“Suuuugooooiiiii!!!” Tsuzuki’s head is whipping around like it’s on a string, as if he doesn’t quite know where to look and so is attempting to look everywhere at once. It’s very odd and rather amusing. Why am I carrying all the luggage?

“Ah, the elevator’s over here, Hisoka!” Tsuzuki waves at me madly.

“I see you, Tsuzuki,” I say calmly, trying to drag over the two suitcases. Tsuzuki dashes over and grabs one. “Thanks.”

The room we have is quite big and very nice. After what seemed like weeks of discussion, we settled on a nice resort on the ocean. It’s the wrong time of year for swimming, so it’s not too crowded. There’s a nice pool inside, as well as several restaurants, a casino for the adults, an arcade for the kids, convention halls, stuff like that. Tsuzuki’s eyes are practically falling out of his head. He’s spent the past hour saying he can’t believe Tatsumi actually gave us the money to come here.

I’m neglecting to mention that the difference came out of my salary. It’s nothing he needs to know, really. Though the Shinigami aren’t terribly well-paid, the money we receive is enough for an adequate lifestyle. I’m not much of a spender, so I have quite a bit saved up by now. It’ll be nice to splurge for once, to see Tsuzuki smile again.

Tsuzuki flops onto one of the beds and starts bouncing up and down, then springs back up full force. “Let’s go eat!”

Part of the reason Tsuzuki was so insistent on this resort (price aside, of course) was because there’s a restaurant here specially known for its desserts. Western ones in particular. I can hardly say no to Tsuzuki, who has sprouted puppy ears, paws, and tail, so I allow him to drag me downstairs, trying to look as if I’m reluctant.

Tsuzuki’s eyes go wide and shiny at the list of desserts. He’s reading them all aloud to me, as if I can’t read them myself.

“Tsuzuki, get some real dinner, okay?” I ask, looking through the menu. “You’ve still got some healing to do.”

“Chocolate cake heals,” Tsuzuki tries.

I roll my eyes. “That’s why they call the dish ‘Death by Chocolate’, right?”

Tsuzuki looks lost for a second. Then he grins broadly. “But we’re already -- ”

“Baka!” I cut him off before he can finish the sentence. “Don’t say that! Someone might hear!”

“They don’t care,” Tsuzuki says, waving his menu at the other diners.

“Irresponsible,” I say, shaking my head and trying not to smile. It’s quite a bit of work. I can feel the corners of my lips twitching.

“Hisoka,” Tsuzuki says patiently, as if I were the one goofing off, “we’re on vacation, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean that we can afford to draw attention to ourselves.”

He pouts. Probably because he knows I’m right.

The waitress comes over then. I manage to persuade Tsuzuki to order some normal food and we sit back to wait for it.

When I first met Tsuzuki, I was convinced for a good day or so that he and I would never find anything to talk about. We seemed a worse match than the famed odd couple -- he couldn’t take anything seriously, and I took everything more seriously than was good for me. Our compability was zero.

As I said later, we had nowhere to go but up.

We have more in common than I ever would have suspected. We can talk about anything, or everything, or nothing at all. And it’s always fine. You know you have a true friend when you can simply sit outside and watch the stars in silence, then leave feeling like it was the best conversation you’d ever had.

To be trusted is as great an honor as to be loved. Maybe even greater.

So we just talk. Make plans for the week -- there’s an amusement park nearby, and a zoo, and a few museums. We talk about movies, and books, and Watari’s latest misadventure (he somehow found out when Tatsumi-san’s birthday was and threw him a surprise party -- needless to say, Tatsumi-san was not amused). Tsuzuki inhales his food.

I have to tease him just a little. “Do we have enough money for dessert?” I ask idly, checking the prices.

His face falls. “We have to at least once . . . the restaurant’s famous . . .” He brightens suddenly. “I have some pocket money!”

I laugh. “It’s okay, Tsuzuki. We have enough for dessert.”

Tsuzuki looks immensely pleased. He orders two slices of apple pie, one slice of key lime pie, one piece of carrot cake (how does one make cake out of carrots? Sounds disgusting to me), and one Death by Chocolate.

The waitress turns to me. “I’ll share his,” I say with a smile.

“Hi-so-kaaaaa!”

“Oh, all right,” I say, pretending to be irritated. “I’ll try the Death by Chocolate.” Hey, it’s vacation. I might as well be adventurous.

Tsuzuki looks thrilled at this.

Death by Chocolate turns out to be triple layer chocolate cake, with very thick chocolate frosting, chocolate chips sprinkled over the top of the cake, and chocolate sauce drizzled over it. It’s also a huge portion. My stomach aches just looking at it.

