Feeling.

Masochist

It's only a few days after their locker room talk when Metawin and Chivaaree are paired together again. Win smiles easily when he pulls out the thermos Win got for him and pours his coffee into it. He must have noticed that he switched to styrofoam after his birthday. It was a petty move, of course, but Bright figured he should cut himself some slack here and there.

"Morning," Win says quietly, grabbing his own coffee before following him to the car.

"Metawin," he greets as he ducks into the driver's seat. He feels unsure of himself now. Like navigating back to friendship is making him lose his mind. He can say with one hundred percent confidence that his relationship with Win is the most complicated relationship he has ever had with someone. He constantly finds himself unaware of how to act like a normal human being.

Metawin doesn't speak. And that throws him. Because he's never known Win to be quiet when they are on good terms. Win is hardly quiet when they are on bad terms.

Finally, after forty-one minutes of him only speaking when it came to responding to his radio, Win blows out a loud breath. "So…" he drawls.

"So?"

Win rolls his eyes. Bright can literally feel Win roll his eyes from beside him. "So… how's Tine?"

So that's his opening line? Bright coughs out a laugh. "He's alright. Busy with work right now. How's everything been with you?"

Win brings his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it.

"Oh… uhm. Okay? Pretty good. Trying to, um, make amends. And working on what are apparently called fearful-avoidant behaviors in the shrink business."

Win says this lightly, but Bright can hear the insecurity in his tone. Bright takes a beat to process this. "I'm glad you're sticking it out."

"Thanks, Bright," he says. "Yeah… it's… weird."

"Weird?" he asks, and then patiently waits for his response.

Win pulls down the sun visor. The slams it back. Clears his throat. "I feel good… about going. I just wish I could be better… faster," he's tentative with his words, choosing carefully. Bright gets a feeling there is more to it but feels odd pushing Win. He feels like maybe he doesn't want to know what Win means.

And then Bright feels like garbage because he should want to know. He should encourage him opening up. So he lets out an awkward grunt and asks, "How so?"

Win shrugs, pointing up ahead to the street he needs to turn on. It's Bright turn to roll his eyes. He knows where they need to go.

"You know… it's just. I feel like I want to be cured. I don't want to feel so… damaged anymore."

Bright's heart breaks. He hates how incomplete Win feels. He wishes he could make it go away, too. "The people say… that good things take time. I'm sorry for being so cliche, but I think they might be right."

"The people, huh?" Win asks, a laugh in his voice.

"I guess so," he confirms, and this time Win laughs outwardly. It feels good. It feels right. He feels the need to change the subject, because his brain is getting jumbled.

"So, have you ever thought about applying to be a detective?" Win asks suddenly, too loud, and he's relieved to know Win must have been feeling the same way as he was.

A few weeks of this goes by. A friendship that consists of constant emotional juggling. He has to jump from professional to personal back and forth to maintain some type of normalcy.