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“Dude, do you wanna tell us what’s up?”

Alex shook Ruki’s shoulder. They were sitting on the floor of the new apartment. Boxes were everywhere. No furniture. A pizza box sat between them. Ruki had fallen asleep mid-sentence.

He blinked himself awake, rubbing his face. “Work’s been rough. That’s all.”

“And?”

“And that’s it.” Ruki lay back, staring at the ceiling with eyes so heavy they looked bruised.

Alex waved his pizza slice. “That’s some wack-ass job if it’s making you fall asleep mid-speech.”

Ruki smiled. The tired version—the one that used to make Jun’s chest ache without understanding why. “At least I got a day off for your move-in.”

“You could have used it to rest,” Jun said quietly.

Ruki turned his head. That smile again. “And miss giving you a housewarming gift?”

“Fucking pizza?” Alex said.

“Isn’t that a way to a man’s heart, Garza?” Ruki said through a yawn. “Besides, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a hot meal.”

Jun stopped chewing. “You haven’t been eating?”

Ruki’s eyes widened. It was the look of someone who’d said too much. “Don’t worry, Jun. It’s just been demanding. I haven’t thought about it.” His eyes found Jun’s, soft and steady. “I’ll be okay.”

“No,” Jun said. Too loud.

Ruki blinked. Alex froze mid-chew.

“I mean—” Jun scrambled. The image of A-ma wrapping a glass bento box in cloth flashed behind his eyes. “I could make you bentos. Bring them to you.”

“That’s not necessary—”

“It won’t be a problem. I have free time.”

“’Cause you don’t do jack shit,” Alex muttered, getting up to throw his plate away.

Ruki opened his mouth to argue. Closed it. Then he turned to Jun with a smile that was different—warmer, surprised, like Jun had offered him something much bigger than a lunch box.

“Thank you.”

A sharp pain from his ribs coiled through his entire body. Jun surfaced again, slower this time. Whatever drug they’d given him was thinning. The pain was coming back in layers: wrists first, then ribs, then the swollen side of his face. His thoughts sharpened by a degree, which only made everything worse.

That was the last time he’d seen Ruki before the mall. And in between, the bento deliveries. Weeks of them. Jun learning Ruki’s schedule, timing the drop-offs so he wouldn’t have to watch the hollowing in Ruki’s face get worse. Telling himself the food was enough. Telling himself Ruki would say something if it wasn’t.

Until Ruki told him to stop coming.

Jun’s lungs had been on fire from sprinting through Paragon’s labyrinth-like hallways. He jabbed the elevator button. Again. Again.

“Jun?” Ruki’s voice through the phone. Thin. Wrong.

“Which room are you in? I brought your bento.” Jun pressed the lunch box against his ribs, catching his breath.

“Now’s not a good time.”

“I’ll just drop it off—”

“Jun!” The sharpness of his voice cracked through the phone like a slap. “Please. Just leave.”