Tsuzuki dives in. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve seen him this happy since we first met. I know at least half of it is show, but the other half is true enjoyment, and I’ll take what I can get.

When he’s finally finished with his dessert (and half of mine, as I couldn’t manage to finish my piece), we hang around the arcade for a while. I had my fill of casinos on the Queen Camilla, and Tsuzuki seems to feel the same way. We also don’t have that much money to play with. Tsuzuki seems determined to win a prize, but after the first eight tries, he gives up.

“It’s late,” I say. “We should get unpacked.”

Tsuzuki nods, drooping a little with weariness. He still gets tired very easily, no matter how much he tries to deny it. Watari tried to explain it to me, saying that because Touda caused the injuries, they heal at the same rate as a normal person’s would. I don’t remember all of the explanation, but it made very little sense, so I don’t care. The point is that Tsuzuki is healing slowly, but by the end of vacation he ought to be back to normal.

“I’m going to take a quick shower,” he says while I unpack.

That’s an interesting little fact about Tsuzuki. He prefers showers over baths, while I’m the other way around. I like to think in the bath. Tsuzuki, from what I can tell, doesn’t like to think at all. I suppose if he showers, the sound of the water drowns him out. (No pun intended.)

I take my time unpacking, but I’m still unpacked and in bed by the time he gets out, but I’ve switched the television on and found a late movie.

“Wah, I love this movie!” Tsuzuki crawls under his covers and props a few pillows up so he can watch comfortably.

Despite that, he’s asleep by the time the movie is half over. I’m yawning so much that I think my face might break in half, so I turn it off and fall asleep less than five minutes later.

~~~~

It’s a quiet night, for the two of us.

My nightmares are usually either of when Muraki cursed me, or of Tsuzuki in the burning building. I have one of the former variety this particular night and wake up to Tsuzuki shaking me gently. He’s sitting on the edge of my bed with one hand on my shoulder and a concerned look on his face. “Hisoka?” he asks, when he sees I’m awake. “Daijoubu?”

I nod and try to say I’m okay, but the words choke in my throat. I hate looking weak -- even in front of Tsuzuki, who’s seen me at my weakest and doesn’t care. “I-I’m fine,” I finally manage, and my voice cracks, making the first word in one octave and the second in a higher one.

“Uh huh.” Tsuzuki sounds unconvinced. He pulls himself up on the bed next to me, leaning against the headboard. “Then you won’t mind if I stay for a while, ne?”

I can feel his concern leaking out of him. It intensifies when he puts his arm around my shoulder. I lean against him. No harm in that, right?

He’s very warm, and comfortable, and the flannel of the shirt he’s wearing is soft against my cheek. He’s letting me feel his emotions a little more than usual. To reassure me. So I know he doesn’t think I’m being silly, or being a bother. Just . . . kindness, and a gentle sort of worry. That’s all I feel from him.

I like being held by him. I shouldn’t have admitted I needed him -- now my brain keeps trying to decide that I feel other things for him, too. Maybe I do. I don’t know. As usual, I’m confused. But I think I would like to stay like this for a while. Maybe forever. In his arms.

I’ve started crying now. Perfect. But Tsuzuki apparently thinks I needed to get it out of my system, and he’s probably right. He just holds me. Even crying, it’s wonderful to be held. I don’t cry long; the nightmare wasn’t that bad.

This happens often; comforting each other is something we have both grown very good at. The key is to not speak. Simply let the emotions run their course. Upon being woken, we always ask if the person is okay. Sometimes I actually am -- I grew used to my nightmares a long time ago. Tsuzuki rarely is. But if we feel the need to cry, afterwards, there is only one question.

“Feeling better?” Tsuzuki asks. His breath stirs my hair. It’s a good question. It doesn’t imply being ‘okay.’ It merely asks if crying helped at all, or if more is required.

“Yeah,” I answer. “I think I’m okay now.” I smile wanly up at him in the moonlight that streams in between our curtains. “You should get more sleep.”

“Yeah, I know.” He yawns, gives me a hug, and climbs back into his own bed. He falls back asleep very quickly. I stay awake for a while, then drift off.

When I next awake, the clock is blinking 3:07 right next to my eye in large red numbers. I rolled over in my sleep. I make a mental note to fix it in the morning, then hear Tsuzuki give an odd little half-moan. My turn to do the comforting.

Tsuzuki is hard to comfort. If he’s only twitching and whispering a little, the trick is to not wake him up, but to try to soothe him back into normal sleep. Once he’s starting moaning or crying, however, it’s best to wake him up as quickly as possible, so he doesn’t get stuck half in the dream.

I sit on the edge of his bed and give him a rough shake. “Tsuzuki, wake up. Tsuzuki.”

He sits bolt upright, looks around wildly, and then his eyes focus on me. He practically throws himself into my arms, trembling violently. I hold him tightly, smooth his hair, say nothing. I’m not as good at projecting emotions as I am at receiving them, but I try to project an aura of calm, of caring. His shaking stops after a minute, though his tears don’t.

It’s a long while before Tsuzuki is calm enough to sleep again. I don’t ask about the nightmare -- we never do -- but I imagine it must have been quite a bad one. He falls back to sleep with me still holding onto him, looking exhausted. I lay him down carefully so as not to wake him and tuck him in. The temptation is very strong to climb right underneath the covers next to him, but I can only imagine the shock that would cause tomorrow morning. So I return to my own bed and turn the small lamp on to read. It’s going to be a while before I manage to fall asleep again.

I wake up the next morning with the lamp still on and the book on my chest. Tsuzuki is bouncing around the room excitedly, nightmares forgotten in the sunlight, asking if we can go to the zoo today or did I want to finish exploring the hotel?

He wants to go to the zoo. I can tell just by looking at him.

“The zoo’s fine,” I say, my voice completely noncommittal, and I’m rewarded for my efforts by a huge grin.

