Being back home loosened a ball of tension Aoba hadn't realized he'd been carrying until it was gone.

Koujaku slid the door open and Aoba stepped past him, the movement a little slower since he was still getting used to the crutches. Luckily, he didn't do anything embarrassing, like slipping and falling on his ass. He'd done that once, and he thanked God Koujaku hadn't been at the hospital when it had happened.

"Yo! Aoba! Ren! Welcome home!"

"Thanks, Beni," Aoba greeted.

"Hello, Beni."

Beni immediately lost interest in Aoba, flying to Aoba's (new) duffel bag and landing next to Ren.

"It's a good thing you guys are back, Ren, it's been boring as hell around here. This guy just mopes around, smoking like crazy. Pretty sure the fire department's put this place on a watch list from all the smoke that comes outta here..."

"Oi!" Koujaku walked up and glared down at Beni, fists on his hips and a slight flush to his cheeks. He was decidedly not meeting Aoba's eyes. "Quit being a little shit, all right? It wasn't like that."

"Oho!" Beni leaned close to Ren, as if to tell him a secret. "He's protesting a little too much, don't you think, Ren?"

"Indeed."

Aoba chuckled and Koujaku grumbled something unpleasant under his breath, helping Aoba remove his bag and placing Ren and Beni on their designated pillow so that the two could catch up.

"Go ahead and sit, I'll get everything else," Koujaku said, leaving to retrieve Aoba's things from the hospital.

It was only a few steps to the couch, but Aoba plopped down gratefully when he reached it, glad for the break. Using crutches took some getting used to, and he'd only been using his for two days. His armpits were sore, which he knew meant he wasn't using them right.

Koujaku came back, but only went as far as the doorway as he set Aoba's things down before he ducked back out. His clothes and toiletries were all in his duffel, but even though he'd only been at the hospital for less than a week, he'd left with more than he could carry. Friends and co-workers, even members of some of the Rhyme and Rib groups, had sent Aoba get well gifts—some large, some just a flower or a card—but all part of a singular flood that had nearly overwhelmed him. Without Koujaku, he didn't know how he would have managed.

He definitely wouldn't have survived Granny's scolding without him, that was for sure. Not that Koujaku stopped her or anything; he knew better than to bring attention to himself when Granny was on the warpath. But after she left and Aoba stared into his lap, feeling like the scum of the earth, Koujaku was there to reassure him, to remind him that yelling meant Granny was healthy and worried and just wanted Aoba to listen. It gave him the strength to keep up hope, all the way up until the next day, when Granny brought him some home-cooked food and held his hand and told him she was glad he was okay—and that he better pick up his phone every time she called, even if he was dying.

But now he was on the mend. By all rights, he should be feeling great. He was out of the hospital after what felt like an eternity of tests and treatments, of getting his leg splinted and more pills than he cared to remember shoved down his throat. No more laying up in bed for hours at a time, no more scratchy, paper-thin gowns, and no more gross hospital food and cold drafty rooms and thin blankets. Aoba was finally home.

Aoba sighed. He was home...but it didn't feel like it.

It was the distance between himself and Koujaku that kept him from truly relaxing. It was a distance they'd maintained ever since they'd reunited and all through Aoba's recovery. Aoba wasn't sure if it had been the hospital environment or his physical therapy, but they still hadn't talked about anything. They hadn't even kissed after that one Koujaku had planted on him several days ago. Their conversations were polite, shallow imitations of their old ones, hollow and short and completely without substance.

Aoba felt lonelier than ever now that he and Koujaku were together and he only had himself to blame.

Miserable, Aoba covered his face with his hands.

He wouldn't be surprised if any day now, Koujaku sat him down and told Aoba he had to move back in with Granny. After all the lies and deceit, who could blame him for wanting a break? All Aoba did was screw stuff up, wanting space was only rational. Maybe Koujaku didn't touch him anymore because he was slowly easing into that conversation?

The thought made Aoba feel awful. If Koujaku really did want a break, or to split up entirely, Aoba would rather he get it over with. All this waiting was making him sick to his stomach.

"Aoba?" Koujaku's voice snapped Aoba out of his depressive spiral and he quickly lowered his hands and looked up, caught.

