Where are you? Sing cussed. A light drizzle fell over campus. His sneakers slipped on fallen leaves. He was definitely missing lit today. Jessica was probably going to roast him when she saw him next.

He finally found him huddled in a grove of trees, leaning back against the stone bench instead of sitting on it. His cheek was scraped from leaning against the rough stone, and his fingers grasped pebbles, tossing them up in the air and watching them land on his legs.

"Everyone's looking for you."

"Everyone?" Yut-Lung craned his neck back, smirking up at Sing. A joyless laugh broke through his lips. "No one is."

"Stop with your self-pity. Nadia Wong sounded the alarm. She's gotten security involved."

Yut-Lung scrambled to his feet, breaths coming quick. "That bitch!"

Sing recoiled. "Don't call her that! You started screaming in the cafeteria and ran off, of course she asked security to look for—"

"Now my brothers will—"

"Well, if you didn't want them to find out, maybe you should have thought of that before you started screaming in the cafeteria!" Sing folded his arms, glaring. The rain came harder, pittering and pattering down, plastering his hair to his forehead. A chill seeped down his spine.

"Why aren't you in class?" Yut-Lung shot back.

"You were hysterical? I couldn't just leave you alone?"

He stomped his foot. "I was not hysterical!"

Sing arched his eyebrows. The rain started to pour. Thunder crackled.

"Oh, whatever." Yut-Lung huffed, dropping down on the bench. "I'll just get hypothermia. Or struck by lightning, but God's not that merciful. Go back to class."

"Not without you."

"You can't control me!" Yut-Lung shrieked.

What are you, two years old? Sing scowled at him. "Did you really sleep with Shorter?"

Yut-Lung's shoulders stiffened. He grasped his elbows. "I gave him a blow job and he gave me a hand job; does that count?"

"Do you think it counts?"

Yut-Lung's nostrils flared.

"You know, I don't hate you, but yelling that in the cafeteria was a really shitty thing to do. It's not just about you."

Yut-Lung scoffed. "You don't hate me?"

"No? But you're acting exactly like the pompous brat everyone says you are. But you don't seem that way in the lessons we take with Blanca. You're fun there. But you—Shorter is one of my—"

"Loved ones? Are you jealous?"

"Shut up!" Sing wrinkled his nose. "No! I just—you seduced him—"

"He was a fully willing participant."

"I really don't need to know!" Sing clamped his hands over his ears. "I just want you to not humiliate him anymore! Because he's my friend!"

Yut-Lung stared at him. Rain soaked through his shirt. He shrugged. "If he slept with the school slut, then—"

"Did you do it because he was just another number to notch on your belt?"

"I don't wear belts. They're hard to match with—"

"You know what I mean! Or did you do it because you liked him?" If Yut-Lung was just using Shorter, Sing wanted to shake him and demand why. Shorter was such a good guy, a protector. To think that Shorter could be used too, could be—

"Are you asking whether I like sex or whether I like him?" Yut-Lung leaned back on his hands.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Neither."

Neither? Sing gaped at him.

"What, do you think sex is associated with true love?' Yut-Lung jeered. "Don't look so shocked. Some of us have our own reasons."

"Like what, self-destruction? That you're poisoning Shorter with now?" Sing wanted to punch him. "And what's wrong with doing it because you love someone? Or with doing it because you want to? Not everyone treats it so casually and does it just because they're bored, or looking for—whatever it was you were looking for! And no one appreciates being used like that!"

"How would you know?" Yut-Lung shot back.

"I don't, but I can imagine! And Shorter is my friend, and I thought you were too, and I don't like seeing either of you like this! You hurt him!"

Yut-Lung got to his feet. "No," he stated. "You couldn't imagine."

"Fine then!" Sing put his hands on his hips. "I'm not letting you just sit here, though. Nadia really was worried and got Charlie looking for you."

"Why, so she can help my brothers yell at me for hurting her brother?"

"Nadia's not a bitter bitch!"

"Like me?"

"I didn't say that!"

"Whatever." Yut-Lung stormed past him. "I'll go to security. Happy?"

