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Yohji's pushing it, he knows it. It's been three days now since he's slept, three days running on nicotine and coffee, and the strain's starting to show. It's not so bad he can't work in the shop or drive out the deliveries, but he's not 100%.
He catches Omi's assessing look, knows that if he doesn't get some sleep soon - or at least look like he has - then he'll find a packet of sleeping pills pushed under his door: discreet and close enough to a friendly gesture that he can pretend Omi's more worried about him than about how his lack of sleep will affect a mission.
And that's okay. Yohji doesn't mind the sleeping pills; drugged or drunk, the nightmares don't come so often, so clear; he doesn't wake up with Asuka's voice still in his ear or the feel of her throat on his fingers. (He turns to the bottle, sometimes, but not so often that they'll get on him about that, either, and he won't buy the pills himself, can't stand the thought of facing a clerk with them.)
Aya, however, when he catches Yohji outside, hauling garbage to the bin, is not nearly so subtle. He shoves Yohji hard into the wall, knocking the garbage bag from his hand and sending wilted roses scattering across the ground. "Stop fucking around," he says bluntly, his fingers digging into Yohji's shoulder.
"Let go of me," Yohji says, annoyed, and shoves him back, reaching into his pocket when he's got some room between them and pulling out his smokes and a lighter.
For half a second it looks like Aya's going to knock them out of his hand, but he just glares instead, his lips tight with more anger than Yohji thinks is really warranted. It's none of Aya's business how much he sleeps, anyway, and it's not like there has been a mission, so there's no harm done.
"You need to sleep," he says finally, "or you'll be worthless."
Yohji snorts. Aya has a way with words sort of like Ken has a way with the ladies. It's not an argument he wants to get into, though, half because he knows Aya is right, half because arguing with Aya never fucking gets anyone anywhere. So he stares back instead, leaning against the wall, taking long drags of his cigarette to fill the semi-hostile silence.
It's almost burned down to the filter before Aya shakes his head and turns his back on him, heading into the shop. Yohji has a few seconds to be something approaching smug that he won the staredown before he hears Aya mutter, his voice low enough that Yohji almost thinks he's imagining it: "...so fucking selfish."
The door closes behind him with a thud and Yohji lets his cigarette butt drop to the ground, tilting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. He could fall asleep standing up, he thinks. At least Aya's sister is still alive, even if Schwarz has her. At least she's sleeping, and when she wakes up, she'll know him.
She probably doesn't dream, either.