Zen didn't receive a response the first time, so he called again. "Seven, are you in here?" He said, walking inside his unlocked house. It was empty from traces of his best friend, save for a few cans of PhD Pepper sprawled across his counter. Zen sighed as he thought about cleaning it up later. The soda would probably make the counter sticky, which is arguably the worst texture.
After finding little evidence of Seven's existence in the living room and kitchen, he headed straight for his own room, as that's where Seven usually went if he came uninvited for some reason. Why? He wasn't really sure. There wasn't anything particularly interesting in the room besides a few cardboard boxes full of sentimental pictures and notes. In his room there was also a bed, as one would assume. But Seven shouldn't find that interesting. Would he? The discovery of the pillow polaroid was throwing him off.
Then again, it's not like he found Seven on his bed while he was in bed. What if Seven was secretly climbing into Zen's bed at absurd hours of the night?? His mind spiraled out if control until he took a deep breath and assured himself that he was just thinking too hard about it. Or was he?
(He was.)
The door to Zen's own room was closed, which was kind of weird, but that probably meant that Seven was in there. Seven always closed the door behind him, probably as a habit to keep people from following him, which was required in his previous job. Zen opened the door slowly, making the hinges creak and ruin the concept of quietly opening a door, to check to see if Seven was napping on his bed again.
Sometimes Zen would just come home from a long day of working, and he'd just find Seven sleeping in his bed. He always slept on Zen's side (the right side) and he would always be too tired to roll him over, or tell him to leave.
Therefore, Seven would just sleep in Zen's bed for a while until he woke up and decided to leave. It was annoying, but Zen was usually exhausted from work, plus he figured the redhead probably needed the sleep anyways.
Upon entering his room, he was greeted with an unfamiliar sight.
"Hey." Seven said. The redhead looked incredibly disheveled. His usual red ringer shirt was soaked, making the thin fabric cling to his lanky body. It looked like he had been wiping his eyes with his shirt. Seven's hair was a mess, his red locks curled up in several different directions, and his fogged up glasses resembled a window on a winter's day. He sat on Zen's bed, flipping through a small spiral book.
Zen panicked, he had never really seen Seven broken down this much in all of their years of friendship. When Seven was feeling like trash, he usually tended to stay in his room, and refuse to come out for several days. He would live off of small meals of chips, and overworked himself to exhaustion until he came out, looking like he had resolved his issue. To think back, Seven rarely talked about any of his feelings, and seemed reluctant to properly fix his problems. He always just buried his emotions under a laughable persona, making jokes to hide his underlying problems.
Zen sat on the bed with him, unsure of what to do. "Are you okay?" he said, seeing Seven try to blink away tears, only to have them stream down his cheeks. Seven closed the book and faced Zen, who was sitting behind him. "You weren't supposed to see me like this." Seven said, somehow regaining his composure enough to articulate that sentence. He chuckled, smiling weakly to attempt to bring light to the situation.
"No no no no." Zen tried to reassure him. "It's okay, you can stay here." He fumbled with his sheets awkwardly, unsure how to comfort him. "What's wrong?" He said, watching his best friend's eyes sparkle with tears behind his glasses before they fogged up again. Zen felt bad just sitting there watching him cry. He wanted to help, just like Seven had helped him.
A few years prior, Zen lost a major role that would've really put his name out there in the film industry. He would have been the leading man, aided by major stars. Like any strong man, he cried into his pillow and went into a pit of sadness for the next few days, losing focus on the musicals he had already cemented a role in. Seven had just started randomly entering Zen's house, and offered to comfort him. Zen remembered how Seven smelled vaguely of cereal as he hugged him.
"I'm fine." Seven said, wiping his eyes with the last dry portion of his shirt and getting up from the bed. He started to head for the door, when Zen impulsively got up and hugged him so tight that Seven thought he would die from his lungs being crushed. Seven hesitated, then wrapped his arms around the taller man. He didn't really remember the last time someone hugged him, let alone let him cry into a nice shirt. "You can tell me anything Seven." Zen said, more talking into Seven's hair than in any direction of his ears. In response, Seven only hugged him tighter, his arms holding Zen's waist and shoulder blade. "It's stupid. Don't worry about it." Seven said between sniffling and wiping his snot all over Zen's shirt.
Zen's hugs were warm and comforting. It was like a home, the kind where you just want to stay in the coziness of your house during the weekends. Seven thought the tight hug was similar to wrapping your blankets around yourself during winter, except Zen's heart beat, and his warm breath traveled into Seven's red hair.
Seven let go of Zen, just standing there in front of him for a minute before trying to leave. Zen tossed Seven a tee shirt from a nearby drawer. "I can wash that for you if you want." He said, gesturing to Seven's wet shirt. "Oh. Thanks." Seven replied, taking off his drenched shirt and throwing it directly at Zen's face.
"Hey..uh," Zen took the shirt off of his face and tossed it into a pile. "You do know you can always tell me things..right?" He looked at Seven, trying to gauge what kind of response he would give. A lot of the time, Seven would keep things to himself, despite retiring from hacking. Zen always felt kind of hurt when Seven wouldn't talk about his feelings or his problems.
Seven looked serious, and seemed to think about what the albino had said. "There's this....girl.." He started slowly, "And I think my chances with her are very slim."
Zen felt relieved that the emotional outburst wasn't caused by him. "I...the wheel of cheese is what reminded me of her." Seven paused, covering his mouth with his hand. His amber eyes began to smile, and he repressed a laugh.
At this point Zen was just confused on what was accurate and what wasn't about what Seven had just said. He wondered if he had just made up the entire thing. It was always a joke with Seven.
"Well, for one maybe stop calling her a wheel of cheese." He cracked a smile, assuming that part was a joke. Zen tried to think of good advice to get a girl. "Be respectful of her boundaries, be a gentleman, and make her feel like she's the most precious stone you've ever seen."
Seven stared at Zen, nodding, "I think it might work." He said, looking a little better. Seven had stopped crying a few minutes ago.
He seemed to be considering the advice as he smiled, heading for the door.
"I'll be back later probably." Seven said, waving and grabbing the little notebook he was looking at earlier. "Bye!" Zen replied, not really sure if he had accomplished his goal of helping him or not. He hoped that Seven and this mystery girl would have a successful relationship. After all, Zen only wants the best for his best friend.
