Nine wakes up sweating and shivering, and ache in his neck and an all too familiar urge in his hands to hold a blade and to cut against porcelain skin before he went insane from the nightmares.
But when he reaches out a shaky hand into the hidden space under the bed, it's empty.
Nine shuts the last drawer in his room and walks downstairs, a defeated look on his worn face. Twelve is sitting cross-legged on the table, bent over in a pose that made you wonder whether his back had any bones. He's absorbed in the bomb circuit they started a few days before, but looks up when Nine's footsteps make the steps creak.
Pushing his glasses up and staring from the staircase, Nine speaks, his voice too loud and his throat hoarse from sleep.
"You hid my blades." Twelve closes his eyes in resignation, and turns back to the bomb. Nine descends down the rest of the steps onto cool concrete. A glance at his watch tells him that it's 4 am. He managed to sleep three hours. As Nine steps toward Twelve, the shorter boy speaks up.
"I'm not telling you where." He looks up and his eyes are blank and cold, unlike the face he shows to everyone. Nine feels his hands itch, and unconsciously he brushes against his thighs. Twelve notices.
"Hey, help me with the wiring," a sudden cheery tone speaks to him, and Nine hesitates. His hands itch and his skin feels too smooth, but Twelve looks at him with a intense gaze until he relents and sits down with him.
When they look to check the time, it's already long bright and Nine no longer feels the itch. Twelve smiles at him, and it's genuine.
"Congratulations. It's been a week." His voice is soft, and Nine forgets to breathe. His mind runs back to the days before; feeling the urge but never doing it, wanting the pain but Twelve stopping him, distracting him when guilt and anger boiled up in him on late nights and early mornings.
Twelve caring for him.
A small smile makes it onto the bespectacled teen's face, and he connects the last pieces together via an old cellphone. Twelve stretches up with a cheer, and runs to the kitchen to make something for them to eat.
Nine looks out at the blue sky, and for once, he feels fine.