Koujaku hurriedly set aside a small vase of flowers—a gift from Haga-san—and came over, eyes worriedly taking him in.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain? Do you need your meds?"

Koujaku's hand came up, to check his temperature, to angle his face up, to pat his shoulder—Aoba didn't know, but without meaning to, he leaned away, just shy of a flinch.

He immediately wished he could take it back, and the look on Koujaku's face made it all worse. His face went from surprised to hurt, to this awful understanding. His pulled his hand back and looked to the side, lips pressed tight.

'Shit.' Aoba had to find a way to explain himself right now. He couldn't let Koujaku think he'd found his touch suddenly disgusting or anything. But just the thought of Koujaku touching him so familiarly after all this time, like nothing had happened, only to break up with him—Aoba wouldn't be able to handle it, he was sure.

"I...I'm sorry." Koujaku looked back at him, expression wary and tired. "I don't—I'm not—" Aoba paused, frustrated that he couldn't make himself understood. He laced his fingers in his lap and stared at them, suddenly fascinated by the sight. "I'm sorry I tried to keep everything a secret from you. I didn't want you to know about my past because...I still haven't accepted it, not really. I'm so ashamed of the person I used to be. But I was being selfish, and I hurt you. And—and you've been so great, but it feels different. We feel different, and it's my fault. I ruined everything, so...so if you need me to move out, I can do that."

Aoba's voice had gotten progressively quieter as he spoke, but he said it, finally. He'd wanted to sound more confidant, more sure—but he'd gotten his point across, at least. No more waiting for the other shoe to drop, no more conversations where they tip-toed around anything real. This was happening, right now.

Aoba's heart was racing a mile a minute as the silence grew and still Koujaku didn't say or do anything. But Aoba had used the last of his courage just to speak up, so looking at Koujaku right now was completely out of the question. Maybe, if a few hours had passed, and still Koujaku didn't talk, he'd manage a glance. He couldn't promise himself anything more. He didn't have the strength.

Koujaku stepped close again and sat down next to Aoba on the couch. Aoba tensed, but didn't move.

Without warning, Koujaku slipped his arms behind Aoba's back and underneath his legs, and pulled him into his lap. Aoba gasped in surprise, but let himself be manhandled into position, head resting on Koujaku's shoulder, legs stretched out the length of the couch to accommodate his splint.

"Of course I don't want you to move out, dummy," Koujaku said, arms holding Aoba tight to his chest. Relief bloomed instantly and he slumped more into Koujaku's hold, closing his eyes for a moment. "And it's not all just your fault. If you're going through this kind of stuff and you don't feel like you can tell me about it, then that means I'm doing something wrong too."

Aoba jerked, hands on Koujaku's chest to keep him up. He looked Koujaku right in the eyes so that he could see how serious he was.

"You didn't do anything—"

"Aoba." Koujaku looked at him seriously. "You're not taking all the blame. That's not how relationships work."

"Yeah, but I was the one who was sneaking out and lying and stuff."

"And I shouldn't have just let you. When I saw you last week, I should have made you talk about it instead of letting you go."

"But—"

"Let me ask you this," Koujaku interrupted. "Why didn't you come tell me what was going on when it started getting bad?"

"...I...didn't want to disappoint you," Aoba murmured. Koujaku squeezed his waist a little.

"And why would I be disappointed?"

Aoba glanced at him furtively, biting his lip. He sighed and said, "You love me so much, Koujaku. But sometimes...sometimes I don't feel like I'm what you see when you look at me. I'm not good, not really. And...you know about my power...my Scrap. It's a part of me, but I'm scared of it. I'm scared of myself. Of that person I become when I use it. And that person..."

Aoba pressed a hand to his chest, eyes unfocused as he felt the phantom stirring within, the one that promised he was never alone.

"That person will never leave me. That desire, to destroy and to hurt, is always there. And that part of me is so ugly...and I can't be the person you love and be this way at the same time, so the 'me' that you see can't be real." Aoba swallowed, feeling sick at the confession, hating himself more with every word he confessed. "But I didn't want to lose you, so I wanted to put off you realizing that for as long as possible. But...it didn't work out, in the end. Now...now you know."

