Work Text:
Joe wakes to the sound of his bedroom window creaking open. A moment later, his best friend is climbing through, all slender limbs and pink hair. And, okay, that's unexpected. Because it's nearly three o'clock in the morning, and more importantly, Joe's room is on the second floor.
"What the fuck, Cherry?"
Cherry closes the window with a shrug, "I couldn't sleep."
"Okay? And how exactly is breaking into my house supposed to help?"
Cherry fidgets his lip ring between his teeth. "I don't know. Just thought I'd see if you were up." He sounds exhausted.
"At 3:00 AM?" Joe fumbles for his glasses, and blinks up at his friend. There are circles, dark as bruises, under Cherry's eyes, and his arms are wrapped tightly across his chest. Joe knows he sometimes goes days without sleeping. He won't talk about the things that keep him awake, but Joe has learned to recognize the nervous ticks of his hands, the tense line of his shoulders. It makes something in him ache to see his friend like this.
"Well, I'm up," he confirms, resigning himself to losing a few hours of sleep. He makes room on his bed, raising an eyebrow at Cherry when he hesitates.
"Your room is cold," Cherry complains, and Joe flops onto his back in exasperation.
"Top drawer, on the right," he waves an arm in the general direction of his dresser. Cherry claims one of his old hoodies and joins him, pulling out his phone. He looks calmer, but when Joe glances down, he can see the little half-moon circles where Cherry had dug his nails into his palm.
"Want to talk about it?" he asks softly.
Cherry frowns, and ignores him. "Did you see Yamamoto's new tournament video?"
Joe lets him change the subject.
They've barely made it through their fifth skateboarding video when Cherry's head drops softly to his shoulder. Joe listens to the steady rise and fall of his breath for a moment, before carefully pulling a blanket around his sleeping friend.
"Goodnight, Kaoru."
The next morning, he convinces Cherry not to leave through the window. "Mom won't mind." Well, he hopes.
His mother's eyes do widen in surprise when they walk into the kitchen together, but she quickly schools her expression into something neutral and turns back to the stove.
They're swept up in the usual bustle of the morning, lunch ingredients covering every surface and the twins clinging to Cherry's legs. While his friend is fending off the four year olds, his mother corners him by the refrigerator. "Kojiro, I don't have so many children that I don't notice when there's an extra one at my breakfast table."
"Okay, and I know, and I should have asked, but he was having a really bad night, and I really would have told you, but it was late, and I—" his mother holds up her hand, stopping him.
"Just give me his parent's contact information for next time," she sighs. Joe tilts his head in confusion. Next time?
Three nights later, his bedroom window slides open again.
Now illustrated by the incredibly talented bloomejasmine. Thank you so much!