Yao woke the next morning with Ivan's scarf pressed to his face. This time he did feel hung over, did not feel suffocated by fragmented memories. He felt calm. If he was going to be completely, totally honest with himself for the first time in what seemed like ages, he could even say he felt…happy. Not bored, not stressed, not fearful, and not overwhelmingly, horribly confused, but happy. Yao smiled against the soft fabric. For once he could not wait to get up.

Ivan's scarf still around his neck, Yao felt almost too light as he went about his day. The morning had passed in a flurry of excitement and muted nerves, and somewhere in the midst of it Yao remembered he had plans to see Kiku right after he planned to see Ivan. That only widened his smile- it was just another thing to look forward to. Finally, he would be able to reconnect with his brother. From the moment he got out of bed to the moment he arrived at the hospital, Yao could not keep that smile off his face. He was fairly certain he would never stop.

That held true until Yao actually reached the psychiatric ward. The moment he arrived, he knew something was wrong. For one thing, Ivan did not rush out to meet him. In fact he was nowhere to be seen at all. Neither was Gilbert. The person to eventually approach him was Matthew, and just like everything else, something seemed off about him as well. His eyes were rimmed in dark circles, his clothes were askew, and the moment he looked at Yao his expression twisted into something that was almost a grimace. Yao tried to ignore his quickly rising suspicions. "Afternoon, Dr. Williams. Where is Ivan?"

"Ivan is…" Matthew paused, sighed, and shook his head. "We need to talk, Yao. Please step into my office." He spoke more seriously than he ever had. The vague feeling of wrongness quickly growing to be overpowering, Yao shuffled along behind him.

Matthew shut the door with such force that Yao flinched. He spoke with his back to him. "There was an incident with Ivan's roommate last night."

"Incident?" Judging by what Ivan had said about those two, Yao was hardly surprised. He continued without thinking about the words, confused and unsure how to deal with it. "Unicorn boy or the Prussian king?"

Slowly, Matthew turned to face him. "Gilbert." His face pinched as he said his name. "They got into a fight."

"A fight?" Yao echoed. His stomach twisted into painful knots when the idea sunk in. What was going on? "Why were they fighting?" Matthew began a stuttering response, but Yao did not allow him to finish. Panic took over. "Is Ivan alright?"

"Ivan is fine." Matthew's jaw tensed, and he looked away. Yao felt only slightly better. "Look, Yao. I'm going to be very blunt. It wasn't so much a fight as it was a beating. Gilbert being the one receiving."

"Oh." In a way Yao had always known this was possible. He knew Ivan was troubled if not downright dangerous, but something about what he was being told felt like outright lies. Something was not clicking. When he looked down at the scarf, he thought of a man who just yesterday handled a lily with upmost care, a man who looked at him with a gentle, warm gaze, a man who cared entirely too much. He did not see a man who was capable of anything that could be described as a beating. Though his throat felt dry and everything else felt far away, he forced himself to ask, "How is Gilbert?"

"He regained consciousness this morning."

Ivan had gotten into a fight… Ivan had beaten someone unconscious… Yao did not allow himself to picture it. He couldn't. A million questions flew through his mind, none of which he actually wanted the answers to. Nausea hit like a swift punch to the gut. Again, he only said, "Oh."

"I think it's needless to say Ivan can't have visitors right now." Matthew seemed to keep his eyes locked on Ivan's scarf. Yao only nodded, feeling numb. "Yao, I'm not exactly sure what kind of relationship has developed between you and Ivan and it isn't my place to know. Still, I feel like I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't advise you to end it." He spoke as if he had been given a script, but Yao felt as though he had slapped him.

"What?" Yao balled a section of the scarf in his hand, scoffed incredulously and shook his head. Matthew's expression did not change. "What makes you say that? This is an isolated incident, isn't it? God… you haven't even told me the majority of the story!" Yao could not make sense of his own words. His mind was reeling.

"It isn't exactly isolated. Actually, this has only proven a suspicion I already had…" Matthew blinked away his cold expression, and soon he just looked conflicted. "I'm not sure if I can tell you anymore."

"What do you mean, you can't tell me?" Desperate panic clawed at Yao's throat like a beast. "I've spent weeks getting you information on this man. Are you saying you won't even tell me what you've concluded from it?"

