Archive of Our Own ^beta

Yuno Sykk had a problem.

He’d intended to raid the Manor and then leave like the shadow that he was, without anyone being the wiser, gone before anyone could ask questions like why are you leaving or where are you going , both questions that he didn’t want to answer.

He didn’t want to have to explain what happened. He didn’t want to have to explain that he wasn’t the same person that he’d been a week ago. He’d been irrevocably damaged and there was no going back, no pretending like he was fine, like he wasn’t broken.

“Hey, Yuno—” a figure blocked his path to the door. “Are you up for the bank tomorrow?” 

Lang Buddha was many things but he wasn’t a fool. He must’ve known that something was wrong, must’ve noticed that Yuno wasn’t wearing his helmet, that he hadn’t been wearing it for about a week now. His face was bare and maskless, and he’d never felt more exposed.

“Sorry,” he said. “But I can’t.”

Yuno winced and he knew that he should make an excuse, cite some reason as to why he couldn’t make it to the bank, which for the last couple months, had been his sole reason for existing, but for once, Yuno couldn’t do it. 

He couldn’t keep lying, couldn’t keep making excuses. He needed to leave before it got worse, and he tried to do as much, tried to make a break for it, but it was no use. Lang reached out an arm, halting him in his tracks. There was no escaping the questions that followed, the inevitable confusion that came from his pitiful escape attempt.

“Then what about the day after tomorrow? We’ll go whenever you’re available, I can rearrange my schedule and God knows that Tony and Ray are never fucking busy—”

“No.”

Mr. Lang blinked. “No?”

Yuno shifted on his feet. This was the first time he’d ever directly told Mr. Lang no. He was usually keen to humor him, if only so he could avoid a confrontation. He didn’t want to cause trouble, didn’t want to be a problem, to be a burden.

“No,” he said. “I’m not hacking.”

Mr. Lang’s gaze searched his face. He searched for any hint, any clue, as to what Yuno was thinking beneath the blank expression that he’d adopted, beneath the cool tone and firm voice. Lang frowned, his lips curving downward. 

“What do you mean I’m not hacking? Of course you’re hacking—”

“I’m a civilian now, Mr. Lang.”

That made Lang pause. He stared, face wiped clean of all emotion, all logic. He couldn’t seem to do anything but stare. He seemed on the verge of laughing, like this was all one big joke, but it wasn’t a joke, and Yuno wasn’t laughing.

“Bullshit,” Lang said. “You can’t be serious—”

“I’m dead serious.”

“The Yuno I know would never become a civilian—”

“Then I guess you don’t know me at all.”

Mr. Lang continued to stare at him. He didn't seem to know what to say. This was simply too strange for him to comprehend, the idea that Yuno Sykk, the greatest hacker in Los Santos, would ever quit hacking, but that’s only because he didn’t know.

He didn’t know what had happened.

And Yuno had no intention of telling him.

“Yuno, please, don’t do this.”

“Mr. Lang—”

“If something’s wrong, please, let me help you. Tell me what it is so I can fix it—”

Yuno shook his head. “There’s no fixing this.”

There was an implied there’s no fixing me after that statement, although Yuno was sure that Lang didn’t hear it. He could never imagine that someone so perfect, so amazing, in his own words, not Yuno’s, could be so broken. It wouldn’t make sense to him. 

He wouldn’t understand.

“But hacking? Really?” Mr. Lang asked. “You love hacking—”

“I don’t love hacking, I love being needed.”

Lang’s eyes rounded and he seemed almost hurt. “Yuno, baby, it doesn’t matter if you hack or not, I just want to know that you’re okay—”

“That’s on a need to know basis, and you don’t need to know.”

The corners of Lang’s mouth dipped into a scowl. “Since when did you think like that? I thought you shared everything with me—”

“Not anymore.”

“Yuno, baby, what happened?”

Yuno fell silent. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to tell Lang the truth, but he also didn’t want to lie. So far everything he’d said had been at least a half-truth. He couldn’t bring himself to fully claim that it was nothing, yet that’s exactly what he had to do.

“It’s—it’s nothing.”

Lang’s gaze narrowed. “You’re like a completely different person, don’t lie to me, Yuno.”

“Fine, then, let’s just say that I was recently taught a valuable—lesson.”

“A lesson on how to be an asshole?” Lang raised an eyebrow and Yuno wanted to laugh at how accurate that was. He knew that Lang was half joking but it would’ve been a reasonable description of the events that had transpired last week.

“You could say that,” he said, and a smile came to life on his lips.

It was sharp and bitter, something that spoke of a cruel kind of humor, the kind that cut and shattered and maimed, that left you bruised and battered and broken without a hint of relief, with nothing but your dark thoughts for company.

Lang’s scowl deepened. His fingers twitched at his sides and Yuno knew that he longed to reach out, to touch the lips that had formed such a smile, if only in an effort to understand what exactly had changed Yuno into the man before Lang.

Because this certainly wasn’t Yuno anymore.

At least not the one that Los Santos —and Mr. Lang— had come to love.

“Who the fuck taught you such a stupid lesson?” Lang asked, and he seemed genuinely pissed. His face was dark, his lips curled, and his jaw was tight, tense, like he longed to do nothing more than to beat the crap of that person.

Yuno shuddered. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters—”

“They taught me other things, too.”

That caught Lang’s attention. He slowly unfurled his fingers, loosening his jaw, and turned his full attention to Yuno, fixing him to the spot with his gaze. “Like what, exactly?”

“They taught me that by trying to make everyone happy, by trying to be everyone’s friend, I only hurt more people, and I don’t want that, Mr. Lang. I don’t want to hurt people.”

“You don’t hurt people, that’s bullshit—”

Yuno met his gaze, green and gold colliding in a violent battle, reaching a stalemate that neither knew how to break, so neither of them did. They continued to stare at each other, even as Yuno opened his mouth, soft words falling from his lips. 

“I do hurt people; I hurt you.”

He could tell that Lang wanted to protest. He opened his mouth, but thought better of it, and Yuno couldn’t even blame him. If he’d insisted that Yuno had never hurt him, that it didn’t matter who he befriended, that Mr. Lang didn’t care either way, it would’ve been a lie. 

Neither of them could forget the chain that had frequently decorated Yuno’s neck, the one that Lang no doubt hated the sight of, that he’d like nothing more than to fling it into the open sea. Lang had long since accepted –albeit reluctantly– that Yuno was a free spirit. He could never truly settle down with one group, even if he considered the Cleanbois his home. 

Mr. Lang accepted it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt him every time Yuno left to hang out with CG, or any number of the other gangs Yuno had become an honory member of throughout the years.

“It doesn’t stop with you, Mr. Lang, this lesson, however painful, was one that I needed to hear. It made me realize that I can’t continue like this, I can’t keep hurting people—”

“You don’t just hurt them, you help them, too.” 

Mr. Lang took his hand, achingly gentle, and squeezed. It was a gesture meant to comfort, and his gaze never once left Yuno. Lang wanted his message to be clear, wanted there to be no mistaking that he meant every word, that he truly thought that Yuno was doing more good than bad in the world, and it would’ve been a sweet sentiment.

If it wasn’t so ridiculous.

Yuno laughed, a dark and low chuckle, which lacked any real humor. “It doesn’t matter if I do a hundred nice things for them, Mr. Lang, it doesn’t matter if I give them sandwiches, if I give them all the money in the world, if I drop everything to help them, all that will be forgotten the second that something goes wrong, the second that I fail to be useful, I’ll be left behind.”

It was the sad truth that Yuno could no longer deny. He’d spent his life fighting it, spent his life insisting that when it came down to it, people would remember all he’d done for them. They would remember and they would treat future mistakes with indulgence, they’d be lenient when it came to him, but that was a fool’s dream.

People don’t remember the good; they remember the bad.

And he would never forget it again.

“Goodbye, Mr. Lang.”

He removed Lang’s fingers and tried to duck around him. He knew that this would be his one chance to escape before he would be well and truly trapped. He expected Mr. Lang to be too shocked by his words, too surprised at the bitter twist to his lips, to notice him leaving.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite so lucky.

“Not so fast—” Lang snatched his wrist. “Do you even hear yourself? Do you even know what you’re saying? This is crazy talk—”

“Well, I’ve always been a little crazy.” 

“Don’t give me that shit, tell me the truth—”

“The truth is that I’m done.” Yuno jerked his arm away, forcing his voice to be cold, flat, emotionless, even as it rioted inside him, as it screamed to be heard, to be acknowledged, bouncing off his ribs and his heart, shattering the last little bit of peace inside him. “I’m done pretending, I’m done hacking, and most importantly—I’m done with you.”

 Mr. Lang’s eyes widened and he paled. “You can’t mean that—”

“I can and I do.”

The two of them were back in another stalemate, except this one was different than before. 

This one had the sour taste of desperation clouding the battlefield, shock and fury mingling on Lang’s side to form an explosive combination, a weapon so powerful, so lethal, that it threatened to end the war before it had even started.

“You said that you don’t want to hurt people,” Lang said, stepping closer to Yuno. “So, please, what do you call this? Is this helping me? Is ripping out my heart helping—?”

“I’m not even touching you—”

“Wow, now you’re telling me that I’m crazy, I see how it is, buddy.”

“That’s not—I’m not—”

“You’re running away, is that it? You’re scared, you’re a goddamn coward—”

“I’m not scared,” he said, but the words were weak, breathless. He tucked his fingers behind his back and Lang tracked the movement, no doubt noticing that his fingers were trembling slightly, barely even noticeable, and yet, there was no missing it. 

“Really? Because to me, you look scared shitless.”

He was right, of course. Yuno was more than scared, he was fucking terrified. He was terrified that he’d end up back in those mines, that he’d wake up one day in a white room, with beeping machines in the background, and that he’d know exactly how he got there.

Because that was the worst part.

If he didn’t remember, if Dundee had oceandumped him, then he could’ve pretended like nothing had changed, like he hadn’t been taught the cruelest lesson imaginable. Yuno wished he could forget it, but there was no forgetting something like that.

“Please,” he said. “I can’t—I can’t do this.”

