It almost hurt to be out here in the bright Second Miltia sun. People walked by in throngs, swinging shopping bags or chatting idly, and the air itself buzzed with joy.

This levity was nothing like how Jr. felt inside. He felt surrounded, as though it might suffocate him outright.

Jr. popped a fry in his mouth, hoping to distract himself, though he could hardly taste it even fatty and oversalted as it was. It felt strange to hear people talk about mundane things- like the woman beside them, asking her friend what her boyfriend might want for his birthday, or the man and woman opposite them on a day out with their young child, asking him how school was going.

Mundanity was always alien to him. Other people didn't remember being stored in pods or training to fight a god when they were children. Jr. had to learn about the little features of life, like birthdays, or schools, or restaurants- things he had heard a little of from Sakura, or from books, but didn't experience firsthand until after Miltia.

Jr. took a bite of his burger without even looking at it, mechanical and practiced. Of course, this was a reality he much preferred to the Institute. Even if he felt like he was just pretending to be normal, it was way better than what he came from. Yet, there were still times when he was reminded of how strange he was, how little he could understand of normalcy.

Even if this feeling of alienation was familiar, however, Jr. suspected that for once, it was normal to feel separated like this. While most people couldn't relate to their brother linking with U-DO and attempting to destroy the universe, many of them had lost someone dear to them. They probably knew what it was like to feel a stranger to happiness.

Maybe grief was the most normal human experience Jr. would ever get.

It would certainly feel odd to talk about something so dark in these cheery surroundings. Jr. didn't particularly want to, but he didn't suspect Ziggy would let him get away without it. His eyes had shone with worry when he cracked open Jr.'s door and asked if he wanted to share lunch.

Jr. had to say yes. He'd never seen Ziggy with this emotion on his face before- knitted eyebrows and downturned lips were familiar, sure, but something near imperceptible had shifted behind his eyes. Ziggy usually tried so hard to keep them blank.

Also, Jr. wasn't about to turn down free food.

Jr. didn't particularly want to talk to anyone- he'd been fending off Gaignun's worried questions for hours- but a distraction certainly couldn't hurt. He could make room in his busy schedule of tearing up, and staring at the ceiling, and squeezing Alby to his chest until they both couldn't breathe.

Jr. sighed. He supposed it wasn't free food, after all. He would pay in emotional honesty several times over.

Though, a part of him strongly believed it had all been worth it to watch Ziggy awkwardly try to order on his behalf while Jr. stood behind him like an errant child. Ziggy had pronounced the order so seriously, a large number 7 with a side of fries, as though he was giving battle orders.

Ziggy was struggling again now, eyebrows shifting as he attempted to find a way to talk to Jr. Just as Ziggy opened his mouth, evidently having found something to say, the table across from them burst into sound.

"Wow, really?! A little brother?!"

"Yes. You can play with him whenever you like. It'll be like having a friend always with you."

Jr. tried not to think about the empty space in his chest. He tried not to think about everything he'd lost. He instead focused his energy on studying Ziggy's face, the near imperceptible tightening in his jaw.

Ziggy finally turned his face back to Jr.

"I wanted to talk to you about Albedo."

"I know." Jr. filled his mouth with fries, glancing up expectantly. He was going to let Ziggy take the lead on this one.

Ziggy didn't seem enthused at that, making something like a grimace before going on. "You have been grieving, ever since he passed away."

Jr. didn't say anything. He didn't want to, because even though he had known Ziggy wanted him to talk about Albedo, it hurt to even think about. He took another bite of his burger as soon as he'd swallowed the fries, hoping his full mouth would excuse him from talking for awhile. He was a growing boy, after all.

Ziggy took the cue.

"I didn't know him, but I saw the time you spent with him." He said. Jr. winced. Right. The encephalon.

"No privacy nowadays," he mumbled. He felt strangely exposed, knowing that all of his friends had seen everything. Yet, a part of him was also grateful- they had seen Albedo as he used to be, and all that had happened to make him this way. Jr. looked like less of a maniac for caring about him.

It was a strange sensation, however, to picture that tiny Albedo, a shy child lost to time. Reconciling shaking, frail Albedo with hulking, cruel Albedo was hard enough, but now Jr. was forced to recognize that somehow, both of them were dead.

The sensation was physically painful.

It was as though Ziggy had read his mind. "I am certain that you miss him… or parts of him."

Jr. closed his eyes. He suddenly felt awash with the urge to be honest- whether because he felt indebted to Ziggy for the food, or just thought that he might understand, Jr. didn't know. There was something about Ziggy that felt comforting, which was peculiar, because they hadn't known each other for very long. His gravelly voice? His kind eyes? Jr. couldn't tell.