"I suppose… that wouldn't be fair." Matthew sighed, running a weary hand through his hair. "Look, Yao. We've already concluded Ivan suffers from borderline personality disorder, but I don't believe that's where his problems end." He took a breath before continuing. Yao only held his. "I believe Ivan may be sociopathic."

The word hit like a bullet, a splash of boiling water, a cold, cruel accusation. "What?!" Yao could not stop himself from shouting. "Wouldn't that mean he doesn't care about anyone? That he feels no sympathy?" All it took was a brief flashback to those hours in the elevator to conclude that was false. All of this felt false, it had to be. There was no other logical explanation.

"That's a bit of an oversimplification, but something like that plays a part, yes." Matthew spoke calmly. It was almost as though he didn't even care. "While I'm leaning more towards a sociopathic inclination, psychopathy is also a possibility. There's a few minute differences between the two, and it's important to…"

Yao lost focus. He did not even care about the specifics anymore. All he cared about was that word and the implications behind it, hanging in the air and mocking him. Those types of words belonged in horror movies and news stories about places far away, attached to truly insane people Yao did not care about. None of it should be attached to Ivan. It felt wrong, dammit! "Stop," said Yao suddenly, interrupting. "This has to be a misunderstanding. It doesn't make sense!" Really, what did make sense at this point? "He told me Gilbert is always trying to upset him. How do you know this isn't his fault?"

"Because Ivan walked away with bruises and Gilbert is lucky he woke up." Despite being barely above a whisper every other time they had spoken, Matthew sounded close to shouting. His eyes widened as if he had shocked himself. "Anyway," he said, calmer this time, "it's probably best if you don't visit for awhile. We don't know how dangerous Ivan is."

"He isn't." Maybe that was far from the truth, maybe Yao was lying to himself, but it was all he could say. "Oh god, he isn't…"

Matthew suddenly started towards the door. "I have to get back to Gilbert." He shot Yao another quick, borderline distrustful glance. "Do you want me to give Ivan his scarf back?"

Yao had almost forgotten. He reached toward his neck, intent on removing it, but quickly realized he could not physically do it. This scarf was the last normal thing left in this catastrophe. "No." Yao walked to the door and opened it. "I'll come back later." Before Matthew could respond, Yao was on his way out. He couldn't stand to be in that ward any longer, likely mere yards from Ivan but torturously unable to see him.

Some time was left before he was due to meet Kiku. Yao was unwilling to go home, unwilling to stop moving and unwilling to think, so he walked. He walked with the same lack of direction that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. Along the way he wondered what things would be like if that never happened, if he had never met Ivan and Ivan had never met him. Maybe Ivan would be better off. Who knew anymore?

"Dude, are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost or something."

Yao turned in the direction of the voice- loud, the accent American- and saw the man it came from fit it perfectly. He was the poster child for an All-American boy next door- blonde hair, blue eyes and a charismatic grin. Yao felt as if he had seen him before, but not in person. Perhaps on the cover of a magazine. "Oh." He wondered why this man was speaking to him, why he cared at all. "It's been a bit of a rough morning."

"I hear ya." The man took a step closer. "I saw you walking out of the psych ward. Do you have one on the inside too?"

"I do, actually." Slowly, Yao lifted his gaze to meet the American's. Though his smile looked to be perpetual, it seemed as though he was struggling to keep it. He knew immediately that their situations were very similar. "Do you?"

"Guilty as charged. Just got done talking to him, actually. Didn't go too well this time." The American studied Yao more carefully, and that obnoxious grin finally faltered. "I'm guessing it went about the same for you."

"You could say that." That was the understatement of the century. Yao shook his head, felt an immediate ache in his chest and finally extended his hand. "Yao Wang."

The American returned the handshake, his grip firm. "Alfred F. Jones, But I'm guessing you knew that already."

Yao raised an eyebrow. "I can't say I did."

"Not from around here, huh?" Alfred shrugged. "Let's take a walk, Yao."

.

They eventually ended up in the hospital's cafeteria. As Alfred devoured a burger like he hadn't seen food in at least ten years, Yao sipped at the weakest cup of coffee he had ever tasted, picked at the scarf and tried to collect his thoughts. It was a lost cause. "So," he said eventually, "who do you know here?"

