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Outside, the quickly fading sunlight flashed warm through the bathroom window, dyeing the stalls and floor crimson as the sound of the last few stragglers leaving the grounds of Kamome Academy echoed off the buildings and through the halls.
The closed-school quiet was thick as syrup, only the teachers holed up in their workroom to shuffle life back into the building as evening settled in. Even the mokke seemed to have wandered off to another corner of campus—maybe they’d found some stash of forgotten sweets in a locker somewhere.
Either way, the old building was empty. The third floor, even more so.
Hanako sighed. Above him, the ceiling beam creaked a little as he gave a cursory squirm, but—no. No good. The kid had him well and truly trussed.
It was, without a doubt, an incredibly embarrassing situation. Hog-tied and hatless, hanging head-down in his own damn bathroom—his own damn stall. Where he, by all rights, should be the one in charge.
Absolutely mortifying.
It was one thing to have been hog-tied by a more… formidable exorcist. He’d have been able to handle the shame if, for example, an absolute superhuman monster like Minamoto Teru had been the one to wrangle him. But nooo. Hanako-san of the Toilet, the ever-powerful and super-cool Number Seven of the Seven Mysteries of Kamome Academy had been jumped by a kid. The kid. Hanako’s kid.
In his defense, he’d been a bit busy bothering Yashiro—pretending to smolder at her like an edgy love interest as he chased her around the bathroom; a mop on his head to achieve that perfect pretty-boy floppy-hair that all the guys in her romance comics seemed to have—to notice Kou marching up behind him, ojuzu in his hand and ready to strike.
So here he was. Stuck. And after the usual thousand-years of scolding from both of his friends, here he remained. Had been like this for—judging by the light outside and the fact that the 5:30 announcements had been broadcast about ten minutes ago—something going on two hours. Or maybe thirty minutes. Fifteen? He was garbage at figuring out the flow of time—had been, even when he’d been alive and, you know, affected by that kind of stuff. Now, with the ebb and flow of students through the school as his only way of telling time, he might as well have been hanging up there for days.
The least they could have done was let him go before they went home. But neither Yashiro, nor the kid had thought to let him loose—which was annoying. What if the mokke found him? What if they decided to make another move on his seat and bump him off while he was vulnerable? Bound in holy cords and rosewood beads as he was, Hanako honestly wasn’t sure how much of a fight he could muster if something decided to tussle. And, of course, his hakujoudai were no use, floating aimlessly up by the ceiling like a pair of lost fireflies. Repelled by the bindings their boss was wrapped in.
Hanako grumbled again and tried to loosen the beads around his right ankle—succeeded only in making himself spin and bob a little on the spot. Dammit.
Why the hell did Kou have to have access to such good tools? He wasn’t even the oldest! You’d think the Minamoto clan would want to save the good stuff for his psycho older brother to use, maybe give the kid his castoffs—stuff that worked okay, but not great. Stuff that would be easier to get the hell out of. But, no. Apparently the Minamotos were just as psychotic an anal about the kiddy-table exorcist tools as they were about the stuff they gave to prodigies.
He wondered if Tsuchigomori would hear him from the staff room, if he yelled. Just to see, Hanako tucked his tongue under his teeth and let out a high, shrieking whistle—or, he tried to whistle. It took him a couple takes to get a good one out.
The sound almost surprised him, when it came. Piercing through the still air, echoing off the mirrors and hopefully out into the hall. Just like his dad had taught him.
He was actually kind of proud. Tsukasa was always better than him at making weird loud noises, even when they were little. He remembered how many times Tsukasa had eaten their mothers’ scoldings for the two of them being too loud—too rowdy, too violent, too… Tsukasa— when she was trying to rest. Or draw. Or garden. Or whatever it was that mothers did when their sons’ backs were turned.
Unfortunately, Hanako doubted that even Tsukasa’s loudest yelling voice would get all the way to the staff room. It was just too far away. He flopped back, letting the cords around him take the rest of his weight. There had to be a way out of this. He just. Couldn’t quite think of one.
