Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Note: Alright, so I don't really know where this came from. I just really love Hide so much and I've really grown fond of the Quinx Squad. Them together just seemed like a natural combination.
(P.S. I will fight you if you don't think Hide, literal ball of snarky sunshine, would try to infiltrate the Quinx squad by targeting the grumpiest, most ticked off little shit on the entire CCG employment role.)

Chrysalis (noun): the hardened outer layer of a pupa as it transforms, which is eventual discarded when the changed individual emerges

Urie first sees him at a coffee shop.

Unable to handle the company of his fellow teammates any longer, the boy had uttered a stiff "I'm leaving" before disappearing, abandoning his team as they prepared for a celebratory lunch. He couldn't imagine listening to Shirazu chatter mindlessly, food dribbling out of his mouth, nor could he drudge up enough patience to hear Mutsuki's simpering apologies or Saiko's mumbled complaints.

(They're all weak. We shouldn't be eating—we should be practicing.)

Hoping Sasaki, or worse, Shirazu, wouldn't follow him, Urie had turned into the first shop he saw, belatedly noting it was a coffee shop with a strange, seemingly pointless name.

:Re? What's that supposed to mean?

A chipper greeting assaults the boy's ears the moment he enters the café. Startled by the jarring sound, he glances up sharply and meets the warm gaze of a barista. The man's soft, brown eyes suddenly sharpen in recognition and Urie quickly peaks behind him, wondering if someone else is at the door. Seeing no one apart from his own shadow, Urie turns back to the barista, trying to keep his scowl at bay.

Who does he think he is? We've never met before.

With another soft huff, the younger boy stalks towards a table, hoping the barista will just leave him alone.

The older man gives the Quinx a brief moment of silence before sauntering casually to the teen's table.

"How can I help you?" he grins widely, the expression causing the teen's brown eyes to crinkle warmly.

(You can leave me alone.)

Urie stares down at the table, studies the far wall, and then turns his dark gaze on the barista.

"I don't want anything."

If the employee is surprised by the bluntness, he doesn't show it. Instead, he tips his head at the boy and backs off.

"Let me know if you change your mind," he calls over his shoulder, returning to the counter.

(Yeah, right.)

Urie scoffs and turns his attention to his surroundings. He had only gotten a brief glimpse of the building's interior before the waiter interrupted him. Now seeing the shop in its entirety, the Quinx can't say he is particularly impressed. It seems no different from any other coffee shop.

However, the smells radiating from the patrons' mugs and cups are rather impressive. Unable to stop his primitive urges, the boy inhales deeply, absorbing the rich aroma of the ground beans. His stomach rumbles faintly as he remembers he ditched his team so he wouldn't have to endure lunch with them.

Urie's gaze flicks towards the barista, who is humming a few bars from an old American song as he scrubs the counter. The teen is slightly surprised to recognize the tune, though the older man is horridly off-key.

Refusing to call for the waiter himself, Urie settles for staring down the man until he comes by again. The older man does not tear his concentration from his simpleminded task, leaving Urie no choice but to study him for far longer than he wants. Although shadowy bags hang under the waiter's bright, brown eyes, making him seem older, Urie realizes that he can't be much older than himself. If the teen had to guess, he would probably estimate that the waiter was approximately Sasaki's age.

Probably just some University student, trying to pick up some extra funds.

Urie drags his sharp gaze from the young man's face to the rest of his body. His hair, a wild tangle of predominately blond hair stemming from dark brown roots, is pulled to the back of his head in a messy, partial ponytail.

The teen tilts his head, studying the strange combination of brown and gold. The waiter's hair reminds him of sunflowers.

Urie's upper lip curls in disdain.

He's allergic to pollen.

Fortunately, the blond finally notices the younger boy's irritated stare and saunters back towards the table. "Have you decided to get something after all?"

Urie inhales the deep, dark scent of the coffee again, hating the desperate pang in his stomach.

"A cup of black coffee," Urie grounds out after another struggle between his physical desires and his desire for the waiter to simply leave him alone. He figures he will earn his solitude when the waiter disappears to make his drink.

Urie's estimations ring true and the waiter ducks his head before dashing back to the counter, humming another obscure song.

Hearing the hushed notes, Urie is reminded of his own music. He gingerly pulls his portable music player out of his pocket, carefully unwinds the twisted headphones, and disappears in his favorite songs.

Within minutes, the waiter comes back, gently sets the steaming cup of dark coffee on the table, and backs away.

Urie slowly sips his drink, partly dismayed to realize that the barista, although unforgivably chipper, can make a wonderful cup of coffee. He allows himself to rest for a moment, enjoying his calm solitude, before dropping money on the table and leaving the coffee shop.

He forgets about the waiter the moment he crosses over the wooden threshold.

Urie finds himself standing at the doors to :RE two weeks later. All he wants is some peace and quiet. He thinks back to his secret refuge, unknown to all but him.