"What do you think?" But Sing followed Yut-Lung until he saw him enter the security office. Then he turned to storm to class, dripping wet.

Why are you like this? Yut-Lung was bleeding, he could tell, but unlike Shorter, who nodded at Sing when he clasped his shoulder, Yut-Lung tried to bite his hand off.

Fine. Maybe I can't understand.

But I would want to, if you'd let me.

Ash hadn't slept all night, but he got up for classes like normal. Eiji didn't ask about his stomach bug, looking at him with those huge dark eyes, but they weren't the grasping kind of darkness. He didn't understand.

"I don't want to talk about what happened," Shorter said to Jenkins when the dean came running, panting, to find out what happened. "We had a fight. There was a lot of bull—I mean, lies—said. We're roommates; we'll work it out."

Ash could tell Shorter felt worse than that, though. Nadia stepped away from Charlie and came up to him when Jenkins had left, grabbing him by his ear and yanking him back towards the kitchen.

"Uh-oh," Ash said to Eiji.

"Will he be okay?" asked Eiji, worried.

"Sure, she'll just boil him in her stew." But Ash knew Nadia would never. He cringed. Could they all just cancel sex as a thing?

He was so tired. He knew Max probably expected him to take the day off, but he wasn't going to. And Shorter was one of his friends who was unencumbered by the kinds of experiences that were still crawling around inside Ash's mind, the experiences like last night, and yet he still wound up hurt because he trust Yut-Lung, that pretty snake. Even if it wasn't the same.

Ash got to his feet and headed to the door of the kitchen. He heard Nadia's voice: "I'm not mad because of that. You're not mature enough."

"I—Nadia, I—"

"Having sex doesn't magically make you an adult, and it doesn't make anything in life clearer or better just because of what it is. Do you like him?"

"I wasn't—sure. I mean, as a friend, yeah, and he's attractive, but—"

"Think next time. That guy is the—"

"I know who he is, and his brothers—there's no love there, Nadia. Something's not right."

"I know that," Nadia said. "Shorter, please. Just—use your brain. Don't—I'm afraid for you." Her voice cracked.

"Would your job be at risk?" Shorter sounded horrified.

"Don't worry about that. Please just be careful, and don't do stupid things! Stop doing things so fast."

Yes. Ash cussed. But knowing Nadia, she was probably more worried about Shorter not being able to finish school here if she lost her job than about her own circumstances. That woman had fought for custody of her brother when she was just sixteen and Shorter eight, after their parents died, and won. After Shorter got arrested twice, she moved them to the boarding school to try to protect him, get him away from the wrong crowd. Like Ash.

Eiji stood next to him. Ash turned. "Scandalized?"

Eiji shook his head. "Worried."

"He'll be all right," Ash said. He made it to literature. Yut-Lung and Sing both didn't show.

The bell rang. Ash shoved his book into his bag.

"Ash," called Jessica Randy. "Stay for a moment."

Max, you asshole! Of course the guy who turned in Ash's brother would turn him in. Ash ignored her.

"Don't walk away from me, kid." Jessica blocked his path to the door, her hands on her hips, eyes smoldering like teal fire. "Max told me you're gonna be tutoring Michael once a week."

I am? Ash's mouth fell open. Are you using your son to help me? You're the worst parent I ever met, Max!

No, that doesn't make sense. Why would you want me around your son?

"See you around five," said Jessica. "Don't be late, kid."

"Fine, old lady."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you talking to me?"

Ash gestured at the empty classroom. "I don't see any other old ladies around."

Jessica stepped back, hair swishing behind her. "Make sure you're on time for your next class, since I'm not giving you a late pass, smart-mouth."

So you didn't tell her, Max. Ash scowled. He still didn't understand. This was a disaster in the making. But at least if Max wanted to use him, it was more annoying than insidious, and wasn't likely to make him hate himself more. And Michael turned out to be cute and enthusiastic. "I know you! You hang out with Skip. Skip is so cool!"

"You should talk to him," Ash said. "He's nice."

"I will!" Michael beamed.