“What the hell kind of noise was that?!”
Hanako jumped at the sound of Number Three sticking his pink head through one of the bathroom mirrors—which mirror, he wasn’t sure. Mitsuba had made his appearance just as Hanako was in the middle of another sad little spin with his back to the room.
He wiggled with a little more purpose, trying to turn himself to face the door, “a whistle,” he said, once he could see Mitsuba—who was indeed halfway out of Hanako's favorite mirror with his palms braced against the lip of the sink to keep himself from toppling headlong into his boss' bathroom.
“It sounded like someone deflating a weird balloon.”
“Like you know what a balloon even is.” Hanako snapped, actually very upset about the comment on his whistling skills.
“I do so know what a balloon is!” Mitsuba said, turning up his nose, “Nanamine-senpai and Natsuhiko-senpai had a bunch of them at my welcome party.”
Hanako sneered, “Who the hell would celebrate having you around?”
“And we all had a fantastic time—you know, the other mysteries barely even talk to me!” He pouted, dainty fingers drumming on the sink beneath him, “Would it kill you all to make a guy feel appreciated for once?”
Hanako rolled his eyes, but Mitsuba kept going, “But really, Honorable Number Seven, I think welcome parties would go a long way towards boosting mystery morale around here!”
“Oh, would they?” Hanako had once again spun with his back to Mitsuba, so he put all of his power towards making sure the other mystery could hear the derision on his face, even if he couldn’t see it.
“They would! You people really need a better onboarding manual. I mean, what exactly are any of us supposed to do?! It's ridiculous! Spider-face-sensei just loafs about, and that fox lady is just mean, and the clock keepers sit there looking spooky while Shijima-senpai ignores everyone, and you—”
This was the point where Hanako might have taken to picking his nails with the edge of his knife, just to give Mitsuba a hint about shutting the hell up. But as it was, the best he could do was glower at him as his body made another slow turn like a rotisserie chicken.
“Just putz around making eyes at Daikon-senpai and being rude to me! Hell, Tsukasa-kun has made me feel more welcome than you have—my supposed boss—” Mitsuba supplied some deeply scathing air-quotes, “and he pops balloons in my face and shoves all these awful wriggly meaty things down my—”
“I don't need to know where Tsukasa shoves what, thank you, Number Three.”
“I'm just saying!” Mitsuba wailed, “your brother is a terrifying, psychotic menace, and he's still cooler than you!”
Tell me something I don't know, Hanako thought. Even dead, Tsukasa managed to have more friends than him. Not that he minded, really. He had Yashiro. And the kid. And before he'd died, he hadn’t really cared much about making friends to begin with. Hadn’t really given a shit about why his little brother, who nearly everyone agreed was at least kind of unnerving on a good day, was so beloved by their peers, because neither of them really cared about their peers.
The only thing they cared about was each other. Amane and Tsukasa. Tsukasa and Amane. Just how it was supposed to be.
Hanako tried again to free a hand from his bindings. But. Yeah. Still stuck.
“Look, Number Three. As much as I love to listen to HR complaints. I wanna be out of this,” he wiggled a little to punctuate his sentence, eyebrows raised pointedly, “much more. So! Just. Get me down from here. Okay?”
Mitsuba eyed the beads suspiciously, as if he hadn't really noticed them before, “...how? I mean...they won't hurt me, right?”
I'm gonna hurt you if you don't get your butt out of that mirror and help me out you idiot, Hanako thought savagely, but kept a lid on. “They won't. Come on.”
“Because I'm very averse to pain, you know. I'm delicate.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“I am! I’m not a masochist, like you!”
“I’m not a—”
“Miiiiii-tsu-ba!” Both Mitsuba and Hanako froze, staring at each other in silence. Hanako felt the bit of his spectral body that he sometimes thought of as a heart launch itself up—or, down?—into his mouth.