When the boy enters the café, he is greeted by silence, though he thinks nothing of it. He heads towards the table he sat at last time and settles into the wooden chair with a muted grunt. The boy cranes his neck to spot an employee, but the coffee shop seems strangely deserted.

Someone sinks into the seat across from him with a content sigh. Urie blinks at the invader before he realizes it's the waiter from before.

Why…Why is he sitting at my table? The boy sputters internally, temporarily thrown by the action. However, he quickly swallows his surprise and the weaker emotion is overwhelmed with severe irritation.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" Urie demands, carefully pronouncing each word as coldly as possible.

The blond waiter gives a fake jump and pretends to look startled by Urie's presence.

"Oh, I completely missed you sitting there!" The older man exclaims, pressing a hand to his chest to mimic a minor heart attack.

"Strange."

(You idiot. I'm practically the only one in the room. Of course you saw me.)

"Well, since I already sat down, I might as well stay put. There's no use getting back up again." The waiter tips his head back, causing his blond and brunet ponytail to cascade down his pale neck. "I'm far too old to be jumping up and down like some excitable school boy."

Urie's narrowed gaze tightens. That's exactly what the man looks like with his unruly hair and open-mouthed grin.

"Hmmm…. Though, now that I think about it, some coffee does sound good right now." He straightens up and turns his brown gaze on the younger teen. "Would you like some too?"

(Finally. He's actually going to do his job.)

"Yes. A cu—"

"Waaait! Let me guess. I bet I can figure you out."

Urie utters a humorless laugh. He finds it amusing that this airheaded barista is so confident in his abilities to observe people, yet he can't see how much Urie despises his company.

"You don't know anything about me."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure, Kuki Urie." Although the blond's tone is casual and light, his golden eyebrow jumps sharply, revealing a surprisingly alert expression that Urie has yet to see on the waiter.

Thrown by the older man's comment, Urie freezes. His wide eyes, previously narrowed and disinterested, dart to the blond's face, searching for any signs of malevolence.

"What did you just say?"

The waiter evades the question by leaping to his feet with an eager youthfulness. "I should probably get started on that coffee now," he adds, disappearing behind the counter.

Urie can only watch him from a distance, trembling faintly from rage and another sensation he embarrassingly realizes is apprehension.

(How the hell does he know who I am?)

He wants to grab the blond by his thin neck and shake him until he tells him what he wants to hear. However, he's reduced to simply glaring at the back of the older man's head, because he can't attract a scene in the nearly deserted coffee shop.

Maybe it was just a guess. Maybe he read my uniform the last time.

That's it. He's nothing but a fraud.

(I wasn't wearing my uniform.)

The waiter returns a few moments later, carrying identical cups of black coffee. He slides one of the cups to Urie while taking a slow sip out of the other. Urie stares down at the dark liquid, wondering if the waiter would get first or second degree burns if he tossed the steaming beverage at his face.

"Did I make it right?"

"No."

(Damn him.)

Urie hopes for third degree burns as he reaches for the delicate handle. However, instead of throwing the coffee, he brings the warm china to his lips, inhales softly to conceal his excitement, and takes a deep gulp. The liquid scalds his tongue, but he feels the healing factors in his body immediately erase the scar tissue.

Disregarding both the boy's obvious enjoyment and his contradicting, sullen words, the waiter takes another careful sip before holding the hot cup out in front of him.

"It took me so long to learn how to brew coffee properly," he remarks casually.

(I don't really care. Go away.)

"I used to just drink coffee from a can. Imagine that." The blond sighs and shakes his head at a memory. Perhaps it's a fond memory; perhaps it's a nightmare.

Urie just wants to drink his damn coffee in peace.

"But I had to learn to make it. After all, it was the only thing my best friend could have and I couldn't serve him crappy coffee."

Like Sasaki. I've only seen him drink coffee.

(Where the hell did that come from?)

"The trick is to gently pour the water over the grounds. You aren't trying to drown them."

Urie doesn't want to think about his superior any more than he wants to be sitting at the table with the blond waiter.

"How is your superior? Sasaki Haise…that's his name, right?"

For the second time that day, Urie is thrown off by the older man's words. He barely manages to swallow his mouthful of coffee before nearly hacking up a lung. The waiter merely watches him with crinkled eyes and his perpetual smile.

Urie inhales deeply, though not to immerse himself in the flavorful world of his coffee. No, he's making sure the man across from him is not some ghoul, sent by his enemies to ensnare him. However, despite the clogging odor of roasted beans complicating his keen olfactory senses, Urie only smells human.

So he's a human, yet he knows about the Quinx Squad?

(There's something else. What's he hiding?)

"Who are you?" Urie demands, leaning forward with his palms splayed on the table. His upper lip rises, revealing an angry snarl. "What do you want? Tell me now!"

If the blond is uncomfortable by the younger teen's close proximity, he shrugs it off.

"Someone who just wants an old friend to be happy," he responds cryptically. A sad expression flickers across his face briefly, just long enough for Urie to catch a glimpse before it slips through his proverbial fingers.

