It is quite strange, as of late, the boy has been hiding things from faer. Where he has been going out late at night, far past acceptable curfew hours. One could consider the two friends, or at least acquainted, and as his appointed roommate Kaworu should be expected to know such things. And yet ignorance rears its ugly head yet again, at the most troubling of times. This particular evening, however, is different.

Fae has remained awake through acceptable resting hours, alert and waiting for the boy to return to the dorm. Waiting, waiting, without end… Until the knob turns round and the door glides open with a subtle creak. And there is Shinji, sunken eyes and pale complexion, plainly exhausted.

“Are you quite alright?” asks the student, concern evident in faer tone. The boy simply smiles, claims he is fine, to not worry faerself over it. Yet, fae presses further, notably as he draws up his shirt.

Florid eyes stretch, wide as crinkled tin on the moon.

Unmistakably large gashes span smooth, malnourished skin, likely due to all the suppers skipped. Bruises, as well, dappled like blots of paint across a canvas of flesh. Dried blood encrusts atop the monstrosity of alleged “artwork.” Kaworu does not ask where he has been going, nor where he has been, who he has been seeing. Not at this moment, when the boy is so fragile as to break, shatter with the slightest of touch.

Fae draws closer, gently, gradually. Step by hesitant step, until numb hands contact with bared shoulders, collarbone. The touch is ginger and without a hint of mal intent. It is then that tears begin to stream down cheeks slapped burnt rose, drip and splatter upon faer own pallid skin. Without a word spoken, breaths barely audible, chapped lips close on a hateful slit of skin, lovingly kiss the pain away, if only for the briefest of moments. And fae holds him, slight enough as not to break, until tears dry, smeared away with scraped up fingers.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”