4. Markus

The key turns far too easy. It's weird — he didn't leave his apartment unlocked, he knows. He always makes sure of that — you can never be too careful —, and he knows he also made sure of it that morning before he left for work.

Someone must be inside.

But the lock is in perfect conditions, and the key fits perfectly.

It must be someone he gave a copy of the key to.

But North is still deployed overseas, and Josh is working on a story on the other side of the country.

Carl never drops by unannounced, though if he left a message on his landline, then it's no wonder he's not expecting his arrival.

That leaves Simon and Leo as more plausible explanations.

He saw the former in the morning, so he doesn't expect a visit from him, especially without a previous warning. And the latter never visits — the last time he saw him was at Carl's Christmas dinner, last year.

He opens the door quickly, hoping for the best, yet bracing himself for the worst.

It's Leo.

He's searching through his stuff, making a mess of his apartment. That's… unsettling, though, if he stops and thinks about it, it's not that surprising. It's clearly the act of a desperate man.

But he doesn't have time to stop and think about it.

Leo's about to rip one of his paintings.

"Leo, what are you doing?" he asks, trying to sound firm, but comes off as confused and hurt instead.

And he is hurt, but he hadn't planned on letting the other man know that.

"I… I just…" He trips and stammers, knife falling from his shaky hand. He didn't expect to get caught. He didn't expect to face consequences. He thought he could just get in, grab whatever he wanted, and get out unnoticed.

Markus's blood boils.

"You just what?"

"I need money, okay? And dad refused to give me some."

"And that's why you came to my place and started ripping my paintings?" He raises his voice. He hates raising his voice.

"I didn't mean to, okay? It's just… You were taking so long, and I really need the—"

"Money, I get it. To fuel your drug habit, I'm sure."

The entire Manfred family is aware of Leo's drug problem, but it's a taboo subject — one they absolutely never speak of.

The young man's face changes.

Markus has crossed a line.

Then again, Leo crossed it a long time ago, and pretending doesn't do anyone any good.

The young man laughs. It's a harsh, defeated laugh that makes the journalist tense. "See? This is why I didn't wait for you to come back. You're just like dad. You wouldn't have given me money if I'd asked."

That's true, he wouldn't have. But the way he says it gives Markus the need to defend his actions — hypothetical actions, but still.

"Red ice is bad for you, Leo. Can't you see that? I refuse to contribute to a habit that's slowly killing you."

Another harsh, sarcastic laugh. "Of course. Saint Markus never does anything wrong and always knows what's best for everyone. You really are just like dad. No wonder you're his favourite. The perfect son."

"Leo—"

He gets closer. Starts pushing him. Markus doesn't fall, quickly recovers balance. "Dad likes chess? So does Markus." Push. "Dad likes music? Markus learns to play the piano." Push.

"Leo, stop it."

"Dad's a painter? Markus starts painting too." Push. "Dad cares about politics and shit? Markus becomes a journalist." Push.

"Leo, that's enough!"

"Why? Too afraid to push back, you coward? Then again, dad hates violence, doesn't he? So you hate violence too." He throws a punch — Markus is too slow to dodge.

His jaw hurts.

"Leo—"

"Too scared to fight back, huh? No surprise there." Another punch. This time, Markus dodges.

"Leo, stop—"

"Dad's perfect son, not even bothering to defend himself. This is gold." He laughs. "What would everyone say now? I mean, dad would be proud, I'm sure. But I'm not mad, no. I mean, it's only fair. After all, your real parents clearly didn't give a shit about you anyway—"

Markus snaps. He shoves Leo with all his strength.

Crack.

Silence.

"Leo?"

He doesn't see it at first. Blood, pooling around Leo's head.

"Leo?"

His voice trembles. He kneels next to the young man — next to his brother.

There's no answer.

Markus knows better than to shake him.

With trembling fingers, he grasps for his cell phone, nearly dropping it twice as he pulls it out of his pocket and dials 911. He's crying as he makes the phone call, his entire body shaking.

Later, once the ambulance is gone and the police have taken his statement, he will return to his apartment, and start shaking as soon as he spots the pool of dried blood on the floor. He will avoid all mirrors, refusing to see his reflection, and will avoid looking at his hands as well — the hands that pushed Leo so hard he sent him to the hospital. He will listen to a new voicemail on his landline and realise that it's Carl — warning him about his son's quest for money, and that his apartment might be his next stop. And he will cry again, not bothering to erase the message from his answering machine.

But for now, he remains next to Leo's unmoving form, still crying and shaking, whispering the same words over and over, as if that would make everything better.

"I'm sorry, brother. I'm so sorry."