Well, good, Skip, looks like you're gonna have a new friend, five years younger like you are with me. Ash got Michael to study by promising to draw with him after he finished his worksheet.

Max showed up just before dinner. Jessica was making curry when he nodded to Ash and ducked into the kitchen.

I haven't forgotten you, old man. Ash spent math class sharpening the barbs he planned to launch at Max. But not in front of Michael. The kid wasn't responsible for his shitty father.

"Daddy!" called Michael.

Max stuck his head out of the kitchen. His eyes shone. Ash frowned.

"Are you staying for dinner?"

Max's eyes slid to the side, probably towards where Jessica was standing. "Not tonight, sport."

"Aw." Michael heaved a sigh. The sound of bickering erupted, and Michael pulled his legs to his chest.

"Hey," Ash said. "You okay?"

"I wish they wouldn't fight." Michael's lower lip stuck out.

Jessica's voice broke from the kitchen. "... you thought that what, me coming back here after a year on sabbatical would mean I'd jump into your bed again?"

"Not so Michael can hear!" shrieked Max.

"What could be worse than this?" Michael complained, looking up at the ceiling as if God might answer him.

Ash snorted.

"Did your parents fight?"

"I don't have parents," Ash said. "Just a brother."

Ash heard the floorboards creak. He turned to see Max and Jessica both standing there, a stunned look on her face. Oh, fuck.

Still, he wasn't going to react in front of Michael. "See you later, Michael, okay? Say hi to Skip tomorrow, I'll text him about you."

"Bye." Michael watched him go, frowning.

Max walked behind Ash. He said nothing.

"Trying to get me to do your parenting duties for you?" Ash finally demanded. "All parents are shit anyways. Guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"Ash."

He didn't look back. "You know, your ex-wife doesn't exactly seem the type to want to help anyone. Especially if they're associated with you."

"She appreciates you helping Michael. He's withdrawn—"

"Maybe because his parents are arguing all the—"

Max groaned. "Ash, I want to talk about you—"

"No, you don't." Ash snorted, stopping outside of the dorm. "Thought you'd knock out two birds with one stone, did you? Have me bond with Jessica, work with your son, give your son someone to talk to to get you off the hook?"

Max sucked in his breath. Ash froze. His heart pounded.

"I suppose that's fair," Max said quietly.

Huh? Ash's mouth fell open. "What the—"

"I don't know what I'm doing here," Max muttered, rubbing his face. "And you shouldn't have to point it out to me. You're just a kid."

Ash stared. Max pushed past him, unlocking the door to his apartment. "You missed dinner." He gestured for Ash to come in.

Ash considered saying he wasn't hungry, but his stomach rumbled. He stepped inside the apartment, furnished with a threadbare sofa, an overstuffed armchair, and IKEA shelves. Photographs covered the walls, photos of Max in the army, Max and Jessica, Max and Michael, so many photos of Michael. And—a photo of Max with Griffin, their arms around each other, smiles lighting up their faces.

"Are you here because you want to get back with Jessica?" Ash heard himself ask, tearing his gaze away from his brother's face. It seared in his chest, his spine. Why?

I don't know if I ever saw you smile like that.

"No," Max said. "Though I'm hoping to be here for Michael. I'm working in this town for another reason. I moved us here for that reason, but then Jessica was attacked, and when I wanted to leave, she didn't. She just wanted a sabbatical."

"Away from you?" Ash questioned.

Max met Ash's gaze, nodding as he heated up something that smelled spicy and meaty. "I came here to find out what happened to Griffin." The kitchen light shone yellow.

"Huh?" Ash didn't understand. "You what?"

"Yes, Ash, I called the police that night. But I never thought for a moment that was the full story," Max said. "I knew your brother. He wrote poetry. In war—we saw a lot of terrible things, had to do a lot of terrible things without questioning. We all had our ways of coping. Griffin's was drugs. I knew he struggled, I wanted to help him get clean. He was gentle and he used to write letters to you, talk about you all the time." Max rubbed his face.

