[As usual on nights like that, not even drink can get Byakuya to sleep. Those nights -- the ones where Kirei is brimming with glee and Kariya is tense with barely contained rage -- are just too dangerous to face wasted. Generally he puts the bottle away after dinner when it's like that, retreats to his room (or some unused corner of the mansion if he's feeling like testing Kirei's attention span), and tries not to see or hear anything.

Sometimes, silence is enough to save him. Not sleeping is a small price to pay on those nights in exchange for being in one piece. Other times there's enough space in the hectic evening for Kirei to come find him, and the next day he's both exhausted, sore, and hoarse from crying and screaming.

The first two years of it, he would try to take out his pain and fear and frustration on his little brother, even (or especially) when he was already tired and beaten down. But one night some few months back something cracked, and he'd tearfully confessed that he was tired -- of struggling, of fighting, of lashing out and hating himself for it in the morning. It hurt to be abused, it hurt worse to know that he always came out of encounters with Kirei ten times more injured than Kariya ever seemed to, but it hurt most to have been left behind all those years ago. He'd said that at least, despite everything, Kariya was here now, and Byakuya spent too much energy hating Kirei to waste any hating the brother that let him mooch in a fancy house.

So now there's a shaky, distant peace between the two. It's that peace that allows him to feel safe in limping into the room now in the dim pre-dawn light. There's a well-stocked first aid kit in his trembling hands, and he sits heavily on the floor next to the couch with a sigh.]

...I'll give that one a seven. Could've been worse.