He tried to leave, to push past Lang and into a future where he didn’t have to explain himself, where he could leave, quiet as a ghost, just like he’d always intended. He hadn’t meant to be caught, had wanted to grab his things and then disappear.

But that wasn’t in the cards for him.

Fate was having far too much fun to stop now.

“You’re not leaving—not until I get answers,” Lang said. He stepped further in front of Yuno, practically towering over him, and there was no escaping him. There was no escaping this fate, or what was to come, but Yuno had to try.

He couldn’t just give up.

“You can’t keep me here,” he said.

“I can and I will.”

Yuno’s fingers twitched behind his back. “Mr. Lang,” he said. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything, you’re doing this to yourself.”

Yuno wanted to protest, to say that this wasn’t his fault, that he hadn’t asked for any of this, and even if that was true, it wasn’t the full truth. This was his fault. He was the one who insisted on making everyone happy, who hadn’t realized quite how lethal friends could be.

“Then I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Forgive me.”

Lang frowned and opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, Yuno’s hand was in Lang’s pocket, his fingers curling around Lang’s keys, and he twisted out of reach, the door already halfway open, but he didn’t make it even halfway out.

A hand seized his shoulder and he was slammed against the far wall, his head cracking against the marble banister. He blinked stars from his eyes and he tried to catch his breath, to breathe through the person breathing down his neck. 

Their breath was warm, hot, like an ember lit on his skin.

“You’re not leaving, Yuno, and that wasn’t a suggestion.”

A shiver writhed inside him, fighting desperately to be free. It didn’t like how close Mr. Lang was, or how he had Yuno’s wrists pinned to the wall behind them, Lang’s keys still clutched in his tiny bone white fingers. Yuno didn’t know how to feel about this.

“Mr. Lang—” he cleared his throat. “Has anyone ever broken your heart?”

Mr. Lang stiffened against him. He stared, open mouthed, and he didn’t move to free Yuno, but his grip loosened, ever so slightly, as if just realizing that the pinched look on Yuno’s face might be from more than just the sudden physical contact. 

“Of course, every fucking day,” Lang said.

That wasn’t what Yuno meant. He knew that Lang didn’t understand, that he couldn’t possibly understand, but he’d hoped, against all odds, that he would. He’d wanted to know what it was like to belong, to be understood, but that wasn’t in the cards for him.

“Yuno, baby, did someone hurt you?”

Yuno had to fight not to laugh. He had to lock it deep inside himself, had to shove it into a cage that no one would ever open, because he knew that if they did, they would see how truly broken he was, how he couldn’t forget that night, nearly a week ago.

The blood clinging to his fingers, the echo of a bullet shot in close quarters, the words that haunted him day and night, hour after hour, every second of every moment: Yuno, have you ever been betrayed by a friend you trusted before?

What a foolish question.

The answer was obviously yes. He’d known what was going to happen when he’d received Dundee’s text, knew the second that Dundee told him to meet at the abandoned mineshaft, and yet, he’d gone anyway. He’d had every chance to turn back, to prevent what happened, and he’d kept walking, some part of himself still believing that Dundee was his friend, that he wouldn’t do that to him, that he wouldn’t hurt him. 

And Yuno was right, partially.

Dundee was still his friend, sure, but he’d hurt him.

Yuno wasn’t good at having friends, despite what one might think, but he was pretty sure that most friends didn’t make it a habit to shoot those they love and leave them to die in the dark, alone and scared, wondering what they’d done to deserve this.

Yuno knew what he’d done.

He’d been himself and that was crime enough.

“Yuno?” Lang asked. “Earth to Yuno?”

His face was concerned, his gaze narrowed, and he loosened his hold a bit, letting Yuno breathe. It was all Yuno could do to draw breath, to fight off the panic, the fight or flight response that had begun the moment that Lang had pinned him to the wall. 

A metallic tang filled his mouth.

He had to physically force himself to ease up, or risk dying from blood loss, his tongue aching and his head pounding, his body urging to fight back, wanting nothing more than to be free of the hands trapping his wrists, the wall digging into his back, and the body that was uncomfortably close to his own, pressing ever closer.

“I’m—I’m fine,” he whispered, the two words scraping his throat raw. They were like tiny glass shards, burrowing deeper into his skin, into his heart, the longer he kept saying them, the longer he kept lying to himself and those he loved.

Lang’s frown deepened and his grip tightened. He opened his mouth as if to say something, perhaps to tell Yuno that wasn’t what he’d asked, but at that moment, the door swung open and on the threshold stood none other than Tony Corleone.

His eyebrows shot up instantly at the sight before him, his gaze flickering from Lang to Yuno, pressed to the wall behind him. The corners of his mouth tilted downwards and he said, after a moment, his face hardening, “Lang, what are you doing to Yuno?”

Behind him, a dark head of hair came into view.

The person took one look at the scene, his gaze flitting to the half grimace on Yuno’s face, the way his fingers had tightened almost imperceptibly on the keys, how he was pressed as far from Lang as possible, and the person moved, not wasting a single second.

Their fist came up and punched Lang in the face.

Lang cursed violently. His hands flew up to the already discolored bruise, his face pinched in pain, and Yuno sucked in a desperate gasp, craving fresh air and more than happy to take full advantage of the momentary relief, however it had come to pass.

Yuno stumbled and strong arms caught him. He stiffened, instantly on alert, his body tensing as if prepared to strike, his fingers white around the keys, and he only relaxed when he glanced up and realized that it was Raymond Romanov’s face that greeted him.

Not Lang Buddha’s.

Ray’s cheeks were slightly flushed, his gaze unfocused, and alcohol was heavy on his breath, the scent nearly overpowering. Yuno couldn't have been happier to see him. He knew that this presented even more problems for him, that now he’d have even more people that he had to evade, but he couldn’t help but be happy.

Anything to get away from Mr. Lang.

“What the fuck was that for—” Lang snarled, and the only thing preventing him from striking back, from killing Ray where he stood, was Tony, who’d seized both of his arms. He kept Lang on a tight leash, not relenting even as Lang fought against his grasp.

Ray, to his credit, paid Lang no attention.

“Are you okay?” he asked Yuno, his gaze focusing for a brief moment, despite how heavily intoxicated he obviously was. It was almost impressive that Ray was even still standing, much less that he’d punched Lang Buddha in the face. 

Yuno glanced at Lang, unable to help it.

He found Lang staring back. There was a nasty bruise on his right cheek, and his lip was split open and bleeding, but otherwise, he looked alright. His golden gaze was as piercing as always, and it took all of Yuno’s strength to tear his own away.

It was almost a surprise to realize that Ray was still staring at him, waiting for an answer. He seemed surprisingly lucid for someone so drunk, and Yuno realized that he had to say something, he couldn’t just make him wait forever.

“I’m fine,” he said.

The two words should’ve hurt. They should’ve bruised his throat, sounded rough and wrong, unnatural like the lie that they were, but they didn’t. That was almost more concerning than the alternative, and he wondered if one person could only swim in broken glass for so long, before becoming numb to it all. 

What was a few more glass shards?

He turned his gaze back to Lang and he couldn’t help the words that fell from his lips, almost as if on reflex, like this was a common occurrence, like he was used to looking after Mr. Lang, used to caring about him, and if he was honest with himself, maybe he was.

 “Mr. Lang, are you alright?” he asked.

The resounding scoff sent his heart running, made it flee for its life, even as his body froze, as if to better listen to the sound that was currently smashing his heart into tiny little pieces, each one more broken and jagged than the last. 

“Like you care,” Lang said. “‘Fucking bitch—”

He didn’t even have time to finish. Ray’s hand came down from above and slapped Lang across the face. Lang spat out blood, and his expression was downright murderous. “I wasn’t talking about you, shit-face, I was talking about Yuno.”

Ray bared his teeth in a snarl. “I know.”

The two men faced off and Yuno was left in the middle, unsure if he should take a side, or if it was best he stayed out of this. He knew that Lang didn’t mean what he said, that he was just pissed and crabby, but he couldn't very well tell Ray that. He’d accuse Yuno of making excuses for Lang, and that would open a whole other host of problems.

Thankfully, Tony was there to mediate.

“Look, we’re all feeling a little emotional right now—”

“Speak for yourself,” Lang muttered.

“So why don’t we just take a breather and talk about this in a moment—”

“No need,” Lang said, finally breaking free of Tony. Yuno tensed, prepared to make a run for it if Lang came his way, but Lang seemed to have forgotten he was even there. Lang looked back at the room, his lip curling in disgust. “I’m done here,” he said, and made to leave.

Except—Tony stopped him.

He stood in the doorway and carefully shut the door behind him, blocking out the last of the sunlight and making Yuno want nothing more than to break the door down, to leave them all behind like he’d planned to do in the beginning, but he couldn’t.

He was in too deep.

“No one’s leaving until you tell us exactly what you two were doing, and why the fuck Yuno looks like he’s seen a ghost, like he’s goddamn terrified.” Tony’s voice was steady, and he stood unflinching in the doorway. There would be no getting past him.

Lang seemed to come to the same conclusion.

“What the fuck did it look like we were doing?” he asked, still pissy.

“You tell me.”

Tony raised an eyebrow and Yuno’s face flushed at the implication, finally realizing exactly what Tony was implying, and how it had probably looked when they’d first walked in. He could still feel Lang’s hands digging into his wrists, the wall pressing into his back. 

“Why don’t you ask Yuno? I’m sure he’d love to tell you.”

At this point, Lang was just punishing him. He was punishing Yuno for considering leaving, for even thinking of doing something for himself for once. It didn’t matter that this was what was best for everyone, Lang would only ever see it as running away.

And maybe that’s exactly what it was. 

But if he ran, at least he’d survive.

The way this was going, he’d likely end up dead in a ditch somewhere, the byproduct of ever wanting something as crazy as belonging, as being understood, because that was simply asking for too much. Yuno could be needed, he could be wanted, but never loved.

At least not by Lang.

The only person Lang loved was himself.

“Yuno?” Tony asked. “Do you want to explain?”

There wasn’t a single thing that Yuno wanted less. He couldn’t help but meet Lang’s gaze, and he hated the mocking glint there, the bitter edge that Yuno wasn’t used to seeing directed at him. Lang had always been this way with others, hard and maybe even cruel, but he’d never been this way with Yuno.

