Pain woke Gabe up early the next morning and he ventured into the kitchen, still half asleep, in search of painkillers. Alice was sitting on one of the kitchen stools, eating a bowl of cereal and looking at something on her phone.

She looked up and then smiled when she saw it was him. “Good morning, hun.”

“Good morning,” Gabe mumbled in return.

He’d been going to bed so early and waking up so late, that this was the first time he’d actually seen her since the night he’d arrived.

“How have you been?” she asked as Gabe headed into the kitchen to get his painkillers.

“Fine,” Gabe said, because he obviously wasn’t good and anything more negative would only lead to questions.

“How have things been going with Trist?”

Gabe made a face as he washed down his painkillers with a mouthful of water. “He obviously doesn’t like me, but he’s…” Gabe trailed off. He didn’t really know what Trist was. “It’s like he really doesn’t want me around, but he’s doing his best not to take that out on me.”

She gave Gabe a sympathetic smile. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No,” Gabe said quickly. “It’s fine. He doesn’t have to like me.”

“Okay, I’ll leave it alone for now. Just let me know if you need me to get involved. You should be able to feel safe and welcome here.”

For a moment Gabe just looked at her because yeah, that sounded completely reasonable, but nobody had ever said anything like that to him before. Even when something wasn’t his fault, it was always his problem to deal with. That was just how life was.

But what if it wasn’t life? What if it was just adults who didn’t want to help?

“Thanks,” Gabe said, and it didn’t really come through in his voice, but he really meant it.

He didn’t think he’d ever ask for her help. He didn’t really need it. Trist wasn’t hurting him and nobody could force him to like Gabe. But the fact that she’d offered, the fact that she sincerely believed he deserved to be treated better… that meant something.

#

Gabe looked down at the pile of his belongings that he’d pulled out of his bag and scattered on the floor around him and let out a sigh. He just wanted to take a shower and go to bed, but he didn’t have a single clean shirt. He’d thought he had plenty, but he’d been going through them so fast that he’d run through his supply without realising. 

He was supposed to be keeping his stitches bandaged and using ointment on them, but he’d never actually gone to get any of that stuff and it wasn’t like he’d be able to do it himself when his injuries were on his back anyway. So he’d just been showering twice a day and changing his shirt whenever things started to get gross, which was quite often. 

Gabe picked up one of the dirty shirts he hoped wasn’t too bad, sniffed it, and made a face. He was definitely going to get some kind of horrible infection.

Trist, who up until now had been laying on his bed sketching and determinedly ignoring Gabe, finally rolled over to look at him. “What are you doing?”

Gabe was so taken off guard by the fact that Trist was actually acknowledging him that it took him a moment to figure out what to say. “Uh… trying to find a clean shirt. But I have none.”

“You know shirts don’t become unwearably dirty after five hours, right? Especially if you’re just sitting around watching movies.”

A fretful, “Mm,” was all the response Gabe could think to give to that, because that was true generally and he didn’t want to explain why he really did need to change his shirts regularly.

“I don’t even know why you’d want to wear a shirt to bed. It’s way too hot.”

“Good and valid suggestions,” Gabe said, because he didn’t want to discourage Trist from talking to him, but he continued sorting through his dirty shirts in search of the one that was the least likely to give him an infection.

Trist let out a sigh of annoyance and climbed down from the bunk, obviously done with Gabe’s shit. Which was unfortunate. Gabe really was happy Trist was actually acknowledging his existence, but he was too tired to figure out a way to both not look weird and not reveal why he was actually doing the things he was doing.

Something hit Gabe on the back of the head and he reflexively spun around and held his hands up in a defensive position, only to realise it had been a shirt and Trist had thrown it at him. Oh.

Gabe picked it up off the floor and turned to watch Trist, who was already climbing back onto the top bunk. “Thank you?”

“Keep it. I think it’s too small for me now, anyway. Probably still too big for you, though.”

“Probably,” Gabe murmured, because he couldn’t really tell if that had been intended as a dig at his height or just facts. Regardless, he added a more genuine, “Thanks.”

Trist ignored him.

#

There were officially no more painkillers. Gabe had lucked out last night and found a couple of paracetamol in the back of a drawer to get him through the night, but a thorough search this morning had yielded no more.

He heard a door open and shut down the hall and quickly started putting everything back into the kitchen drawers. He’d actually been the first one up for once, so he’d been able to conduct his search without witnesses.