“Mitsubaaaa!” Tsukasa's voice floated closer, “Where'd you go?!”
Mitsuba opened his mouth, looking a little sweaty—could things like him sweat? Hanako had no idea. He had to admit he was more than a little curious as to how exactly Mitsuba worked. But that could wait.
“Here—”
“Shhh!” Hanako hissed, eyes wide in dire warning. He wasn’t ready to handle Tsukasa right now. Didn’t know if he’d ever be able to handle Tsukasa again. Even being in the same room as Tsukasa required Hanako to be on the absolute top of his game. On-edge. Sharp. Perceptive. Detached. An ill-fitting suit of armor against the one person he was never supposed to have to guard against. And without that armor, there was only Amane. And Amane was weak. Amane froze up—let the guilt and terror and sorrow consume him the instant his thoughts strayed too far back.
He’d spent too much effort hiding Amane away—years spent huddled in his stall, trying to put up barricades against the past—to lose his cool now. ”Don't—”
“Ah!! There you are, Mitsuba!” Hanako grit his teeth as he heard his brother's shoes make contact with the floor, “you shouldn't lurk around in here, you know! This is Amane's lurking spot! Amane lurks here!” Tsukasa floated boisterously into view, arms out, fingers splayed like he was trying to intimidate a bear, “Amane! Not Mitsuba! If Amane catches you in his lurking spot, he'll squash you right up!”
Mitsuba retreated a little, until just his head and shoulders were sticking out of his mirror. “I was just—”
Tsukasa barreled on, “He'll go squa-quash!!” He clapped his hands together, “like that! He—” Tsukasa paused, stopped in his tracks, a freeze-frame superimposed on the world as his eyes drifted to the reflection in Mitsuba’s mirror and met Hanako's panicked, upside-down gaze.
There was a long, aching silence. Then.
“Aha! Amane!!”
Hanako flinched as a brother-shaped meteorite hurtled across the bathroom and slammed into him, sending him swinging wildly, the beam above him creaking.
“Amane Amane Amane!!!” Tsukasa slid off him and dropped onto his knees, hands clasped around Hanako’s face to bring their eyes level. So close that his eyelashes tickled the bridge of Hanako’s nose, “What happened to you?!” He beamed, “did you get yourself stuck? Did you?”
“N-no.”
Tsukasa laughed, “You did! You got yourself stuck, you weirdo! Amane!” another fit of laughter. He clutched onto Hanako, hanging off him like a baby sloth. The ceiling beam creaked again under their combined weight, and Hanako fervently wished that it would just get on with it and snap. At least then, he’d have a better shot of getting out of this.
“Wait wait wait!” Tsukasa pulled himself together, “Did Mitsuba put you up to this?”
“Excuse me?!” Mitsuba squawked, “I found him like this! I didn't do anything! For all I know he did this to himself! Like some kind of...of—”
Tsukasa craned his neck to stare at Mitsuba. “Kink thing?”
“A kink thing!! Wait—” Mitsuba reared back, nearly falling into his mirror, “Why did you say that?! Why did—is this—are you— ugh!” He aimed a disgusted look at the twins, “is this how you get your kicks, then? Luring innocent boys such as myself into accidentally being a part of your weird bondage scene?!!”
Hanako opened his mouth to try and shut Mitsuba up, but he just kept talking, volume increasing as he worked himself up into a froth, “Well I'll have you know that I do not consent! You don’t get to just—just rope me into your weird—your perverse fantasies! I don't want anything to do with it! Maybe some people like the idea of twin hunting but I am not one of them!! You—”
“Shut up Number Three,” Hanako snapped, desperate to pull the conversation back to the problem at hand. He wiggled a little to get a better look at Mitsuba over Tsukasa’s shoulder and frowned, “C’mon, are you gonna help me or not?”
“You don’t want me to help you?” Tsukasa’s fingers tightened on Hanako’s face, jerking his head around to stare into his eyes. “Amane?”
