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Haise is on his way to visit Shirazu’s sister when he hears sniffling. He would be more of the monster he tries not to be if he didn’t stop to investigate. The last thing he expects to find is Juuzou, squirreled away in an alcove in front of a window, knees hugged to his chest, apparently trying to pull himself together after some kind of emotional ordeal.
Haise tries to telegraph his movements as much as possible to let Juuzou know he is there as he approaches. It’s probably a signal that things are really bad that the normally razor-sharp Juuzou still jumps when Haise softly calls his name.
“Haise,” he mumbles, giving a massive sniff like he’s trying to hide the evidence of his feelings on his tear-stained face. He blinks up at Haise with eyes shiny and wide and too carefully devoid of emotion. “What--why--” He coughs. “Hello,” he finally settles on, something pitiful in his voice.
“Can I sit with you?” Haise asks gently. Juuzou’s eyes widen impossibly further, a panicked look in his face like a cornered animal. Still, after a moment of dithering, he scoots over minutely, looking determinedly at the corner of the windowsill.
It really doesn’t seem like Juuzou actually wants Haise there. The respectful thing to do would be to excuse himself and leave Juuzou his dignity. But Haise thinks they are past that, perhaps, and maybe what Juuzou wants in this moment isn’t what he really needs. It would be a disservice to him to abandon him to whatever pain is currently gripping him.
So Haise sits. The alcove is cramped with two of them in what Juuzou’s small body allowed him to squeeze into. Haise has the brief fear that one of them will end up stabbed by one of the knives in Juuzou’s prosthetic, but he dismisses that. They are surely designed to keep Juuzou safe, and if Haise gets hurt, well, he’ll heal, and it’s a small price to pay if he can help him.
Juuzou’s body language is closed off, and Haise doesn’t know where to start. “Your eyes are red,” he finally begins. “Were you crying?”
“My eyes are already red,” Juuzou says, glancing up at Haise and back down like a child who can’t quite sustain the averted eyes. “Contacts.”
“That’s not what I mean, Juuzou,” Haise says quietly. His hands itch to take Juuzou’s face in hand and turn him to look at Haise. To wipe away the tear tracks still shining on his face.
Juuzou’s own fingers twist together. “Hard week,” he says finally. He looks up at a fixed point on the ceiling above them and bites his lip. “I visited Shinohara to talk to him about it…”
“Oh,” Haise breathes. His eyes flick down to Juuzou’s hands. He could cover them with his own. Would Juuzou appreciate it? Would he pull away? Would he look at Haise, really look at him at last, and what would be in his face when he did?
“His wife was there,” Juuzou continues miserably. “She--she said--” His voice breaks and he fiercely wipes at his eyes, like he’s angry at his own body’s betrayal. “She said he’d be proud. How does she know that? What have I done to…?”
“Oh, Juuzou,” Haise whispers. “He would be. You’re such--you’re so… you’re brave, and you’re strong, and you--” He wants to say all the things he’s ever thought about Juuzou. How he cares so fiercely about his team, how he fights so fiercely and selflessly, but not to the point of self-sacrifice. How he never becomes discouraged. How he has been so badly hurt, but is becoming an amazing young man regardless.
All the words dry up on Haise’s tongue, then Juuzou sways in his seat, and Haise can’t take it anymore. He wraps his arm around Juuzou’s shoulders, just to steady him, just to offer some comfort, but Juuzou immediately throws his arms around Haise and curls his whole body in toward him like a flower toward the light. He begins to sob. After a moment of being shocked into stillness, Haise settles his hands on Juuzou’s back and curls around him in return.
“I never knew Shinohara,” Haise murmurs, “but if it counts for anything, I think anyone would be proud of you. I know I am.”
Juuzou clutches Haise’s shirt and digs his face into Haise’s chest growing wet with tears. “Haise,” he whimpers, and manages nothing further. But Haise understands anyway.