Alfred suddenly lost interest in eating. He set down the burger, looked at the far wall and said, "His name is Arthur Kirkland." His grin resurfaced, if only faintly. The name seemed a bit familiar… "We were friends in high school. I decided to try and find him the other month, and here we are. What's your story?"

Yao began to feel even stranger than he already did. Alfred's story took seconds to explain, and it made sense. Yao was almost completely certain his made none. "His name is Ivan Braginsky." His throat felt thick as he said his name, the feeling only intensifying as he struggled for an explanation. "I ran into him when I was trying to find a different wing. Dr. Williams asked me to come back." That was about five percent of the story, but it was enough. Yao shrugged. "And here we are."

"Really? That's not what I expected." Alfred looked at him for a moment before breaking off with a light laugh. "Mattie has a weird way of doing his job."

"You know Dr. Williams?"

"Well, I would sure hope so. He's my brother."

Maybe that was why Alfred seemed familiar. "Huh," he said. "Small world."

"It sure is." Alfred twisted the rather large ring on his finger- too gaudy to be a wedding band. "What's yours here for? Artie is schizophrenic." He said it so casually, as if he had explained this time and time again.

If there was one thing Yao was sick of doing, it was telling people things they had no business knowing. But he could not help but feel Alfred was trustworthy, or at least that he understood. "Borderline personality disorder."

"Oh. Can't say I know too much about that one. I didn't know much of anything about schizo either, but it got to be necessary, you know?" Alfred bit into the burger and proceeded to speak with his mouth full. "Dealing with all of this takes some getting used to, I'll tell you what. Must be even worse for the people who live here. You know what Arthur told me today? He walked into his room last night to see his roommates beating the ever living shit out of each other."

Oh. So that was Arthur. Yao suddenly felt very ill. This time he could stop himself from picturing it, could not help but wonder what snapped in Ivan and if it would happen again. He blinked rapidly, hoping it was not obvious he was tearing up. Why did this have to happen? For once, things were calm. For once Yao was happy, Ivan was likely happy too, and all it was ripped away in a instant-

"Ooh," said Alfred, breaking Yao from his thoughts. "Yours was involved. Was he the one who got knocked out?"

Yao could not even speak anyone. Feeling perplexingly ashamed, he only shook his head.

Alfred's eyes widened. "Oh, shit."

"He usually isn't like this," said Yao quickly. "He and Gilbert…they never got along. This was likely a long time coming." He could not be sure why he felt so frantic. Alfred was a stranger. It was unlikely they would ever see each other again after this moment. Still, the need to defend Ivan burned like a flame no one could put out. Alfred nodded along, no real judgment in his eyes, and Yao continued in a softer voice. "Today Matthew told me he might be sociopathic. But I don't believe him."

Alfred pursed his lips and shook his head. "Mattie must have a thing for bad news. He told me Arthur might be beyond help, but you know what, Yao?" he said. Yao nodded, waiting for him to continue. "I don't believe that either. So don't worry too much."

There was something about that nonchalant declaration that put the tight ball of nerves in Yao's stomach to rest. "Thanks." Upon glancing at a nearby clock, he realized he was already late meeting Kiku. "It was nice talking to you, Alfred, but I'm afraid I have to get going."

Alfred nodded. "Yeah, I better get driving. Coach would be pretty pissed if I missed tomorrow's game." He stood, pulling on the jacket he was holding. Yao quickly read the lettering on the back: New England Patriots. "Where are you headed?"

Yao stood as well. "Hospice."

Alfred's eyebrows drew together. "Don't tell me you've got someone in there, too."

"Oh, no. Nothing like that. My brother is a nurse." Yao glanced down at the scarf and wondered if Kiku would ask about it. It wasn't as if wearing a thick scarf in seventy-degree weather was normal. Then again, he had given up on normality.

"Ah." Alfred took Yao's hand in another handshake. "It was nice meeting you, Yao. Good to know there's someone out there whose life is just as crazy as mine."

Despite how different they appeared on the surface, Yao got the feeling he and Alfred weren't all that different at all. He managed to smile, albeit faintly. "Pretty hectic, isn't it?"

"Damn straight. Good luck with…" Alfred broke off and smiled sheepishly. "I'm not all that good with names."

"Ivan." Yao's heart clenched, just like it had the last time he had said his name. It was getting to be bothersome. He quickly changed the subject. "Good luck with your game," he said even though he was not entirely sure what that meant.