(It's too fleeting for him to crush it before it vanishes.)

The doorbell rings and the blond immediately jumps out of his seat.

"Welcome! How can I help you?" he calls cheerfully, turning his back on Urie. He's gone before the Quinx can ask for further clarification.

The boy isn't jealous that the annoyingly omniscient waiter has left to serve another customer.

(He would never admit to such pathetic emotions.)

(He tells himself he should be happy to finally have his peace and quiet.)

However, when the boy's cup empties, he waits an extra five minutes for the blond to come by again with a refill.

He never does. Urie leaves the crumpled bills on the table.

The Quinx decides to walk home, though he doesn't have enough money to buy a cab anyway after wasting it on coffee earlier that day. However, by mentally announcing his decision to walk, he feels more in control, as if he planned to spend an entire day at the ridiculous coffee shop. It's a comforting feeling, controlling his own fate.

By the time he reaches Sasaki's apartment, the sun has set and the streetlamps buzz in the midnight sky. He quietly pushes the front door open, more so to sneak in and avoid questioning than to not disturb anyone. His decision to be cautious pays off as he sees the familiar shock of white and black hair on the couch.

Urie stands over his sleeping superior and studies the young man. His face is smooth and devoid of any stress or wrinkles. Sasaki looks to be five years younger.

The boy suppresses the urge to grunt disdainfully.

He's too young to be fit for any leadership role.

Urie's dull gaze travels back to his superior's head and to the tousled hair framing his slight face. In the hazy glow from the outside streetlamps, the white strands of the older man's hair shine with a yellowed, aged tinge.

The sight reminds Urie of the infuriating waiter. He has half a mind to jostle his superior into consciousness and question him about the coffee shop and its meddling employees. After another moment of silent consideration, Urie surveys Sasaki's unwrinkled brow and dismisses the thought entirely.

It really isn't any of his business who Sasaki knew before the Quinx team assembled.

Urie couldn't care less about his superior's personal life.

However, as he settles in for the night, Urie reminds himself to schedule an appointment with Akira-san the next morning. He has a few questions about the confidentiality status of their records.

He discovers that the information is classified.

No one outside of the CCG's special team is supposed to know about the Quinx Squad. Especially not exasperating blond waiters from an average coffee shop.

Urie convinces himself that the employee is now a risk to his security and must be dealt with immediately. Likely, the blond is a fugitive from the law. Bringing him in alive will undoubtedly result in Urie's coveted promotion.

He strides confidently to the coffee shop, grateful to have some purpose other than baseless wandering. Urie's fantastical daydreams about his inevitable change in good luck distract him from the road ahead. He stutters to a stop when he sees a familiar flash of blond a few feet ahead of him. Trying to suppress his embarrassing panic, Urie quickly ducks behind a dumpster in the alleyway and watches as the blond waiter looms nearer.

(Get a hold of yourself. He's just some stupid human. What's he gonna do? Annoy me to death?)

Still, Urie cannot stop the painful swelling of his chest as he holds his breath. The blond waiter pauses in front of the alleyway entrance and tilts his head towards the dumpster. Urie sinks further into the shadows, trying to stop his gag reflexes from being triggered by the pungent smell of garbage.

However, the blond continues on his way, nodding his head to the sound of the music pouring from his headphones. The older teen's music plays at a damaging volume; Urie can almost make out the familiar words from several feet away. Although the blond waiter is pitifully, ridiculously, completely human, his uncanny senses still unnerve the Quinx and he's grateful that the waiter's loud music dulls his hearing.

Confident that the blond couldn't hear even atomic sirens behind him, Urie trails close behind.

Perhaps he's going to see another enemy to the CCG, the boy hopes, thinking of another promotion. Perhaps this blond could be the best thing that's happened to him in a long time.

He doesn't understand why, but the boy's excitement grows as the blond waiter takes the familiar roads to the main CCG building.

Maybe he has an inside informant too. I can report them all and get a triple promotion.

The blond waiter stops abruptly and Urie nearly crashes into a bench. He manages to skid to a stop just in time, but he can't return the uttered cursed that had escaped from his mouth. The Quinx waits for a second for the blond waiter to call him out, but the older man remains silent. Urie peaks out from behind the bench, expecting to see the blond's accusing brown gaze focused on him, but instead the older teen does not tear his solemn stare from the pristine, glowing walls of the CCG.

Why does he keep staring at the CCG like that?

(It's kind of freaking me out.)

Urie stays perfectly still, barely breathing through his nose in case the human has some sort of unnatural sense of hearing.

(I doubt it.)

However, nothing happens. The darker haired boy suppresses the urge to groan as his muscles tense and cramp and his feet falls asleep beneath him. Part of him wants to simply get up and leave. He's left far more important missions uncompleted due to far less feelings of discomfort.

Urie swears to himself that he'll leave after five more minutes, but after another twenty minutes of staring at back of the blond's head, he realizes he's a terrible at keeping promises.

