Sequin Trisquen fucking regretted joining the military.

 It wasn't for the usual reasons - he didn't hate his country, he didn't despise his drill sergeants, and he had somehow managed to make friends. But it was the only excuse he could come up with to avoid talking to his dad. 

"Sorry, Pops! Gotta go fight for my country!" He hated that’s the best he could come up with, but it was better than facing his father's disappointment.

Now, after getting into a horrible scrap with a dog, Sequin was on his way back home. The memory of the attack still haunted him, causing him to lose faith in God. What was the point of praying if God couldn't protect him from that vicious animal? And to top it all off, he was stuck in a cramped and turbulent airplane filled with sweaty army men. To make matters worse, he was seated next to the most annoying Irishman he had ever met - Kirosé.

The two had been roommates at their base in Afghanistan, Kirosé was technically his superior, but the man didn't treat Sequin like a subordinate. The plane hit another patch of turbulence, Sequin tried to tune out Kirosé's constant chatter about baseball and focus on returning home safely.

But Kirosé noticed something was bothering Sequin. "Hey, you good?" he asked.

Sequin looked at him incredulously. Had Kirosé just now realized he existed? "Yeah...I guess."

Kirosé raised an eyebrow and studied him for a moment before leaning in closer. "You know, back there when everything went down, you were always the one keeping it together. What's eating at you now?"

Sequin hesitated, not wanting to reveal the true reason for his distress. "I don't know...it's just been a while since I've been home, I guess. I'm thinking about my family."

Kirosé nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, I miss my kids too."

Sequin snickered, trying to lighten the mood. "Don't you have a wife as well? Don't tell me you're one of those guys who hates their wife..."

Kirosé laughed and shook his head. "No, no, she's more like my wife on paper… more so a roommate these days. But I do miss her too. My kids, though...they're so young, and I feel like I'm missing out on important moments with them."

Sequin thought for a moment before replying. "You must really love your kids."

A wide smile spread across Kirosé's face. "Of course I do. They're my whole world - my greatest achievements. What kind of father would I be if I didn't love them?"

Sequin wanted to reply ‘Mine’ half-jokingly… but he thought better than that. “A shitty one, probably.”

“Nah,” Kirosé added simply, “I wouldn’t be one at all.”

As they neared their destination, Kirosé elbowed Sequin playfully. "Surely you're excited to be home, right? To see some family and friends? Who are you going back to?"

"My sibling," Sequin replied softly. "Tolly. They're staying with a friend, but I miss them a lot."

Kirosé patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. "It'll all be okay. Just spend as much time as you can with them before we go back in a couple of months."

Sequin nodded, taking in Kirosé's words of wisdom. "Yeah...make the most of it." 

The plane rumbled as it descended towards the airstrip, and Sequin couldn't shake off the nervous knot forming in his stomach. God… he hoped his dad wouldn’t know that he was back. 

The walk through the airport, the taxi ride, the walk through the halls leading to his flat… they all blended together. It felt routine, even if the routine had been broken for months at that point. It didn’t matter much to him anyways… he just wanted to throw his shit on the ground and sleep. Hell, he’d even sleep on his floor. He was just tired. 

He opened his door, looking in and feeling a… disturbance in the air, sort of. As if he'd just walked in on something. He tossed his bags down onto the couch, seeing them bounce back up and crash onto the carpet uncharacteristically. Hmm… the couch must have firmed up.

Except, he was startled by a second thud joining his… singular luggage. That’s… odd. He looked over, hoping something didn’t spill out in his bag -

Only to be greeted by a charred body instead.

—

Christian felt a sudden wave of nausea hit, the same kind when Oswald had moved his body earlier. He clutched his stomach, lurching forward uncomfortably. Oswald looked over at him, tilting his head at Christian’s movements. 

He was being moved a lot, he could still feel the ache in his chest from the first touch. Christian gagged uncontrollably, before spilling out the contents of his nonexistent stomach. Fuck…

“What’s that all about, Chris?” Oswald jested, his same stupid smile still permeating through his clearly faked worry.

“You – you fuck –” Christian hurled up again, coughing and shaking, “I’m being moved –”

Hitomi looked at him concerned, “Who on earth could be moving you…”

Oswald, meanwhile, gave a goofy grin and knocked on his own head, “Ohhh… maybe that apartment wasn’t so… empty.”

Christian tried to lift himself up, then stumbled back down onto his side. “Fuck –” He huffed out, trying to steady himself before he felt himself becoming sick again, “How long has it been?” 

“Since you got stuck?” Oswald hummed in thought. 

“Three months.” Hitomi clarified.

“Three months, right. I mean, that’s a lot of time to be left alone, right?” Oswald , “Whatever, if you suddenly start feeling yourself be cut into I can break you out of the morgue again.”

Christian's head was spinning as he tried to make sense of what Oswald was implying. He felt a surge of panic rising within him, making his limbs tremble uncontrollably. Fuck…

“Fucking - go get it now -” Christian groaned, laying himself flat on the ground in agony. 

Oswald rolled his eyes, disappearing to go sort of Christian’s body once again. Hitomi scooted just the smallest bit closer to him as a sort of comfort, something that went completely unnoticed as Christian threw up again.

When Oswald had come back, he looked… confused. “He moved it into a spare bed…”

Christian’s nausea had settled by then, but he was still laying on the ground. He dug his nails into his sides protectively. It felt violating somewhat - knowing that his body could very well be shifted by some unseen third party, wherever and whenever they pleased. 

“What is wrong with you - go fucking move it somewhere else -!” Christian rasped out, sitting up slightly to glare at Oswald.

Oswald exaggeratedly rubbed his chin, rolling his eyes in mock thought before replying with, “Nope, no can do.”

“Why the fuck -”

“Welllllll - he seemed to move you there carefully, y’know? Like he’s actually taking care of you like you’re sleeping beauty, or one of those other princess bitches.” Oswald laughed, “How befitting of our self crowned -”

Christian looked unamused, cutting him off - “Shut the fuck up. Just move it.”

“Awww cmonn~ He’s even your type too!” Oswald giggled, “Tall, muscular, but soooo gentle with you~”

“That is not my type.” The brunette sat up fully, the redder hue of his face betraying his words. “I don’t have a type. I don’t date.”

“Hitomi knows you’re lying.” Hitomi muttered, looking almost bored with Oswald and Christian’s exchange. “What about that one guy back in 1917 -?”

“That wasn’t even anything. We didn’t even kiss, let alone confess our feelings.” Christian pointed out. “Just shut it. I don’t date, end of story.”