Until now.

Yuno swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “We were just—having a little chat.”

“Oh, really? A little chat, is that what that was?” Lang raised his voice in a mock imitation of Yuno’s and this was really a new low for them. A new low for Lang. “ Please, don’t do this. Like what the fuck, Yuno? You said that and then proceeded to try and steal my car—”

“I didn’t—I don’t—”

“Stop the bullshit already, I’m sick and tired of it. Find someone else to wrap under your pretty little finger, because I’m done being there for you, only for you to turn around and stab me in the back, I’m sure Raymond over there would be a willing sacrifice.” 

His words were meant to hurt. He wanted to get under their skins, to make them feel even half the pain that he was no doubt feeling, and Yuno sympathized, he really did, but this was getting out of hand. He couldn’t let Ray be dragged into this, not more than he already was. 

“Leave Ray out of it,” he said. “He’s not the problem here.”

“Aw, how sweet, little Yuno baring his teeth, why, I’m scared shitless—”

“Okay—” Tony said, his eyes narrowing onto the two of them. “Someone better tell me what the fuck is going on, because this is getting ridiculous.”

“Don’t worry about it, shithead, the grownups are talking—”

“Lang—”

“Shithead.”

It was clear that this was getting nowhere. Yuno forced himself to speak past the lump in his throat. “Look, Mr. Lang, I’m sorry, why don’t we just forget this ever happened—”

“So you can what? Disappear on me? I don’t think so, there’s no way in hell that I’m letting you leave without a proper fight—”

“Wait, who’s leaving?” Tony asked.

Lang rolled his eyes. “Yuno, of course.” He added, almost an afterthought, “Shithead.”

Realization slammed into Tony. He turned to Yuno and Ray’s grip tightened around Yuno’s shoulders, a reminder that he was still there, despite his silence, and that he hadn’t let go of Yuno since he’d steadied him. Yuno did his best not to squirm.

His feet itched to make a run for it.

To pretend like this never happened and leave silently, just like he’d planned. He didn’t want to have to deal with goodbyes, didn’t want to have to see the looks on all their faces when they learned that he was leaving, and that he wasn’t coming back.

“You’re leaving?” Tony asked.

Yuno said nothing. He couldn’t bring himself to speak.

His silence was all the confirmation that they needed. Ray’s face had gone white, and his brows furrowed, his lips tugging into a frown. “Where are you going?” he asked.

Yuno’s heart squeezed painfully. He’d thought it too broken to feel anything, had thought himself defective from now on, but the hope suspended on Ray’s face was too much. He still didn't get it, he still didn't understand, even with the truth staring him in the face.

There was a lump in Yuno’s throat, a never-ending hole in his stomach, and his heart felt like it held the entire ocean in its confines, like it could cry for hours and still never run dry. He knew that this was for the best, that he had to leave before it was too late, before they got any more attached to him than they already were, and vice versa.

This was already bad enough.

He could only imagine what it’d be like in a few years.

“That’s—not important,” he said, wincing at his own lie. He couldn’t very well tell Ray that he had no idea where he was going, that he wasn’t so much as going somewhere, but rather running away from somewhere, or more specifically, from someone.

A lot of someone’s, actually. 

Tony was looking at him strangely. His gaze flicked back to Lang briefly, before resettling on Yuno, and Yuno could see him trying to understand, trying to put the puzzle pieces together. He didn’t understand what had happened between Yuno and Lang.

How friends could become strangers.

Ray, ever oblivious, asked, “When will you be coming back?”

The pure earnestness of that question nearly killed Yuno. He wanted nothing more than to reassure Ray that he’d be back soon, that he just needed a little space, but this wasn’t like that. This wasn’t like all the times before.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to memorize the feel of Ray’s hands on him. He didn’t want to forget this in the coming months, didn’t want to forget what it was like to be safe and needed and wanted, and maybe, if he was honest, even loved. 

This was completely different from how Lang had held him.

Ray was ever gentle, even as Yuno stayed silent, confirming his worst fear. From somewhere beyond them, Lang laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. “Don’t you get it?” he asked, and Yuno had never heard him sound so mean, so cruel. “He’s not coming back.”

It was like Lang had slapped Ray. 

And punched him. 

And shot him in the head.

Yuno shivered, not liking how pale Ray had become, how wide his eyes were. All hints of alcohol were gone from his face, his gaze clear and alert, likely still in shock as he stared, open mouthed, and Lang seemed to take a sick kind of pleasure in what he said next. 

“Your perfect little angel, why, he was planning on leaving without even telling us, planned on disappearing into the night, not caring that we’d be worried sick about him when he vanished, that we’d assume the worst, because that’s what it boils down to: for all his pretty words and pretty smiles, Yuno doesn’t care. He’s never said I love you, and now I know why.”

Yuno was shaking.

Trembling down to his pinky finger.

He wanted to insist that Lang was lying, that he did care about them, that they weren’t the reason that he couldn’t say I love you, that just because he didn’t say it didn’t mean that he didn’t think it, didn’t mean it, but there was no saying that.

Not with Lang looking at him like this.

Like he was a rat that had crawled into their trash.

“What? No apology this time?” Lang asked, his upper lip curling. He almost seemed to enjoy the subtle flinch that followed his words, and Yuno wished that he’d never gone back for his things. Returning to the Manor was a bad idea. He should've just bought new things, or better yet, left them behind and started over somewhere else, where he wouldn’t have to be reminded of what happened that night, day after day, time after time.

All Yuno could see when he closed his eyes, when he looked at his phone, his hands, his clothes, even a complete and utter stranger, was that night. He saw red before he saw his own hands, saw a flame before he saw his phone, saw Dundee’s face in anyone and everyone that even remotely resembled him, i.e. anyone who was human.

Yuno would forgive, but he’d never forget. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Lang’s words reminded Yuno of yet another thing he’d have to change about himself, yet another one of his many faults. He was too kind, too trusting, and he didn’t speak his mind, even when he should. 

A pushover, that’s what Dundee had called him. 

Do you know what people do when they realize that you’re a pushover, Yuno? 

Yes, he did know. He’d been finding that out his entire life. The words still cut deep, still wounded some small part of himself that he’d thought was lost forever. He wanted to erase the words from his mind, wanted to burn them from his brain, but it was no use.

They control you. 

They use you.

They manipulate you.

They lie to you . 

At the time, he’d been too surprised to come up with a decent response, to ask the question that had dominated his mind since, the one that he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried. Is that what you did, Dundee? he asked. Did you use me just like everyone else? 

Yuno couldn’t even be upset if the answer was yes. He’d long since accepted that he was an easy person to use, someone that should be taken advantage of, if given the chance, but it was time that changed. It was time that he changed. 

A dark shadow towered over Yuno. Hands grabbed his shirt and Yuno couldn’t bring himself to panic, to initiate his signature fight or flight response. He was too tired for that and he knew that it wouldn’t matter. Lang Buddha wasn’t one to be denied.

This was bound to happen either way.

Lang lifted Yuno into the air by his shirt, his lip curling. “Answer me, goddammit—”

Someone’s hand tightened around Lang’s wrist, and the expression that accompanied it promised violence. “Let go of him,” Ray said. “Before I make you let go of him.”

Lang hesitated. He no doubt wanted to lift Yuno higher, to shake him until he spilled all his secrets, or died from blunt force trauma. Whichever came first.

Thankfully, he was smarter than that.

It helped that Ray’s hold on Lang’s wrist had turned deadly, and that Lang physically couldn’t keep holding onto Yuno, or else he’d risk a broken wrist. Lang dropped Yuno and snarled. “Why are you still defending this motherfucker—”

“Because he hasn’t done anything wrong. You, on the other hand, are a piece of shit.”

Rage bloomed on Lang’s face. He was inches from physically attacking Ray. He likely would’ve done it too if he thought that he could win, but even while drunk, Ray was quite intimidating. He was a man made for violence, and he wouldn’t hesitate to fulfill his purpose.

“Oh really, he hasn’t done anything wrong? I suppose next you’ll say that he’s perfect, that I must’ve misunderstood, because he’s Yuno, for fuck’s sake, and he’s perfection incarnate—”

“Exactly, I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Ray wrapped a protective arm around Yuno. The gesture was claiming, possessive in a way that made Yuno’s heart flutter. Lang’s gaze narrowed and his eyes sparkled with a dark kind of mirth. “How sweet,” he said, although his voice suggested that it wasn’t sweet in the slightest. “You’re his knight in shining armor, is that it?”

Ray squeezed him tighter. “Yuno can defend himself—”

“Yeah, right, if he could, he wouldn’t be running away.”

“Lang,” Tony warned.

“Shithead.”

“Stop calling me that—”

“Then stop fucking interfering, this doesn’t concern you.”

Tony stepped between Ray and Lang, his expression stormy. It was a look that rarely crossed Tony’s face, his infinite patience finally wearing thin. He’d dealt with Lang’s shit for long enough and Yuno was honestly surprised that he’d lasted this long.

“If you needed the reminder, this is my crew, too, and of course this fucking concerns me. You’re attacking one of our own. Yuno is one of the bois, he’s one of us—”

“Did he tell you that?”

Tony hesitated, then said, “It doesn’t matter.”

“It’s the only thing that matters.”

He seemed reluctant but eventually, Tony snapped. “Fine,” he said, turning to Yuno. “Tell him that I’m right, that you’re one of us, and that you sure as hell aren’t leaving.”

Everyone stared at him expectantly. Tony frowned. “Yuno? Did you hear me?”

“Oh, he heard you, he’s just choosing to ignore you, like he’s done with every one of my calls and texts for the past week, like fuck, he’s practically a ghost at this point. Barely living, hardly even breathing, can’t even hold a solid conversation, it’s pathetic, really.”

Yuno’s fingers dug into Ray’s arm and he had no doubt that they’d leave dark red marks when he finally made himself pull away. He almost felt bad about it, although Ray showed no sign that Yuno was hurting him. To be fair, Ray wouldn’t say a word even if Yuno was tearing him apart, piece by piece, he’d just be glad to be useful. Glad to be needed.

It hurt to admit that Yuno knew that feeling all too well.