"I've missed him for a long time." Jr. finally said. He expected Ziggy to nod, but he didn't, simply looking forwards with his eyes grave.

"In some ways it's worse than death, isn't it?" He said. "You lack closure."

Jr. chewed on a bite of his burger, trying to place what Ziggy was referring to. He was private about his previous life, and Jr. didn't pry (though he could look Ziggy up). Maybe it was about that black testament, the man Ziggy seemed to recognize.

"Yeah. I always wanted him back. I just wasn't brave enough to admit it to myself until now." Jr. had been so stupid. He was so caught up in fights and rivalries that he had repressed whatever part of him still loved Albedo. He'd told himself it was for his own good, but now Jr. realized he'd been lying. He just wanted things to be simple.

Now they were. He'd gotten his stupid wish. Jr. bit the next fry with more aggression than was strictly necessary.

"Retrospect is painful. You always think you could have done more." Ziggy said softly. "You wish you had appreciated what you had, even though in the moment, it's impossible. You can't possibly know what you have until it's gone."

The regret felt unimaginably heavy just to think about, like Jr. was being crushed under the weight of thought alone. He'd always been pushing Albedo away, hadn't he? When they were young and he'd had enough of Albedo's crying, or when they were older and he insisted that they fight.

Of course, Jr. wasn't all to blame. But he was the one who had survived- he was always the one who lived, pushing down the heads of others so he wouldn't be swallowed up.

"He always depended on me," Jr. said. He was reminded of that fact now more than ever, when he laid in his darkened room with Alby on his chest- a familiar weight, so reminiscent of Albedo's head laid on top of him. They always cuddled after Albedo's many, many nightmares.

He needed Jr. right up until the moment he died, had brought Jr. there just to do it. Those moments stuck in Jr.'s mind like no other, the raw, burning closeness of it all, even though he couldn't bear to reach out and touch Albedo.

Maybe he should've. Maybe if Jr. had taken his hand, like when they were younger, or flung his arms around him, Albedo would've stayed.

Jr. chose to stuff some fries in his mouth again.

"I do miss him." He said after he'd finished his bite. "I just wish this wasn't the end. I want to see him one last time."

Jr.'s mouth felt dry. He couldn't even imagine what he would do or say. Apologize, or hold him close, or tell Albedo he loved him, something he knew but never really got the chance to say. It went deeper than mere regret, though- because Jr. suspected that even if he'd done everything right, somehow, he still wouldn't be ready to let go of Albedo. He never wanted them to be separated.

Maybe Albedo needed him, but Jr. needed Albedo in turn too. He felt achingly empty. He had heard of grief described like this before, like a hole through the chest, but he doubted it felt this literal for most people, this silence where his second heart had once beat.

"It's not fair," Jr. concluded, trying to shut away the emotion threatening to take over.

"I know." Ziggy looked at Jr. with soft eyes. "You've already lost… too much."

Jr. frowned. "I'm not that much younger than you."

"Perhaps not in years, but certainly in spirit."

"What, 'cause I'm not ready to die?" Jr. asked sardonically. Ziggy flinched. "…sorry."

"No. I appreciate the honesty." Ziggy sighed, looking down. "And it is good, that you still wish to live."

"Right." Jr. said, chewing thoughtfully on a fry. "You died after your family was killed."

He was careful not to say committed suicide, even though he'd already alluded to it. Ziggy looked troubled enough, at least for how much emotion his face could express.

"Jr.," he said carefully, "there were… other factors, in my decision. Don't-"

"I know." Jr. swallowed, throat bobbing. "I wasn't thinking about it. Not really."

The thought had flung across his mind just after Albedo had died, like someone whispering to him, grabbing him and shaking him. How could he exist without Albedo? How could he go on without him? Jr. wouldn't be complete. He had to follow Albedo. They couldn't be separate. This would only be a stunted, bleak façade of life, meaningless and hollow.

Jr. knew he couldn't listen. He would find a way to survive, even amputated as he was.

"Good." Ziggy nodded. "You always were strong. I couldn't have known, when I first met you."

Jr. laughed. "Is that an apology for underestimating me?"

"No."

"I'll take it."

Ziggy sighed, closing his eyes. Jr. smiled. He was a really good guy.

"I get it. I look like a kid. And I act like one… sometimes."

He heard Ziggy mutter sometimes under his breath.

"…but I had you pegged wrong, too." Jr. said. "You aren't emotionless, after all."

"No. Very much not."

"Seems like everybody pretends not to feel sometimes." Jr. thought of his talk with Juli, when she was pushing away MOMO. "I get it. It hurts. I have to push it down just to sit here."

"I know," Ziggy said softly. "I feel it, too. It's… alright, if you have to cry."

"Nah." Jr. shook his head. "I don't cry in front of people."

