Smoking cats - shinsero

Picking Up the Pieces

The following days after the hospital were slow and quiet. Sero was released after a full day of observation, the doctors telling him to take it easy and avoid any further drug use. Shinsou had been at his side the entire time, making sure the other took his meds and stayed hydrated.

Back at the apartment, the mood was heavier than usual. Sero had been quieter, more withdrawn. Shinsou could see the weight of guilt sitting on his shoulders, and it made his chest tighten with worry. He wanted to help, to say something that would make it all better, but there was no magic fix for something like this.

The black haired boy spent most of his time lying on the couch, Tipi curled up beside him. Shinsou didn't push him to talk, not yet. He just made sure to be there - whether it was with food, some dumb movie on in the background, or simply sitting close by.

It wasn't until a few days later that Sero finally spoke about it.

They were sitting in the living room, a bowl of half-eaten popcorn between them as some comedy flick played on the TV. Sero hadn't really been watching it, though. His eyes were fixed somewhere on the floor, his brow furrowed as if he was lost in thought.

"I'm sorry," the boy muttered, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, like he'd been holding onto the words for days.

Shinsou glanced over at him, sensing this was a moment they needed to face. He muted the TV and shifted his body toward the other, giving him his full attention.

"For what?" he asked gently, though he already knew the answer.

Sero took a deep breath, his fingers gripping the fabric of the couch. "For everything. For putting you through that... for dragging you into my mess."

The purple haired boy's heart ached hearing the self-blame in Sero's voice. He wanted to reach out, to reassure him, but he knew the boy needed to get this off his chest.

"You didn't drag me into anything," he said quietly, his voice steady but soft. "You've been there for me, through all my shit. I want to be there for you, too."

The black haired boy shook his head, his jaw clenched. "But I-look at what happened. I almost... I almost killed myself out there, and I didn't even care enough to tell you what was going on. I just-"

His voice cracked, and Shinsou could see the tears welling up in his eyes. Sero's shoulders trembled as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

The other couldn't hold back anymore. He scooted closer, reaching out to cup Sero's face in his hands. His thumbs brushed over the boy's cheeks, wiping away the tears that had started to spill.

"You didn't die," he whispered firmly, his voice full of emotion. "You didn't die because you're still here, with me. That's what matters."

The black haired boy closed his eyes, leaning into the warmth of Shinsou's touch as he let out a shaky breath. For the first time in days, it felt like he could breathe again.

"I don't know how to do this," Sero admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how to deal with... everything."

Shinsou pressed his forehead against Sero's, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them. "You don't have to know how to do it alone. We'll figure it out together."

He opened his eyes, meeting the others' violet gaze, and for the first time in days, there was a flicker of something - hope, maybe - in his expression. He let out a breath, and his hand came up to rest on top of Shinsou's, holding it gently,

"Thank you," Sero whispered.

They stayed like that for a moment, forehead to forehead, just breathing together. It was quiet, but it was intimate in a way that felt deeper than anything they'd shared before.