Swiss had finally left for the day. Well, that made him sound like he was eager to get rid of him; he wasn't, but he had been feeling a swirling pit of nausea for the last few hours that had culminated in that uncomfortable mouth flooding sensation. That feeling where you know you are going to throw up, but you can't tell when, all you do know is that there is an ungodly amount of saliva flooding your mouth. He had been swallowing it back every few minutes while waiting patiently for him to leave. It was a no-brainer that that sight would ruin the vibes of their hangout, especially if he put the pieces together of why he was feeling sick.

Since he was told everything, from the saga of his home life and crime ring to being used as a death sentence for nearly 600 years, and the recurrence of his people eating, he had been saddled with something new.

A constant, violent disquietude whenever he came near.

Even with all the love he had for him, the bond they had shared, and the countless late nights spent in each other's arms, it felt as if he was now looking at a stranger. For years, he knew nothing of his past life, just that he seemed oddly skilled in some misbehaviors and was wise, but they were close anyway. Aside from Rain, the pair got along better than fire and gasoline, feeding into each other's behavior in a constant game. On their off days, they still shared a spark that others seemed to miss, and it made the world feel all the better. That spark wasn't saving him now though, as he was stuck losing the contents of his late lunch.

Never in his life had his anxiety been so bad that it resulted in physical discomfort, aside from a tremor that he usually picked up around fire. But even then, it had been slowly going away with more exposure and time spent realizing he wasn't going to have to deal with that again.

No. Since Halloween, this had been a constant occurrence when he came to hang out. They would spend time together, his heart would sore as he got to see his friend again, his lover unmasked once more. But that little voice in the back of his head would remind him of everything he was told. The bodies. The flesh he had consumed. The murder. The people he still ate today, even if he wasn't the one hunting them down himself. Then it was a countdown to when he left so that Sodo could dispel everything that had built up inside.

As he sat there on his knees, hands gripping the porcelain with his maw agape, dragging in ragged breaths, he felt the waterworks flow again. Salted tears of guilt rolled down his nose, falling to the acrid water below. Each one was an admission of his own shortcomings, his inability to decide if he was going to just leave someone he adored over something he had no control over, or continue to fight this until he got past this wall.

Had he been a few decades younger the choice would have been clear: make a clean break and move on with life. Possibly move on entirely. That's what he did when things got in his way before. In Wrath he pissed off one too many ghouls, and rather than fixing what it was that caused the uproar, he moved on. In Envy when he found a guy he adored, and they were going together strong, he was happy until he found him in bed with another. They hadn't discussed sleeping around, poly or anything and rather than confronting it, he packed his things, said goodbye to the friends and life he had made there, and vanished. He was a ghost. Things didn't need to be complicated by anchoring himself to one spot when the world had so much more to offer. But if he cut ties with Swiss, he wouldn't be able to stay in these halls without looking for him every moment he could; he would have to leave... but he couldn't go back home and explain to his cousins and few remaining friends, if any stuck around, why he lost his webs and gills. Or how on gods green earth he was captured and forced through such a brutal ritual.

This wasn't how he wanted his year to end, afraid of his friend, but he had no idea how to move past it in a manner that made any rational sense.

Sitting back on his ankles, he grabbed some tissue and wiped what he could from his mouth and nose, throwing it away before pushing his form from the floor. The poor fire ghoul had begun to show signs of malnutrition lately, though vomiting almost every day for a month would do that to you. His cheeks felt hollow, and those mystic stormy eyes were sunken in ever so slightly. When asked, he blamed it on lack of sleep, staying up too late watching a new series or something believable for someone like him. To save himself the trouble and discomfort, he had started avoiding lunch dates, suggesting they go do other things to fill their time. Maybe a movie, maybe a swim, possibly even just napping together to fill in for the time he missed at night. And with rut here, he could just as easily sweet-talk his way into some sex to avoid going out, but that brought its own issues.

Staring himself down in the mirror, he could see the wear lines from this newfound terror in his life. From his blonde hair losing its healthy shimmer to his ashen skin taking on a sickly green hue, he appeared plagued though nothing was truly wrong. He loved him. He feared him. That wasn't healthy... He knew it wasn't, but he wasn't going to just abandon him either; that wasn't who he was.

His hands moved on their own, floating like they weren't even attached to his body in that moment. Turning on the tap, he let the warm water run before ducking his head and washing the remnants of bile from his skin. Rinsing his mouth in the process, his mind cycled on his situation.

He's a monster, and you know it.

He's also my friend, and he hasn't harmed me in any way that I haven't consented to...

Your own mother used stories about him to scare you away from misbehaving. You used to have nightmares about what a ghoul like that might look like.

Now I know. He was someone going through a shit time, and is still going through it.

You can't excuse cannibalism. What if you got sentenced while he was still there? You could have been under his claws in a less savory manner!

But that's not what happened, I behaved... he got released, he said he got better. People change.

Monsters don't, you've seen what monsters humanity has created do you really think any of them would have just gotten better if they had a few hundred years on their life spans?

He isn't a monster... I just have to get over myself, he isn't going to hurt me or those we care about.

Tell that to Tab, or Perpetua... How many others has he harmed without telling you?

Okay, that's enough hyper-fixating on the point; it still wasn't getting him anywhere. He had his arguments picked out, and could debate himself all day long but it did nothing when the irrational thoughts came back around. At this point he was seriously considering his plan B, going to Secundo and asking for a memory freeze. He needed something to stop them for a moment, a millisecond.

Sauntering back towards his bed, he didn't even bother to crawl out of his clothes as he flopped himself down into the nest of blankets. Searching blindly, he found the pillow that Swiss usually used while he was there and brought it to his face, curling around it as he sucked in a breath past gritted teeth. What the fuck was the point of memories if all they did was make things harder? Even now, huffing the lingering pheromones, all he felt was guilt that he feared becoming an accidental snack. But riding underneath, a symphony of all their greatest hits... their late nights, casual afternoons, seasons of rut spent together. All of it. The record of the last several years was already sewn into Sodo's tapestry, and he didn't want to let it go... he didn't want to cut the thread short because of this one knot.

fuck it he will go talk to Papa tomorrow about freezing part of those almost half a million bodies, Swiss's time in the slammer accounted for. Maybe he could handle just the current people eating... He put up with Nacht after all, though he still gave him the creeps. Just to a lesser degree. Today it would be nap time and possibly some of his own supply of liquor to find a common ground in his mind that wouldn't let him talk himself out of tomorrow.