“Shut up.” he grumbled, wincing. He knew better than to ask Tsukasa for a favor. He always expected his investment to be returned with interest. “Number Three. Now.”
Mitsuba made to haul himself out of his mirror, but Tsukasa turned, hand extended, “No, no!” he said, voice sharp like he was commanding a dog, “Mitsuba, no. Stay.” He pushed himself to his feet and swiveled to beam at Hanako, “I’ll help Amane! I’m real helpful!”
Hanako grimaced, “Tsukasa—”
“Um.” Mitsuba sounded unsure. He tugged on the cuff of his sweater and looked toward the door, “Are you sure? Y-you’re not gonna… do anything, right, Tsukasa-kun? You’re not gonna. Um. Hurt him?” he grimaced, “I-I mean, he is my boss I guess, so like. You know…”
Tsukasa stared as Mitsuba tapered off sadly. Hanako blinked. The silence stretched thin.
Then Tsukasa laughed, “Hurt him?! Me?! Hurt Amane?! Amane?!” he sounded genuinely, delightedly baffled, “Mitsuba! Shouldn't you be worried about him hurting me?! I mean,” he giggled to himself, turning to look down at Hanako with possessive adoration in his eyes. His voice dropped to a purr, “look at his track record.”
Hanako's stomach turned. He couldn’t breathe. Nevermind that he didn't need to. But there was a ringing in his ears and the ghost of his heart was slamming around in his chest and if his hands had been free, he was certain they would have been shaking.
He felt sick. He could almost feel the blood under his nails.
Tsukasa simpered at him, “Besides! Amane likes this kinda stuff! I’d never do anything Amane didn’t like. And if I did, all he’d have to do is say Tsukasa, stop that! And I’d stop! But he hasn’t! So I don’t have to! So I won't!” Hanako hissed in a breath as he felt Tsukasa’s fingers brush his jaw, “Right, Amane?”
“R-right.” Wrong . But it didn't matter. It never mattered. What Tsukasa says, goes. Because if Tsukasa wanted something, then Amane wanted it, too. Of course he did. Of course he did. They were the same, after all. Ate the same and slept the same and dressed the same. A matched set. Tsukasa and Amane. Amane and Tsukasa. Inseparable even in death.
“There! Amane says it’s fine, so it’s fine!” Tsukasa gave Mitsuba a jaunty wave, “Okay, bye-bye, Mitsuba!”
“But—”
"Bye-bye, Mitsuba!" Whatever look there was on Tsukasa’s face was enough to send Mitsuba packing. There was one last startled squeak, a rippling of glass, and he was gone. The bathroom fell silent.
“So,” Tsukasa said, and crouched down to bring his face level with Hanako’s again, “how’d you really get stuck?”
Hanako grimaced, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“You don’t?”
“Not really.”
“That’s no fun!” Tsukasa whined. But to Hanako's surprise, he stood on his toes and started to tug at the cords around Hanako’s ankles. “Did you try and look up Nene-chan’s skirt or something?”
“No!”
“Aw!!” Another tug. His kokujoudai circled the ceiling beam, looking for a weak point in the bindings. “But I know you want to!”
“I don’t.”
“Amane,” Tsukasa circled him to brace his shoulder against Hanako's stomach, taking his weight, “I know you do!” He huffed, and Hanako felt the tension around his ankles go slack as Tsukasa’s loafers lifted slightly off the floor, “I’ve seen it! You wanna be all over her!”
Hanako grimaced, but did his best not to recoil. He didn’t want Tsukasa to change his mind about untying him, “Sh-she’s my assistant, Tsukasa. It’s not—”
“Sakura’s my assistant,” said Tsukasa, “And I don’t want her like that! Not that she’d say no if I told her to. She’s gotta do what I say. Ah! There!” The ojuzu slid from around the beam with a wooden rattle, and Tsukasa flipped Hanako around to set him lightly on his feet, looking proud of himself, “That’s the rules!”