Ziggy nodded, understanding. Someone else might have pried, told him it's alright to, but Ziggy already got it. Jr. didn't need to explain.

"You have already endured a great deal of tragedy. That is something we both have in common." Ziggy said through a clenched jaw. "Yet… you carry it… perhaps more gracefully."

"Most of it happened when I was too young to know the difference." Jr. frowned, poking at his fries. "I guess I've been dealing with this for so long it kind of… doesn't register. I feel this, though. I feel…"

The words escaped him. Suddenly tears were in his vision, blurring the carton of fries just in front of him. Just when he said he didn't cry in front of people, too.

Jr. couldn't help it. Thinking of Albedo was painful. The wound was still fresh, still bleeding, still too painful to think about.

"I never wanted to show how bad I felt. I owe it to everybody to be better." Jr. said, blinking back the tears. He shoved a few fries in his mouth before he could say anything else.

"Wasn't it you who told me not to be detached?"

"This is different, old man." Jr. pointed a fry at him. Ziggy smiled.

"We all carry this weight in different ways."

The silence came down heavy over both of them, and the sun glared into Jr.'s eyes like a spotlight. He had already been embarrassingly, mortifyingly honest, and he wasn't sure if it was making him feel any better.

It just felt all the stranger to be out here, talking about death and hopelessness on a nice day like this, as the people surrounding chatted about difficult coworkers and new ice cream stores. Jr. almost wanted to be quieter, to shrink away, where the harsh glow of normalcy couldn't see him.

Yet, he knew he had to keep on going. He had to find a way to survive with this new emptiness.

"Old man," Jr. said, "what did you do, after your family died?"

Ziggy fixed Jr. with a strange look, so Jr. hurriedly went back. "Not right after! I mean… how do you deal with it, now?"

"Jr.," he said. "I doubt I will be of much help to you."

"I know. I'd just… rather talk to you than the others." Jr. couldn't meet Ziggy's eyes anymore.

"I fail to see why." Ziggy murmured. "I am hardly… emotionally articulate."

It was true. He barely even made expressions, even now. Jr. took a bite of his burger.

"That's why." He said. "You won't say the right thing. You'll just tell me how it is. And… I want to know how you think."

"It isn't the same, between us." Ziggy said.

"Nah. It pains me to say this, but I think we're more alike than we thought." Jr. chewed thoughtfully. Ziggy smiled.

"I don't disagree. Yet, I was speaking more about our circumstances."

"What d'ya mean?" Jr. asked, blue eyes flicking up to Ziggy.

Ziggy's face hardened into a grimace, shifting about his face. When he spoke, it was as though he was pushing out the words, as though everything about it was unthinkably painful.

"I watched them die." He said, voice low. "I was not the one who killed them, but I felt as though I had. For not doing anything- for not being able to do anything- it may as well have been me who stole their lives from them."

"Old man?" Jr. asked, hesitant. He didn't want to interrupt, but Ziggy looked like he was about to pass out, or something. "You okay? You never really talk about this."

"Yes." Ziggy said, lips pressed close together. "You have earned my honesty, Jr."

"For what?

"For surviving."

"'course." Jr. said, with a definitive nod. "I'll always survive. I'm not done yet."

Ziggy nodded. "Good."

He took a breath, inhaling deeply as Jr. finished off the last of his fries. "I only meant to say that I know it is different for you. The guilt you feel runs deeper. Yet, if you felt you had to kill him, that is enough."

Jr.'s face twisted in pain. His eyes watered at the mere reminder of what he'd done. He looked away hurriedly, embarrassed by the emotional response.

He heard Ziggy speak again, hurried, though not panicked.

"It's still alright to grieve. But you shouldn't let yourself be overcome with regrets. It's better not to look back."

"It was a mistake," Jr. protested, only just above a whisper. Though he said it softly, Ziggy still heard. His eyes widened with recognition.

"A… mistake?"

"I wanted to bring him back. I thought maybe… there was a way for us to…" Jr. shook his head before he could finish that sentence- before he could imagine Albedo as his friend and ally again, walking around the Durandal like he belonged there. "It was stupid. We've never been happy like that. The closest we got was when we were kids… and you saw that."

Fighting for Yuriev's twisted goals, the same selfish purposes they had been born to fulfill, tasked with a war far beyond their childish comprehension- that was the happiest Jr. and Albedo had ever been together. And even still, that wasn't saying anything about Albedo's breakdown with 623.

"I lost control of my powers," Jr. said, voice raw, thick with unshed tears. "I got so angry… I had to beat all that out of him. I killed him, and he- he… didn't even fight back."

That was the breaking point. Jr. planted his face down in his folded arms, tears blotted by his sleeves. He swallowed thickly, trying to hold back the tears, to stop crying because he was stronger than this. Jr. bit the inside of his cheek, trying to stifle it all.

