Chapter 24

"You don't- Hank I can't- no, no. you have to remember."

Hank stared at this person, this small, blond haired, blue eyed person who was supposed to be important to him.

But if he died tomorrow Hank wasn't sure he'd feel a thing. The way Don talked about their relationship, he wasn't sure he wanted to. Sure, family was nice and all, but… but he just couldn't imagine being that vulnerable for anyone.

If half the things Don talked about were true… this small, weak, extremely vulnerable person in front of him was a weakness, a soft spot, chink in Hank's armor that he just… wasn't willing to have.

He was sorry for the kid. He looked nice, and if Hank had really cared about him he was probably a good person, too. But if Hank had forgotten him, could he really have been that important?

Either he was a weakness or had never been important to begin with. Hank didn't know which he was, but neither exactly sounded like a desirable option.

"Hank, do… do you even care?"

And what was he supposed to say? He couldn't possibly care like the Hank Don was remembering. He didn't have anything to care about! He was an only child, he'd never had a sibling or a younger brother and he didn't know how to relate to him.

But he didn't want to hurt Don. It wasn't fair that he had to lose someone important to him and Hank didn't want to make it worse.

"Of course I care. Why wouldn't I?"

Evidently, it was the wrong thing to say, because Don stopped pacing and stopped so still Hank jolted in surprise.

"Yeah, Hank. Why don't you?"

"I… look it's not that I don't want to care." It might be though. "I just… I don't have anything. To remember. You're a stranger to me and you're asking…"

The look on Don's face was enough to stop Hank cold. "I'm sorry."

The clear blue of Don's eyes clouded over and shimmered pale under the incandescent lights. Hank's fingers itched to do something, but he didn't know what. They twitched. He kept them by his sides.

"No, you're not. No, you're not."

Hank shifted, an uncomfortable humming in the base of his skull. Don could read him. He couldn't read Don. Not that it was hard right now…

"You aren't sorry. And why would you be? Why should you care more about me than any other stranger on the block…?"

Hank strained to hear Don's voice, stepping forward and ignoring the twinge in his chest when Don stepped back.

"Look… it's not you, okay? It's all me… heh, why does this feel like a bad breakup… not that we're breaking up! Wait. I mean, we're still bros, I guess… I mean…" Hank glanced up. Don didn't seem inclined to save him.

"What I'm trying to say here is that nothing's your fault. Knowing me, I probably just ran into something like some kinda knucklehead and got myself in more trouble than I knew what to do with. And, um… and I bet we can still work something out between us. To be… bros or friends or something." Hank tried to grin, but whatever he'd come up with must not have been picture of convincing.

"Bros… or friends or something…" Don clapped a hand over his mouth and bent over, his other arm covering his stomach and what if he had medical problems? What if he had stress issues or panic attacks and Hank just made him have an aneurysm? Hank moved forward in aborted clumsy motions that couldn't have been anything near reassuring but Don backed away again and Hank was left empty handed.

"This can't be… it…"

Don bit his lip, and Hank just knew he was about to cry, but he spun around and Hank was left wondering if he'd run in the direction of his bedroom in this strange new house.