Archive of Our Own

Toshi was engrossed in the newest - and entirely intact! - issue of his favourite comic when the door banged open, slamming off the wall, and he jumped so hard he almost tore it himself. He frowned, sitting up a little and looking over the back of the couch, though of course he knew who it was.

Shinji gave the door a hard shove and it slammed shut as he limped away, sliding his bag off his shoulder and dumping it on the battered shelves nearby with another thump, knocking several things to the floor with a continuing clatter. He swore and kicked the metal dish, sending it bouncing under the shelves and banging off the wall while its contents scattered across the floor.

Toshi flinched a little. ‟Shinji- Shinji,” he tried, licking his lips, ‟you-”

Shinji huffed, ignoring him and rummaging through the bag, slamming things down and talking to himself. Toshi leaned back, fidgeting with the corner of his comic. Still. . .

‟You could . . . maybe be a little quieter.” Toshi said softly, curling up a little more.

‟Why should I?” Shinji barked, rapping his knuckles against the shelf as he looked at Toshi.

‟Some people are asleep.” Toshi said and Shinji scoffed, going back to digging through his bag and dismissing that, reminding Toshi this was their place anyway.

‟Kei sleeps during the day.” Toshi reminded softly, fingers curling around the comic Kei had brought him this morning before going to bed. Of course he knew so much as using Kei’s name was likely to-

Shinji spat, grumbling.

‟Why are you. . .” Toshi took a breath, frowning. ‟You’re being mean on purpose.” He knew Shinji hated Kei - he didn’t know why, but that much was obvious - but. . . Kei had been scary, yeah, when Sho first brought him home, but he had been providing for them, protecting them, for more than a year.

That they had a door Shinji could slam was thanks only to Kei! They lived in an apartment! With a door and locks and a kitchen and furniture that was neither broken nor rotten and windows and walls with no holes and-

‟If he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t have to deal with it.” Shinji said darkly, and Toshi cringed a little. ‟He could get the hell out, if he wants so bad.”

He didn’t argue - he hated arguing with his family, ever - but. . .

There was no way Kei would leave, Toshi thought, biting his lip and watching Shinji limp across the apartment, banging through the doorway into the bathroom. And if he did, Sho. . . Sho would be. . .

Heartbroken, Toshi thought, then glanced warily - guiltily - at the door Shinji had just slammed.

Shinji might hate that, too, but that didn’t make it less true. Sho loved Kei, and - no matter how much Shinji hated it, no matter how much he denied it - Kei not only cared for all of them, he loved Sho just as much. He would never leave, not while Sho looked at him like that.

Not while they needed him, Toshi thought, and it was perhaps indulging a childish weakness they couldn’t afford, but he felt it, felt he could trust in that, even though they’d never been able to trust in an adult before. In anyone but themselves, but each other.

But-

Well. Kei.

He was different, and Toshi couldn’t- couldn’t fathom why Shinji hated him so much, but wished he would stop this-

Shinji slammed the bathroom door again on the way out, and Toshi grimaced.

Then Sho spilled out of the tiny bedroom at the back of the apartment - it might have been supposed to be a closet, or storage, really - and Toshi flinched.

‟Niichan.” Sho snapped, which was . . . yeah, that was about what he had expected.

He slid off the couch - they had a couch! it was comfortable and not broken and theirs - and edged into the kitchen as Sho scolded Shinji and Shinji snapped insults back. He didn’t really want anything, but he got himself a glass of water and stayed out of the way as they fought.

He wished it wasn’t daytime, fleetingly - though, of course, if it hadn’t been, it wouldn’t have come to a fight like this.

But if Kei were awake he would have. . .

Done something.

Or Shinji would have just left, sulking, because he refused to be around Kei if he could at all get out of it, and that included staying out who knew where all night sometimes, all day others.

Toshi sighed and drank his water very slowly, twitching every so often at the angry squabbling from the next room, wishing guiltily that Kei would wake up - if he wasn’t already disturbed from Shinji’s noise and now the shouting - and stop them.

Scowling, Sho shook his head as his brother slammed his bedroom door. He glanced at Toshi, huddled on the couch looking uneasy, and sighed, but he didn’t have anything more to say.

He went to Kei’s door, slipping through and closing it far more quietly.

He wasn’t surprised when Kei stirred - Shinji’s sulking alone would have made it impossible for Kei to sleep, he knew, and then. . . Well.

Sho ducked his head, his own angry words bouncing around in his mind, but Kei only beckoned him with a soft voice. Sho went to him; there was enough room in the narrow bed for Kei to tuck him close, and Sho wriggled as he did, cuddling in easily.

Kei hummed, smoothing his hair with one hand, and Sho sighed, nudging into the touch. ‟You shouldn’t fight with your brother.” Kei said quietly, his mouth tight and his eyes sad.

Sho hissed, tensing. ‟He shouldn’t be a dick!” he snapped, but kept his voice low.

‟Sho!” Kei scolded, and Sho snorted. It was true, as much as he loved Shinji; he was a dick when it came to Kei, always, damn it.

Sho squeezed Kei hard around the waist, and Kei sighed, hugging him closer.

‟He’s your brother.” Kei said softly, and kissed his brow. ‟Don’t pick fights, or,” he continued as Sho drew a breath to protest, because he didn’t, ‟rise to it when he does, if you can help it . . . and certainly not over me.”

‟I don’t want to fight with him either.” Sho admitted to Kei’s collarbone, and he rubbed Sho’s back lightly, humming. ‟And- Even when he is being a dick, I love niichan.”

‟I know you do.” Kei said gently, squeezing the nape of his neck. ‟I know. I’m sorry.”

‟I wish he wouldn’t fight,” Sho said, very quiet, ‟I hate it, when he does.” He paused. ‟I love him.” he said again.

. . .but not as much as I love you.