Trist entered the living room wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and Gabe quickly averted his gaze, but not before they’d done a reflexive sweep of Trist’s body. Hopefully Trist hadn’t noticed that.

“Should I be worried that you’re searching through our kitchen drawers at six in the morning?” Trist asked.

Oh. Yeah. This did look kind of suspicious. “I’m looking for painkillers.”

“There should be some aspirin.”

“There was, but I used it all.”

“Then I guess there aren’t any.”

“I had come to that conclusion, yeah.” Gabe put the last of the stuff back into the drawer and slid it shut with more force than he’d intended. “Guess I’m going back to bed, then.”

Gabe did go back to bed, but he didn’t go back to sleep. He hurt. He always hurt these days, and he’d just kind of accepted that, but he hadn’t realised how bad it was underneath the painkillers. Sure, they’d always worn off by morning, but there was a difference between dealing with it for an hour or so until he could get more medication in his system and dealing with the full intensity of it all day and knowing there was no relief in sight.

The girls clearly knew something was up, but they seemed to also know he’d rather they didn’t ask. Bee instead expressed her concern by making him a milkshake, which somehow managed to make him simultaneously feel better and sicker. He had needed to eat something, and the milkshake had been delicious enough to make it easier, but it probably wasn’t the best thing for him to put into his fragile system.

He was a bundle of regrets awkwardly half curled up on the couch when Trist returned from work that afternoon and lobbed something at his head. Gabe patted around for the object, a small cardboard box, and then held it in front of his face so he could read the text on the front: Aspirin.

Well. Well.

He immediately went to the kitchen to shove some Aspirin into his body.

And then he went to find Trist, who had disappeared already.

Trist was back in his room on the top bunk with his sketch pad out again. He didn’t look up as Gabe entered the room.

“Uh, hey,” Gabe said.

Trist ignored him.

Right.

“I just wanted to say thanks,” Gabe continued anyway. “For the painkillers.”

Trist spared him half a glance. “...Okay?”

“I really appreciate it.”

“You know I work in a supermarket, right?”

“Yeah, but, I mean. I needed them and you got them.”

“We all use painkillers, Gabe. If we run out of milk tomorrow are you going to interpret it as some huge personal favor if I pick up more?”

Gabe let out an annoyed sigh, partly because Trist was a bitch but mostly because he was right. But he was a bitch. “You’re so tsundere.”

Trist actually looked at him then. “Excuse me?”

“It means—” Gabe started to say, and then he realised he couldn’t come up with a definition for it that he actually wanted to say. “Nevermind.”

“No, I know what it means, and you can fuck right off,” Trist said as he slapped his sketchbook shut.

“I was only kidding,” Gabe said, but it was to Trist’s back as he left the room.

Gabe followed him out, hoping to apologise, though he didn’t know how he’d manage that without sounding condescending. Like, honestly. Honestly. Tsundere? That was the level of cutting insult this guy just could not tolerate?

Gabe entered the living room just in time to hear the front door slam behind Trist.

“What was that about?” Sophie asked.

“That was definitely something,” Bee pointed out. “He looked angry.”

“Okay, I admit, that one was definitely my fault,” Gabe confessed. “Or at least like, half or a third my fault. The rest is split between Trist for being weird and whoever let Trist watch anime.”

“What did you do?” Sophie asked.

“I called him tsundere.”

Sophie immediately burst out laughing, and Bee looked like she didn’t quite know what emotion to feel. Gabe was kind of with her on that one. On the one hand, it was absolutely absurd, but on the other, well… absurd or not, Trist had seemed genuinely upset. It being weird and dumb didn’t make his feelings any less real.

“He’s just…” Bee started to say, and then trailed off, not seeming to know how to end that sentence. “I’ll try talking to him.”

Gabe sat down on the other couch. “Thanks. I hope your attempt goes better than mine did.”

“Tsundere, though?” Sophie managed to say when her laughter finally subsided. “I knew that boy had some kind of trauma, but I never would have guessed it was anime related.”

“It’s not,” Bee said quietly. “I think he just got angry because he knows you’re right. He’s been playing you hot and cold, right? I saw him give you those painkillers just now, even if he did chuck them at your head.”

“Yup,” Gabe said. “I told him I was looking for some this morning but we were out, so he bought some. Then I made the mistake of telling him I appreciated it and he got all weird and insisted that it had not been any kind of thoughtful gesture. So really things had already been going pretty downhill by the time I called him tsundere.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Bee said, though she didn’t sound sure at all. “Just… don’t call him that again.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I won’t make that mistake twice.”