Chapter One: Algorithm

"Hey, Takeru?" Yamato called. "Remind me again why I'm letting you cook?"

"...because I can't live off of pizza?" the younger brother replied, thumbing through bare cabinets. Heck, the bachelors didn't even have a pantry, just a loose shelving unit stocked with a bunch of ingredients that couldn't be combined to make anything. "It's no wonder you're skinny as a rail and Dad's poor all the time."

"Screw you," Yamato muttered, thinking, Go back to Mom's if you want to live in pure Hell.

Takeru sighed. He had a good idea of what the other hadn't said. "Mom asked about you last week."

The older blonde barely made a noise as he laid on the couch, guitar against his chest, struggling to think of anything.

"I told her you guys were doing well," Takeru continued. He figured he may as well say what he wanted to say, even if it meant an hour of silence for the hatred in Yamato's heart to wear off at the mere mention of their mother. Takeru finally found a few cups of rice and a can of tuna and decided to throw that together. As he waited for the rice to boil, he didn't go join his brother in the living room. Finally, a few notes trickled towards the kitchen, but it was deafened just as quickly. When Takeru had finished dinner, he called for his brother, but there was no response. Takeru leaned over the kitchen counter and saw that Yamato was soundly sleeping... for a change.

Takeru took the time to think to himself. About how their house always smelled different from Natsuko's. How there was never any light. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if things had been reversed or if things had turned out... like Yamato thought they would. "You hate me for that, don't you?" the younger brother whispered, staring down at the half-empty plate.

"Whhhyy would I hate you?" his brother drawled from the other room. "Jeez, I thought you would never wake me up."

Takeru squeaked.

Yamato laughed and sat up lazily from the couch, then stretched and joined his brother at the table. "So, cough it up, why do I hate you?"

"...how do you know I was even talking about you?"

Yamato gave his brother a look that said, "Oh, come on, who else would you be talking about?"

"...I just..." Takeru started, and held his fingers to his lips as if to bite his nails. Something he used to do as a kid. "Mom."

"What about her?" Yamato remarked, sitting back in the chair. Immediately he folded his arms and refused to look Takeru in the face.

"Do you... Are you..." Takeru struggled to find the words. "Do you resent me?"

"Because...?" Yamato pressed.

"Any reason, really," the other said, moving rice around his plate. All the tuna was gone. "Because she didn't hurt me or because I was lucky enough or something, I don't know..."

"You're my brother, I'm not allowed to hate you," Yamato chuckled. "Come on, what did she say to you? You never act like this."

Takeru sighed. That was true, but it wasn't because of her. They were more because of... well, himself. "I should clean everything up before I go. Maybe then, Jyou will think that you actually do something for a change."

Yamato frowned, "Don't change the subject."

Takeru stood and washed the pot from the rice maker and his own plate. Yamato fumed behind him and finally stood, embracing his brother. "Please, don't keep things bottled in like I do."

Takeru shook his brother away, "Please, let me be."

"Takeru..." Yamato whispered.

"I'll be late for church with Mom if I don't hurry," the younger sibling insisted. Yamato gathered Takeru's tote bag and handed it to him as he left. He barely said goodbye as he rushed down the hall. Yamato was about to shut the door when he heard Takeru... stumble? He poked his head out of the apartment.

"Sorry, Jyou-san," Takeru whispered, bowed, and headed on his way.

Jyou smiled and shook his head, "That kid gets wierder every day."

"Jyou," Yamato breathed. "Thank God."

Jyou joined his boyfriend at the door, "Well, I didn't realize my prescence was so needed."

Yamato pulled Jyou inside and shut the door, startling the boy so badly, he nearly lost his glasses. He did drop his schoolbag, however, because within seconds he could barely breathe under the force of the other's lips and body pressed against him.

Finally, when Jyou thought he was going to pass out from lack of air, Yamato let go. "Um..." Jyou whispered, "I appreciate the warm welcome and all, but... what's wrong?"

Yamato slogged over to the couch and flopped. "It's Takeru."

Jyou laughed uneasily, "Uh, I'm not sure if he should make you do something like that..."

"He's just stressing me out lately," Yamato replied as Jyou walked over and sat in the middle of the living room floor. "He's been acting strange since about a week ago."

"What do you think is going on with him?"

"I'm not sure," Yamato replied.

"Did something happen?"

"I can't think of anything..."

"What happened when he was here this morning?" Jyou pressed, anxious to help.

"We were talking about Mom and..." Yamato took a breath, "And he asked me if I resented him."

"Why?"

"He said I would hate him because he didn't end up fucked up like me, basically," Yamato muttered, rolling over.

"That doesn't sound like Takeru," Jyou sighed. "Maybe..."

"No, Jyou!" Yamato cried from where his face was buried in the couch cushions. "Don't ask. Don't talk to him. I mean this in a good way, but he's a little liar."

Jyou smiled. "He just doesn't want to hurt you. I'm sure he would tell me the truth."

"Oh, come on," the blonde snickered, sitting up, "He's going to willingly tell his brother's boyfriend whatever is bothering him. He knows you'll tell me."

"Takeru and I have been friends, somehow, longer than you and I have," Jyou smiled. "Let me talk to him."

"God damn it, Jyou, if you fuck up the only tangible family relationship I have left, so help me Digi-Jesus-"

"I swear, I'll be gentle," Jyou smiled.