When Jr. looked up again, he saw Ziggy prodding a napkin closer. Jr. shook his head. He was alright. He didn't need to cry. He needed to stop crying.

The worry clear on Ziggy's face was mortifying. Jr. was a grown man.

"I'm fine," he said.

Ziggy seemed to understand, and his face turned from pitying to thoughtful. He leaned back, closing his eyes.

"Jr., did you want to kill him?"

Jr. thought that would've been clear by now. The question shocked him enough to answer succinctly. "No."

"Then you didn't." Ziggy said, and it was so simple that it outright stumped Jr. "Murder requires intent."

"It was still me who did it." Jr. looked down again. "It's the same as Miltia. It doesn't matter if I had a choice or not… if it weren't for me, things would be different."

"Didn't you say… he called you there?"

"Yeah." Jr. nodded. "He knew. I guess… this was what he wanted."

"There is no reason to feel guilt for the choices of others," Ziggy said, crossing his arms over his chest. "If that was Albedo's choice…"

Jr. flinched. That nearly made the grief well up in his chest again.

"Are you talking about what you said earlier? About death being rest for the soul?"

"Perhaps for Albedo." Ziggy said, with a nod.

"It's not what I wanted, though." Jr. protested. "There was more for him- I could have done more for him."

Ziggy's eyes were soft. "And if you believe that so deeply, then you are not his killer."

The words ebbed and flowed in Jr.'s mind. Intent. He'd never intended any of the harm he'd caused, so maybe he couldn't be held wholly responsible. It was a tempting thought, but it clashed terribly against the others in Jr.'s mind, that none of this would have happened without him, intended or not.

It felt too easy to let go of this weight. There was no way it could be the right thing to do. He was still complicit- still an accessory to the crime. Yet, Ziggy's words were comforting, in a way. Maybe Jr. had killed him, but still wasn't his brother's murderer.

Maybe in those moments when he begged for Albedo not to go, Albedo could see how much he cared.

"…I'm not sure if I believe that yet." Jr. said. Ziggy didn't seem upset by it, though.

"These things take time." He said. "It will get better, Jr. One day you will feel almost as though you are the same person again."

It was different from what the others said, but that was what Jr. liked. He didn't want to be told he would go back to normal, or forget, because it felt almost crueler to insinuate that he would be himself again, like Albedo's death could pass by as though he'd never existed at all. What Ziggy said felt like truth, bared and grotesque: Albedo did have an effect on him, maybe the greatest effect of anyone Jr. had ever known.

"A part of me doesn't know how I can survive without him. He was… half of me." Jr. said it dully, as though someone else was speaking through him. Despite it all, Albedo had been important to him. He didn't know if he could ever admit it aloud, but he loved Albedo. He loved Albedo so much that what was left of his heart hurt.

"That's not the kind of question you have to answer before you start." Ziggy said gently. "You're already surviving."

"It's all I do," Jr. mumbled. No matter what, he kept moving, kept going forwards, even at the cost of the others around him. He never imagined he would see Albedo die at all, much less like this.

Yet, there was a certainty to Ziggy's words that was comforting. Jr. would always love Albedo, would never forget him, but could still survive without him.

Ziggy had survived all these years, after all. He'd even decided to extend his life.

"I already know that you won't make my mistakes… but I still have to stay vigilant." Ziggy finally said with an air of certainty, as though it were some sort of explanation for this strange outing.

He reached over, grabbing for the empty containers Jr. had been eating from, and without any better ideas, Jr. followed him to the trash receptacle. A part of him was glad that this was over, that he didn't need to linger on these thoughts any longer- even though they wouldn't leave his brain, no matter what he did- but a part of him was starting to crave whatever this was. Ziggy was way smarter than he looked, and more than that, he seemed to really understand what Jr. was thinking.

Ziggy let the silence speak for itself as they headed back towards the spaceport. The light felt less harsh on the way back, almost as though some of it had seeped inside of Jr. and made its home there. The hole in his heart throbbed less. Jr. could think of his brother more peacefully, now, without tears beading and hands itching to throw something.

Maybe Albedo wasn't a mistake he had made. Maybe Albedo was just Albedo, and Jr. was free to love him and remember him and think of him without guilt.

Before they could pass through the gate, Jr. decided it was the last chance to act on the whim that had been steadily building in his mind. He stopped, steeling himself, and before Ziggy could turn and ask what was wrong, Jr. had wrapped his arms around him.

"Thanks, old man," he said. "This was… really nice."

Ziggy's hand landed on his head, patting him. Ordinarily Jr. would be mortified to be treated like a child, but maybe, just for now, this was nice. Maybe he could suffer being taken care of just this once.

"Of course, Jr. Anytime."