The rich scent of Swiss Miss hot chocolate pulled Yosuke back to consciousness. He was at The Daily Grind, slumped in one of the worn leather chairs where he and Leon had shared their first real conversation. Two faces peered down at him—Karin and less familiar weathered one belonging to Officer Jansen, the cop who'd been doing school visits lately.

Erik and Leon approached with steaming mugs, the ceramic clicking softly against the wooden table.

"He's awake," Karin announced, her voice artificially bright. She gave Yosuke a look that could cut glass, then turned to plant a lingering kiss on Leon's cheek. "Gotta run—Pablo needs help loading the gear." She sashayed out, the bell above the door chiming her exit.

"Feeling queasy?" Officer Jansen asked, studying Yosuke's face. "That was quite a hit you took. Might want to watch for signs of concussion."

Yosuke gingerly touched his nose. "Well, hopefully I haven't lost any more memories," he attempted a weak joke. Nobody laughed.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Erik said.

Once Jansen left, the three boys sat in awkward silence. Yosuke sipped his cocoa, the sweetness failing to mask the bitter taste in his mouth. Leon hovered at the edge of their table, trying to look casual but his fingers drummed against his thigh—that nervous rhythm he did when caught doing something stupid.

Erik held up the mangled remains of Yosuke's glasses. "We can hit up the optometrist tomorrow, get these replaced."

"No need," Yosuke mumbled into his mug. "My eyesight isn't actually that bad."

"So what, you're just not gonna wear glasses anymore?" Erik slumped in his chair.

Yosuke shrugged, immediately regretting the movement. "Whatever. They're dumb anyway."

Erik huffed and lobbed the Doctor's vintage frames into the trash. The clatter made Yosuke flinch.

Through The Daily Grind's foggy windows, the festival was coming apart—stands folding up, lights going dark. Yosuke hugged his knees closer, his nose throbbing in time with the headache building behind his eyes.

Leon finally dropped into the chair opposite, forcing that easy grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Hey, uh..." He cleared his throat. "That was pretty wild back there, huh? Like, didn't expect you to go all kamikaze on us."

"My fault," Yosuke mumbled. "Shouldn't have been nosy."

"Nah, man." Leon's grin widened, overcompensating. "You know how it is. Karin gets... enthusiastic." He rubbed his neck, that telltale flush creeping up. "Festival vibes and all that shit."

"She's using you," Yosuke said quietly. "I hate the way she talks to you."

Leon's mask slipped for half a second before the cocky smile snapped back. "Dude, relax. I can handle Karin. She's all bark." He touched his cheek. "Well, she slaps pretty hard, but that's just for show. Hell, she even stuck around to make sure you weren't dead."

"Just dump her!" Erik burst out, his tea forgotten. "Jesus Christ, Leon. You deserve better than that - that's what we're trying to cram into your thick skull!"

"I have," Leon shrugged. "Chill. We’re just friends. Karin was just feeling... charitable, I guess."

"Right," Erik snorted. "And now Yosuke's traumatized for life."

Yosuke sank deeper into his sweater, focusing on his cooling cocoa. All he wanted was to crawl back to the dorm, put on some Pearl Jam, and sleep for approximately forever. Maybe he could convince someone to hook him up to those hospital feeding tubes again - anything to avoid facing tomorrow.

The whir of the coffee shop's machines filled the silence between them, grinding beans for customers who hadn't witnessed their friend's back-stage activities. Normal people, ordering normal drinks, with normal problems that didn't involve watching their best friend hook up with their toxic ex under a stage.

"You missed the free pizza," Yosuke muttered into his empty mug. "Probably worth more than Karin’s charity."

The change was instant. Leon stood, suddenly filling the small coffee shop corner with his presence. Yosuke had never seen him like this - all that easy-going energy transformed into something hard and sharp.

"Hey now," Leon's voice was low, dangerous. "Who the fuck taught you to speak like that? You don't get to speak that way about my-" he stumbled, "about Karin. She's not a bad person and she got issues too, she got like no one, ok?"

"Fuck you," Yosuke's voice cracked as he stood, fumbling coins from his pocket with trembling fingers. The truth burned in his throat: Leon was wrong, Karin had everything - family, admirers, friends. She had Leon. While Yosuke... Yosuke had so little that each piece became precious, crystalline, breakable.

He looked down at his new clothes, the hem now dirty from his fall. He'd gone to the mall with him, trying to look cool, trying to impress Leon - beautiful, stupid Leon who couldn't see how Yosuke's heart raced when he played drums, how it broke when Karin dragged him away from him. And now he'd made Leon angry, turned that warm energy cold.

Standing there in his dirty skater clothes, with his broken nose and exposed enhanced eyes, Yosuke didn't recognize himself anymore. Who was this person who felt too much, who said the wrong things, who kept falling for boys instead of girls, boys who refused to fall back? 

Been there, wrecked that. Suddenly the words on his sweater made perfect sense.

The bell above the door chimed his exit into the empty night, leaving his half-empty mug and scattered coins behind like pieces of himself he couldn't carry anymore.

─────── · 𓅪 · ───────

The Monday after the festival, Erik knocked on Leon's door with an offer that sounded too good to be real.

"That place in the mall food court. The one with the steamed buns you're always going on about."

Leon looked up from his skater magazine, suspicious. "Dragon Palace? That shit's like fifteen bucks for dim sum."

