The brash scent of hambāgu touched Eliu’s nose as he trotted through the driveway, rocks jumping out of the way as he dragged his feet. He was bent over to keep Reoni balanced over his back with his legs stuffed between his arms, groaning every two steps. The boy didn't have much weight to him, but after a near hour long chase, all of his little energy had depleted.

At that point Kip and Bul stopped whining about the smell of food that had teased its arrival and were idling in the kitchen as Kijuro worked his magic, when the doorbell struck their ears. Bul skipped through the main hall, yelling, “Be right there!” as it took more than a few seconds to get to the door from the kitchen. The door swung open with exultation, for hopes of his long-time best friend Reoni stood behind Eliu with an awaiting smile, but terror instilled in his opened eyes and stiffened his back.

“Wh–What happened to him?!”

“Don’t know yet,” Eliu coughed. “Let me in. Had to carry him—up the driveway.”

Shortly after Reoni was passed into the arms of Kip and placed in a guest bedroom under duvet covers. Eliu situated himself on a stool in front of an island counter with an abrasive sigh, shoulders cramming the sides of his neck. He was looking at his hands with an oddly concentrated expression, squeezing his fists shut and relieving the tension over and over again. A peachy tint blotched his bronze forearms where his aboundingly blatant veins showed.

His concentration left him as a plate of ground beef and sauteed onions drenched in a dark sauce slid underneath his sight. That was enough to lift his spirits. Kijuro took the opportunity of ruffling Eliu’s low lying head, then swung back around the island to dress the other patties. 

Eliu touched where Kijuro pressed his hand, seemingly shooken up by the action. “Thanks,” he said with somewhat of an attempt to coat his exhaustion.

“Good job today.” Kijuro kept his head tilted near Eliu’s direction. “I didn’t want anybody else handling Reoni.”

He shook his head, the corners of his lips picking up with disbelief. “Yeah, well, he might have a few concussions.” As much as it sounded like a joke, it wasn’t.

“What happened?” was asked again, this time from Kip.

“Don’t know. I followed the commotion and found a few gangsters that were running climb into the back of a van, and they tried pickin’ up Reoni in an alleyway,” he said simply. “He was unconscious when I came, but there was no signs of a fight. Somethin’ must’ve happened in the bar.”

Bul laid his head down on the counter. “What kind of gangsters?”

“A color gang. They were wearing obnoxious neon green jackets. Worse than orange and pink,” he muttered near the end, taking a jab at their own colors.

“Neon green?” Kijuro asked, huffing through his clenched teeth. He sent two decorated plates towards Kip and Bul who now housed themselves at the island, then leaned against a different counter with his arms folded. “The only green gangs I know of don’t have any business near Edogawa.”

“They ain’t new either, that’s for sure,” Eliu said mid-chew. “Assholes must’ve had a dozen bikers followin’ me. They weren’t afraid of makin’ a scene.”

Now Kijuro knew he didn’t need Sailand Lagoon to be guarded for the next few weeks, but rather the entire area. Why were they interested in a gay bar? He closed his eyes with even more to ponder.

“What an odd place to hit,” he mumbled.

Eliu cocked his head up. “What’s that?”

“Nothing. Anyways, you know I hate talking about business over dinner.”

“Aww, c’mon, I hate when you do that! Say it!”

Kijuro’s contained his pleased smile. “I’ll tell you after dinner.”

He picked up the remaining bite size chunk of meat with his chopsticks, shoving it up in the air. “Look, I got one bite left!” He tossed it in his mouth, then said with chipmunk lips, “Can you tell me now?!”

“I haven’t eaten mine yet!”

“Stop slackin’ then!”

Kip and Bul gave each other the look that telepathically communicated their thoughts to one another. Bul for once didn’t hold a plastered smile—Reoni, passed out in an alleyway with no explanation, pained his stomach with nauseating ideas. They both wanted to see how Reoni was doing upstairs.

In respect for Eliu’s request, Kijuro took dainty portions with his chopsticks, dragging out the time exponentially. Eliu’s temper rose in record timing. He hadn’t even carried out the joke long enough to warrant a mild version of the response.

“Could you stop being such a clean person for once and shovel it in your mouth?!”

“Just to be clear, I didn’t say I would tell you right after dinner.”
Eliu striked his fists against the marble top. “Huh?!” he snapped.

The slam was enough for Kip and Bul to slip out of the kitchen with their plates. Perhaps the yelling woke Reoni up, albeit he had spent his evening being hassled on a motorcycle.

“Ahh, it’s like poking a sleeping bear…”

“Shut up!”

The one-sided bickering abruptly ended when Kip closed the door to the guest bedroom, blocking out all outside noise. A heavy ticking ambience replaced the voices. A birch clock with a white butterfly shaped the frame of the mechanism and hung over top of where Reoni’s head rested, in the center of the bed. Every second echoed off the walls.

Bul set his plate down on the nightstand and climbed into bed just so that he could stare at Reoni in peace. If Kip didn’t sleep for an entire day before, Reoni would be the one with the title of Sleeping Beauty. His fluent, midnight hair was always in its prime and blessed with natural curls that stayed perfectly in place. His face was a naturally smooth canvas that could only look more beautiful if paint were to be brushed onto it. It was Bul who taught him the world of skin routines in high school, but Reoni could compete with Bul in shining up the whole room if he smiled more. This didn’t make Bul jealous, since they were both cute in their own ways. 

He’d normally let Reoni get his shut-eye, except this time, the situation had no explanation. He had to know what happened when he was chased by a gang of bikers. His first idea was to jostle him, but was stopped when Kip placed a hand on his shoulder.

“If you shake him, we might startle him,” he whispered. 

He momentarily paused, his hands docked on Reoni’s arm. He couldn’t think of any other ways to wake him up.

“But I have to wake him up. I need to make sure he’s okay,” he said with a lump lurking deep in his throat.

Kip sat down on the bed with him and squeezed his shoulder, eventually speaking in his appealing, low voice, “As long as you’re by his side, he’s bound to wake up soon enough.”