He almost misses it when the blond waiter sighs and turns back to the main road. Urie gingerly climbs to his feet and hurries after him, making sure to keep a larger distance between the two.

(This is the most pointless thing I've ever done.)

(I'm positive he's just doing this to make me suffer.)

Instead of returning to the coffee shop, the blond waiter takes another surprising turn—down. He follows the sharp incline of a hill down to the bank of a slow moving river. Urie observes him from the top of the slope, unamused as the older man holds a hovering foot over the cloudy water.

What's he trying to do? Drown himself?

(Am I legally obligated to save him?)

However, the river proves to be rather shallow, only coming up to the blond's knees. He sloshes towards the culvert and disappears in the darkened tunnel.

Urie suppresses the overwhelming desire to forget his self-appointed mission and rolls up the bottom of his jeans. He carefully scales the hill, steps into the cold water with another grimace, and follows the blond.

The scent of dankness and sewage quickly assaults his sensitive nose. It's a far cry from the fresh air from above and the boy nearly retreats before he braces himself.

I can't believe that idiot is making me stumble around the sewer system. I'm not just going to turn him in—I'm going to kill him myself.

Groaning and cursing the blond's entire existence, Urie sloshes through the murky water until he finally reaches the slimy, grime encrusted sidewalk used for maintenance. Although the dry land is preferable to the several inches of rejected bathwater, Urie still hates it.

He hates the blond waiter for dragging him out here in the middle of the night for no good reason other than to torture him.

(He kind of hates himself for being so stubborn to let the mystery go.)

Urie turns the corner and slips to a filthy stop. His shoes are unable to gain purchase on the grunge and they squeak and squeal as he adjusts his feet. The blond stands only a few feet away, watching the younger boy with an amused, yet distracted smile. Faint beams of passing headlights streaming from the culverts periodically cast grotesque shadows on the older man's face, further distorting his expression. His headphones hang unused around the back of his neck.

"You come here often?"

I bet that bastard could hear me the whole time. This is some kind of a joke to him.

"I'm not going to ask you again," Urie begins after clearing his throat. He wants to sound threatening and dark, but after hours of disuse, his voice comes out a bit croaky. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"You have an excellent sense of smell, right?"

Urie glares at the man as he blatantly avoids another one of his questions. The Quinx notices a glint of humor in the blond's eyes and realizes that he's doing all of this—pretending to be a mysterious, aloof television antihero—on purpose to further aggravate the younger man.

"So?" Urie grunts back, no longer in the mood to deal with the blond's twisted games. In fact, he doesn't think he ever was in the mood.

(Yet he's still standing in the middle of a rotting sewer.)

The blond's hand strays to his left shoulder and he rests the smooth palm gently against his clavicle. "Oh, I was just wondering if it was still here."

"If…what was still he—" Urie breaks off, clearly confused by the blond's cryptic words. Despite himself, he takes a hesitant sniff. Although he's first hit by the overwhelming stench of sludge and gunk, there's a deeper, bitter underlying scent beneath it all.

(Almost like coffee…)

Unsure of the strange new smell, Urie tries again, taking a deeper whiff. He doesn't recognize it immediately because it's been so long since he's come in contact with it.

Pure, unadulterated human blood.

Although he and his team are still technically human, the injections of the RC hormones into their bodies has significantly sweetened the scent of their blood. He can't remember what his blood smelled like before the operation, partly because he lacked the enhanced capabilities to do so, but Urie imagines that this is what it would've smelt like.

His eyes graze over a splattering of dark brown on the wall. He had first dismissed it as one of the numerous stains from the water, but he now realizes that the water couldn't ever reach that height. Urie can't tear his stare away from it. It's a violent stain, as if the blood was forcibly ripped from the victim, along with any flesh attached. It feels inhuman, like a ghoul attack.

Urie manages another tentative smell and freezes.

(It smells like him. Why does it smell like him?)

"The blood," he states matter-of-factly. "It's yours, isn't it?"

"Your nose must be really sharp," the blond compliments with a broad smile. However, the expression doesn't quite reach his eyes and they remain uncrinkled.

Not for the first time, Urie starts to wonder if he's standing next to a maniac. He also wonders if he has gotten himself in far too deep with the enigmatic blond waiter.

"A ghoul attacked you down here."

"Sort of," he offers with another weak shrug.

Sort of. What kind of answer is that?

(I sort of want to cover this disgusting sewer wall in more of your blood.)

"I mean, is it really considered attacking when you offer your flesh to someone?" the blond man chuckles weakly, confirming Urie's suspicions that he is, in fact, absolutely insane.

"Though, what else was I supposed to do?" The older teen trails off softly, glancing at his clasped fingers. Urie keeps his lips clamped shut; he thinks he's finally found the blond's weakness.

The silence.

For some reason, the blond can't survive in the silence of the sewer tunnel. When Urie doesn't contribute, the older man drudges up more of his murky past to fill the pauses, because he can't stand the echoes anymore.

