Imperial Coffee

Pitch: Part Thirteen

A/N: I'm so sorry for the late and short chapter. This week has been a mess, and I actually totally forgot about it. Next week's update should be longer to make up for it!

Kai wanted to go home. He should have gone home. But it was late, and he'd been on the road all day, and his home was another half hour drive. Plus, there was a part of him...a part of him that missed his other home.

His head was filled with nothing but white noise as he left Cinder's apartment and found his own. He didn't care if Thorne was there anymore. In fact, he missed him too.

Thorne was his opposite in every way. He always returned way too late, way too tipsy, way too messy. He never took his shoes off when he came in, though Kai often found them tossed near the end of his bed. When he didn't want to do laundry, he simply bought new clothing. He was the epitome of everything Kai wasn't. But somehow, over the year they'd known each other, they'd grown close.

Kai missed him the way he missed his friends back home. But Thorne didn't expect anything from him, didn't ask anything of him, and that's where the difference was. He didn't know how he hadn't realized it before.

Kai stumbled into the apartment, kicking his shoes off and planning to collapse on his bed. The state of the room stopped him.

He'd seen messy. He'd left for weekends at a times, once a whole week. But what he found now was incomparable.

Thorne was laying in the middle of the floor. His shirt was crumpled, stained. He was still wearing his jeans, despite being fast asleep. An half-empty beer can was clutched in his fist, and empty ones were piled near his head. Tissues were strewn near an empty tissue box, the trash can already full. A takeout box rested near his feet, half-eaten food making the place smell like second-day Chinese food.

Kai gagged and considered leaving. But could he really leave Thorne here like this? Could he really leave his apartment like this?

He braced himself and got a trash bag and rag he could use to pick things up. He tossed in the food, the beer cans, the tissues, the candy wrappers. Thorne stirred when he pulled the half-empty can from his hand but continued sleeping. Kai made Thorne's bed and pushed his dirty laundry into a single pile, to be washed the next day.

He considered leaving Thorne on the floor; he was asleep, after all. The ground was hard, though, and he knew Thorne would wake up with a stiff back if he stayed there the whole night.

He shook him until he woke up. Thorne grumbled but opened his eyes and rolled over.

"Thorne," Kai whispered, nudging him. "Thorne, get up and move to the bed."

Thorne's eyebrows were scrunched up. "Kai?"

"Yes, I'm back from LA."

Thorne struggled to a sitting position, rubbing his forehead. Kai imagined he had a pretty bad headache.

"Want me to get you some water?" Kai asked. "I can get some while you go to bed."

Thorne didn't say anything. He stared into the space behind Kai's head. Kai got up, turning to go the sink, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

"Wait," Thorne croaked. "Don't go. I've been so alone..."

Kai shrugged his arm away but sat down and nodded him to continue. He'd never imagined he'd be the one people spilled to, but it seemed that now that's all he could be.

"Cinder won't even speak to me," Thorne said. "I thought it would be like it was before when she'd stop talking for maybe a day or two. But we always made up."

Thorne's nose was running, eyes shiny. He wiped his nose on his shirt, and Kai winced. They needed more tissues.

"I don't think she understands." Thorne's voice broke, and finally the real tears came—ones that had been right there, on the edge, for days. "She doesn't understand that it's enough to talk to her. It's enough to be near her. It's enough to play games and joke and tease. That's enough."

He was crying in earnest now, sitting with his legs folded up in front of him, tears dropping onto his jeans.

"The only thing that isn't enough," Thorne said between breaths. "The only thing that isn't enough is silence."

Kai sat there, not really knowing what to say. He didn't know if he wanted to be involved, if he should, since Cinder deserved some degree of space in her personal life. But Thorne was a friend to both of them, even more to her, and if Thorne was going to keep fall asleep on the floor fully clothed and drunk every night, it seemed like something Kai should take into his own hands.

It wasn't just about Cinder. It was about Thorne.

"Hey," Kai said, quietly. "Hey, Thorne, it's okay."

"No," Thorne said. "It's not."

"It's not going to last. Only if you let it."

Thorne raised his head, making eye contact with Kai. His eyes were red. "You don't understand. Cinder hates me. She never—she won't—"

"No, you don't understand something." Kai stood up and grabbed Thorne's hand to pull him up. Thorne was so startled he didn't resist and found himself on his feet, unstable but standing. "Cinder doesn't hate you. Cinder has never hated you. She's just scared and bad at expressing her feelings. So," Kai grabbed his keys from his pocket and twirled them around his fingers, "I expect you to make up with her."

Thorne wobbled. "Right now?"

Kai wrinkled his nose. "No. You look and smell like you haven't showered in days. Go in the morning."

Thorne smiled sheepishly. His nose ran, but none of the tears on his face were new. "I don't imagine you're now going to tell me exactly all the steps I need to take before morning?"

Kai's grin was sardonic. "You know you're a disaster. I'm exhausted, so I'm going to sleep, but if you're not in shape by morning, you're going to have to walk to her on your own two feet."

Thorne saluted. "Yes, sir."

Kai fell sideways onto his bed, only briefly bothering to pull the covers over his head. There was the sound of Thorne rustling through clothing, and Kai was almost completely asleep when Thorne's rustling stopped.

"Thank you," Thorne said. "I really needed that."

With that, Kai was gone.

Cinder woke up to the feeling of someone stroking her hair back from the pillow.

"Iko?" she asked, eyes still closed. She heard someone inhale, but they didn't say anything.

She blinked and rolled onto her side, scanning the person before her. She scrambled backward from the edge of the bed when she recognized the nose, the eyes, the shape of his face.

Thorne.

"Cinder," he said, voice low. He mirrored her, tired eyes and droopy hair. But where she was startled, he was sad. "It's just me."