Hanako struggled to shrug off the rest of the beads, glaring at him. Tsukasa was undeterred. He reached down to grab the trailing end of the cord and started helping. Hanako let him. Knowing the two of them, if he got in Tsukasa’s way too much, they'd both end up hopelessly tangled.
“Rules are rules are rules are rules,” sang Tsukasa, jauntily pacing around his brother as he unwound the beads from his body. “Amane loves rules!”
Hanako sighed, “I don't love them.”
“Amane wants to have the rules’ baby!” Tsukasa laughed, and Hanako scoffed, rolling his eyes. He was basically free, now. Only his arms, from elbow to wrist, were bound. Tucked tight behind his back.
Kou had been very thorough.
“Just because something is important doesn't mean I love doing it.”
“Hmmm…” Hanako felt Tsukasa’s hands against his forearms, picking at the knots, “oh, I get it!” He gave a big tug, yanking Hanako off balance. But just as he was about to turn and tell Tsukasa off, Hanako felt something connect hard with the back of his knees.
He buckled with a yelp, biting back another shocked sound as his arms snapped backward, the cords around his wrists tightening, “Tsukasa!”
“Mmm?”
“What the hell are you—” Hanako froze, staring over his shoulder at his brother. His brother, who had his foot planted on Hanako’s calves and the ojuzu coiled tight in his hands. Who was looking at him with such smug satisfaction that it made a jolt of something ice cold rocket down his spine.
“Like me?”
“Wh-what?”
Tsukasa smiled, and it almost looked a little sad, “something important,” he reached up and traced idly along the blackened edge of his seal. Embarrassment simmered in Hanako's gut, “but you don't love it.”
“I—” love you. But the words slithered back down his throat as soon as his mouth opened. He loved Tsukasa. Of course he did, but.
But.
“It’s okay, Amane!” Tsukasa pressed his foot between Hanako’s shoulders and tugged on the cords around his wrists. Hanako hissed as his shoulders tightened, “I love you! I love you so much! I missed you so much!”
Hanako craned his neck to see Tsukasa's kokujoudai secure the other end of the ojuzu to an exposed toilet pipe. Then, like a particularly cheerful balloon, he floated close and settled with his arms around Hanako’s shoulders from behind, feet kicking idly in the air. He buried his face in Hanako’s neck with a hum, “It was kinda lonely,” he murmured, “being in your boundary for so long. With nobody to talk to.”
Guilt churned in Hanako’s stomach. He leaned away, eyes closed, voice shaking, “Tsukasa—”
Tsukasa circled around to face him, undeterred, “You couldn’t even come visit me at all! Not once! But that’s okay, I know you were busy! It’s okay, Amane! I promise!” His thumb dragged lazily over Hanako’s lip, “But I did miss you. Even if you didn’t miss me. So I got myself out!” He pushed off Hanako's shoulders and floated up toward the ceiling, “It took a lot of work! But here I am! And I can just come see you if I want! I don’t have to yell and yell and yell for you! You’re right here! See?” He gathered himself up, took a deep breath, and— ”AMANEEEE!!!”
Hanako jumped nearly a foot, ears ringing, scrambling backwards as Tsukasa burst out laughing, “Don’t do that!” he snapped, “It’s not funny.”
“But you heard me!” Tsukasa floated back down toward the floor.
“Of course I heard you!” Hanako glowered at the floor and rolled his aching shoulders, “You’re right here!”
“I am! Isn’t it great?! I love it!” Tsukasa did a little spin, “The near shore is so much fun! There’s so much to do! And so many people! I forgot how many people there are, Amane! Isn’t it great?!”
“Mmngh.” Hanako grunted noncommittally and gave the ojuzu a sharp tug, just to see if he could free his arms. No dice. His wrists were starting to ache.
Hanako watched Tsukasa's shoes as he touched down on the floor, unable to force himself to meet his eyes, “Look at me, Amane.” Tsukasa’s fingers caressed his jaw, before closing tight on his chin. He yanked Hanako’s head up and smiled when Amane finally lifted his gaze, “I don’t even care if you like Nene-chan more than me, you know.”