While Urie prefers the quiet solitude, the blond thrives in sound.

No, the Quinx muses after studying the waiter's suddenly haggard expression. He's afraid of the silence. At least, the silence at this place.

(What does it remind him of?)

(What happened down here?)

(Who attacked him?)

"I couldn't just let my best friend die," he continues, unable to slow down. Urie watches the blond babble with an indifferent expression. Internally, he's churning as he sees the blond's once impermeable façade slip.

(He was friends with a ghoul?)

(He risked his life to save a ghoul?)

The blond's forlorn expression changes and he smiles again. "Your superior—did you know there's a trick to tell when he's hiding something?"

Urie blinks, thrown by the sudden change in conversation. However, he quickly latches on to this new information instead of pushing the earlier topic. Knowing Sasaki's weaknesses is far more beneficial than hearing an old ghost story.

"He does this," the blond reveals, cupping his chin with a curled palm. "He always touches his chin when he's lying or hiding something really important."

Urie mirrors the expression, lightly brushing the bottom of his smooth chin with his fingertips. His downcast eyes sightlessly study the passing water as he ruminates on the possibilities. All the late nights, the mysterious solo cases. Urie now has a way to worm his way into them and then into a promotion.

"Use this knowledge well, young one." Although the blond's tone sounds serious, Urie glances up in time to see a mischievous smile flicker across the human's face.

Tch. He's probably making it up. Just trying to make me look even more stupid.

(Still, if he's right….)

(Wait, how does he even know that about Sasaki?)

Urie opens his mouth to ask, but he realizes he would be addressing the blond's retreating back. The Quinx watches him leave with a scowl. He's done enough following today; he's sick of bounding after the blond like a pathetic puppy.

It doesn't even matter.

When Urie returns to Sasaki's apartment, the latter is still awake, sitting silently on the couch with a hand thoughtfully propped under his chin. Sasaki gives a little start when he sees Urie enter the apartment. However, he's too consumed by his personal thoughts to scold the boy for his late hours. He straightens up and drops his arm to his lap.

"Is something wrong?" Urie asks, trying to sound as sincere as possible.

Obviously concerned by his subordinate's change in character, Sasaki's eyes widen. His hand rises to gently cup his chin as he offers the boy a weak smile.

"No, nothing's wrong," he promises brightly.

The Quinx eyes the twitching fingers. His thoughts drift back to the blond's earlier words.

"You're lying."

His superior is either too tired or too distracted to reprimand the younger teen for his blatant disrespect. Instead, the light haired boy sighs and nods in defeat.

"I'm…I'm worried about the Quinx Squad," he admits. Urie remains silent. "They don't think we're compatible. All of us. They want to reassign a more...experiencedinvestigator to train you guys."

Urie swallows, faintly shocked by the news. He knew from his conversations with Akira-san that the high ranking members of the CCG were not pleased with Sasaki's performance as supervisor, but he never expected them to want to replace him.

"Maybe it would be better," the older boy finishes glumly.

I'm sure a new supervisor would be better. They would be stronger and better able to teach us.

(But I don't think they'd be as lenient as Sasaki.)

(Would they congratulate us on successful missions?)

Sasaki spoils the others far too much. It makes them weak.

Neither confirming nor denying his superior's statement, Urie turns and disappears into the kitchen. For some strange reason, he craves coffee.

As Urie rummages for Sasaki's container of beans, a thought strikes him.

If Sasaki stays as our supervisor, he's too weak to ever get in the way of my promotion. If a stronger or more ambitious investigator were to take over, they might take all of the credit.

(I have to make sure Sasaki isn't replaced.)

(I have to make the team work better.)

He's seen Sasaki make coffee probably a million times by now, but the boy hesitates before pouring the water over the grounds. His grip tightens on the ceramic handle, feeling ridiculously nervous about making a simple cup of coffee.

What did that idiot say the secret was? Something about the grounds and the water…

(You aren't trying to drown them.)

If that damn waiter could make a cup of coffee, Urie sure as hell could too.

Urie carefully tips the ceramic pot, watching as a tiny stream of streaming water trickles from the spout. He gently paints an even circle of damp brown around the edge of the bean grounds.

(Saiko is absolutely useless when she sleeps all day. I'll have to wake her up earlier and keep her up…but she has potential.)

Satisfied with the hazelnut dribble of liquid through the strainer, Urie repeats the action.

(Mutsuki needs to grow a backbone, but he isn't that bad of a fighter. Maybe I'll give him a compliment or two just to get him to shut up about his "weakness.")

Urie tips the last bit of the boiling water onto the grounds, paying special care to gently coat each bean evenly.

(Ugh. Shirazu… I suppose he isn't that terrible of a squad leader. I'll try to listen to that pointy-toothed bastard more, even though he usually doesn't know what's going on.)

The Quinx discards the remaining grounds and peers down at his handiwork. It smells delicious.

(Though, not as good as the coffee at that shop.)

Urie realizes he has made too much for one person. He pours the extra liquid in a separate cup and leaves it on the counter.

