for once.

It's okay.

"I'm going to take a nap now," Nezumi announces, feeling strangely lighter. "You mind?"

"No, you rest," Shion offers, warmly. His hair is almost completely dry and starting to regain some generalized fluffiness. Nezumi wants to touch it, but Shion would probably crash the car. Not worth it. He adjusts against the door, trying to find a way to rest his head on his arm without cutting off his circulation.

"You should use the rain poncho. Keep warm that way," Shion declares just as Nezumi settles in.

He almost whines about having to move again, but the easy sound of Shion's voice drains Nezumi's bite. It's all he can do to mumble, "Can't have your gift going to waste," as he feels blindly for the plastic package that fell to the floor earlier.

"Open it up!" Shion insists.

Deliberately avoiding eye-contact with the dentist-bright smile of the man on the front, Nezumi complies, tearing the tape off the back of the package. Surprisingly, the fabric of the poncho is smooth and soft, closer to cotton than any sort of typical scratchy water-proof material. Nezumi rubs a bit of the dark-grey material together with his index finger and thumb, and finds it makes no sound.

"You sure this is a rain poncho? Doesn't feel like one."

"It uses a special fiber! I'm very curious to see how it handles the rain!"

Nezumi snorts. "Shion, you really shouldn't buy gifts for yourself and then give them to other people."

—You might make them cry, he thinks, a little too realistically. He unfolds the poncho and wraps it around himself like a blanket. He's not wearing it correctly but he can't bring himself to care because the weight feels right on his shoulders and he's accidentally nestled himself perfectly into the golden spot between door and seat and can't risk ruining this prime position with movement.

"Thanks. I should have said so before but…" Nezumi offers Shion a weak nod before letting his eyes slip shut. He's so tired.

Shion doesn't reply. Nezumi tries valiantly to nap when he realizes he's accepted the gift automatically. He forgot. For the briefest of moments he forgot.

"Shion?"

"Yes?" Shion's reply is quiet, as though he's concerned Nezumi might already be asleep.

"I'll pay you back for this," Nezumi whispers seriously.

Shion shakes his head, determined. "You don't have to, it was a gift."

"I'll pay you back." Nezumi repeats, with finality. "I don't like owing people."

"Can you exp—" Shion starts, and Nezumi can hear the question forming so he goes ahead and answers it before Shion can ask.

"It bothers me. I've told you before—I don't trust a free lunch. It forms an attachment and those get messy."

Shion's frown can probably be read from space. "You have so many rules for yourself Nezumi."

Nezumi thinks of thin grey hair and an empty smile. "I know."

Shion's unspoken why hovers between them. This sort of conversation should be normal, shouldn't it? Talking about feelings. History. Yet the mere idea of baring that much of himself to Shion makes Nezumi shake a little. Maybe Shion will finally get why this isn't going to work.

The idea nearly cracks Nezumi again. He swallows and forces the words out of his throat before he can regret them.

"They're more of a compulsion than anything."

Shion's eyes on are on him in an instant. "What?"

"Rules like that. I had more, when I was younger. About relationships, or values. It was training—more or less. For what I thought was the real world, but really was just someone else's idea of it."

"Who's?"

Nezumi pulls the stupid rain poncho a little tighter around him. "My grandmother. She wasn't wrong about most things. Slightly misguided though."

It feels strange to say out loud. Wrong. Nezumi wavers.

"I don't know, Shion. People are terrible. They'll sell you out in a heartbeat if someone pays them. They're really only looking after themselves, and anyone who pretends not to be is a convincing liar. They're doomed to hurt each other, and the only way to avoid that is to—stay away. Keep yourself safe. That's how it is."

Nezumi stops, rubbing his head. Why is he talking, and not sleeping? This was a stupid plan.

Shion doesn't let him off the hook. "Do you really believe that, Nezumi?"

Nezumi shuts his eyes and sighs, lowly. "I don't know. I wish I did. I wish I could."

"That's oversimplifying things." Shion comments, and there's a shocking lack of judgment in it. "You're ignoring everything complicated and just picking what's easiest."

The laugh that lodges in his throat catches Nezumi off-guard. "Sometimes, Shion, sometimes, you just say the most remarkably cruel things, you know that?"

Shion blinks. "What?"

"But so do I." Nezumi opens his eyes and faces the wide road in front of them. "So I guess I can't blame you."

They drive the rest of the way in silence.