He knew that he should say something. This was his chance to tell them before it was too late, before he was truly past the point of no return. If Lang knew what happened, if he knew what Dundee had done, he wouldn’t be acting like this.

But it was so much easier to stay silent.

Silence was his friend, a constant companion through the darkest moments of his life, the moments that noise couldn’t quite seem to reach. He remembered the silence after he’d ran away from home, the silence that came from realizing that nothing would ever be the same again, and that he was okay with that. He didn't want to go back.

He’d never regretted his decision to leave.

He wondered if he’d regret this.

“See? It’s like talking to a brick wall, he never listens—”

Why couldn’t you just listen, Yuno?

Those were the same words that Dundee had said in the mines. He’d spoken them into existence in that terrible darkness, in that all-consuming silence, and Yuno wanted to scream that he did listen. He’d listened to every word Dunee had said, had listened every time someone told him that he was too kind, that he had to learn how to be better, how to be more cruel, because if he didn’t, the world would eat him alive and spit him out for fun.

He’d listened, but he hadn’t understood.

It hadn’t even crossed his mind that by being himself, by refusing to change himself to appease those around him, he was being a nuisance, a burden to those he loved. Yuno didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be a burden, but he also couldn’t change who he was. 

Hence why he was leaving.

It seemed like the best solution at the time.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

The world was starting to spin around him and Yuno tried to maintain control, to force himself to breathe around the panic that had infected his mind, muddied the water of his thoughts, and he realized just how hot it was inside the Manor. 

It was stifling, like being inside a furnace. Sweat stung his eyes and he couldn't seem to get enough air, all the oxygen sucked out of the room from the heat, and the sun certainly wasn’t helping. It spilled out into the foyer, casting the door in a halo of light, seeming to taunt Yuno with a salvation that he didn’t deserve.

He didn’t deserve to stay.

He didn’t deserve to be loved.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and fuck, there he went again, erasing all his progress, going back to the blubbering fool that he’d been when he first came to Los Santos. His whole body shook from the memory that seized him, and when he looked down, he didn’t see his hands.

He saw red.

A bright crimson that clung to his fingers, permanent in the way that ink wasn’t. He could never wash it away, never get rid of it completely, for he could never forget the deafening boom of a bullet hitting the air, the shock that tore through him when it sank deep into his helmet, knocking it from his head and into the darkness.

If he hadn’t worn that helmet, Yuno would be dead.

And that wasn’t even the worst part. 

Instead of stopping, instead of realizing what he’d done and apologizing until his lips were cracked and bleeding, his voice nothing but a hoarse whisper, Dundee had taken Yuno’s face in his hands, stared him in the eyes, and pulled the trigger for the second time.

This time the bullet hit him right above the ribs.

There had been a few blissful moments of nothing. 

No pain, no hurt, only silence. 

Those moments were shattered by the pain that followed, so terrible, so horrible, that it was like nothing Yuno had ever experienced. He’d been battered and bruised and broken so many times in his life, but never had he experienced something like this.

It was a pain that once started, there was no stopping it. It was hungry and desperate and had an appetite that refused to be satisfied, that took and took until there was nothing left. Everything else ceased to exist. Thoughts and feelings and memories turned to ashes that were quick to be swept away by the wind, that didn’t dare linger for long, and he couldn’t even blame them. He would’ve ran too, if he could’ve.

As it was, he’d sat there.

He’d sat there as the pain tore him apart, as it ripped him from his hinges, shattering him along every fault line, turning every little crack in the perfect walls he’d built into deep chasms that couldn’t be repaired no matter what one did, destroying every last crumb of who’d been and replacing it with a sweet, terrible nothing.

That nothingness hadn’t left him.

It had lingered long after Dundee left, and had been there with the silence and the darkness, the only thing keeping him from fading into the latter completely, because worse than the pain was the knowledge that Yuno had been betrayed.

Left to die by his closest friend. 

His first friend.

Yuno’s knees buckled but he never hit the ground. Someone caught him, pulled him close to their chest, embraced him even as a broken sob wracked his body, shattering every last splinter of self-control. Tears stumbled down his cheeks, clumsy and unsure if they should really be falling, if their existence was a mistake, or a miracle.

It was a miracle that he had any tears left to cry.

It was a mistake that he’d ever cried in the first place.

Someone was talking to him. He couldn’t make out their voice, could hear nothing over the words that filled his head, crowding out every thought, every sensation, until he was breathing them in, drowning in the words that had found a home inside his head.

Have you ever been betrayed by a friend you trusted before?

A terrible stabbing pain in his heart, and another sob wracking his body, both of which left him breathless, left him a trembling, shaking mess. Yuno wanted to scream. He wanted to shout that this wasn’t fair, that he didn’t deserve this, but he couldn't.

Because if he was done with the world—then he was done lying, too.

Did it hurt? Did it hurt as bad as this?

Nothing hurt as bad as this. This wasn’t a nightmare, this was a situation designed to make his worst fears come to life, to break him in the worst possible way, to send him straight to hell even while he was still living and breathing the same air that he always had.

The air hadn’t changed; he had.

All he could see was the blood staining his fingers as he tried desperately to hold himself together, to keep himself from breaking and bleeding out in an abandoned mineshaft, surrounded by darkness rather than friends, a terrible, lonely place to die.

His breath caught in his throat and he needed space. The hands holding him turned into chains, bonds meant to keep him complacent, a willing lamb to the slaughter, and he fought against them, kicking and thrashing as he drowned on dry land.

Someone told him to calm down.

He didn’t. He couldn't.

Yuno was too far gone for that.

In one swift motion, he slammed his head back and it connected with the person’s face. They howled in pain, their hands, the chains trapping him, falling away like they were never there at all, like they were all a figment of Yuno’s imagination.

Proof that he was actually going insane.

He scrambled to his feet and pressed himself flat against the wall, his heart pounding, his head throbbing, his body shaking from both exhaustion and fear, and he couldn’t tell where his lungs ended and where the panic began.

A metallic taste filled his mouth.

He choked on it, choked on his own blood, and he wished, in that moment, that it would just kill him already. He’d rather die alone and scared, than live with what happened. The memories were too strong, the pain unbearable, the bitter stench of betrayal never quite leaving him, never far from reach if he should need the reminder.

Death would be a mercy.

A miracle all on its own.

“Woah, hey,” someone said, their voice far away, distant in a way that the pain wasn’t, in a way that the memories never would be. They consumed him, ate him alive from the inside, and he wanted to be free of them, but he couldn’t— “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

He couldn’t do it.

Yuno was trapped. 

Chained. 

Lost.

And no one could save him from himself.

A dark figure fell over him. Yuno flinched, and for a second, he was right back to where he’d started, in that darkness, in the mines, with a dark figure looming over him, the figure of someone he loved, turned monstrous, turned into someone he hated.

No, no, that wasn’t right.

Yuno didn’t hate Dundee.

He appreciated what he’d done. Dundee had taught him a valuable lesson, had gone out of his way to make sure that Yuno wouldn’t make the same mistakes, that he’d learn from what happened and that he’d be better because of it.

So what if the lesson hurt like hell?

Yuno had to be broken before he could be remade.

Dundee had done him a favor. He should be thanking him. 

A flash of silver drew his gaze and Yuno half-expected to find a gun pointed at his head. He wouldn’t have even been surprised at this point. He was numb to the world, numb to life and the many tricks that fate loved to pull on him. 

Except—there was a problem.

This silver wasn’t the metallic kind. It was mixed with black, almost nonexistent, a faint impression more than the real deal, but to Yuno, it was everything. It was an anchor in the storm, something to keep him grounded, to keep him from slipping into the darkness. 

His gaze slid to the face beneath the silver. It was beautiful in the way that a blade was, sharp and deadly, everything about it screaming that it was a bad idea, that it was dangerous and lethal and that only a fool would be blind to its beauty.

Even knowing all of that, even knowing that Lang had shouted and cursed his name, that a second ago, he’d been ready to tear him apart, Yuno couldn’t bring himself to be upset. He studied that face, the one that was so quick to be scrunched in anger, but now, was scrunched in concern, the bitterness and rage replaced by something akin to love.

It was ridiculous.

How one person could be so different.

“Yuno, baby,” Lang said, his voice soft, a whisper, a caress on his skin, like he thought Yuno would make a break for it at any moment, like he’d disappear if Lang so much as raised his voice. It was sweet, and a little insulting. “Listen to my voice, okay? I promise that it’ll be okay, whatever happened, whoever hurt you, they won’t do it again. I won’t let them.”

It wasn’t hard to believe Mr. Lang.

At least about that first part.

He was right to assume that this wouldn't happen again. Yuno had learned his lesson. He wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes, wouldn’t be so foolish the second time around. He didn’t need Lang to stop it from happening again, because Yuno would do that all on his own.

Yuno tried to calm himself. He needed to stop shaking, needed to regain some control over this situation before it was too late, before he lost himself completely, but the pressure of what was at stake, at what needed to be done, only made him panic harder.

Bright golden eyes found his own. Lang reached out a hand, and Yuno didn’t know if he intended to slap Yuno, or if he wanted to comfort him, but Yuno would never have the chance to find out. Ray snatched the hand from the air, his grip deadly. 

Lang stilled and Yuno’s breath caught in his throat. He watched with rapt attention, his earlier panic forgotten at what was enfolding in front of him, at the tension that was certainly dangerous, but not even half as lethal as the look that Lang shot at Ray.

It was pure venom, every dark, murderous thought brought right to the surface in a toxic storm that would burn the entire world to the ground in its attempts to crush one man. Yuno had always known that there was some unresolved friction between Ray and Lang, and that, for whatever reason, things had only gotten worse in recent months.

“Unhand me, fuckhead, or find out what happens to those who piss me off, trust me, it’s far from pretty, and I’d hate to ruin the one thing you have going for you—” 

“Threaten me all you want,” Ray said. “But I’m not moving.”

His fingers had turned white around Lang’s wrists and true to his words, he made no move to unhand Lang, and if anything, he seemed to tighten his hold, doubling down, even as Lang’s look turned darker, if that was even possible. 

Lang’s eyes flashed. “You’re making a mistake.”

