I. The Wounds of Youth

Twins, they call us.

Clack, clack, tack…old-fashioned shoes on unfortunate flooring.

Good thing he's following me because I don't think I have the goddamn patience to turn around and get him-

They arrive at a door. A locked door, of course, because when one wears so many belts and boots and other utilitarian items, one can only expect to find themselves in front of locked doors.

He fumbles for a minute looking through his numerous pockets –If that little self-absorbed pig Fuuma stole it while he was busy manhandling me earlier I swear to God I'll – and finds it, with no small annoyance, in the pocket that he always puts it in.

Finally the door is pushed open (assertively)

Did I dent the wall?

…Do I really care…?

And home, at least home for the last few years, greeted the two with its usual melancholy greyness. It's a small room, and very compartmentalized – such is a post-apocalyptic lifestyle. There is a small bed coated with rough blankets that were probably roughly made. There is no other furniture, because nothing else is needed. Only a yawning window adorns the far wall. It hisses as the rain hits it.

Home sweet fucking home how I hate this place whywhywhy-

Carelessly, blinded, he put his first foot through the doorway and then the second he brought through too quickly –

-whywhy can't we leave right now it's not fair-

And of course there was the raised floorboard that would have otherwise be glaringly obvious -

-the ground? I'm on the ground? I'm on the ground and it's just not fair whywhywhy isn't it ever fair?

They call us twins.

Slowly and all too gracefully another pair of feet safely crossed the rouge floorboard.

Somehow, Oh! Somehow, the sting and shock is more painful than two years of loneliness and acid rain and an insane clone tearing at his arm and even Fuuma's awful awful truths. And he sits there, against the hard wall and the harder floor –

I swear I come in and out this room five times a day, and Subaru hasn't even been here once –

Twins. Twins by fate, not by age. And with age comes wisdom.

And he can't get up. He is shaking, shaking and he can feel his face oh no God I'm too old for this painting itself crimson.

Stupid stupid Fuuma why did he have to? Why did he have to be? I thought that – I thought that maybe – I hoped he – he shouldn't have told me. No, he should have told me earlier. WHY didn't he tell me? Back when – when –

"I'm sorry."

It wasn't the apology he really wanted to hear, but it was soft and protective right in his ear and suddenly he was aware of Subaru's arms pressed tightly around his frame.

"I didn't mean to leave you. I didn't want you to have to grow up so fast and so alone, little brother."

He trembled in short bursts and tucked his head into Subaru's shoulder. Maybe there, he hoped, Subaru wouldn't notice the liquid asteroids tears heavily rimming his eyes.

"It was awful, wasn't it? I can tell. You fretted over me day and night, I know it. What a good brother I have. I am lucky."

Subaru began stroking his back, in hopes to quell the shaking.

"It hurts, doesn't it, little brother? I know it hurts. But I promise that someday it will hurt less."

Kamui wanted to argue and sneer and pretend that he's still allowed to be young and carefree. He wanted Subaru to watch him with a half-smile as he tore up his enemies and claimed to be heartless, or at least ruthless. If only for a second, he wanted to be the troublesome twin that is quick to anger, quick to excitement, and secretly all too quick to trust.

And maybe then he understood the weariness in his brother's eyes; he finally realized the true burden of heartbreak.

He understood what makes one old.

Twins by similar circumstance.

After an epoch of trembling and painpainpain, he was finally able to lie limp like a corpse in Subaru's arms. He kept his head buried in the familiar fabric of Subaru's cloak, worried that his face was glowing pink and wet. Subaru knew it was.

He had felt the protruding knobs of Kamui's spine, and as he pulled away from the embrace, he felt the sharp corners of ribs through Kamui's clothing.

"Kamui?"

Deprived of Subaru's cloak, Kamui had let his face fall into his hands and his hair fall over his brow.

"Mmph?"

"How long has it been since you fed?"

"Not as long as you."

He playfully poked his younger brother in the side. He was rewarded with a slight twitch and a small "Hey-."

"I was hibernating. That doesn't count."

Subaru gathered Kamui's hair in his hands and gently tugged his head up to face him. He saw what he expected – big, round eyes plated and shiny with anguish, usually pale cheeks flushed and lightly glowing, small, ovular lips pressed tightly together, messy hair used as an attempted curtain to hide the weakness – and it was so incredibly lovely. Tragedy was so infamously becoming.

"I'm fine." Kamui whispered. Timidity laced his voice. He pleaded, even, "We should just go now."

Subaru shook his head with quietly inarguable sternness. "We don't know what the next world holds. I know you're tired. Do you need me to go and get -."

"NO!" Kamui reached up, a little less pink and embarrassed after his outburst, and grabbed Subaru's hands. "It's dangerous here. I – I'll go. I'll be quick."

Subaru watched with both sadness and maybe a little amusement as Kamui bounded across the room and threw open the window. An incipient smile softly grew on his face. At least, he figured, his silly Brother had the sense to put on his cloak and hood before he jumped.

Maybe he still has a little bit of rambunctious innocence. Only young vampires like to show off like that.