~~~~

I’ve found, for the first time in my life (well, afterlife) that the phrase ‘time flies when you’re having fun’ is actually true. Keep in mind that I haven’t had a lot of chance to verify this before. I knew for a fact that time drags when you’re miserable, but the first week of vacation is over before I’ve even truly comprehended it’s begun. Tsuzuki is bouncing off the walls with glee; I don’t think I’ve ever seen him happier. After a few nights of pretty bad nightmares, both his and mine subside so they’re rare and not as bad when they happen.

We go to the zoo and the amusement park, spend excessive amounts of time in the pool and the hottub, watch about eight thousand movies, and play all the poker we can stomach. (We play in our room -- neither of us is eager to go throwing our money away in the casino. Though I’ll say if we’d been playing with real money, Tsuzuki would owe me half his year’s salary by now.)

We eat out every night. For a while we had considered getting a place to stay that had a kitchen, but my cooking skills are limited and Tsuzuki’s are life-threatening to the tastebuds, so I casually shot that idea down. There are quite a few restaurants within the confines of the resort, and it’s not a far ride to town, either. So we’re well-fed and Tsuzuki gets dessert every time we eat. And sometimes when we’re not eating.

We went to the beach today. It was practically empty, except for a few people watching the waves. We spent a while doing that, then shell-picking, then had a picnic. Thankfully it wasn’t windy. We’re both pretty worn out by the time we get back to the hotel, and flop down on Tsuzuki’s bed to play more poker. Then we flip on a movie. It’s turning into a very mundane vacation. But I think that’s a good thing. No shocks.

Tsuzuki props himself up with a few pillows, and waves at me to join him. After a long moment of hesitation, I do so, curling up at his side and resting my head on his shoulder. It’s incredibly comfortable. It’s like . . . it’s like we fit together, almost like two pieces of a puzzle. His arm is around my shoulders, his fingers absently running through my hair. It’s nice. It’s more than nice. I don’t think there’s a word for it. Wonderful. I think this might be the first time in my life (existence) that I’ve actually felt at peace.

And Tsuzuki . . .

Tsuzuki is snoring.

I suppress a snicker. I don’t want to move, but I really can’t stay here all night. We’re not even under any blankets. So I fumble around for the remote and turn the television off, then start to get up.

“Hmm?” Tsuzuki mumbles sleepily. His arm wraps tighter around my shoulders, pulling me back down. “Where’re you goin’ . . .?” Half his sentence is lost in a huge yawn.

“To bed, Tsuzuki.”

“Mmph.” Tsuzuki rolls over onto his stomach, trapping me underneath one of his outflung arms. “You’re in bed.”

“But I’m not in my bed.” I’m blushing furiously, I know I am. Fortunately, Tsuzuki isn’t looking at me.

“So?” He yawns again. “Who cares? Turn off the light. Sleep. You stay here tonight.”

I pause. “Oh, all right.” I’m trying to sound reluctant. Why am I trying to sound reluctant? I lean over and turn off the lights. “But get under the covers, at least.”