Haise isn't sure who's having a more unbelievable day, but he knows who's to blame.

The morning begins remarkably early, arriving in a chorus of panicked screeching and loud whimpers. Saiko all but flingers herself into Haise's lap, nearly causing the man to drop his steaming beverage.

"Ahh, Sai—"

"Maman! I had a nightmare that Urie was standing over me with this scary face! He was trying to wake me up!"

"Uhh…" Haise falls silent as the boy in question appears from the direction of Saiko's room, scowling darkly.

Urie stops in front of Mutsuki, who tenses in response. He hesitates before opening his mouth.

"Good job…on waking up."

The slighter boy receives the compliment with wide, bewildered eyes and says nothing.

Shirazu watches the exchange with a slackened jaw, hardly believing his own eyes either. He merely nods dumbly when Urie informs him that he will be joining them for training today.

Satisfied by his uncharacteristic actions, the boy retreats to find breakfast. Urie passes by the kitchen and scowls at the sight of the lone ceramic coffee cup sitting on the counter.

It's not like I care.

(Still, he should have taken it.)

The Quinx gravitates towards the cup, reaching for the chipped handle to toss the liquid down the drain. His hand jerks back when his fingers encounter warmth instead of coolness. He peers down at the dark liquid and notices that it's still steaming from being freshly brewed earlier that morning.

Out of the corner of his eye, Urie notices that his cup from last night now shares the sink with an identical twin.

He brings the warm cup to his lips and takes a deep sip.

Much to his delight, he realizes it tastes nearly identical to the coffee at the café.

He slams the file on the counter, trying unsuccessfully to suppress his triumphant smile.

"Hideyoshi Nagachika."

He's finally won. He's discovered the blond's identity and he's confirmed his earlier suspicions regarding the waiter's place on the CCG's lengthy, yet concise list of enemies.

The Quinx couldn't believe his luck when they were forced to root through unsolved cases and Urie had accidentally stumbled across an old suspect file from three years ago. Although the picture was faded and outdated, the young blond's smile in the photo was a carbon copy of the waiter's impish grin.

The teen had quickly tucked the useless file away and smuggled it out of the office, planning his grand, glorious reveal to the blond.

He has to admit…he expected a little more begging and gasping from the blond. Instead, the waiter briefly glances up from wiping down the counter and smiles, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Oh, just Hide, please. All that other formal stuff is too much of a mouthful."

The younger boy's jaw drops as he blinks at the impossible man in front of him.

What the hell?! Urie seethes internally. He avoids my questions for two months and then when I figure out his name, he gives me a nickname as if we've known each other for years?

"Do you know how I know?" Urie can't let the matter drop. He has to show the waiter how much trouble he's in now that Urie has figured out his identity. He has to prove that he's won.

"Hmmm…"

"This is a warrant calling for your arrest," Urie begins. He's lying—after all, the file only calls for any information on a missing investigation assistant—but he doesn't want him to know that. Urie covers over the wording as the blond peers down at the documents.

The shorthaired waitress that often works with the blond passes behind the counter. Hide—Urie has to continually remind himself of the older man's name—shoots her a proud grin over his shoulder.

"Touka-chan! Look," he gestures at Urie's stolen file. "I'm a wanted fugitive!"

That idiot can't say things like that in a coffee shop! He'll attract too much attention.

The girl regards the blond for a moment, studying him with her impassive eyes. She settles for a hissed tch and a muttered "dumbass."

It captures Urie's current mood rather perfectly.

Hide returns to staring at his old photo. "I wish they had used a better photo," he confesses, completely oblivious to the more important implications of Urie knowing his name. "That one was my old employment photo. I looked like such a—"

"I don't think you understand, Hideyos—"

"Hide, please. For both of our sakes."

Urie takes a steadying breath. He's tempted to call the CCG immediately and have the blond arrested and shot on the spot for treason. However, he keeps his irritation in check.

"I can report you right now. The CCG would be here any moment to take you away."

The blond pauses, exaggeratedly pantomimes listening for something, and shakes his head with a small smile. "If you really wanted to arrest me, you would have done it before coming here," he reasons. "You probably wouldn't even have bothered coming here to waste your time." Hide tilts his head, studying the darker haired teen. "No, you don't seem like someone who wants to waste precious time by gloating about some minor arrest."

(Is that what you think?)

"After all, the CCG has much more important things to do than run after a missing investigation assistant from three years ago," he continues. "In fact, you'd probably get demoted for wasting their time."

Urie scowls and glances away. He doubts he would ever be demoted for upholding his duty to report criminals.

(Still, he doesn't particularly want to take that chance.)

"You're far more valuable here than as a CCG prisoner."

"I'm actually going to take that as a compliment, even though I don't know what that means."

Urie rolls his eyes, ignoring the blond's pleased grin. "I didn't mean it like that," he snaps. "What I mean is you're more valuable giving me information here than being questioned by CCG investigators."