"Ivan. Right." Alfred smoothed down his jacket and lifted his chin. "Thanks for the luck, not that I'll need it! If you want to see how it goes, just turn on channel five tomorrow."

Yao blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Alfred laughed at that. "Yeah, you're definitely not from around here."

"Alright, then." Yao blinked away his confusion. "Oh. Good luck with Arthur, too."

Alfred's eyes flashed strangely at that. When his smile fell, he suddenly looked about ten years older. "That, I might need."

.

When Yao got to the hospice department, the last thing he expected was Kiku to introduce him to one of his patients. Heracles was somewhat of a strange man, his major traits being an obsession with cats, shoulder length, unkempt hair… and a bit of an affinity for Kiku. It did not take long for it to become painfully obvious he was not simply a patient. He and Kiku seemed to hold eye contact too long, speak too casually. Kiku looked just a bit too concerned when Heracles began to sway in his stance. Heracles looked a bit too comfortable touching him, and at one point, calling him 'sweet.' By the end of the short, awkward introduction, Yao figured out what his brother was being so secretive about. He could not say he was upset it, however. Rather he felt almost jealous, because despite being in obviously poor health, Heracles was… normal.

When they passed Matthew on their way out, Yao pretended not to notice how long he stared at him.

Throughout the entire first half of the meal, Yao could not get thoughts of Ivan out of his head. He did not taste his food, did not meet Kiku's gaze, did not think about the meaningless small exchanged between them. He only said something of value when he could not stand to think of himself any longer. "Kiku, I know something is going on."

Kiku looked up, obviously startled and just as obviously trying to hide it. "What are you referring to?"

Yao had a strong feeling Kiku knew exactly what he was referring to, but simply did not want to talk about it. Yao could not he didn't know the feeling. Still, he said, "That patient, Kiku. The way he looks at you. The fact that he wanted to meet your brother."

Kiku looked away. "He is my friend." He stumbled over the last word, as if he wasn't sure about it.

"I can see that." Yao would have to be blind not to. "All I'm saying is… maybe there is more to it." He actually hoped there was more to it. That way, he would know Kiku would be that much closer to understanding his situation. Yao had seen the suspicious way Kiku had eyed the scarf, and it had become very clear he could not hide this much longer. He could not even say he wanted to anymore. It was getting to be far too much to handle alone.

"Why are you so concerned about it?" Kiku was wide-eyed, almost panicked. That was all it took.

"I suppose I was right." Yao was caught between being ecstatic that their situations were similar and concerned about what his brother was getting himself into. He settled on the latter when he remembered the department Kiku worked in. "Kiku, this is so unlike you."

Kiku arched an eyebrow. "Unlike me?"

"I would think you would have the sense not to fall into something like this." It seemed like a logical way of thinking. Kiku had always been so careful with his emotions… then again, so had Yao. Yao quickly evicted the thought from his mind. His own train wreck of a situation was irrelevant now that he had Kiku's to worry about.

"Oh." Kiku dropped his gaze, looking ashamed. "You think it's strange."

"No," said Yao immediately. That would make him a bit of a hypocrite, after all. He struggled to find the right words for what he was feeling and finally settled on, "I think it's a ticking time bomb." And it was. It was plain to see Kiku had fallen in love, and the person he was in love with was terminal. Yao felt his stomach drop as reality set it. It just seemed so unfair.

Kiku blinked rapidly and changed the subject without warning. "You never did tell me why Dr. Williams wanted to speak with you."

And just like that, it all came rushing back. Yao snapped out of his solemnity and quickly looked away. "I never did, did I?" He tried to laugh as if it was no big deal, but he didn't exactly succeed.

The tables had turned. Now, Kiku was the one who looked terribly suspicious and Yao was the one who felt like there was a spotlight on him. "No. You didn't," he said. "What happened? He said there was someone you would want to visit."

That conversation felt a lifetime away. So much had happened, changed, and recently, fallen apart. Yao sighed. "This is entirely too long of a story."

"I have time."

"Fine." Right then, Yao knew there was no escaping this. He had to tell him. And with any luck, he would understand. "Remember when I got lost and ran into a psych patient?"

Kiku nodded. "Of course."