“I—I don’t—”
“What kinda stuff do you wanna do with her, Amane?” he bent at the waist. Leaned in, and Hanako suppressed a shudder as he felt Tsukasa’s lips brush his ear, “Is it different from the stuff you wanna do with me?” Hanako's face burned. Tsukasa’s voice dropped to a whisper, “D’you wanna kill her, too?”
If he'd had a stomach or anything in it, he might have just puked right there. And that would have delighted Tsukasa even more, he was sure.
He could practically feel his fingers prying his mouth open to check for acid damage on his tonsils. Hear the, show me, Amane! Show me show me show me!! I wanna see!! The d'you have anything else? Wanna check? We should check —and then Tsukasa's fingers again, jammed into the back of his throat until he gagged. Until there was nothing to do but give him what he wanted; bile under Hanako's tongue and running from his nose to splatter on the bathroom floor between his knees.
Instead, Tsukasa caught the look on Hanako’s face and fell immediately into raucous peals of laughter. “Amane! Do you?! You do, don’t you!”
“I don’t!”
“You do! You wanna hurt Nene-chan, just like you hurt me!” He smirked, “Did it get you going, when you stuck a knife in me, Amane?”
“No!” Hanako choked. His voice was pinched, tight and small, and his throat felt as if someone had their fist around it, “Tsukasa, I don’t that’s—It’s not funny, you. You can’t joke about that. You can’t.”
“Why can’t I?!” Tsukasa said, “I'm the one who died!”
Hanako swallowed. He…was probably right. What right in hell did Hanako have to dictate anything Tsukasa did? He'd given that up the instant his knife had touched Tsukasa’s chest. He didn’t get to have an opinion, here. He was nothing. Just a murderer.
Tsukasa leaned back against the toilet paper holder, “Killing Nene-chan would probably be pretty different from killing me, you know.” He said, “She’s. Softer.”
Hanako closed his eyes against the image Tsukasa had conjured. Yashiro, on her back between his knees, bloody and terrified. It was awful. Horrible. He bit the inside of his cheek and struggled against his binds, willing Tsukasa away like a bad dream.
It didn’t work. “She’d probably scream really good, though! You ever think of that?!” He sounded delighted by the idea of Yashiro’s death throes, “I don’t remember doing much screaming. I was just so happy.” Tsukasa sighed, voice dreamy, “You really couldn’t keep your shit together, at the end.”
The floor was smooth as Hanako bent double, forehead pressing into the hardwood. He gasped, trying hard to control the shaking in his limbs, the speed of the breaths he didn’t even need. His shoulders ached. His wrists, too. He needed to leave. He needed to go. But where was he supposed to escape to? Even if Tsukasa didn’t have him tied to a goddamn toilet, he’d already run to the one place he’d thought he’d be safe a long time ago. He’d killed his little brother—the only one he’d ever have—and then, when the blood had cooled and his breathing had slowed; when he’d found himself staring down the barrel of a life alone —a life without Tsukasa—as Amane , by himself…well. Compared to the pain of what he’d done, the knife in his stomach hadn’t been nearly that bad.
“But Nene-chan,” Tsukasa continued, conversational, “She’d scream. She’d probably cry, too. Did you cry, Amane?”
Hanako raised his face just enough to meet Tsukasa’s gaze, and that horrible sick feeling in his stomach churned even harder when he saw the genuine, innocent curiosity there, “I—” he swallowed down the sandpaper in his throat, “Y-yeah. ‘Course I did.”
“Aww!” Tsukasa giggled and reached out to ruffle Hanako’s hair, “That’s nice. I like that.”
Of course you do. Some things didn’t change, after all.
“Hey, Amane. I was thinking—” but Hanako didn’t get to hear what Tsukasa’s idea was. Somewhere on a lower floor, someone was shouting. Hanako could faintly make out the pounding sounds of footsteps and—he thought, maybe—his name.