Aoba hung his head, waiting for Koujaku to let him go. Aoba didn't doubt his love, but when that love was built on a lie, how could they continue on?

"So...what you're saying," Koujaku said slowly, quietly, "Is that this really is my fault."

"What?!" Aoba's head snapped up, but Koujaku wasn't joking. If anything, he looked sad as he watched Aoba. "I—Didn't you hear what I just said? Why would you think—?"

"I put a lot of pressure on you," Koujaku stated firmly. "If I'm understanding this, you think I only love certain parts of you, right?" Hesitantly, Aoba nodded. Koujaku shook his head in response, a soft, tender smile on his lips. "See? That's on me for not making you understand."

Koujaku adjusted his grip, crossing his arms tighter around Aoba so that only a few inches separated at him. The way Koujaku looked at him, so happily and fondly—Aoba's face flushed but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Aoba, my love for you is unconditional," Aoba's face went even redder, but Koujaku continued on mercilessly, "I don't love you because I think you're some flawless, perfect being—although you do come close." Koujaku's smile widened at the plain embarrassment on Aoba's face, but he refused to let him break eye contact.

"I love everything about you, Aoba. Even the parts of yourself you think are ugly. And there's nothing you could do that would make me love you less. Even if you took my sword and stabbed me right through my heart, I would die just as in love with you then as I am now."

The heat radiating off of Aoba's face was probably hot enough to boil an egg, but even stronger than the embarrassment was how Koujaku was incredibly making him fall even more in love with him with every word—something Aoba hadn't thought possible until now.

Worse still, the tears that he'd been so valiantly holding back all this time were refusing to go away. He looked down, vision blurry, and sniffed.

"How...how can you say stuff like that...?" Aoba asked, voice unsteady.

He could hear the smile in Koujaku's voice as he replied simply, "Because it's true."

Aoba gave a breathless chuckle, shaking his head. He met Koujaku's eyes fondly.

"You're such a sap."

Aoba leaned close and kissed him, eyes sliding shut as he brought his hands up and around his broad shoulders. He could feel Koujaku go stock-still beneath him, and Aoba felt a bit of smug satisfaction that he'd caught him off guard.

But the feeling didn't last longer than a few seconds. Koujaku relaxed and sighed happily into Aoba's mouth, one hand caressing his back, the other tenderly running through his hair so gently Aoba shivered.

They didn't part for minutes, hours, days—Aoba couldn't say, too intoxicated with the taste of Koujaku's love, of the warm, healing effect of his embrace. In the grand scheme of things, their time apart hadn't been significant, but in the face of all the pain and misery, uncertainty and guilt, Aoba felt like a man half-starved, finally allowed to indulge his fill. By the way Koujaku responded so fiercely, how deep his kisses grew and how he barely allowed them to part for breath, Aoba had to assume he felt very similar.

They stopped a small eternity later, long enough that the mid-morning sunlight had shifted to sunset and Ren and Beni were in sleep mode on the far side of the room. If given the chance, they probably would have continued through the night, but Aoba wasn't fully recovered just yet, and his old injuries were beginning to flare up.

Regretfully, Koujaku pressed their foreheads together, his hand lightly caressing Aoba's chest where the bandages could be clearly felt through the thin fabric.

"Sorry," he breathed.

"It's fine," Aoba panted.

After a few moments of quiet to calm down a bit, Aoba brought his hands up to Koujaku's face and met his eyes firmly.

"I want to tell you the truth about my past. All of it. I know everything about you, so it's only fair."

Koujaku tilted his head to the side, his smile tinged faintly by worry.

"Okay, but there's no pressure that you have to, either. You don't have to prove yourself to me or anything, Aoba. Whether or not I know everything about your past, it won't change how I feel."

Aoba smiled and leaned close to steal another kiss. When he broke it, he nodded, for the first time in a while, completely sure of his decision, even if he was still a little afraid.

"I know. But it's past time I told you the truth. I'm ready to give you everything. I want to."

Koujaku's beaming, pleased smile assured him it would all be worth it.