"Well…" Yao grappled for a way to explain this, if there was a good way to do it at all. "The bottom line is Dr. Williams is using me as… a therapy tool, per say." He watched as Kiku's expression twisted into one of confusion and gave up on trying to make it sound normal. "It sounds strange because it is."

"What?" Kiku looked at Yao as if he had spontaneously sprouted wings. "A therapy tool? What on earth does that mean?"

What did it mean, really? Yao had little to no idea anymore. "All it means is I come in and talk with him." He was amazed by how neatly he managed to simply it, even if it did feel like a lie. "His name is Ivan." And there was that sinking feeling again. He did his best to ignore it.

"That is…very strange." Kiku seemed to study his brother, but his eyes soon softened. "What is he like?"

"He's nice." Even after today, Yao still believed it. He had to. Once he started trying to explain, perhaps only for his own sake, he couldn't stop. "I mean, a lot of people think he's creepy and he kind of is, but for the most part he is… misunderstood."

Kiku's face went blank. "There must be a reason he is there."

It took Yao a moment to register the statement. "Well, the label they stuck on him is borderline personality disorder." His conversation with Matthew came flooding back like a tsunami, and Yao felt his resolve to stay composed wash away. He began to feel dizzy. Like a pot boiling over, he threw his hands up and continued, unable to reel himself back. "They told me the other day they think he might be sociopathic! Can you believe that? It could not be further from the truth. If anything, he's too empathetic. All he wants to do is protect people. I mean, just because he's gotten violent a few time doesn't mean-"

"Violent? With you?"

"No!" Just like everything Matthew had said, it felt like another cruel accusation. "He would never do anything to me. Ever." Yao wanted desperately to believe that.

Kiku threw his hands up as if to surrender. "I never said he would, Yao. I do not even know this man."

"I know, it's not your fault, I'm just tired of people judging him, and-" Yao could feel himself losing control and slipping into a cold panic. This was it. He had to tell Kiku, and he had to face whatever consequences it would bring. The words passed his lips before he understood them. "And I think I'm in love with him."

Despite the flurry of noise from other tables, the space between them fell deadly silent. A chill shot down Yao's neck, his breath quickened and his body numbed. He barely heard Kiku's eventual response over the heartbeat in his ears. "This is very sudden."

Well, it was definitely not the worst reaction he could have gotten. Yao was finally able to take a breath. "I know. It was a lot to spring on you at once, but I thought you might understand." Ivan's scarf was in his hands before he realized he had touched it. He needed to have it close, needed the comfort. "It may seem ridiculous, but it's the truth."

Kiku seemed to contemplate that for a moment, his face more or less blank. Yao's breath came easier and easier. Maybe he did understand, maybe they could bond and laugh over how bad they both were at choosing partners… "Yao, this seems dangerous."

Yao's mood dropped so severely and abruptly that he could barely force a response. "Well, it isn't."

Kiku was speaking, and Yao could barely make sense of the words. He was talking about Ivan, calling him dangerous, calling him troubled, calling him violent. He did not understand. Of course he did not understand, why was Yao ever foolish enough to believe that he was? He had no reason to understand. Maybe Kiku only spoke for seconds, but Yao felt his blood boil hotter until his skin with every syllable. No. No, this was unfair. Kiku had no right to speak about Ivan this way, a man he had never met. Yao had to stop this. He had to stop it right now. His desperation peaked, a hand that was not his slammed the table with upmost force, and a voice that he had no control over shouted, "At least Ivan isn't DYING, Kiku!"

Yao immediately knew he had gone much, much too far. That thoughtless, ugly statement was the verbal equivalent to a shot below the belt. He watched helplessly as Kiku's eyes flashed painfully and filled with tears, maybe thinking of Heracles, maybe wondering how his own brother could ever be so cruel. Sickening guilt set in. "Kiku." Yao spoke as gently as possible, a desperate attempt to fix this even though he was sure it was unfixable. "Oh my God, Kiku, that was entirely out of line. I'm so sorry."

"No." Kiku sounded dangerously closed to crying. Yao swore his heart physically broke in half. "No, it's fine. You are right."

There was nothing more to say. Yao could have apologized again, could have attempted to explain himself, but there was no point. All he could do was stare down at his food, his appetite gone, and wonder how it had gotten to be this way.

To be continued...