Tsuzuki, somewhat resembling a dead fish, flops around until I manage to get him safely under the covers. Then he curls up on his side and pulls me into his arms. “See?” he mumbles sleepily. “This is good.”

I can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s half-asleep, but if he wants to keep me near him, it’s fine by me. Better than fine, really. I love the feeling of being held by him. My last thought, before I drift off, is that I wish I could fall asleep like this evey night.

~~~~

Sometimes, when I dream, I can tell I’m dreaming long before I manage to shake myself out of it. It doesn’t happen very often, but on a rare occasion I know. This is one of those occasions. It’s more like a vision than a dream -- I feel perfectly awake, but not really there.

I’m lying on a bed that feels more like a table; there’s just enough cushioning to hide the fact that it’s not really made for sleeping on. My eyes are open, and it looks like I’m some sort of lab. Everything is grey and metallic.

Odd. Not a dream I usually have.

Muraki wobbles into my field of vision, and I say wobbles not because he’s unsteady, but because I can’t seem to see straight. I’m very cold. I don’t think I’m wearing anything, though there’s a sheet draped over me. What’s going on? I don’t like this dream.

He smiles. I hate Muraki’s smile. It’s the kind of smile doctors have when they say something won’t hurt a bit, and they’re lying, and you know they’re lying, and then they do whatever it is and of course it hurts like crazy. Muraki has an ‘I’m about to hurt you’ smile.

He says something. I can’t really tell what. I can hear him, but the sound is being filtered through what sounds like an ocean of water. It’s dull and muffled and incoherent. I just look up at him. Why am I not trying to get away? I try to force my body to move, but it doesn’t obey me.

And in my mind’s ear, I hear a tiny voice.

it’s hopeless give up there’s no way out just let me die it’s hopeless i don’t want to be here anymore it’s hopeless please let me die please don’t touch me please just let me die i don’t want to be here

Tsuzuki’s voice.

I fell asleep in Tsuzuki’s arms . . .

I’m having Tsuzuki’s nightmare.

I flail against it for a minute, but the despair is sucking me in, holding me down. I can’t escape the dream.

“You don’t look like you’re listening, Tsuzuki,” Muraki says. Now that I’ve separated myself from Tsuzuki, I can hear again -- but I still can’t move. “Are you paying any attention at all?”

I remember Tsuzuki’s eyes when I finally found him again, so horribly blank and unseeing, uncaring. I doubt Tsuzuki can hear a word he says.

don’t touch me i hate you leave me alone

Muraki’s fingers trail down his chest. I shudder, but Tsuzuki remains still, so my movements mean nothing. I want to scream, but I can’t get Tsuzuki to even open his mouth.

Muraki is muttering something about the perfect body. Whatever. I didn’t want to see this. I know what happened. I don’t want to see this.

He leans down and kisses me/Tsuzuki. I want to bite down on his lips, on his tongue, but Tsuzuki does nothing, simply staring through the fringe of Muraki’s hair at the ceiling. He doesn’t move at all. He doesn’t seem to realize Muraki is there, but I know he does, because I can hear him.

oh god leave me alone i’m scared i’m scared i’m so scared

And there’s nothing I can do, lie there and wait and pray for the dream to end soon for both our sakes.

I can feel Muraki’s hands, tracing lower, pushing the sheet aside. Oh God. Oh God I think I’m losing it. I’m crying. Tsuzuki isn’t. How can I be crying if Tsuzuki’s not? Oh God. I can’t tell where he stops and I start. I’m scared, Tsuzuki is scared and his fear is seeping into me through where our skin is touching and I want out, I want out of this dream, I want to wake up --

I want to scream I want to fight but Tsuzuki won’t let me, he’s just lying there and why won’t he fight, why won’t he try to stop him why is he just lying there? I can hear him

i don’t deserve to live this is what i deserve to be hurt to be tortured to be killed it’s only right after everything i’ve done this is right

But it isn’t right but he doesn’t hear me and there’s nothing I can do and oh God I’m losing it, I really am in a few seconds I won’t be able to tell who’s who anymore, people aren’t supposed to share dreams and I guess this is why

and Muraki is right there on top of me/Tsuzuki and God it hurts and I didn’t want to see this, I didn’t want to, I know Tsuzuki’s hurting I know how he’s hurting I hurt the same way now please let me go I don’t want to be here anymore and I’m losing it I don’t know who I am anymore and let me go let me go LET ME GO

OH GOD

~~~~

“Hisoka! Hisoka, wake up!”

I can hear someone screaming. Not the shouting, that’s Tsuzuki’s voice, I know Tsuzuki’s voice. This is a scream, more like a wail, anguish and despair and pain.

