Chapter Text
The night that Shun decided to join the Battle Brawlers in gathering the team to go after Masquerade after distancing himself from them, he finds himself in Marucho’s ship – staring out into the dark clouds of the night sky, unable to sleep.
He never told anyone in the Brawlers why he stepped away, never told anyone of his mother's death and the brawl with Dan he was so desperate to be kept in because it meant his mother would still be alive.
Shun never even really talked about it with Dan, even when the Kusos were there for his mother's funeral – Dan being the only one of the Brawlers that his grandfather knew and invited because they met all the way back when they were mere five years-olds.
He knows that he could have talked with Dan back then, but he chose to disappear and go back to his grandfather's dojo instead. He knows that he could have picked up the constant calls that Dan sent his way afterwards, but he chose to let each one go ignored – phone ringing on his bedside table with the rest of his Bakugan and brawling gear.
Which brought them to that night, Shun unable to sleep because being in one place with the people he pushed away – being in one place with Dan – unsettles him so much. So he stayed in the room he was assigned to, by the window, purple coat off but still in the rest of his day clothes as he crossed his arms and looked out into the distance.
“Shun. It's deep into the night, why haven't you let your hair down yet?”
It's Skyress, having awoken from her sleep, gentle voice ringing throughout the silence of the room.
Shun smiles, small – his Bakugan’s care and attitude so familiar to him like his mom's,
“I couldn't sleep, Skyress, that's why I haven't.”
There was the soft sound of Skyress walking in her ball form on the wooden surface of the desk, going closer to him without leaving the table.
“What's bothering you, Shun?”
He turns his head to take a glance at Skyress, but still not leaving his spot,
“... It's nothing. Just something stupid.”
He sighs, arms untangling so he could reach a hand up to his ribbon – pinching at one end and tugging until it went loose, his hair fanning across his back. Shun walks back to his bed, places the purple ribbon on the bedside table, quickly changes his clothes, and pulls out the blanket from where it was neatly tucked into the bed.
“Shun—”
“It's okay, Skyress. I'm okay. Good night.”
Shun settles into the bed, blanket pulled up to his chin as he curls into himself – facing away from Skyress but towards the door of his room.
Just as he closes his eyes, trying to force himself to fall asleep, he hears the opening and closing of the door of the room next to his, footsteps walking closer before his door opens and a sliver of light enters his dark room.
“I was waiting for you to go to me.”
Shun huffs, nearly inaudible as the blanket muffles the sound,
“Now where did you get the idea that I'm the type of person to do that?”
He hears Dan inhale sharply, exhaling frustratedly.
Dan doesn’t say anything more, just closes the door and pads to the bed – front of his knees bumping onto the bed frame.
“Scoot.”
Shun doesn't move, keeps his eyes closed.
He could practically see Dan furrow his eyebrows, before a hand nudges at his bicep and keeps on urging him to make space.
Shun huffs once again, before giving in to Dan and scooching backwards.
The bed shifts with Dan’s additional weight to it, sheets rustling for a few moments until the brunette eventually gets to settle down under the covers with him.
Shun rearranges himself until he's comfortable again.
Then, it's a few beats of silence, until Dan moves his hand closer to Shun’s – where it's laid between them on the bed, palm facing the ceiling and fingers loosely curled.
Dan hooks their pinkies together, and Shun opens his eyes to see Dan focused on their fingers, brows furrowed in thought.
Having been friends for seven years now, he knows what Dan looks like when he wants to say something – gathering his thoughts before speaking up.
So he waits, doesn't say anything and just watches as moonlight illuminates Dan's face, until—
“I hated it.”
Shun unconsciously inches closer,
“... Huh?”
Dan's garnet eyes shift from looking at their hands to meet Shun’s gaze.
“You, pulling away. You, getting farther and farther away until I lost you.”
“You didn't lose me, I'm right here.”
Dan shakes his head, eyes becoming a bit shiny from tears.
“Yes, I did. I did. You lost your mom and I didn't go to you. I just— I just kept calling you, like I didn't know where you live, or like I couldn't go to where you live.”
Tear tracks run down Dan’s face now, creating a wet spot on his pillow. And Shun feels like shit now, because Dan – sunny, bright Dan – should always be smiling in his book. The last time he should have cried was when they were younger than this, and Dan had scraped his knee but Shun got to kiss his wound better.
So Shun curls their pinkies together tighter,
“Don't say that, it's not your fault. I pushed you away.”
“Then I should've pulled you back in—”
“I wouldn't have let you in, Dan. I didn't answer your calls, I didn't say anything. Even if you went to grandpa’s house, I doubt I would've talked to you, anyway. I was…”
The familiar sting that comes from thinking about his mother comes – lying down on her hospital bed, frail, oxygen mask on her face as she could barely smile at Shun from the pain she was going through.
He swears he could hear the beeping of her heart monitor even now, the sound of it flatlining haunting him in every silent moment,
“I was grieving. I wasn't ready to let you back in – let anyone back in.”
Dan blinks, moves closer to him.
“I'm sorry. About her, your mom. I know you love her so much, I can't even imagine what it feels like to lose her.”
Shun purses his lips, calming his shaky breathing as quietly as he can. He nods once and speaks up only when he's sure his voice is stable,
“... Thank you.”
Dan smiles softly at him, and just looks at him for one, two, three seconds – eyes taking in every detail of his face, like he's memorizing Shun, grateful to any being out there that he didn't lose his friend.
“Can you promise me something?”
Shun hums,
“Anything.”
“... Talk to me. Tell me about what you're feeling, what you're thinking. I can bear it – I want to bear it.”
Shun's gaze dart from Dan's lips up to his eyes, sees those ruby orbs focused solely on him,
“Dan—”
“Don't go anywhere I can't follow. Please. Because that— that feeling of losing you was horrible, and I don't want to go through it again.”
Shun cracks a smile at that, small and unsteady,
“Only if you promise the same. I can't lose anyone again.”
Especially you.
Dan nods, moves his hand with his pinky still interlaced with Shun’s – until his thumb is in position to complete the promise.
Shun laughs at him, but follows through. He moves his own hand until the pads of their thumbs are pressed to each other, and lets it be for a few counts before he reaches his unoccupied hand up to Dan's face to wipe away his tears,
“Feel better now, crybaby?”
Dan huffs wetly, pushes Shun's hand away playfully.
“Idiot.”
“Back at you. Now go to sleep, you'll be cranky in the morning when the others wake you up.”
Dan chuckles, rearranges himself so he could fall asleep, and closes his eyes.
Shun shuts his eyes only when he's sure that Dan is out like a light, and follows soon.
Their pinkies stay locked together for the rest of the night.