Ever since returning back to the solid safety of Earth, the night sky had become somewhat of a bad sight for Daisuke. His time on the Tulpar hadn't been good to him; where you used to be able to go stargazing with him, you now couldn't even mention the moon without him going quiet. Not that you blamed him, but Daisuke always felt guilty that he was stopping you from interacting with one of your interests. He got so insecure over the scar on his ribs, too, and you weren't allowed to touch it or the surrounding area on bad days in case it sent him spiralling.

Today seemed to be one of those 'bad days', as when you woke up, Daisuke was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing a shirt—not that pink floral one, he'd thrown it out. He tried not to care whether he wore one around the house or not, but on days like today, he just couldn't stand to see it. It was a reminder of the tragedy he'd suffered on the Tulpar, how he'd survived at the cost of everyone else's lives.

When he felt your arms go around his waist and your head fall on his shoulder, he sighed heavily. No words were needed to explain—you knew everything—but still, he spoke, if only to ease the silence.

"Bad day," were the soft words to explain the tension in the air. There was no rhyme or reason to what day was good or bad. Daisuke could only hope that they were good every day.