Tsuzuki clamps a hand over my mouth. The wailing stops. Oh.

I can’t breathe. This is probably not good. But I don’t care.

“Okay?” Tsuzuki asks.

I nod. My eyes feel like saucers in my head. He removes his hand and I gasp for breath. Steady. Have to steady myself. I’m gripping the fabric of Tsuzuki’s shirt so tightly that my knuckles have gone white. He reaches up to smooth my hair and I flinch away. His hand drops back to his side.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

I shake my head. “Nn. What . . . what happened?” My voice is trembling.

“I don’t know,” Tsuzuki says. “I woke up because I was having a nightmare and you were . . . you were flailing all over the place but when I touched you, you started to shriek like that.” He shifts, looking uncomfortable. “I had a really hard time waking you up.”

I close my eyes, let my head droop a little. I’m starting to calm down a little. Or at least I don’t feel like I’m going to be hysterical, not right away, at any rate. And I know who I am again, which is an added plus. “We can’t do this anymore,” I say.

“Huh?” Tsuzuki asks, and I realize I’ve completely switched subjects on him.

“Sleep . . . together like this,” I say, and suddenly I’m blushing. “Because . . . the contact . . . with my empathy . . .” Damn it, why can’t I get a full sentence out? “I had the same nightmare you did.”

“Oh,” Tsuzuki says. There’s a moment of awkward silence. Then he says, hesitantly, “It wasn’t that bad -- ”

I shake my head. “For one thing, don’t belittle your own nightmares. I know how bad it was.” I rub my eyes. “I went through it too, remember. But . . . it wasn’t so much that . . . as . . . I could feel your consciousness, and mine, but as it went on they started to blend. Almost like I was fading into you. And I couldn’t influence the dream at all, I could just watch, and I couldn’t tell who I was anymore . . .” There I go crying again. That was only a matter of time.

Tsuzuki reaches out to me, then drops his arms, uncertain. I want to reassure him, I want to let him hold me, but even from a few feet away, I can feel the remnants of the nightmare. I don’t dare touch him, or let him touch me. So I huddle into a ball and cry myself out alone. The tears don’t bring the peace they usually do. I finally stop feeling exhausted and headachey.

Tsuzuki gives me a painful smile. “Better?”

“No,” I say. I don’t know what to tell him. I want to crawl into his arms and be held and calmed, I want to not be an empath, I want Muraki’s head on a silver platter. I want this to all go away.

He reaches out and puts a hand on my shoulder, his face in a tiny frown as he concentrates, shielding his own mind from me.

I give him a weak smile. “You’re going to give yourself a headache if you keep that up.”

“I know.” He smiles back. “But it’s worth it for a few minutes.”

He holds out his arms to me and I crawl into them. “Why aren’t you upset?”

He shrugs. “That’s one of my more common nightmares. I think I’m getting used to that one.”

I laugh softly, into his shoulder. “I know the feeling.”

His arms tighten around me for a second, then relax. “It gets better?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” I say. “It never goes away, but it gets better.”

He says nothing, just smooths my hair. His shields are wearing away a little, but for now we’re still okay. The horror of the dream fades a little, and I manage to relax in his arms. I realize, with some concern, that I’m shivering. “Have I been shaking like this the whole time?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he says.

But he’s warm, and my shivering stops soon. “Tsuzuki . . .”

“Nani?”

I pause. I don’t know what I was going to say. “I’m sorry . . .” Where did that come from? I wasn’t going to say that. “I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner . . . I’m sorry that I didn’t save you from him. I’m so sorry . . .” Great. I’m crying again. When did I turn into such a wimp?

“Hisoka, it wasn’t your fault. You came as quickly as you could.” Tsuzuki kisses the top of my head. “Don’t blame yourself. Please. You saved me.”

And these tears bring peace.

“Shhh,” he murmurs. “Go to sleep.”

Fear rises up in me, nearly choking me. “I can’t.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll put you back in your own bed as soon as you fall asleep, I promise,” Tsuzuki says. “But you’ll never get back to sleep if you go now.”

I know he’s right, so I just nod a little and rest my head against his chest. He rocks me back and forth like I’m a child. Not that I was rocked much as a child, but that’s not the point. I’m still awake, though not by much, when he picks me up and puts me in my own bed, tucking the covers around my chin. Then he leans down, brushes the hair out of my face, and kisses my forehead.

“Oyasumi, Hisoka.”

There are a million things I want to say to him, but before I can think of any of them, I’m asleep again.