"Giving you information?" Hide echoes, partially confused, partially amused.

"About Sasaki." When he notices the blond's expression stiffen, Urie hurries to finish his thought. "You know more about him than anyone else at the CCG. I don't know why—"

I don't really care either.

(How do you know so much about him?)

"—but…you were right about the chin thing," Urie admits grudgingly.

I'm only using him to find out more about Sasaki's weaknesses.

(I don't care about anything else.)

(Who cares about some guy's feelings?)

He should be grateful I'm not reporting him. I could lose a chance at getting a promotion for this.

"I think you may even know more about Sasaki than Sasaki himself, since he doesn't seem to even remember anything before two years ago." A realization strikes Urie. It's painful and jarring all at once.

The sewers. The coffee. The best friend.

"Does Sasaki even remember you?"

Urie can't stop himself, though he doesn't mean for the words to sound so malicious.

"He…he was your best friend, but now he doesn't remember you."

For the first time, the blond's expression completely loses its warmth, though Urie feels like the coldness isn't actually directed towards him. Without uttering another word, Hide sets down his towel and disappears behind the door labeled solely for staff. The shorthaired waitress from earlier—Tou-something, Urie muses—follows her coworker with a solemn stare, but she silently returns to serving tables.

Urie watches him go with a narrowed, thoughtful gaze. He leaves a few crumples bills on the table, even though he didn't order anything. He gathers up his files and tucks them securely back in his bag.

His stomach twists and he reminds himself to grab lunch somewhere else.

(No, not hunger. Guilt.)

(Why? I did nothing wrong.)

Urie tries to convince himself that he avoids the coffee shop because he's too loaded down with work to spare any free time for useless relaxation.

(It's not because I'm embarrassed or guilty or anything childish like that.)

However, as the boy runs for his life from an S ranked ghoul, he decides that if he survives the night, some peaceful relaxation will have been painstakingly earned.

What's wrong with you? Why didn't you wait for Mutsuki or Saiko to find you?

(They're strong enough to help you now.)

(Why didn't you accept their help?)

Urie ducks behind another dumpster to take a brief respite, panting heavily in the silence. He knows he's only attracting more attention to himself by making so much noise, but he partially hopes the sound will draw a teammate to him first.

Although he dislikes the blocky, inorganics of his Quinque compared to his streamlined kagune, the teen sorely misses the former weapon. He had discarded it during the chase, foolishly assuming that his kagune would erupt at a moment's desire. However, his plan fell through when his kagune stubbornly refused to rise, leaving the boy completely defenseless and utterly alone.

Urie races around corners and underneath streetlamps, trying to lead the ghoul at least out of the way of civilians. There's another dark entryway and he turns into a vacant alleyway. The dark haired boy keeps running until he can't run anymore. He skids to a stop, nearly crashing into the dead end wall only inches from his nose. The teen quickly pivots on one foot and prepares to dash back the way he came, but a shadowy figure blocks his path.

Urie takes a hesitant step back, bumping into the concrete wall with a muted thud. He absolutely loathes this feeling of doomed helplessness, but he can do nothing else other than raise weary, determined fists in the air.

I'm not going down. Not while I can still fight.

The ghoul looms closer until Urie can smell the torn flesh and blood on the monster's breath. The Quinx's upper lip curls in disgust as he tenses his thigh muscles to spring.

"Yo, Urie! I thought that…was…you?"

Despite the dangers and risks, Urie closes his eyes and inhales deeply, unable to process the sight before him.

What is he doing here? Has he completely lost his mind?

(His timing is infuriatingly perfect.)

The ghoul jerks sharply to the side, pinning the new arrival with a bloodthirsty leer.

"Another snack?" He executes two abrupt sniffs in quick succession. "A human for dessert."

"Oh my Go—that's a ghoul!" The blond stumbles back with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

If Urie didn't know any better, he'd think the older man was genuinely scared.

But now he knows that Hide wouldn't be here if he didn't have some purpose or plan. The thought simultaneously comforts and terrifies Urie. These fake reactions are just superficial attempts to lull the ghoul into a false sense of security.

"Though," the ghoul pauses and considers his choices, "you would be a better dessert. You smell far sweeter than a human," he muses, glancing briefly towards Urie.

The Quinx freezes, understanding immediately the ghoul's twisted logic.

"Look out!" The words leave his mouth before he can reign them back in. Unfortunately, his warning is not fast enough as the ghoul's single protrusion swipes at the blond human, knocking him forcefully against the wall.

Urie winces as he hears the human's sharp intake of air as he drops limply to the ground. A bitter smell rises from the blond's prone body and Urie realizes with another twist in his gut that it's from the human's bleeding temple. Confident his original prey can't escape the dead end, the ghoul turns his back on Urie to inspect his new meal.

Run! Now! You have your chance. Use that ghoul's back as a springboard.

That idiot knew what he was doing. Take his sacrifice and go!