“You made one first, thinking that you could ever touch Yuno after what you’ve said, you don’t deserve to be around him, much less to comfort him. He deserves better.”

“And let me guess, you’re better?” Lang raised an eyebrow and he actually laughed, the sound bitter and twisted and altogether too harsh for the man that Yuno had known, the person that he thought Lang was. 

Perhaps Yuno wasn’t the only one that had changed.

“I’ll admit that I have my faults,” Ray said, then continued, never once loosening his fingers. “But it’s not a high bar, a brainless slug would be better than you.”

“Oh really? You think you know Yuno so well, is that it? You think that you know what’s best for him, that I can’t possibly know how to help him, when I’ve done exactly that for the past year and a half? Look at him and tell me that he’s not breaking, that he doesn’t need help—”

“He needs help, sure,” Ray said. “Just not from you.”

Pure unfiltered rage transformed Lang’s features. They became sharper, monstrous in a way that they’d never been before. Lang raised his free hand and this time, Yuno knew for certain that he intended to strike, to punish Ray for ever daring to think that he knew Yuno better.

Yuno moved without thinking.

The strike hit him across the cheek, and the impact sent his head flying backward, his neck cracking, a cry falling from his lips as he fell, certain that this time, he would hit the ground. 

But he didn’t. 

Once again Ray was there to catch him. 

His arms were strong and unflinching, his gaze burning with a darkness that seemed made for his face, an anger that was familiar, if expanded tenfold. 

It was honestly impressive that Ray had held back for so long, and Yuno admired him for it, even as he knew that there was only one way to settle this, that Lang wouldn’t back down, not until Ray made it perfectly clear that Yuno wasn’t his anymore. 

“Habibi,” Ray murmured. “Let me help you.”

Yuno swallowed, and he didn’t know how to feel about this. He didn’t know how to feel about the fact that he was the reason for their fighting, that he’d caused this, and more importantly, that he could still feel the blood on his hands.

He knew logically that he was fine, that he wasn’t back in those mines, that he was safe in Ray’s arms, that Ray would never let someone hurt him, or even touch him unless Yuno explicitly said that’s what he wanted.

But that didn’t stop the panic.

It was all-consuming, lacking all thought or reason, and once it had him in its clutches, it refused to part with anything less than all of him. It slithered its way into his heart, writhed under his skin, blocked his throat, left him choking and drowning and dying, unable to get enough air and unable to see what was in front of him, much less ask for help.

“Habibi, look at me." 

Yuno couldn’t. He was too far gone, too lost to the panic and the hurt and the pain and he wanted it to stop, he would’ve done anything, given anything, to just give himself a moment of relief, a single moment when he could pretend that he was okay, that he wasn’t broken.

That Dundee hadn’t been the one to break him.

“Look at me,” Ray said again, and there was something about his voice. It was a silent command, a power that coaxed Yuno to comply, even as his body rebelled and the shattered pieces of his heart cut into his skin, making him wince.

All of that was forgotten the second his gaze met Ray’s.

If Lang’s golden gaze had been an anchor, then Ray’s was a lifeboat, pulling him from the storm instead of leaving him to drown in it, keeping him above the surface the entire time, never once letting him slip into the darkness that threatened his consciousness.

“Look at my face, at all the little things that give away what I’m feeling, what I’m thinking, and tell me, Yuno, love, what do you see?”

Yuno did as he was told. He studied Ray’s face and blocked out everything else. He took note of the curve of Ray’s lips, the slight dip to his chin, the dimple that persisted despite the circumstances, despite everything that had happened. 

He was perfect. 

Everything about Ray was so perfect—and Yuno was so, well, not.

“Habibi?” 

That beautiful face, that perfect face, was only made prettier by the concern that marred its features, that made Ray’s eyes slant downward, his lips curve to the side, and Yuno couldn’t help how his stomach fluttered, almost painfully. 

Yuno forced his mouth to work. “You’re concerned,” he said.

“Good, what else?”

It took a few more moments before Yuno could place what exactly was hiding beneath the concern, only just barely shoved beneath the surface. 

“You’re upset,” he said. 

“Close.”

“You’re furious.”

“Not just furious—I’m fucking pissed.” 

Ray’s gaze slid back to Lang, and that darkness returned in full force. He’d tramped it down, buried it inside him, but no doubt the second that fate allowed it, Ray would take vengeance for them both, but mostly for Yuno. 

Unless Yuno told him otherwise. 

“Don’t,” he said, quietly. 

A frown pulled at the corners of Ray’s lips and after a moment, his anger seemed to fade. Yuno wasn’t naive enough to believe that it happened naturally. Ray probably had to drag his rage, kicking and screaming, toward the exit sign. 

The fact that he did it at all spoke volumes.

“Okay, I won’t,” he said, and Yuno wanted to celebrate the small victory, but Ray wasn’t finished. “I won’t kill him, but the next time he touches you, I’ll break his arm.”

Lang didn’t protest, much to Yuno’s surprise. He seemed numb, frozen in shock, his hands held out in front of him, and he kept staring at them, flexing his fingers, looking at the smear of red that decorated one of them. 

His cheek still stung, and Yuno knew that blood was his.

“I’m sorry,” Lang whispered.

It was a weak apology, all things considered, and yet, Yuno found himself softening immediately. He didn’t know what it was about Lang that made him want to forgive even the gravest of infractions, that made him want to pretend that everything was fine, that nothing had changed between them, that they were still friends, despite it all.

But Yuno had seen where friends got him.

He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes, and whatever was happening between him and Lang, this unnamed emotion that made his heart beat faster around him, that made his palms slick with sweat, was undoubtedly a mistake. 

There was no other name for it.

“Yuno—” he startled at Tony’s voice, turning to look at the man who in all honesty, Yuno had forgotten was even there. He’d been so silent, so quiet, throughout the entire fight, which was so unlike Tony it was almost concerning. He was normally the first to stick his head where it didn’t belong, to play mediator in their little group. “What happened?”

Yuno stiffened and carefully, slowly, he pried himself from Ray. He forced his gaze to met Tony’s, to not flinch, or even waver, as he said, “Nothing happened, I’m fine—”

“So Lang was lying, then? You’re not leaving?” The hope on Ray’s face was almost too much, and if Lang cared that he’d been accused of being a liar, he certainly didn’t show it. His face was grim, his lips pressed into a firm line, his hands tight behind his back. 

Yuno winced. “Well, about that—”

“No, no, habibi, please, tell me it’s not true.” Ray’s gaze was desperate, pleading, and this was why Yuno hadn’t wanted to tell them. It was so much easier to vanish, to leave without letting them know that he wouldn’t be coming back, because this, this was torture.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

And then there was no more pretending. The truth was evident in his words, in his lack of a denial, and he gazed helplessly at Ray, begging him to understand, hoping beyond hope that he’d let Yuno go without a fight, because in all honesty, Yuno was a coward.

He’d stay if only to avoid a confrontation.

Ray shook his head, his eyes wide, and he said, “But—what about me? What about us?”

He gestured vaguely at Lang and Tony, who watched this all silently. Neither of them made a move to interfere, content to watch the bonfire from afar, even while it burned them alive on the inside, for their faces had to be masks. 

They had to be pretending.

Or else Yuno had seriously overestimated how much they cared about him. He couldn't accept that, couldn’t accept that they didn’t care, because if that was the truth, it meant that Yuno didn’t have to leave after all. He could stay, at least for a little while longer.

“Please, Ray—” he met his gaze. “Let me be selfish, just this once.”

Ray seemed to want to violently protest. His nails dug into his palms. His jaw was clenched and a vein was about to pop on his forehead, even while his gaze searched Yuno for answers, for the last piece of the puzzle that would make this all finally make sense.

Instead, he said, “You don’t have a selfish bone in your body. I have no doubt that your reason for leaving is annoyingly selfless, but please, I beg of you, be selfish. For me. ”

Yuno’s heart squeezed painfully. He hated how desperate Ray was, how badly Ray wanted him to stay, and he wished that Ray was right. He wished that his reasons for leaving were really so selfless, but it was like Lang said: Yuno was a coward.

He was running away.

Nothing less, nothing more.

There was nothing selfless about that.

“I can’t stay here,” he said. 

“Why not? You belong here, we’re your family—”

Yuno almost wanted to laugh. He shook his head, hating how his vision blurred, hating how hard it was for him to admit the truth. “I don’t belong anywhere, Ray.”

“Bullshit,” Lang muttered.

“It’s not bullshit—”

“How could you say that?” Ray asked, his gaze bearing into Yuno, trying desperately to understand where he was coming from, where those words had first originated. It didn’t make sense to him, and how could it?

Yuno had made no effort to help him understand. He’d kept his secrets close to his chest, kept them blissfully in the dark, but he couldn’t do that anymore. He had to give them a piece of his armor, and trust that they wouldn’t think less of him for it.

“It’s the truth, and however much it hurts, you deserve to know it.” The words caught in his throat and he forced himself to continue. “Someone hurt me, Ray.”

Ray’s face darkened. “Who the fuck hurt you, I’ll kill them—”

“It doesn’t matter who, the important thing is that they didn’t just hurt me, they also made me realize that what I am has no place in Los Santos. If I stay here, I’ll only succeed in getting my heart broken, and I can’t—I can’t survive that. Not again.”

“It was Dundee, wasn’t it?”

The words were another slap to the face. Yuno flinched and he wasn’t fast enough to hide the shock, the surprise, the hurt, that slammed into him at those words, the memories and fear that returned in full force, the blood that still stained his hands. 

He shuddered.

And asked, his voice barely a whisper, “How did you know that?”

Tony shifted on his feet and he refused to meet Yuno’s eyes, even as Yuno stared at his friend, wondering how the hell he’d somehow managed to put the pieces together when even Lang Buddha had failed. It didn’t make sense.

“Sorry, I didn't want to have to say anything, but you went to go see him the other night and after that, you haven’t been the same. I tried to ignore it, wanting to believe that I was imagining things, but I can’t ignore it any longer. You’re hurting Yuno, let us help you.”

Yuno’s hands trembled. “I don’t need help,” he said.

“You do and that’s okay, it’s okay to not be fine all the time—”

“But I am fine—”

“Bullshit.”

