Opening the door, Ismael let Alfred in for what seemed the hundredth time. "What is it now?" He kept his cool for now, but he usually ended up breaking down sooner or later when the blond visited.

"They found the killer." Alfred said quietly, not wanting to beat around any bushes. "They phoned me about twenty minutes ago and I knew that I had to tell you."

Staying silent for a moment, Ismael then went to the couch to sit down. "They did?" Hopefully he would rot in jail for his life for what he did. Putting his head in his hands, Ismael had a feeling almost like happiness, but he hadn't felt true happiness since that day. "How?"

Going to sit in the chair across from him, he put his feet up as he ran a hand through his blond hair. "Something about another place being robbed, they caught them and the ballistics were the same from both scenes. Their trial isn't set, but they are in jail until they go to court." Still, he couldn't help but feel it wasn't good enough for the people who killed his brother to just be in jail. His brother wasn't looking for trouble, he was just there out of the kindness of his heart.

Closing his eyes, the Cuban let a small smile to grace his lips. "At least they can't hurt anyone else." He knew that Matthew wouldn't have wanted it this way, that he wouldn't want someone to go to jail because of him, but they deserved to die there.

Alfred nodded. "Exactly, but it would have been better if the fuckers didn't have the chance to hurt anyone ever." Though he couldn't help but feel that life would have continued as normal and Alfred would have never known just how much pain his brother was in with his immoral feelings. "If it wasn't illegal I would gladly castrate the bastards then kill them with a gun and see how they like it."

Looking up, Ismael wasn't sure what he was thinking. It was strange, both of them agreeing on something and not fighting about it. "You said you were with him when he died, right? What... was it like?"

Visibly wincing, Alfred squeezed his eyes shut before looking into the Cuban's chocolate brown ones. "It was... Surreal." He murmured, using the first word that came to mind. "I really couldn't believe I was going to lose him... Just like that."

Grunting, Ismael leaned back on the couch. "Imagine what it was like to phone him, and have a nurse pick up and tell me he was dead." He had been wondering where he was, since Matthew had said about when he would be over.

"Do you want to know what else?" He whispered, unable to look away from Ismael. "You know what his last request was?" Before he could ask, the American continued. "He wanted me to say sorry for not coming back. He wanted you to know that he was on his death bed. Nothing about our parents, he wanted you to know. But you know what else? I was too much of a fucktard to want to talk to you so I didn't say anything."

Holding his breath, Ismael looked at the blond sitting across from him. "He, what? You didn't..." Damn, he couldn't even be angry at him, because Alfred actually looked like he felt guilty for not telling him. "He really did?"

With a self deprecating smirk, he asked. "Do you really think I'd make that up? I felt terrible for a few days before the funeral since I never said anything, but then I heard from our -my- parents that the doctor phoned the last few callers on his cell to pass the news around and I mostly let it go." With a shrug, he added. "I still feel like a douche for not saying anything, but I couldn't after he seemed so concerned about you knowing that."

Nodding his head slightly, Ismael sighed. "Yeah, I had gotten a call from the hospital, but by that time I was... ah, well let's just say I wasn't up to talking to anyone." Truth be told, he had been so drunk he probably couldn't get out of his bed if he had tried, which he didn't.

"But yeah. They're behind bars now." He said with a slightly happier tone, wanting to get away from such a painful topic for them. Matthew's death still wasn't easy to talk about, even though it was almost two months since it happened.

"That's good." They would probably end up going to the trial together, since they had pretty much grown used to each other's presence, however unwillingly. Neither of them would admit it, but they needed each other.

Alfred leaned back. "That's what I thought. Now we know that it won't happen to another family, even if it should never have happened." He murmured, looking up at the ceiling. Something was telling him to stay here, but he wasn't sure just what it was or even why.

They were silent for a moment, before Ismael got up. "I'm having tacos for dinner. I probably made too much, so..." He left his sentence hanging, having too much pride to actually finish it, even if it was painfully obvious what he was asking.

"Sure, I'll stay. I don't have anywhere to be, and I don't really want to go back home..." For obvious reasons, he had been avoiding his house and in turn Matthew's room ever since he died. It brought up way too many memories to be comfortable.

They went to the kitchen and started making their tacos, not really talking through it. But, it was better than being alone.