Marcus stared up at his bedroom ceiling at past four on a Monday morning, his head filled with all kinds of thoughts.

One thought was that he was too tired to be awake at such an unholy hour, the fact that he had to be at work in three hours only made it worse.

Another thought that kept coming and going was about Kuzma and generally just living with the guy. Marcus wondered how that was going to work, living with someone that had some specific issues that he didn't look to be acknowledging much.

Living with someone that was pretty unpredictable and was like a ticking time bomb. Living with someone from an unknown beginning, race or species. Marcus was also hoping he could live with Kuzma without making him, or anyone else for that matter, angry.

Marcus also thought about school and how everyone was going to know about his new 'boyfriend' thanks to Rhea and he wondered how he was going to deal with so much unwanted attention.

He thought about his best friend, Mina, and what he was going to say if she ever decided to pop up for another of her many surprise visits.

He thought about all those thoughts in general, unable to recall a time after seventeen years of age where his life was interesting enough to have so many things running through his mind. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not but his lips still twitched upwards at that.

Even with those many musings and questions, there was one question that just seemed to be at the front of his mind, bugging him, persistent and he wasn't sure if it should be voiced.

He wondered why Kuzma was on the other side of the bed when he had left the sleeping man on the couch the other night. He wondered why Kuzma's back was practically pressed to his arm, the bird-man hunched up in a fetal position. He wondered how Kuzma had even gotten in without waking him up and he also wondered what he should do whenever Kuzma woke up.

Was it a nightmare? Was Kuzma scared again? Another panic attack? Marcus didn't know so he quietly sighed, resigned to trying to ask his guest when he woke up.

Even with a bird-man flying, crash landing, into your home, work was still going to be the same.

Marcus did not know if that, as well, was a good or bad thing, thinking maybe doing something that was part of his routine would keep him calm and sane.

He sighed again, thinking about stopping by the bookstore to check if they had any new manga or comics in yet.

I wish I could sleep, he thought to himself, not wanting to be awake when it was so early.

There was something Marcus tried not to think about though because it made him sound rather pathetic and sad, as well as cruel in a way, but the passing thought came either way.

What Marcus tried not to think about, was the fact that he was actually glad to have Kuzma around.

He liked having someone around, in his usually empty and quiet apartment. He hadn't even felt lonely since Kuzma arrived and he would have laughed at himself if that annoying, passing thought didn't make him feel like a hand was squeezing his heart.

The fact that it took a wounded man crashing into his life for Marcus to not feel so alone just made the teacher have to point blank admit that his life had really not gone the way anyone had thought it was supposed to.

To put it frankly, his life had gone to shit. Nevermind being a genius. Nevermind all the money he still had left in the bank. Nevermind the fact that he still got called up by all kinds of organizations for all kinds of research and other things. Nevermind all that because at the end of the day, he was still who he was, and Marcus Norris was nothing but a sad, lonely and clingy man in desperate need of a hug.

This is why I hate being awake with nothing to do. Things get depressing way too fast, Marcus thought as he sat up on the bed slowly, scratching his cheek and feeling his rapidly growing stubble.

Flinging his legs over his bed, he placed his elbow on his knees and stared forward, half-closed eyes on his navy blue wall as he tried to think of something to keep his idle mind busy.

I could make Kuzma's breakfast and lunch?

Good idea, Marcus. You're great! You're so smart and amazing.

Thank you, Marcus!

I should  really stop talking to myself like that. It's starting to creep me out.

He made to get off the bed but the hand suddenly squeezing his right arm in a death grip wasn't letting him.

Marcus gritted his teeth together and closed his eyes, silently groaning as he took in the pain of such a strong grip. A tear even ran down his cheeks as he slowly turned around to look at Kuzma, trying to appear calm in case his guest was just feeling vulnerable again.

But damn did it hurt.

Kuzma had grabbed ahold of him with his back still turned, obviously awake. Marcus let out a sigh of relief when the hand loosened then let go, leaving a bruise that was going to look really ugly.

Getting back into bed and putting his legs under the dark blue covers, with his back pressed against the wooden headboards, Marcus glanced at Kuzma who was still not facing him or saying a word before looking forward and sighing.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?" Marcus asked, scratching his bare chest. He didn't like sleeping with clothes on really but since he had a guest, pants seemed to be a necessity.

"Sighing."

"Why?"

"It's fucking annoying, that's why!" Kuzma yelled and both of them remained quiet after that.

Marcus turned his head to his right to look at the window above his work desk, eyes on the sky as it changed into lighter shades of blue bit by bit, his bedside clock saying it was past five in the morning.