The word was a whisper on Lang’s lips, but it was louder than any scream. It was blunt and honest and left no room for discussion, made it perfectly clear that Yuno could insist that he was fine all he wanted, but he wasn’t fooling anyone, especially Mr. Lang.

“Even perfect things break sometimes, Yuno,” Ray said.

Something warm and wet slipped down his face. It took Yuno a moment to realize that they were tears, and that he was crying. He didn’t shake, didn’t tremble, but he stood there, in all his brokenness, wondering what the hell had happened to make him this way.

When had it all gone so wrong?

It was almost laughable, because perfect was what he’d been trying to be his entire life. He’d wanted to be someone who didn’t make mistakes, who could one-shot every hack, who would never have to worry about being a disappointment. 

And look where that had gotten him.

“You don’t understand,” he said.

Ray took his hand in his, his gaze never once leaving Yuno’s, his fingers achingly gentle in how they held him. It was a gentleness that would’ve annoyed him if he didn’t know exactly what Ray was thinking, one that could easily be blamed on how Yuno might shatter if touched too hard, if pushed too far, but Yuno knew the truth.

Ray didn’t hold him like he’d break.

He held him like he was precious. 

Something holy, something divine.

Someone deserving of being worshiped.

“Help me understand—” Ray said, his face pleading, his fingers squeezing softly, his eyes telling a story of their own. “Help me understand so that I can help you.”

Yuno didn’t want to explain. He didn't want to tell them what happened, how he’d become so damaged. He wanted to go back to before, wanted to pretend that he was fine, that he wasn’t broken, that he hadn’t been permanently scarred by someone he’d once loved.

“Habibi,” Ray whispered. “Look at me.”

It was all he could do to comply. He stared into the face of someone who insisted that it was fine to be broken, that all his jagged edges and ruined skin only made him that much more beautiful. There would be no more lying, no more pretending.

He’d said that Ray deserved the truth, and he’d meant it.

“I trusted him,” he said, and he couldn’t bear to look at Ray any longer. He squeezed his eyes shut, his voice scratchy, hoarse. “I trusted him, Ray, and do you know what he did?”

Silence followed his words.

It was a welcome reprieve, the returning of an old friend. He basked in that silence, in the peace that came from everything and nothing all at once, and he knew, in his heart, that sooner or later he’d have to open his eyes. One could only stay blinded for so long.

He’d lived in the dark long enough.

It was time to let in the light, even if it burned him alive.

“I made a mistake,” he admitted. “I saved someone that I shouldn’t have and because of it, Dundee did what had to be done. He’d been ignoring me for a while but suddenly, I received a text. He told me to meet him at the abandoned mineshaft and once there, he asked me a question.”

Tony ran a hand through his hair, drawing Yuno’s attention for the first time in a while. His brows were furrowed, frowning. “A question?” he said. “What’s so bad about that?” 

Nothing about this was funny.

But Yuno still wanted to laugh.

He wanted this all to be one sick joke, to wake up one day and have everything return to how it was before, before he’d known that everything about him was wrong, that everything he did would only end up hurting either himself, or those he loved. 

“There are worse things than death,” he said, quietly.

It was an effort to not look at Mr. Lang, especially when he could practically hear Lang’s scowl. The harsh words said afterward didn’t help. “What the fuck kind of answer is that—”

“Mr. Lang,” Yuno said, and maybe it was how he said Lang’s name. It was different than normal, something about it demanded to be heard, to be understood. Lang instantly fell silent, his scowl never quite leaving his face.

“What?” he asked.

“Have you ever been betrayed by a friend you trusted before?”

It was the question that had haunted him since that night, and he spoke it now, spoke it into existence so that Lang and Tony and Ray could finally understand why he couldn’t stay.

Lang’s scowl deepened and he said, “What the fuck kind of question is that—”

“Did it hurt?”

“What?”

“Did it hurt as bad as this?”

His vision blurred and he couldn’t see around the tears falling silently from his eyes, couldn’t see around the blood staining his hands, the words that had consumed him since that night. He heard not so much as saw the moment that Lang finally understood.

A sharp intake of breath, and then silence.

It was the silence that descended from the knowledge that these words that Yuno was speaking, they weren’t his own. They were cold and cruel and harsh in a way that Yuno had never learned how to be. These words spoke of darkness and a night that had changed him forever, left him scarred and broken and bleeding, his very life turned into one giant piece of hell, reserved just for him.

“Yuno, baby, I’m so sorry—”

“He asked you that?” Ray asked, his hands curling into fists around Yuno’s, his fingers turning white from how hard he was clinging to Yuno. The anger on Ray’s face was impossible to miss, his fury and rage terrifying in its intensity, turning someone beloved into someone that Yuno didn’t recognize.

This was the reason that Yuno hadn’t told them.

Still, he forced himself to nod.

“I’m going to kill him—” Ray spat, and he practically launched himself at the door. His hand wretched itself from Yuno’s and Yuno couldn’t help the panic that shattered his calm, that left him scrambling to his feet, not knowing what he was doing, but also knowing that he couldn’t let Ray leave.

Not like this.

Yuno stumbled and he was falling for a second, not knowing if he’d ever reach the ground, wondering if this would be what finally did him in, what finally ended this miserable existence that he called life. It was only Lang’s hands, wrapping around his body, holding him up, that kept him from collapsing completely, and he couldn't help but lean into the embrace.

He didn’t care what Lang had said, or how his words had hurt him. He didn’t care that his face was a salty mess, that he was trembling all over, that he was broken, all he cared about was Ray.

Ray, who loved him despite it all, who would go to war if Yuno asked him to, who would never leave Yuno in the darkness on his own, would never leave him to die, not like Dundee had.

For one blinding moment, Yuno imagined letting Ray leave. He imagined letting Ray take vengeance for them both, imagined him finding Dundee and doing to Dundee what he’d done to Yuno, inflicting upon him even half the amount of pain that Yuno had felt in that mineshaft, abandoned and betrayed.

“Get out of the fucking way, Tony—”

Yuno blinked, realizing that Tony had moved to block Ray’s path. He stood in the doorway, a dark figure cut across the flame-tinted sky, unflinching, unwavering, someone that couldn't be persuaded with a harsh word or the threat of violence. 

“You’re not leaving,” Tony said.

“Like hell I’m not—”

“Yuno hasn’t even explained properly, for all we know, Dundee just asked him a couple questions—” Yuno’s gaze shot up and Tony held up his hands, placating. “Not saying that he did, but we just don’t know.”

“Either way, he deserves to die.”

There was no convincing Ray otherwise, that much was clear. His hatred was a fire that burned deep inside him, that would sooner consume the entire world than it would be doused. Its smoke filled Yuno’s lungs, choking him, and his eyes stung from it all.

He wanted to scream.

Or maybe shout, cry out, beg Ray to stop this before it was too late.

“Fine,” Tony said, and Yuno’s heart dropped. He figured that Tony was giving up, that he’d had enough of their shit and was finally leaving, just like he’d always threatened to do, “It’s fine if you won’t listen to me,” he said, continuing. “But at least listen to Yuno.”

Those words reached inside Ray’s heart and reminded him who he was furious for. They didn’t calm his anger so much as dimmed it, made it less noticeable, although it definitely still simmered beneath the surface, a flame that couldn’t be seen and couldn't be stopped.

“Sorry,” Ray muttered.

And fuck, the fact that he was apologizing at all, it said something about Ray. It said that he was too good, too wonderful, to be real, that he must be some figment of Yuno’s imagination, once again a testament to the fact that he was clinically insane.

“It’s fine,” Yuno said. 

Even though it wasn’t.

He couldn't stop himself from trembling, couldn’t still his shaking fingers, and couldn't seem to tear himself away from Lang, from this person who held him like he was fragile, like he was something worth protecting, even with the fresh cut on his upper cheek.

The one that Lang had gifted him.

“It’s fine,” he said, believing it less and less every time. “You just—you just wanted to help.”

Ray nodded and Yuno was grateful that he didn’t question it, that he didn’t seem to notice how forced the words were, how much it hurt Yuno to say them. He was so grateful, so lost in his own head, that he almost didn’t hear Lang’s question.

“What happened next?”

Lang was holding Yuno as he asked it. He was holding Yuno and Yuno didn’t know how to feel about this, how to feel about the fact that he was in the arms of someone who had slapped him across the face, who had tried to physically keep him here, moments before.

He knew that Lang had only done it because he cared. He’d been so distraught over the idea that Yuno was leaving, that he would’ve done anything to keep him here. He knew this just as he knew that Dundee had only been trying to help, that he’d taught Yuno a valuable lesson, that Yuno should be thankful, and yet, that was the furthest from what he felt.

Some part of him hated Dundee.

And not just him, but Lang too.

Both men had hurt him. They hadn’t cared about how he felt, had made him bleed on more than one occasion, had said things that could break even the strongest person, and Yuno was far from the strongest person.

A piece of himself had died in that mineshaft.

“He asked me that question, and then he raised his gun.” Yuno felt so far away, even as he clung to Lang harder, seeking comfort from the same man that had hurt him. His head fell to Lang’s chest and he was just so warm, so safe. He didn’t tremble or shake, not like Yuno did.

He was a constant in the hurricane that was his life.

From across the room, a gaze burned into his back. Yuno knew that it was Ray’s without turning around, without seeing for himself, and he knew that he shouldn't be doing this. He should be pushing Lang away, should be trying to stand on his own.

But he was just so tired.

And Lang was right there.

“He raised his gun, looked me in the eyes—” Yuno paused, wondering if he’d ever forget what happened next. If he’d ever forget the look on Dundee’s face. It wasn’t something that one could just forget, that he could just move on from. 

It would stay with him until the day he died.

“And then he shot me,” Yuno said flatly.

He breathed in Lang’s sweet scent, something floral and something darker, almost stormy, metallic but deeper than blood, and he could feel every inhale, every exhale, that Lang took. 

A shudder tore through them both.

It shook his very bones, reached deep into his heart and clawed up everything he’d been trying desperately to slam back down, every emotion, every pesky little feeling, the thoughts that came from knowing that your best friend had left you to die.

He buried his face into Lang’s chest, and wished he could disappear.