“Aw, what? Already?" Tsukasa sighed, "Oh well!” Hanako flinched back as he leaned down again, cradling the back of his head in his palm, “I had fun, Amane.” He smiled. Their foreheads brushed together, and Hanako felt Tsukasa’s tongue against his cheek—catching the tears he hadn’t realized were falling. His voice was soft in Hanako’s ear as he nuzzled their faces together, “I missed talking to you. I missed playing together. I missed…everything.”
“Hanako!!” the sound of Kou’s heavy footsteps drew nearer, but Hanako barely noticed. The entire world had narrowed to the area of his stall.
“Promise you’ll come see me soon, okay?” Tsukasa said, “I’ve got some firecrackers that I made Natsuhiko get for me. It’s super fun to set them off inside the mokke!”
“Hey! Hanako!”
Tsukasa tilted forward, just enough to brush his lips against Hanako’s mouth—the chill of him barely registering against Hanako’s own. “I love you, Amane.” He murmured, “I’ll be waiting. Okay?”
And then he was gone.
Kou skidded into the bathroom with a crash. Nearly toppling ass over teakettle into the stall in his haste. “Hanako! Are you okay?!”
Hanako blinked, barely even registering Kou’s presence. The stall was empty, except for himself, knelt on the floor as if in prayer with his arms tied behind his back.
“Man, I’m so sorry!” Kou stomped forward, “I completely forgot that you wouldn’t be able to get out on your own. I’m so stupid! What if the Mokke decided to take you out?! You’d be helpless!”
“Y-yeah…” Hanako mumbled, “helpless.”
“You managed to get mostly undone, though! I must not have done it quite right—but how the hell did you even get yourself caught around the toilet?!” he made a frustrated tsk ing noise and yanked at the ojuzu, “You must’ve really tossed around in here.”
Hanako nodded, “Yeah. It was—I—got stuck.”
Kou’s voice was warbly with embarrassment, “I’m sorry. I’m the worst. Just leaving you like that! I didn’t even notice until I got home and went to put my stuff away.” he sighed, and Hanako felt the beads fall away from his wrists with a clatter. But he didn’t move to stand; just stayed there on his knees, trying to rub the feeling back into his fingers as he stared blankly at the floor.
“Hey—”
Did you cry?
“Hanako?”
It was kinda lonely.
His thumb dug hard into the meat of his palm, and Hanako winced.
All by myself.
“Hanako!” he jumped as Kou leaned down and snapped his fingers under his nose, “You okay?”
“What?”
Kou frowned, “You were just kind of…spacing out. Are you doing okay?”
Hanako blinked up at him. Forced a smile and shook himself back into his body, “Of course I am. Absolutely peachy.” Kou looked skeptical, but didn’t argue as Hanako pushed himself to his feet and stepped out into the bathroom, frantically grateful to be out from between the walls of his stall. “Thanks for the rescue, kid.” He hopped up onto his windowsill and forced his smile wider, muscled his voice into something just shy of blasé, “I’ll try not to be completely and totally devastated that my dearest friend forgot me and left me—”
“I said I was sorry!”
“— hanging like a cured ham.”
“I said I was sorry!!”
“I really don’t know how our bond will ever recover,” Hanako sighed, “Tragic, really.”
Kou rolled his eyes, “Don’t be a drama queen. You would’ve been fine.”
“You say that, but how would you feel if you came to check on me tomorrow and all you saw was a bunch of mokke picking their teeth with my bones?”
“You don’t have bones.”
Hanako waved him off, “Whatever.”
“Mokke don’t have teeth.”
“Stop being pedantic, kid, you’re ruining this for me.”
He ended up sending Kou off with just a bit more ribbing to get back at him for his trouble. All smiles and jokes and sharp barbs as the other boy trotted down the front steps of the old building and jogged off toward the gate.
Hanako watched him go, grinning into the setting sun, hands tucked behind his back to keep anyone from noticing his trembling.