It was Friday when Sadiq went to Lars' shop on the west side. He'd been told that Lars was going to be in all day, from eleven to three.

When he got there, though, there was one man behind the counter, handing a paper bag to some other customer. He had long dreads that were pulled back into a pony tail, and dark skin. Once he was done with the other customer, he greeted Sadiq amiably.

"Hey! How are you? How can I help you?" he asked rapidly. "Pretty rainy day out today, huh?"

"Yeah. Hey so Lars told me he'd be in today?"

"Oh, you're Sadiq? He told me you were coming. HE called in sick for the morning, but he should be in soon. You can just hang out til then."

Sadiq nodded and leaned up against the counter. On the walls there were glass vases and pipes, for various recreational uses, few of which Sadiq recognized.

Five minutes later, a cheery blond guy in a red sweater came in and greeted the cashier.

"Hey Max!" Sadiq thought he recognized the kid from somewhere.

"Hello Matt. I'm not off til Lars shows up."

The kid was Alfred's brother, Sadiq realized when he made eye contact. He looked exactly like him, but wasn't being an obnoxious asshole.

"Hey, what's your name again?" Sadiq asked. Matthew hadn't recognized Sadiq, and took a moment before answering.

"Matthew." He sounded slightly exasperated.

Sadiq nodded, already forgetting his name. But he knew who Sadiq was, because he didn't ask.

Max took this to mean they were friends. Or close enough. "Well, since we're all waiting for Lars, why don't we try out some of our new shipment of cigars. I'll pay."

When Lars arrived, Sadiq was already a little numb in his fingers. These cigars were great.

Lars looked at the three of them before rolling his eyes and gently hanging his coat.

"What is this?" he asked severely, though his lips were quirked in a small smile.
Maximo, what Sadiq had found that Cuban's name to be, looked up with a great big grin.

"What, you want to join us?" He offered the cigar to Lars.

"No," Lars waved him off.

"Maximo was surprised, and he passed the cigar to Matthew.

"You don't look so good, Lars."

Lars did look pale, really, and exhausted.

Lars shrugged it off, though, and the movement was lethargic. Sadiq cringed when he heard the man's shoulder pop.

"I had a blood sample take today."

"Should you even be in work, then? "Doesn't that put you at risk for fainting?" Max's eyebrows were furrowed.

Lars rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, okay? Go on with Matthew. You want to see something cool, Sadiq?"

Maximo looked concerned still, but he and Matthew left.

"Have you ever heard of electric cigarettes? I use them a lot more now. No tobacco, you know?"

Yao glared at the people he passed as he navigated through the old, cramped neighborhood of West Seattle. It was Saturday, and Yao knew that Lars would be home because his stores hours were posted online. They were closed all day on Saturdays.

The house he came upon, which was supposedly Lars', was peach colored and tulips were starting to bloom in the front garden. There was one car in the driveway.

Yao rolled his eyes and hardened his face more before mustering the courage to walk down the driveway and knock on the door.

There was a moment before the door was opened about an inch, knocking against a chain that kept it from opening more.

"Hello," a deep, gravelly voice asked monotonously on the other side.

"Well, open the door. You're the one who wanted to talk to me."

There was another pause before the door was shut and the jangled. The door was pulled open to reveal a shocked Lars. He was wearing nothing but black sweat pants. His hair didn't have gel in it, so it curled down onto his forehead. He was covered in what looked like dirt and paint.

"Yao? How did you know where I live...? Never mind, can you come in?"

Yao kept his expression uninviting as he obliged. He was just over the threshold when a little white fluff ball dodged by his ankle. Lars saw it, too.

"Oh! Shit," he said, running after the rabbit into the front yard. Yao stood back, surprised.

Yao hesitated at the doorway, watching Lars struggle to catch the little fluff. Should he help? No, he decided. He had to remain detached. Yao was sure that this was just Lars trying to repairing their relations, and Yao was not about to just let him walk back into his life.

Lars dove and finally caught the little guy. "I'm sorry, Erasmus tries to get out all the time." Yao had to admit that Lars looked really cute, hair down and domestic looking. Yao scolded himself for thinking so and scowled deeper, nodding at Lars' explanation.

Lars was embarrassed. He hadn't been expecting a guest, especially not Yao. As Yao followed him inside, he silently looked about his home, embarrassed of the state it was in. He closed the door and locked it before putting the rabbit on the ground.

Yao was surprised, looking around the front room of Lars' house. He remembered Lars having an extremely messy, cluttered apartment. This room, however, was utterly tidy. Lars stood awkwardly in the middle of it, before realizing he had to live up to the position of host.

"Do you want tea? Come sit over here," Lars beckoned Yao into the living room across the hall.

"No thanks, I'm not thirsty. You should put a shirt on, though."

Lars glanced down at himself. "Oh, sorry." A kitchen timer beeped from the next room.

Lars glanced at the door, (which Yao assumed was the kitchen) with a stressed expression.

"I was making bread. I'm sorry. Excuse me."

