A.N.- Meh. I don't really like this one that much, but it's still post-worthy. This is just a drabble, nothing much. I might actually write a companion piece for this later, because I have another idea that ties in well. I feel really sick, and my tummy is knotted up, so no lengthy note. Reviews are loved greatly and will make me feel better.
Open your eyes.
He should have known. It really wasn't that hard. He was a geneticist; he should have noticed the pattern a little more quickly. He rubbed his face with his hands. He could still feel the blood on them and it haunted him every night. He and Zane were friends. Except it wasn't really Zane. No, not Zane at all. It was Sylar. It was hard to get that fact into his head. And even harder to do something about it.
It took him a while to finally take action. He had known for a week or two, but...he couldn't do anything. If Sylar was able to keep up the act, why shouldn't he? Besides, at the moment, there was too much too lose.
He and Zane were friends. No, that was a lie. Friends wasn't the right word for it. They were more than friends. What alarmed Mohinder now was that he hadn't started it. Was getting close to Mohinder a part of his plan? Make it hurt even more? Mohinder remembered their first close encounter vividly.
He had been standing in his messy apartment, staring intently at the large map. Where to go next was a problem. There was really no one within a short distance, and they needed to make the most of their time. 'Zane' had snuck up quietly behind him, coming to rest his head on Mohinder's shoulder. His heart had raced at the contact, but he didn't pull away. 'Zane' had wrapped his arms slowly around Mohinder's waist and grinned. His back melted perfectly into the other man's front.
When 'Zane' spoke, it was a whisper. "You need to relax. You're too stressed out right now." He turned Mohinder around to face him. "Take a break."
Now, Mohinder completely regretted his own actions. It was him who closed the gap between their mouths. Sure, 'Zane' was more than willing, but if Mohinder wasn't the one who kissed him first he wouldn't be filled with guilt and sickness.
'Zane' had moved eagerly into the kiss, stepping in and drawing their bodies closer together. Mohinder had fallen backwards and supported by the wall. Pins from the map left little red dents in his back. He still felt them. Touches were given and taken. Only a few minutes had passed when 'Zane' had steered Mohinder gently towards the bedroom.
Mohinder felt bile rise up to his mouth at the thought. He had been to bed with his father's murderer. He failed as a son. He stood up and walked towards the window. Rain fell loudly against the glass pane, but he could still see his reflection. All his injuries had been bandaged and the majority of them had already healed. He often awoke in a cold sweat from dreadful nightmares- no, recollections- of that day.
What puzzled poor Mohinder was how easily Sylar had faked everything. The morning after their first night 'together', he had prepared an extravagant breakfast for Mohinder, including some great coffee. When Mohinder had asked how he did it, 'Zane' only replied that a waitress he once knew gave them to him. He knows now just how literal that explanation was.
He shouldn't have been so blind. The very person he was trying to protect the others from was right in front of him. So close he could touch him. And he had.
All Mohinder could feel was regret.