Erich jolts awake, his heart hammering and a dream lurking just out of reach, and immediately rolls onto his side to curl into a ball. He can’t— he doesn’t understand, doesn’t know what he was dreaming but it still— it still—

(It burned, it burned and burned and burned and his teeth ached and he wanted— he wanted—)

He presses his face into his hands. Forces himself to breathe. Forces himself to focus on the feel of the sheets against his skin and the sound of his breath and the rustle of the blankets and creak of the bed as he moves and it— it helps, it does, but it’s… it’s not enough.

He wants Io. Wants her steady calm and her gentle quiet. Wants her presence to drive away the hunger-terror-fury clawing at his chest—

Mind made up, Erich throws the sheets off and stands up, intent on finding Io and just… curling up next to her, no matter what anyone else says about it. She won’t mind, he knows she won’t, and that’s all that matters to him.

(As much as he’s begun to tentatively feel safe around Louis and Yakumo and the others here, they aren’t… important.)

(Not yet at least, not the way Io is.)

(…though he’s not quite sure what the name of that feeling is just yet…)

(…oh well.)

He hesitates by his bed for a moment, then shakes his head and steps past the nightstand, leaving his glasses behind; he can see well enough without them, at least for this, that it feels like too much of a bother to put them on. Not when he’s just going to curl up against Io as soon as he finds her.

The stone is cold against his bare feet as he pads out of his room and down the short hallway to the main area; he doesn’t know exactly why Io prefers to sleep out in the open, but at least it means he knows where she’s likely to be right now. And at least it being the middle of the night means he’s unlikely to encounter anyone else—

He freezes as he starts to round the metal thing Coco is always leaning against, the murmur of voices — familiar voices — making the breath seize in his throat and his mind to blank.

(He doesn’t— he doesn’t know— doesn’t want to talk with anyone else—)

(He just wants to rest in Io’s presence!)

“Successor?” Io’s voice calls out, tone muddled with emotions he can’t quite label. When he doesn’t immediately respond, doesn’t immediately step closer, she hums softly and asks, “Won’t you come sit with me, Erich?”

Erich swallows, weighs his choices, and then slowly steps around the metal thing and looks over towards where Io’s voice had come from; she’s sitting on one of the small couches, leaning against the arm with her chin propped on her hand and her legs tucked beneath her, and on the larger couch is— is Louis and Yakumo, sitting side-by-side with barely any distance between them. All three of them look relaxed, at ease in a way that makes unknown emotions claw vicious-sharp-aching at his chest, and he doesn’t— doesn’t know if he’s really welcome here, if they’ll actually let him just be—

“Come,” Io murmurs, shifting her seat and lifting her right hand to beckon him closer. “Did you dream again?”

“Dre—oof!” Yakumo starts to say, before Louis elbows him sharply in the side, cutting off his words before he can even get the first one out.

Erich blinks at them, slants a questioning look at Io, then sighs softly when she just smiles at him; honestly, he’s half-certain that he wouldn’t understand Louis and Yakumo even if he did have his memories still. They just seem the sort that would confuse him no matter what, which is… well, truthfully, it’s a bit more of a relief than it probably should be.

“Come,” Io repeats a bit more firmly, hand lifting slightly higher. “Come sit with me and let your mind rest, my Successor. You’re safe here.”

Erich casts another glance at Louis and Yakumo, before giving in to the inevitable and stepping closer, up the couple steps—

“Wait a moment,” Louis speaks up before Erich can get much further. He nudges Yakumo’s side again and then nods towards the two-person couch across from Io. “Let’s let Io and Erich sit here, Yakumo, and we’ll take that loveseat.”

Yakumo makes an agreeable noise and rises to his feet, offering Louis his hand as he does. “Yeah, sounds good to me,” he says as he pulls Louis up and then moves towards the— the loveseat. “Though if you want us to leave, just let us know and we will,” Yakumo adds, attention focused on Erich as he says that.

Erich shrugs awkwardly and looks away, not certain how to answer that; part of him doesn’t want the other two around, but… but so long as they don’t want him to talk, it’s… probably fine. A reminder that he’s no longer… wherever that misty, tangled dream takes place.

(They were never part of whatever it is haunting his sleep, though he doesn’t know how he knows that.)

(Just a feeling, just an instinct, but when instincts are all he is, well…)

(He’ll rely on what he has available.)

Io hums as she stands up and moves closer, peering up at him as she grasps his wrist in a warm, gentle grip. “You will be fine,” she murmurs, a smile curling her lips and creasing the corners of her eyes when Erich just fixes her with a look. “Come, let’s sit down.”

He huffs but lets her pull him around the low table and to the couch without protest, content to let her take the lead like she did when he first woke; he doesn’t currently have the energy for anything else, just like back then, though… though at least this time his teeth don’t ache and his hunger isn’t a frantic, vicious thing clawing at his very being.

(Right now, he’s just… tired.)

Erich sits when she does, settling onto the couch in relief, then rolls his eyes when the next thing she does is tug at his shoulder in an attempt to pull him over into her lap. He hesitates, casting another wary look at Louis and Yakumo, before slowly stretching out on the couch and letting his head rest in Io’s lap and his eyes slip closed.

It’s… good. Comfortable. Especially when Io’s hand brushes over his head, her fingers threading through his hair in easy, repetitive motions that have him relaxing bit by bit.