"So what's wrong then?" Marcus asked after a while, feeling the bed shake when Kuzma flinched.

"There's nothing wrong, human," Kuzma snapped, his words not holding his usual bite.

"Then why are you here?" Marcus asked, placing his right elbow on his knee and his cheek on his palm, looking down at Kuzma.

"The bed. It's...It's better."

Marcus hummed, agreeing, but he knew that wasn't it. Kuzma seemed to only seek or initiated contact when he needed to be comforted and that seemed to only happen when scared. Though that was all Marcus guessing from the little episode the other day.

"So it wasn't because you were scared or anything, right?" Marcus asked, too tired for tact.

Kuzma shot up the bed faster than someone could've said let them eat cake.

"How dare you accuse me of su--"

"But you are scared, aren't you?" Marcus cut Kuzma off. Anything he said when he was exhausted really wasn't his fault.

Kuzma pressed his lips together and continued to glare at Marcus.

Marcus stared back at him, removing his hand from his cheek and tilting his head to the left as Kuzma's glare fell away from him, landing on the sheets.

Marcus sighed and shifted a bit closer to Kuzma, ready to burrow back under the covers and pretend he didn't know Kuzma was afraid of something or the other.

Except Kuzma raising his arms suddenly over his head and shaking like a leaf stopped all movement from Marcus, leaving the teacher to stare at his guest with pain in his own eyes.

Kuzma's reaction felt like a physical blow to Marcus and he felt like such an ass for the way he had talked to Kuzma when he was obviously down.

"Hey," Marcus said, making his usual impassive voice as gentle and soft as possible. "Kuzma, I'm not going to hurt you."

"H-How do I know that, human?" Kuzma snapped, despite the fact that he was still cowering like a scared child.

Marcus wasn't sure how to answer that and the longer he spent thinking of a good enough answer, the more time he left Kuzma to his panicked thoughts and the next thing he knew, Kuzma was hyperventilating.

Ah shit on toast.

"Kuzma breathe. Breathe," Marcus said gently as he tried to calm Kuzma down, feeling like a total ass for the way he had talked to the guy.

He should've just left it. Just gotten up and pretended that a random man he only knew for--not even fully--three days being in his bed was totally normal. That was a lot better than putting the poor guy in what was looking to be another panic attack.

By that time, Kuzma had begun to pull at the bandages around his neck and Marcus knew that it was a bad time to touch the guy, but he also couldn't risk him hurting himself.

"Kuzma. Kuzma, please calm down. I'm so sorry," Marcus said as he slowly stretched his hands forward, ready to get Kuzma's hands away from the bandages.

But as soon as Marcus' hands came in contact with Kuzma's, the younger man kicked Marcus in the abdomen so hard, the teacher flew to the other side of the room.

With his back hitting the wall hard, Marcus threw up what was left of last night's dinner all over the wooden floor before he coughed harshly, some of the vomit on the side of his mouth.

His whole body racked with pain as he groaned, tilting his head back as he tried to breathe through it but another coughing fit stopped him from doing so.

Marcus pressed his left hand over his stomach, a reflex as if to try and hold the pain physically, but it didn't really help much.

If he thought Kuzma's grip hurt, his kicks were fucking agony.

"F-fuck," Marcus groaned through clenched teeth, falling back down after trying to get up. With his eyes clenched tight, he coughed some more as the pain slowly receded, leaving an aching, shaking body on the ground.

Through the haze of agony, Marcus heard the creaking of his bed and could suddenly feel sharp and uneven breathing fanning his face.

Slowly opening his eyes, Marcus saw Kuzma kneeling on his right, the younger man staring at him with wide, horror-filled eyes.

The usually angry and intimidating bird-man suddenly looked like a scared and guilty child. The tear tracks weren't helping much either and Marcus forced himself to sit up, trying not to groan, and gave Kuzma, who didn't look like he was breathing, a small smile.

"C-Calm down," Marcus said after enough of the pain had left him, trying his best to keep Kuzma calm.

Ah shit. He needs to calm down. This is nothing Kuzma. I'm fine, just breathe, Marcus thought, but was unable to say those words out loud while breathing heavily.

Marcus watched as Kuzma stretched his hand towards him, stopping halfway before retracting it back.

"Just give me a minute and I'll be as good as new," Marcus promised despite a massive headache forming at the back of his head, not including the ugly bruise that was forming around his abdomen or the fact that his bones felt like they'd be shaken by a blender.

He just wanted those wide, watery silver eyes to stop looking at him with so much fear in them.