Silence | Book 2

1-7: Support

Tristan had put two spare sets of clothes in his bag. The books and notes he had to study didn't fit, so he stuffed them into a spare backpack. He'd been told as a child that learning would weigh less heavy in life than work, in an attempt to get him to study, but the bag in his hands made a rather commendable effort to prove that sentiment wrong. With a grunt he slung it over his shoulder. The force of the weight nearly toppled him toward the opposite direction. He hopped on one leg, before regaining his balance. Since there was nobody around to see his clumsiness, he had to be embarrassed for himself.

It didn't take very long for Kazuo to arrive, and he'd expected as much, knowing Hibiki's penchant for impatience. When the bell rang, he quickly put on his gloves and threw his scarf around his neck, before answering the intercom.

"I'll be there in a second."

"Understood." The response was muffled through the old and rather flimsy connection, but the accent was unmistakably Japanese. For a moment he lingered at the intercom, not sure about what he should do next. He didn't want to be stressed, and he especially didn't want Hibiki to know he was stressed – but his breaths had gotten narrow.

So he took his inhaler from his bag, and drew a single, deep breath of medicine. As deep as he could manage. Still he hurt; it felt like he was broken, mismade in some way, and even the prospect of seeing Hibiki couldn't mitigate that – only ease it. It's just a bad day. I'll get through it. He's right... I shouldn't be alone tonight... With another deep breath he scraped together every bit of motivation he could find. It was enough for a sliver of excitement to shimmer through the dark fog that befell his mind.

The drive to Hibiki's apartment was spent in relative quiet; Kazuo had asked the standard polite questions of how things were going, and he had answered reasonably honest and kind, albeit lacking in energy. Once that was out of the way, neither spoke. Kazuo because he picked up on the mood and didn't want to impose, and Tristan because it was his sullen mood to begin with. The rain and grey, dull skies didn't aid much.

As the car drove into the well lit parking garage, he saw Hibiki stand in the corner. It appeared he had rapidly thrown a coat on over his hoodie and sweatpants, but at that point Tristan was just glad to see him – until he remembered why he was there in the first place. A wave of guilt drowned the joy, and instead he sank down slightly into the seat.

It wasn't as if Hibiki cared much for his shame though, smiling widely and darting over. So then he just felt guilty for not answering that enthusiasm. Part of him wanted to avoid it, the same part that had wanted him to be alone and get tangled in his sorrows, but then there was that pull in his heart that made him surface from the darkness in his mind. It made him open the car door, after some delay, and instead he chose to be close.

He was pulled in for a short but tight hug. The weight against his chest and Hibiki's arms around his waist was comforting, reminding him that his fears were at their core nothing but lies.

Hibiki dismissed Kazuo immediately after, with the usual nonchalant hand wave – his other arm still held Tristan's waist. Kazuo responded by giving a polite bow of his head, and then said a single word in Japanese as confirmation. When he looked back up again, Hibiki followed up with another gesture, and although Tristan couldn't tell what it was, Kazuo's slight smile and grateful nod told him it was probably a sign of thanks. He didn't get much of a chance to interpret the moment however, as Hibiki grabbed his sleeve and began to pull him with. In an attempt to be nice, he quickly raised his hand toward Kazuo.

"Thank you for the ride." He had to speak louder to be heard, already several yards away. His response was the same as it had been for Hibiki: enough for Tristan to be sure that the expression of gratitude wasn't unheard, or unaccepted.