His brother has not been himself lately. Tyki can see from the corner of his eyes that his brother does not sleep as much, does not eat. He goes outside once in a while, but only for short periods of time.

In short, he is wasting away.

And not even he, one of the greatest actors that Tyki has known, can hide this from him.

In the end, Tyki ends up dragging his elder brother with him to town.

"Brother," he says quietly as the carriage rumbles on. "Brother, look at me."

A quick drift of the eyes, and Tyki sees the dark bruises under them. Cyril smiles. "You didn't have to go through the trouble."

"I did."

Cyril chuckles. "You did not, but you felt the need to. How sweet."

"You're my brother. I can't just sit back and watch you fall apart."

"You're imagining things, dear," Cyril says smoothly. "You're mistaking work for dying."

"Work is dying," Tyki snaps. "And that's exactly what you're doing."

Cyril's smile twitches. Tyki knows then that he is indeed wasting away, as Cyril does not let down his mask even the slightest if he can help it. "Don't be melodramatic, maninho; it doesn't suit you."

"I'm not. Cyril, look at yourself."

"I'm afraid that we don't have mirrors in here, Tyki, or I would."

Tyki snarls. "Brother."

Cyril does not even flinch. Instead, he turns to stare out the window at the same moment they pass by a small group of people. A family, it seems. The little girl clutches the mother's hand, and the father talks excitedly with his wife.

Her other hand is clasped over her swollen belly.

Cyril closes his eyes. "I'm very fine, Tyki," he says with a sigh. "I'm fine."

"You can't run from her death forever."

It is very sudden, the way his brother moves. Tyki knows that he has driven his brother off the edge, off the cliff as the elder suddenly lunges for him. Spider-fingered hands clutch at Tyki's throat and squeeze and squeeze until Tyki is gasping and trying to wrench his fingers off as the carriage continues to rattle along. If only he could still phase, he curses internally, if only he could still phase and Cyril could still control and Road, Road, Road could still dream.

"Do not," Cyril hisses, wild-eyed and composure gone out the window. "I have told you, Tyki, do not bring this up. I have told you so many times to not to talk about this, to not tell me of this, but you insist." The fingers squeeze harder. "Maninho, why must you insist?"

"Irmão—"

The carriage stops, and Cyril takes in a sharp breath, releasing Tyki's throat and sitting back heavily on his side of the carriage. His face is stricken, pale, the dark bags more prominent than before. "Tyki," he whispers, body shuddering. "Tyki, forgive me."

And Tyki does, because they are brothers and this is the way they are. "I always have."

I imagine that there are at least three more chapters of this left, so I guess that's something to look forward to?

Zenophobia: Ah, but if I tell you now, it'd take all the fun out of the story, wouldn't it? ) Do not worry, though, you shall see. Thank you very much! I shall try even harder.

Sharpshifter: Road is the cement to the Noah family, in my opinion. Without her, nothing ever really seems complete. And thank you~ I do enjoy writing pretty things. :D