Ash's heart pounded. He didn't know what to say. He tried to think that Max would be lying, tell himself that Max couldn't care, but—

"What'll you do once you find out the truth?" Max asked, turning to watch Ash. The stove flickered, burner heating up the chili.

"I don't know," Ash muttered. "I—he—"

"You don't have to prove yourself," Max said. "Griffin wanted to get back to you. He loved you. He'd never want you to endanger—"

"Well, I want to!" Ash shouted. "I want to—I have to—he's the one who raised me, he—"

"I know," Max cut in. "Griff never talked about your father, but—"

Aw, shit. Ash wilted back against the wall. "You called him today, to tell him about last night, didn't you."

Max cringed. "Well, legally, I had to."

"Let me guess," said Ash. "He called me a whore and asked if I'd seduced you yet."

Max paled.

"That's just how he is."

"Well, I told him that was no way to talk about his son. He's a terrible father."

Ash's eyes popped. He watched as Max stirred the chili again. You—

"Griffin wouldn't have stood for it."

Ash swallowed. His eyes stung.

"Ash," said Max, turning back towards him. "I will let you help me look for records, look into what happened to Griffin. I'm already far ahead of where you are: there was nothing to be found in the hospital's records. You have to look at a clinic run by a Dr. Meredith for info, and I have that info."

"Really?" Ash didn't know what to think.

"But you can only help me under one condition," Max said firmly. His eyes bore into Ash's. "You're not allowed to put yourself in danger. Not like last night. Not again. You're worth more than that."

Ash studied his converse sneakers, the stain over his big toe. "Not according to my father."

"Your father never came looking for Griffin, so he isn't worth shit. And you are also not at fault for what happened last night."

Ash clenched his hands. "Why not? I knew what was going to happen. I wanted to—"

"They made a choice. You didn't. You're a kid." Max aimed the spatula at him. "Don't fight me on that."

So you don't think I'm a whore. But he was. There was no other explanation for why it kept happening to him, again and again and again, eight years old, nine, eleven, sixteen.

Even if it kills me, I'll be something else.

Ash kicked the chair back at Max's kitchen table and plopped down. "I guess I can keep tutoring Michael. He seems like a fun kid." Okay, maybe you do know what you're doing, even if you don't realize it yet.

Max beamed. "He's the best kid. He's got all of Jessica's bravery and—"

As Max droned on and on, Ash found himself wondering if Griffin had ever discussed him like this, with a light glowing in his voice.

Eiji tried to call his mother. She'd told him to call at nine in the evening his time, but she wasn't answering. Probably had to be at work early. He hung up.

"Yo." Ash appeared in their dorm room. "Shorter not here?"

"He was, but I was calling my mom because she said to, but she must be working," said Eiji, scrambling across his bed to peer up at Ash. "Shorter's—frustrated."

"How about you?" Ash asked, turning away. "Are you okay?" He gestured to the phone as he hung up his jacket.

Eiji shrugged. "It's pretty typical. She has a busy job. My dad's sick, so he can't work."

"Sick?" Ash asked, sitting on the edge of his own bed.

"His liver." Eiji closed his eyes. "I should probably feel worse about it than I do. I don't know how much to worry. It's been going on for so long."

"What do you mean?" Ash inquired. He kicked his legs up, flopping onto his back.

"I guess he was never around, because of all the health issues, and work, so I'm not—I don't feel super connected." Eiji pressed his lips together. "Not that that's their fault. They have a lot to deal with. He liked to go out drinking before he got sick, when he wasn't working, which he usually was. But then he got sick, so. Ibe's the one who—I go to him if I need advice."

"Ah." Ash stared up at the ceiling. "Guess it's similar. My dad took off—I mean, my mom took off first, soon after she had me, because she wanted a more exciting life than a baby. And my dad already had left his partner of like, fifteen years, for her, so then he shacked up with another lady. I would've starved if it weren't for my brother."

"Your brother?" Eiji watched him. The night before, he could hear Ash's breaths, could tell Ash was lying awake, unable to sleep. He saw it in Ash's eyes, the way he was locking himself up to protect others. He knew it well.