It was all too much. He didn’t want to have to deal with this, didn’t want to have to face the rioting storm inside him, the one that promised death and destruction to anyone foolish enough to face it instead of fleeing.

He’d already been left once.

He couldn't do it again.

“He shot you?” Lang asked, and Yuno could feel his gaze roaming his body, searching for an injury, anything to tell of such a violent act. He found nothing. “Like—in the arm?”

Yuno wished it had been so inconsequential.

If Dundee had shot him in the arm, if he’d purely intended to teach Yuno a lesson, then maybe, just maybe, Yuno could truly forget about all this. He could write it off as a joke, something easily dismissed, easily forgotten.

But Dundee hadn’t done that.

He’d looked Yuno dead in the eyes, and shot him in the head. 

If it hadn’t been for his helmet, if Yuno had decided not to wear it that day, then Yuno would be dead right now. He would’ve died down in the dark, all by himself, alone and scared, betrayed by the one person he thought would be there for him, no matter what.

Maybe it would’ve been better that way.

At least then the pain would end.

He wouldn’t feel so hollow, so broken. He’d be dead and the dead felt nothing at all, which, if he was honest, was sounding more and more appealing by the second. Yuno didn’t want to have to feel this way, he’d been ready to run away to avoid ever feeling like this again.

But that hadn’t been in the cards for him.

Mr. Lang must’ve seen the truth written across his face. It wasn’t hard to guess at what Yuno was thinking now that he no longer had his helmet to protect him. It had been only another thing Yuno had lost to that mine, to that darkness.

He’d been too busy trying not to bleed out to worry about it.

Lang’s face turned cold and hard.

“Fuck—” Ray’s fist connected with the wall, making Yuno wince. “I’m going to kill him, I’m going to tear him apart, limb by limb, and I’m going to bathe in his blood, in his screams, I’ll paint the streets scarlet and I’ll make him regret ever hurting Yuno—”

“No,” Yuno whispered.

He’d thought he’d said it too quietly, that no one would hear him, but Lang’s face hardened even more and his gaze found Ray’s, cold, fixing, pinning him. “You won’t do shit, Romanov.”

The rage and fury in Ray’s face focused on Lang, and more specifically, on his arms, which were still wrapped carelessly around Yuno, holding him in place, keeping him upright, and that only seemed to make it worse.

Ray took a dangerous step forward.

It would’ve been more intimidating if he wasn’t swaying slightly.

Despite how much he pretended otherwise, Ray was still hopelessly drunk. It was a miracle that he’d managed to sober up as much as he had, but one could only do so much. The words that left Ray’s mouth were dark, twisted, and full of venom.

“What did you say, motherfucker?”

“You heard me, fuckhead, nothing is happening without Yuno’s express permission.”

Ray’s face turned mocking, his words sharper than knives. “Since when do you care what Yuno wants? You were ready to tell him to go fuck himself a moment ago—”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” Lang snapped.

The only response was an incredulous stare from Ray. He couldn’t quite seem to believe that this was the same person who’d been cursing Yuno’s name a few minutes prior, now ready to defend him to the grave if need be. It was as perplexing to Ray as it was to Yuno.

“Or what?” Ray asked.

And Yuno didn’t like where this was going. He cast a desperate glance at Tony, but the man seemed to be torn between his two friends. No doubt a part of him agreed with Lang, that blindly lashing out wouldn’t help Yuno, but at the same time, that didn’t stop him from wishing to do exactly that, from wanting to inflict all of Yuno’s pain and more on Dundee.

It was the same dilemma that Yuno himself faced.

The idea of what was right, versus what he wanted.

He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to have to break his own heart, even if it would save him from greater hurt later on. He wanted nothing more than to stay.

But he couldn’t.

He didn't deserve to stay.

“Lang is right,” Tony said, finally coming to a decision. He stepped between the two men and his expression was grim, even as his voice remained steady, unflinching. “This is exactly why Yuno didn’t want to tell us, he was worried that we’d lash out and do something stupid.”

“But helping him isn’t stupid—”

“Agreed, but taking revenge, that’s not helping him, it’s helping ourselves.”

A vein popped on Ray’s neck and his face was strained, his jaw clenched tighter than one would think possible. He slowly, carefully, uncurled his fingers, revealing long, red scratches on his palms, matching the marks that Yuno had left on his wrists. 

“Okay,” Ray said.

It was the closest to an apology that they’d get. 

He still shot Lang a dark look, which promised that this wasn’t over. He’d relented for now but he still fully intended to make his point clear, and he did that by reaching for Yuno, practically tearing him away from Lang and pulling him close to his chest. 

Yuno didn’t protest it.

He liked knowing that someone cared about him enough to fight over him, even if he detested the fighting itself. He liked being taken care of, liked being wanted. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe it was love, but it was something.

And Yuno would take anything at this point.

“Okay, what now?” Ray asked.

His anger hadn’t faded completely. It was hovering just beneath the surface, prepared to strike at any moment, to be released from its cage at the slightest inclination of danger. 

“Now, we do what we do best,” Tony said.

That earned a scowl from Lang and Ray, both of which seemed intent to ignore the other. It was Ray who asked the question that was on everyone’s mind. “What could we possibly do best, we’re a fucking mess—”

“We’re criminals, we steal, we rob, and one of our own was threatened, so now, we do what we do best, which is everything in our power to protect them, to keep them safe—”

“No.”

The word took everyone by surprise, but no one more than Yuno.

He carefully pried himself from Ray, swiping at his wet cheeks, drying the last of his tears, and he made himself stand to his full height. He was still nearly a foot shorter than everyone else but it was something. 

“No one is going to do anything.”

Lang frowned. “Yuno, baby, let us help you—”

“I don’t want help.”

“It doesn’t matter, you clearly need it—”

“No, I don’t.”

“You need it and that’s final.”

Yuno shook his head. “You can’t help me once I’m gone.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he realized that saying them was a mistake. He hadn’t meant to bring it up again, hadn’t meant to remind them of the fact that he was leaving, even if he wanted nothing more than to stay.

“You’re not leaving.”

It was Lang who said it, although Ray and Tony seemed to echo the sentiment. All of them were staring at Yuno, their gazes fixed on his face, as if they could pick him apart with their eyes alone and could uncover all his buried secrets.

They didn’t know that some secrets were better left buried and dead.

“I’m leaving,” he said. “And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Ray’s fingers dug deeper into his own palms. “You don’t mean that,” he said.

“I do.”

“What about us?” Lang asked. 

But Yuno knew what he was really asking: What about me?

“Not everything is about you, Mr. Lang.”

“Of course it’s about me, motherfucker—”

“Can’t I be selfish, just this once?”

Ray frowned and said, “You’re not selfish, Yuno—”

“But I am.”

His arms wrapped around his body and he pulled them close to his chest. He was shaking, trembling, and he hated it. He wished that he could be strong, for once, but Yuno had never been a strong person. He was a selfish coward who’d been left behind one too many times.

He couldn’t do it again.

“Christ, why don’t all of you get it?” he asked. “Why can’t you just let me leave? It would be so much easier and would save us all so much pain—”

“You’re worth the pain, Yuno, baby, every second of it.”

Yuno wanted to believe Mr. Lang. He wanted to believe that staying was worth the risk, that it didn’t matter how his heart would break, that being with them was enough.

But it wasn’t enough.

He would never be enough.

“Lang is right,” Ray said, and the words seemed to physically hurt him, even as his expression remained grim, determined. “All the pain in the world is nothing next to the simple perfection that is you, please, don’t leave us.”

Don’t leave me.

Tony glanced from Ray to Lang, to the look on both of their faces, and Yuno saw the moment that understanding dawned on him. The moment that he realized just how much his friends cared about Yuno, and that it was possibly more than anyone here had realized.

It was a care that could’ve looked like love.

But Yuno knew better.

Love wasn’t something that he knew how to feel. It wasn’t something that people were capable of feeling for him. He couldn’t accept that he’d been wrong all these years, that he’d been living a lie, convincing himself that he was unlovable, when he’d had people who loved him all along, because that was a fate more painful than the one he was living.

It was a fate that would break him, once and for all.

“I don’t have a choice,” he said.

Ray’s gaze was pleading. “There’s always a choice.”

There hadn’t been one when he’d been dying and bleeding in the dark. He hadn’t had a choice when Dundee had shot him, hadn’t had the chance to even scream before he was on his knees, the bitter taste of betrayal making him choke on his own saliva.

Yuno didn’t ever want to feel that way again.

He didn’t ever want to feel so helpless, so weak. He’d promised himself before moving to Los Santos that he wouldn’t care, that he’d keep his distance, but then Dundee had been there, and there was something about him that Yuno was incapable of forgetting.

Somewhere along the way, he’d grown to care.

It would’ve been bad enough if he’d just grown to care about Dundee, but he hadn’t stopped there, hadn’t just let Dundee into his heart. He’d somehow let Lang and Tony and Ray bury themselves into his skin, into his heart, and now, he didn’t know how to live without them.

He didn’t want to leave them.

But he also didn’t know how to stay.

“I’m not perfect, Ray,” he said. “I break and I fall and I make mistakes, same as everyone else, but the difference is that when I make mistakes, when I fall, I fall without hope of being saved, knowing that when I hit the bottom, I’ll become what I always believed myself to be.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

“Broken.”

“You’re not broken—”

“Everyone’s a little broken,” Lang said, forcing Ray to fall silent. “So what?”

Yuno blinked at them both. He had known that Lang could be harsh and cruel, but to speak so callously, to care so little about what Yuno thought of himself, it was a stark reminder. A reminder that Yuno couldn’t let himself be sucked in, that he couldn’t forget what happened.

He’d been betrayed.

And it was his fault.

“You don’t understand,” he said.

“Really?” Lang said, his brows lifted. “Because I think I understand perfectly—”

“You really don’t.”

“But I do.”

Lang’s gaze was bright, piercing. Yuno wanted to look away, to deny it, but he couldn’t. He could do nothing but hold Lang’s gaze, stare into those eyes that on the best of days made his heart flutter, and on the worst, made him his heart leap in his chest.

“You aren’t the only one who's been betrayed, Yuno.”