(I can't just leave him…)

Urie takes a hesitant step forward, caught in between his rational, "I'm-only-out-for-me" side and an exasperatingly growing sense of morality. His dark gaze drops to the human's face, wondering if the blond would even be conscious to feel his death.

Urie isn't expecting to see a ghostlike smile flicker across the older teen's slackened lips.

What…?

The blond's hand suddenly jerks underneath his body, prying something metallic out from his pinned jacket. There's a faint hiss and smoke fills the alleyway. The ghoul immediately screams and his kagune crackles and crumbles away, falling like a thousand pieces of twinkling glass to the pavement.

Urie stumbles back as the smoke reaches him, enveloping him in a stinging blanket that burns into his exposed skin and back. Ragged coughs are ripped from his lungs and throat as he doubles over.

Control Rc gas? How does he have something like that?

When the smog clears, Urie blearily looks up through watering eyes to see the alleyway abandoned.

No ghoul.

No human.

All that remains is a splattered blood trail, leading to an injured human. It would be as if someone had made a scavenger hunt for ghouls.

Urie's first few footsteps follow the drops of blood, though he stops when he reaches the main street.

"Urie! Urie!"

The teen turns his head to see Mutsuki and Shirazu running towards him with relieved expressions.

(Relieved?)

(That I didn't die?)

"Are you okay?"

Urie blinks, thrown by the question. He can't remember the last time his team seemed pleased by his presence.

What's wrong with them? Why do they suddenly care?

(Maybe they always cared…)

"Uh, yeah. Fine."

Mutsuki smiles meekly at him. "Good job," he murmurs in a soft voice.

The boy accepts the praise with a slight nod and a lower gaze.

He can't escape the smell of the human's blood.

Urie is there when the waitress flips the sign to "open."

He waits all day for the blond to show up, but he never does.

He tells himself he should be relieved not to see the blond. Now he can finally enjoy his day in peace without being relentlessly bothered by the older teen's ridiculous games and giggles.

He orders a coffee, but it doesn't taste the same. Urie orders two, three, four more cups, but each one tastes weaker than the one before until it feels like he's just drinking warm water.

Even if he was there, Urie has no idea what he would say to him.

You're an idiot.

(You saved my life.)

Stay out of CCG business next time. We can't waste our time saving reckless humans.

(Thank you.)

Urie pushes away his cup and stiffly rises from his warmed wooden seat.

(Why did they care?)

He leaves his fifth cup on the table, unfinished and cold.

After some reluctance, Urie finally reveals the location of his secret refuge to his team. It's been nearly a month since he last visited, but the teen remembers each detail of the coffee shop's interior as if it were yesterday.

"So this is where you've been hiding all that time?" Shirazu whispers reverently as he crosses over the wooden threshold.

Urie shrugs as if it isn't a big deal. To him, it really isn't. At least, not anymore.

"I really like their coffee," he admits. He glances over the squad leader's shoulder at the counter out of habit, but sees no one.

"What?" Shirazu blinks incredulously at his teammate. "You actually like something?"

Urie glares at him, but instead of arguing back, he falls silent. He leads the way to his usual spot and settles down heavily. His team circles around him and each member finds his or her respective seat, all while chattering excitedly about coffee and pastries. He's surrounded by their pointless babble, but instead of being annoyed, Urie finds himself amused by the conversations.

Beside him, Saiko and Shirazu argue heatedly about who can eat the most. Sasaki frequently inputs reminders about their limited budget while answering Mutsuki's curious questions about the contents of each drink.

He can't remember what it felt like before, to have peace and quiet in the little coffee shop.

(Part of him doesn't mind.)

"Hello!" Urie turns his head at the familiar voice. "How can I help you?"

The blond moves slowly into the teen's sight. His posture is stiff and uneven, as if he's slowly recovering from a previous injury like crackled ribs. However, his smile is warm, bright, and inviting.

Sasaki blinks at the waiter and opens his mouth before closing it again.

"Do I kno—"

Urie's gaze drills into his superior's confused expression. The started reaction is more than the Quinx could have hoped for.

"Never mind… I, uh…" He shakes his head with a bemused smile. Urie watches his superior's fingertips as they lightly graze his chin.

"Speechless, I see," the blond teases, his eyes scrunching up in delight. Urie remains perfectly still as he observes how the two communicate. It feels sonatural, as if nothing had ever changed.

"Maybe I can guess what you want to drink."

(Maybe nothing ever did change for him. Maybe he's still just looking out for his best friend.)

The waiter tilts his head and considers the white haired teen. "You look like a plain cup of coffee sort of guy."

Sasaki finally manages to recover from his temporary shock. He smiles at the blond, who returns the expression with an even wider grin.

(How has his face not split in two yet?)

Tch. Only idiots smile like that.

Thank you so much for reading!

I honestly didn't mean for that to be so long. I also didn't mean to keep throwing Hide into walls. That poor child's health insurance must be through the roof. I hope you liked this! I kind of want to do a second part now where Urie (and company) stalks Hide to make sure the blond is treating their Haise right.