"Griffin. He was fifteen when I was born, but he still raised me." Ash rolled over, looking at Eiji over the pillow he hugged to his chest. "He killed himself in this place. Near here."

"What?" Eiji sat straight up. He couldn't imagine—his sister—

"They say he went crazy. He was in the army, he had to—he left when I was about seven, and then he—he lost it when he got back, he shot a bunch of his friends, or so they say. They found him with the gun in his hand and took him to a hospital for a psych evaluation, except he killed himself soon after." Ash eyed him. "Scared to room with me now?"

Eiji's hands felt cold. "No? It's your brother, not you. And—"

"I don't think it was him," Ash interrupted. "He's not—I don't understand it. If it was him, I want to know how, how he became that person. If it wasn't, then I want to know—who."

"Seriously?" Eiji gaped.

"Yep." Ash sighed.

"Wow." Eiji didn't know what to say. He couldn't blame Ash. This is someone you love, right? Someone you want to understand, want to know, even if it's bad. Because you love them.

He wondered if he'd ever feel that way. About his family. About a partner. About anyone.

"I have to find out," Ash said.

"Then don't do it alone," said Eiji. "Ask Shorter for help, or ask me." Whatever happened last night—we wouldn't let that happen to you.

Ash frowned. "That's not part of the plan."

"Why not?" Eiji looked down at his hands, empty.

Daddy, are you okay?

Daddy, look at me.

Hey Okumura, where're your parents?

Don't worry about me, Mom, I'll be all right.

He still wanted more. He wanted to feel like he earned the right to live, to breathe in the air, to be in America, to have Ibe's support even though he couldn't fling himself into the air anymore. But school wasn't easy, not in a new language he struggled to follow sometimes. "I—want to be useful to someone."

"You are."

"Well, I feel useless sometimes.

"What? Eiji, you're not useless." Ash stared at him, eyes green fire.

Eiji stared at his sock-covered feet. "I used to be a top athlete. A pole vaulter. And then I sprained my ankle, and—I could still jump again. If I wanted to. But every time I try, I can't make myself jump anymore. It was the only thing I had." It was all empty, and it weighed him down with shame. The one thing he could do, he couldn't do anymore, because his mind was so weak. "Ibe worried, so he brought me here, and I—" Eiji pressed his lips together. "I don't know why I'm here."

Ash snorted. "You almost sound like you want to justify being here."

Here, America. Here, alive. "I—" Eiji swallowed. "I guess so. I know I'd probably only be a burden to you; I don't know the first thing about anything we'd be looking into, but—you're my friend, so I want to help you."

"Friend," Ash repeated.

"Yeah."

"Yeah," Ash said, a small smile on his lips. "Friend. You wouldn't be a burden."

I wouldn't? But he'd always been one, just another mouth to feed to his parents, someone to worry over, and he'd often thought that if he kept very quiet, if he faded, he might just vanish and alleviate their worries. And here, he kept expecting Ibe to cluck his tongue, shake his head, tell Eiji he was letting him down. But he hadn't so far. Not even when Eiji got a detention.

"I guess you can help," Ash said. "I should text Shorter. He'll probably need a distraction and a reason to escape his roommate-with-benefits." He yanked his shoes off. One fell to the floor; the other stayed perched on the bed. "And again, you've never seemed useless, Eiji. I mean, I don't know you that well, but—yeah. You're my friend. That's not useless."

Something felt warm inside his chest. "Messy American," Eiji said. "Put your shoes on the floor."

Ash hurled one of the shoes at him. Eiji yelped, blocking it with his pillow. He laughed. Ash tossed the other shoe, and this time it bonked off Eiji's forehead. He covered his face.

"Are you okay?" Ash cried out.

Eiji peeked out through his fingertips. He threw the shoes back at Ash.

"Hey!" Ash snatched his pillow as a shield. Eiji grabbed his own shoes, tossing them.

The door connecting their room to the bathroom they shared with their suitemates opened. Bones let out a howl as Ash's shoe landed in his face.

"Sorry!" squeaked Eiji.