"My treat." Erik's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Just need you to come to a meeting with Principal Herschel. Twenty minutes, tops."

"What kind of meeting?"

"About Yosuke. The glasses situation."

Leon's stomach dropped, but the promise of those pork buns—the ones that tasted like Sunday mornings in San Francisco, when his mom would take him to Chinatown before everything got complicated—won out. "Fine. But I want the soup dumplings too."

─────── · 𓅪 · ───────

Herschel's office smelled like old coffee and furniture polish. The principal sat behind his mahogany desk, fingers steepled, mustache perfectly groomed. Leon slouched in one of the visitor chairs, already regretting this.

"Gentlemen." Herschel nodded at them. "Thank you for coming. Erik's informed me about the... incident at the festival. The broken glasses."

"Yeah." Leon picked at a loose thread on his jeans. "Yosuke doesn't want new ones. Says his eyesight isn't that bad anyway."

"Which creates a problem." Erik sat with perfect posture, notebook open. "Without the glasses, his eyes are obviously Enhanced. The blue is too vivid. Too unnatural."

Herschel turned his attention to Leon, gaze heavy with judgment. "Mr. Quaver. Erik tells me you're also aware of young Shirai's... situation?"

"Yeah." Leon's face heated. He knew what Herschel was thinking—the whole town probably knew by now. That he'd fucked Karin behind the festival stage like some kind of animal. That Yosuke had walked in on them. That everything was a mess. "I know what he is."

The principal's expression suggested he knew more than just that. Leon wanted to melt into the ugly carpet.

"Good." Herschel leaned back. "Then we're all on the same page regarding the need for discretion. The Anacortes reporters, the visiting families—we can't have Yosuke appearing in photographs or news coverage. Not with those eyes."

"Right, so—" Erik flipped to a new page. "I'm thinking we establish a photography protocol. No cameras during school events, claim it's a new privacy policy—"

"Wait." Leon sat up straighter. "Can't we just, like, talk to Yosuke? He's not dumb, you know. Shouldn't he know if his life's in danger or whatever?"

"He's valuable," Herschel corrected, voice sharp. "Yosuke is not like other... Enhanced youth. He is special. Very special."

Erik nodded, his pen poised over paper. "Which is why he needs to remain under the radar. The less he knows about his past, the better. Our focus is ensuring he receives a normal education, that he passes through his time here unnoticed by R.O.E. until this rage against the Enhanced blows over."

"Erik here," Herschel continued, "is doing an excellent job keeping his father in the dark about our special student."

Leon's head whipped toward Erik. "What the hell, man? You're like, spying on your own dad for Mr. H? That's messed up, dude."

Erik's jaw worked, but he just sat straighter, spine rigid. "My father's position with R.O.E. makes him a liability. Someone needs to ensure Yosuke's protected from internal threats."

"Internal threats?" Leon's voice rose. "He's your dad!"

"And you, Mr. Quaver," Herschel cut in, tone allowing no argument, "will abide by my demands to keep young Shirai protected and safe?"

Leon slumped back in his chair. "Yes. Sure, dude. I will."

The silence stretched. Leon's fingers found that drum pattern against his thigh—nervous, restless. Then something occurred to him, something Liam had said once, late at night when they were still talking, before everything went wrong.

"Liam told me once..." Leon's voice came out quieter. "He knew this kid. Baby Yoyo. Said he seemed like, retarded or something. Just rocked back and forth, watched TV all day." He looked between Erik and Herschel. "Was that... was that him? Before the accident or whatever?"

Erik turned sharply, something cracking through his tin man composure—genuine emotion flashing across his face before he could stop it.

Herschel went very still. His hand moved to his collar, tugging at it. His finger traced his mustache once, twice. When he spoke, his voice came out weak, almost fragile.

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "That was him. That was Yosuke."

No one said anything. Leon stared at his hands, trying to picture it—Yosuke, their space cadet who arranged things in neat rows and asked a million questions, reduced to rocking and staring. Whatever had caused his amnesia had somehow made him into a person, but what had he lost to get there? His fucking memories.

Herschel recovered first, shuffling papers with forced efficiency. "Right. Action items. Yosuke may go without glasses if he chooses—we can't force him to wear them without raising suspicion. However, we implement immediate safety protocols. No photography or video cameras at school events where he might appear. Erik, you'll handle the policy announcement."

"Already drafted," Erik said quietly.

"Mr. Quaver, you'll continue your... friendship with Yosuke. Keep him occupied, keep him from asking too many questions about his past. Can you manage that?"

Leon nodded, that sick feeling in his stomach getting worse. "Yeah. I can do that."

"Excellent." Herschel stood, signaling the meeting's end. "Gentlemen, we're all working toward the same goal—keeping Yosuke safe. Let's make sure we succeed."

Outside, walking toward the food court, Erik finally spoke. "You didn't have to bring up the... before. Herschel doesn't like talking about it."

"Maybe he should," Leon said, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets. "Maybe we all should. Instead of just... managing him like he's some kind of project."

"He's not a project. He's—"

"Special. Yeah, I got that part." Leon stopped walking. "But he's also just a kid, Erik. Just a weird, confused kid who wants friends. And we're all lying to him."

Erik's expression went cold again, shuttered. "We're protecting him."

"Sure." Leon started walking again, suddenly not very hungry for dim sum anymore. "Keep telling yourself that, man."