The words snuck past his defenses and settled just below his heart, right where the second bullet had pierced his skin. He could still feel it tearing into him, into his skin, and the blinding pain that had assaulted him every time he drew breath.

Something had changed in him.

A part of himself had died in that mineshaft.

“I know what it’s like to be left behind, what it’s like for someone you love to stab you in the back, and no, I’m not talking about you,” Lang said. “This happened a long time ago, but I also know that you can't let it change you. You have to face that kind of shit head on.”

This was a new side of Lang that Yuno had never seen. They’d been close for years but neither of them had ever really opened up to each other, at least not about stuff like this. This was new territory and for some reason, it felt far more intimate than it actually was. 

Perhaps it was just how Lang was looking at him.

Intense, heated, and something else. 

Something that Yuno couldn’t name.

“Mr. Lang, I can’t—I can’t face this.”

Lang softened. “Of course you can, I’ll be right here the entire time—”

“No, no, that’s not why I can’t face this, I can’t face this because it’s my fault.” He looked away, unable to hold Mr. Lang’s gaze any longer. He fidgeted on his feet.

There was a silence that descended.

One that was eerily familiar, and all too real.

It was broken by a series of loud protests, all of which exclaimed the same things. 

“That’s bullshit—”

“Don’t be stupid—”

“It’s not your fault—”

Yuno shook his head. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew the truth.”

All the men fell silent. 

Ray and Lang exchanged a glance.

Something passed between them, an understanding, some silent acknowledgement that despite their differences, despite their rage, they both still cared about the same thing. They both still cared about Yuno, and for him, they’d swallow any emotion, including anger.

“There’s only one way to find out, right?” Lang asked.

And Yuno knew that he was right. He knew that he couldn’t keep this inside any longer, that it was eating him alive, and that if he let it fester, it would only hurt him more later. It was better to cut it out before it had the chance to infect anything more than his heart.

“Fine.” 

Yuno inhaled sharply, and he readied himself for the battle that was to come. He was so tired already, wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed, but that wasn’t a fate that he could in good conscience accept. The truth couldn’t be left to fester for any longer.

“I helped someone,” he admitted. 

“You helped someone—?”

“Someone that hurt him. Dundee was upset, rightfully so, and I thought nothing of it. I thought it would be fine, that he’d forget about it, but he didn’t forget, and it wasn’t fine. ”

“So what? He shot you for it?”

“Yes, it was my fault that he shot me. If I’d been better, if I’d have realized, then he never would’ve had to resort to such violent measures. He was simply trying to help, just like I helped them, but I can’t—I can’t do it again. I can’t survive another lesson.”

“We would never do that, Yuno, baby, don’t you trust us?”

Don’t you trust me?

“All I know is that if this is what it means to have friends, then I don’t want them. I don’t want to live like this, constantly afraid that another person will stab me in the back and leave me to die in the dark. If I leave, then I can live without fear, without worry—”

“And without love.”

Yuno fell silent.

He said, ever so softly, “If that’s what it takes to live, then so be it.”

Lang shook his head. “That’s not living—”

“You’re right,” Yuno said. “It’s surviving, and that’s all I want.”

It’s all I deserve to want.

The words were quiet, but there, in the back of his mind, if he should ever forget them. He forced himself to meet all their gazes, to not flinch under the weight of their stares. He needed them to understand that this wasn’t negotiable.

Staying wasn’t an option.

He was leaving, whether they liked it or not.

“Please, Mr. Lang,” he tried. “It’s nothing personal—”

Lang flinched like Yuno had slapped him. “How can you say that?” Lang asked, his voice desperate, hoarse, like speaking at all hurt. “I understand being scared, being goddamn terrified, after something like that, but to think that you were prepared to just leave, without even a goodbye, that you care about us so little, it hurts worse than anything in the world.”

Worse than being shot in the dark?

Than being left to die by your closest friend?

Your first friend?

“It’s not—it’s not like that,” he said.

“Oh really?” Lang asked. “Then what is it like?”

His response was cutting, brutal, and every bit the Lang that had first cornered Yuno, preventing him from leaving, prepared to do whatever it took to make him stay. 

“The reason I’m leaving, it’s because I care too much, not because I care too little.”

Yuno wanted to force Lang to understand. He didn’t want to have to explain himself further, to have to relive every terrible second of that night, all his feelings, which he’d nearly succeeded in shoving into all the dark corners of himself.

Skeletons in his closet didn’t cover half of it.

Lang’s scowl was deafening. He crossed his arms, his body blocking any chance that Yuno might’ve had at freedom. “How the fuck does that even make sense—”

“It’s only a matter of time,” Yuno said. “It’s only a matter of time before someone else decides that I’m not good enough for them, that I’m too flawed, too broken, to be useful. I’m done sticking around and waiting for that to happen. I’m done being left behind.”

“Yuno, baby, we’re not going to leave you—”

“That’s exactly what Dundee said, and look what happened.”

Lang’s face darkened, and he said, “We’re not like him—”

I’m not like him.

“Yeah,” Ray said. “I’d rather rip out my tongue than be anything like that motherfucker—”

“That could be arranged,” Lang said, a slight smirk on his lips.

The look that Ray flashed him was downright murderous, and Yuno couldn’t help the giggle that tore itself from his throat. It had been so long since he’d laughed at something. It felt good to just let it out, to stop pretending like he was fine, like he wasn’t a tiny bit crazy.

Everyone blinked at Yuno, as if in complete disbelief. No one knew what to do and he relished the silence that fell, even after he’d stopped laughing. Ray, finally, managed to tear himself from the shock. His face rounded in mock hurt.

“Why, Yuno, to think you’d find something so violent to be funny—”

“You’re the funny part, Ray,” he said, his lips quirking upward. “Not what was said.”

Ray placed a hand on his heart, and said, “Since when did you get so cruel?”

It was meant to be a joke, something funny said among friends, but it instantly wiped all hints of a smile from Yuno’s face. He knew the answer to that question, knew what had changed him, or more accurately, who had changed him.

But he couldn't bring himself to hate Dundee.

Yuno knew that even if Dundee had taught him a valuable lesson, it didn’t excuse his actions. It didn’t make what he did any more forgivable and Yuno was right to be upset about it, to not want to see him anymore, but in all honesty, Yuno was just so tired.

He was tired of being what he was supposed to be. He was tired of being someone that he wasn’t and if he was going to start being honest, if he was done with the lies, then he was also done lying to himself, and he was also done refusing help.

He was tired of standing on his own.

As if it heard him, his body swayed on his feet. Tony was the one who reached over and steadied him. “Careful,” he said, and Yuno flashed him a small smile. It was the best he could manage but for the first time, it was real. It was true.

And that was more than enough.

“Look, Yuno, baby, leaving isn’t the solution.” 

His gaze flicked back to Lang, to the look on his face. His eyes were scrunched, his lips pursed, and it made Yuno’s smile dim, even if only a little. 

Ray nodded next to him. “Yeah, Dundee may have hurt you, but that doesn’t mean you have to let him dictate your life. You don’t have to listen to him. You’re perfect all on your own.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course,” Lang said, answering for both of them. “You don’t have to hack if you don’t want to, you don’t have to do anything but stay, at least for a little while longer. Think it over and by the end of the week, if you still want to leave, we won’t stop you.”

Yuno considered the man before him. He considered Lang, his face, his hair, the silver blended with obsidian black, and Yuno didn’t want to agree. He didn’t want to let himself hope, but at the same time, he didn’t want to leave.

He liked the Cleanbois.

He liked Mr. Lang and Tony and Ray.

Feeling wanted, feeling needed, he liked all of that too.

“But—I’m untrustworthy,” he said.

It earned him a frown from Tony, who turned Yuno to face him. Yuno looked into the eyes of his friend, a man who had always been there for him, who had done his best to mediate. Yuno didn’t want to leave that. He didn’t want to leave them.

“Wanting to make everyone happy isn’t a flaw, Yuno,” Tony said. “Being friends with everyone can be annoying as hell, but it’s what makes you so special, so unique. You’re Yuno, our Yuno, and we wouldn't have you any other way.”

“You really mean that?” Yuno asked.

Tony squeezed his arm lightly. “Of course.”

It was everything that Yuno had always wanted to hear. He realized that even if he did leave, if he did try to save himself, it would only lead him right back to where he started. He couldn’t help but care about those around him.

Even if it hurt like hell to do so.

And, if he was being honest, he liked who he was. He knew that Dundee had only been trying to help him, but that didn’t mean that Yuno had to listen. He liked befriending people,  liked seeing them smile, and even if he might regret it later, he couldn’t give that up.

He couldn't give up on himself.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

There was a round of cheers and Ray slung an arm around his shoulder, the smile on his face brighter than the sun, nearly blinding Yuno. His heart sped up in his chest and Tony ruffled his hair, all while Ray leaned in, conspiratorially, his breath hot on Yuno’s neck.

“If you do want me to deal with Dundee, the offer still stands.”

Yuno shivered.

He couldn’t help it.

He managed to shake his head, ignoring how fast his heart was beating, and how close Ray had gotten, how he could no doubt feel every frantic beat of Yuno’s heart. He forced a half smile. “Thanks, Ray,” he said. “But it’s like you said, I can defend myself.”

“Fair enough—” Ray said, shrugging.

His gaze darkened when Lang approached, pulling Yuno into a tight embrace, practically dragging him out of Ray’s arms. Yuno stiffened at first, but soon sank into the hug.

He laughed a little. “What is this for?”

“Nothing—it’s just a reminder.”

“A reminder of what?”

“Of how much I love you.”

“How much we love you,” Tony corrected, and Yuno couldn’t help his answering smile. 

He still remembered the mines, could still picture the blood coating his hands, the bullet that had threatened to make him forget everything he’d once loved about himself, but somehow, when surrounded by people who actually loved him, who’d never ask him to change, that memory faded into the background, nothing compared to the knowledge that he was loved.

With Lang, with Ray, with Tony, he would never have to wonder in the dark, would never have to wonder what he’d done wrong, or how he could change himself to appease them, because unlike Dundee, they didn’t try to fix him.

They accepted him, flaws and all.

For the first time in his life, Yuno was home.

And that was more than enough for him.