Lars awkwardly fiddled with the seam of the pocket in his sweatpants before going into the kitchen. Yao was left in the living room alone.

Yao noticed that the living room smelled like flowers. The walls were covered in colorful paintings. Only when Yao noticed the half-finished painting on the easel, which looked like the beginnings of a vase filled with tulips, did Yao realize all the paintings were Lars' own.

He looked closer at them. Most of them were tulips, but occasionally there were the life stills of people that Yao recognized. One showed Bella holding a red tulip, which matched her pretty blouse. Some showed faceless men and women at bus stops. A painting up high, high above Yao's head, showed the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, from the perspective of someone walking on it.

There was a painting of Antonio, who Yao remembered as Lars' cousin, with his boyfriend (maybe husband, now. Yao didn't know) Lovino. Antonio was smiling at Lovino's angry face.

Another painting showed Arthur and Tino behind a bar counter. An alleyway with a middle eastern man smoking a cigarette. That same man sitting at a table with his hands on his forehead, elbows on the table, Arthur seated beside him with a hand on his shoulder.

One showed Tino and Ivan, at a small round table in another bar. Tino was grinning and telling some story it looked like, while Ivan listened with a little smile.

A small canvas leaning on the ground against a table showed an extinguished cigarette butt and a handkerchief laying beside it, covered in splotches of blood. Yao didn't understand it. He stared at it until Lars came back. He was fully dressed now in a (extremely tight) blue v-neck and jeans.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was painting when you came..." he took a white cloth and threw it over the one he'd been working on.

"Really, I couldn't tell. Your painting has improved." Yao kept a cruelly blank face and tone.

Lars nodded and motioned for him to sit at the small table in the corner. "Are you sure you don't want tea?"

Yao knew how Lars liked to fidget with his hands; he was asking about tea more for himself than Yao. Yao decided to be merciful. "I'll take a cup, I guess."

Lars went and boiled water and quickly came back with a tea pot and two cups. He sat across from Yao.

"Well, um, I'm sorry for all that. I wasn't expecting you today." He poured himself a cup of tea. He offered to pour Yao's, but Yao took the pot and poured his own.

Lars took a long drink before setting his cup down. "So, first of all, I realize I was a douche to you before, and I'm really sorry. You don't have to accept my apology, or forgive me." Lars fiddled with his cup. "That's what I really wanted to say. Get it off my conscience, you know? I've felt really guilty about it. At first I thought, you know, maybe you'd give me another chance, but now you've got Ivan. He's a nice guy, you know. I didn't really bank on you even giving me a chance to say sorry, to be honest."

"And why are you trying to make amends now? It's been seven years.

"I've been gone for six of those."

"And you've been back for one of them," Yao shot back brutally.

Lars poured more tea for himself and rolled the cup back and forth between his palms. "Well, I've only contacted Manon about a half year ago."

Yao raised an eyebrow. "Why? Why not when you first came back?"

Lars looked Yao in the eye, suddenly very confident. His cup was set down on the table. "I was ashamed of how I acted. Okay? I didn't see her graduation from college, and a lot of shit happened when I was gone that I should've been there for her during. I was a shitty brother."

"You were afraid your little sister would be angry."

"Of course I was. She had every right to be angry as hell with me, and never talk to me again. I was gone so long I forgot how easy going my whole family is."

"What made you reconnect with them if you were so scared?"

"I wasn't 'scared'," he scoffed. "Afraid is a much better word."

"They're synonyms and you're side stepping my question. I'm not forgiving you until you explain yourself."

"Didn't I say I didn't need you to forgive me?"

"Then what's the point of apologizing?"

Lars frowned. "Alright, you've got a point. I'm just... not keen on talking about it, okay?"

"You never are keen to tell me anything," he said sharply.

Lars looked at Yao, shocked. Yao didn't used to be so bitter.

"You're right. Okay, you're right and you always have been. You were always so interesting, you know? You were vivid while I was just there, I've always just been there. My sister would always cook and Antonio always did this or that, was captain of a soccer team or a dance team. You know what I did during high school? I scammed people to earn a quick buck. I sold drugs." Lars ran his hands over his face. His expression grew more somber as he continued. "They always had such great aspirations. Antonio wanted to be a famous dancer. You didn't know that, did you? Manon wanted to be a chef. She wanted to go to Netherlands and Belgium and France. I had told her that I'd take her. Antonio wanted me to speak at his wedding- he'd been saying that since he was twelve. For some reason he's always really liked me. But you know what? I let him down. I decided to throw a tantrum and leave and ignore them for six and a half years. He tried calling me, leaving me voice messages, emailing me, trying to invite me to be a witness at the court when they got married. I ignored all of it. Man, I let him down. I didn't even get to see Manny get her diploma." Lars blinked and looked down at his hands. Yao was surprised how much he was talking. He never remembered Lars sharing so much with him.

"I never told you the shit that happened with our father, did I? I won't bore you with details, but it left Manny just wanting to have a happy family. For a little bit it looked like she'd get her wish, too. Antonio was settling down with Lovino, and suddenly we'd have his whole family, too. Her and Antonio and I were all getting along and we were going to be a big, happy family. But I had to go and be a selfish child; I really was a child, huh? I ruined everything, and they're too nice to be angry with me.