“Ah… hey,” Yakumo says a touch hesitantly, breaking the silence that had descended. When Erich just cracks an eye open to look at him, the man gives a strange, hollow laugh and reaches up to rub at the back of his head. “I just… want to say sorry. For what I said earlier today, about… about memories and all. I shouldn’t have said that—”

“You aren’t exactly wrong,” Erich interrupts before Yakumo can say anything else, then grimaces when that earns him a sharp look from Louis and Yakumo. “I don’t know who I am, or who I was, or… or anything. I’m just instincts. Just like a Lost is.”

“But you can learn,” Louis says firmly, leaning forward over the arm of the love-seat. “Erich, you aren’t like the Lost. You have the ability to learn, and grow, and figure yourself out. The Lost… don’t. The only thing they care about is sating their hunger in any way possible.”

Erich clenches his jaw and shoves himself up on his elbow so he isn’t in quite so vulnerable a position in front of the other two. “Am I really that different?” he asks harshly, then makes a slashing motion with his free hand when Yakumo starts to open his mouth. “Even if I can become… someone, eventually, I won’t be… whoever I used to be. He’s gone. He’s gone, and all that’s left is… is instincts and reflexes and— and hundreds of words I don’t even know the meanings of!”

Io’s hand settles on his shoulder and tightens just a bit, though she doesn’t try to move him, just… leaves it there. It’s reassuring. Grounding. Something of the here-and-now instead of the tangle of nothingness in his head that screams louder and louder with every day that passes.

“He is,” Yakumo agrees reluctantly, then catches Louis’ elbow without even looking over at him and continues with, “He’s not wrong, Louis. Memories make us us, and we all know it. Whoever Erich was, that person — and all his experiences — are gone.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“That he’s a different person?” Yakumo interrupts Louis, then snorts and shakes his head. “Erich feels like he is, isn’t that all that matters?”

A tense silence falls between them and Erich grimaces as he lets himself sink back into Io’s lap. This is exactly why he didn’t want to speak with them right now; between his tangled feelings about Yakumo’s earlier words, the nightmare that drove him awake, and his general discomfort with… with strangers as a whole, he just… doesn’t have the energy for this.

Resigned to putting up with their presence — with their words — Erich simply closes his eyes and tries to relax.

“Ah, hey, Erich…”

Erich sighs softly and cracks an eye open, staring blurrily at Yakumo as he waits for the other to say whatever’s on his mind.

“So… you’re right, but… Louis sort of is to,” Yakumo says awkwardly, his clothes rustling as he shifts in his seat. “I mean… the person you were is dead, and it’s understandable to mourn that, but… that doesn’t mean you’re not a person, either. You’re making memories now, and learning about the world, and us, and everything, so…” he pauses, struggling with his words, before groaning softly and adding, “Look. You’re already more than you were when Louis first dragged you back here—”

“I did not drag him here, I invited him,” Louis hisses softly, voice barely loud enough for Erich to catch.

“—and that doesn’t show any sign of stopping,” Yakumo continues, speaking over Louis’ interruption without hesitation. “You’re figuring yourself out, and even if that’s not who you were, it’s who you are now, and— and that’s something, isn’t it? Tell you the truth, you’re probably braver than I’ll ever be. I don’t think I could remake myself like you are…”

“You don’t know that,” Erich feels compelled to point out, a tiny, burning twist of emotion, sharp and vicious like a Lost’s claws, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “If you don’t have your memories, you won’t remember saying all that. Or remember that you once thought that no memories made you nothing more than a Lost.”

Yakumo gives a sharp, uncomfortable bark of laughter. “Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he agrees as he slumps backwards to stare up at the ceiling. “At that point, this-me and all of this-me’s opinions would be dead, huh. Maybe… well, I guess it doesn’t matter. I don’t plan to try to lose myself like that, and if something happens to cause that, there’s… probably no way to prevent it anyway, so there’s no use worrying. But… if that happens and you three are still around—”

“We’ll help you,” Louis says firmly as he leans into Yakumo’s side.

Erich doesn’t hesitate to make a noise of agreement; after all, no matter Yakumo’s earlier words, he and Louis have both been kind and welcoming, not minding his lack of knowledge about the world or people or anything.

The least he can do is repay that.

“And you know I’d do the same for you,” Yakumo says, directing his words at Louis this time.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, his voice soft and warm and— and something that Erich can’t name which makes the sharp-vicious-draining ache come rushing back in a vile, choking wave.

Erich shoves the ache back down and turns his head, tucking his face a bit more against Io’s leg as he closes his eyes and just focuses on breathing.

(Whatever it is he’s feeling, it’s not a nice feeling.)

(And neither Louis nor Yakumo deserve… whatever it is aimed at them.)

(So he’ll just… ignore it until it goes away again.)

(…it’s about all he can do…)

Io’s hand settles on his head again, her fingers threading gently through his hair, and he lets her touch sooth away the ache, almost like using a venom vaccine when poisoned.

Even better, Louis and Yakumo seem to take his actions as exhaustion instead of… whatever it was, and they don’t say anything more to him; instead, the settle into a quiet conversation between each other, their voices barely a murmur, and it’s… oddly relaxing.

Relaxing enough that he finds himself drifting. Finds his eyelids heavy. Finds his thoughts quieting—

He sleeps.