"Not only them, though," Lars glanced at Yao meekly. "I remember listening to you talk about going to France or Germany, becoming a famous chef and traveling the world. I heard from Manny you didn't even finish school after I left. I really did fuck everything up, didn't I?"

"You really did," Yao agreed.

Lars nodded solemnly.

"You know, I know I took you for granted, right form when we first met. I knew we wouldn't work out in the long run- I was just a kid!- but I liked you and I had no self control. I had to have you, but really I wish we'd just been friends. Then maybe we'd still be friends. Then I wouldn't have hurt you so badly," Lars shook his head, putting a hand over his eyes. Yao had already seen some water welling in them.

"God, I fucked everything up. Everyone around me had had such vivid dreams, you know? What had I ever dreamed of? Money? A nice house? I wanted enough money to take care of people I cared about. I'd had a plan for it, too, but I didn't see that by following that plan, my 'dream', it was actually just crushing everyone around me. Look at them; Antonio quit dancing and opened a dance club instead, Manny's a chef's assistant. You work in a bookstore, stuck in this dreary old place."

Yao listened passively for him to finish. He could hardly believe that this was all coming from Lars, who had always been so indifferent and quiet when Yao knew him.

Lars still had his hand over his eyes as he continued.

"Lovino told me outright when I came back that if it were up to him, I wouldn't be anywhere near Antonio. Toni acts like it didn't bother him that I left like that, but Lovino says that he cried the night before their wedding. Because of me? I don't get it. I'm really trash for what I put my family through, but he was still so sad that wouldn't be there. But look: I showed up one day and Antonio let me into his apartment and sat me down and gave me food. Manny hugged me like we hadn't left on bad terms, just like I was coming home from college or something.

"You're the only one who has responded properly. You're the only one holding me accountable for my shit. I knew you would, too, that's why it's taken me so long to find you."

"Yeah, that's cool, but what made you find me right now, not two months ago or two months in the future? What's happened to make right now the time to come and apologize?"

Lars stayed still and contemplated this. He peaked through his fingers at Yao. It was definitely a little watery, that one blue eye, though his voice had stayed even through his entire monologue.

"Nothing gets by you, huh?"

Yao shook his head. "Never has. Spill your guts."

Lars deflated minutely.

"Well, fine. Fine. You win. I contacted Manny first, about eight months ago, then Antonio a week or two later."

"Yes, but what happened right before then, that caused you to contact them? That's what I'm actually asking."

Lars gave Yao another hard glance, then slumped further. He was cracking.

"Fine! But I've only told two others. You must be sworn to secrecy."

Yao rolled his eyes. "Yeah, fine."

"Eight months ago, I... um, I was. Eight months ago. It came out that I, uh.."

"Spit it out! I have other things to be doing today."

Lars was taken aback by Yao's urgent flippancy. He looked at the teapot between them as if it had insulted his hair. His lip quivered minutely.

"I was diagnosed with throat cancer."

Yao's stern and distant air came to a screeching halt. "Throat cancer?"

Lars was glaring at the teapot. That meant 'yes'.

"You... eight months?"

"They caught it early. They removed it by surgery. There were complications, though. People assume my voice is weird now because of smoking a lot, but I only smoke two cigarettes a day now."

"Wait, you still smoke? You had cancer! Do you want to die? Does Bella know you still smoke?" Yao all but yelled at him.

Lars glanced up, surprised by the sudden outburst. "Manon doesn't know. I couldn't tell her that, after all I've already done."

"What do you mean, you can't tell her? She deserves to know!"

"I can't tell her I'm dying, imagine how sad she'd be."

"You had cancer, though. You're not dying... right?"

Lars folded his hands and didn't respond.

"Right?" Yao repeated, louder.

"I went into remission a month ago. That's when I decided I needed to try to make peace with you."

"They- they can just surgically remove this one too, right?"

Lars shook his head. "I've been looking into treatments."

Yao just stared, wide-eyed.

"And you're still not going to tell Bella?" Yao demanded.

"I couldn't hurt her like that."

"Hurt her like that?" Yao asked incredulously. "A moment ago you were saying how you were such a selfish child, and now you're going to let your sister think she finally has her brother back after all these years, until one day she wakes up to a call saying you're dead and you're gone forever. Do you have any idea how much that hurts? Thinking you have someone and then they leave?" Yao had worked himself to tears, and Lars moved to comfort him, but hesitated and stopped, dropping his hand to his side again when he caught himself.

"I'm sorry. I told you I was sorry."

"Don't apologize to me. Tell your sister."

"I can't."

"Lars Derrichs, do you think this is a fucking game? Do you have anything else to say? If not, I'm leaving. I've got places to be."

Lars sat stock still, stunned to silence. Maybe Yao was getting through his thick skull.

Yao nodded, angrily wiping at his eyes, and went to the door. He only looked back once before slamming the front door shut.