He'd been there for thirty seconds, maybe even less, he'd bypassed reception all together and ran as fast as he could to the ward he was on, he didn't know why, maybe hoping the message had been wrong, maybe just hoping he'd get there before the final blow was struck. Maybe it was instinct.

He'd stopped at the end of the corridor, skidding around the corner with trainers shrieking across the polished floor, he saw the head shake, the apologetic hand movements and the firm, understanding nod of a pink-haired head in the second before she spotted him and spoke. Just his name, or his old name anyway, the one nobody else had ever called him except the one he now understood the fate of, feeling nothing, the urgency of before dying and anxiety rising hot in his limbs as the white coated man walked away to continue his day as if everything hadn't just been destroyed.

She took one step forwards, then another, lips parted and watery blue eyes too wet, he stood his ground, breathing like he was facing off with some dangerous wild animal instead of his own Granny. But then she took one more step and he had to turn and flee because he knew without being told and he couldn't stand the words coming from that wrinkled mouth.

He made his way out just as fast but there were two people coming towards him he recognised and there was nowhere to hide, holding his head up as if nothing was wrong and shoving right through the middle of them, refusing to look anywhere above their shoulders because that was lay danger. He just couldn't stand to be there one second longer with that smell and the memories and the strange feeling that he was about to be crushed by halogen lit hallways and the feeble murmuring of people too far gone to be acknowledged. He just couldn't do it and he had to run, knowing even as he'd purposefully ignored both blue and green eyes that nobody could look at him and not realise something was wrong. He'd always run when he was scared and now was no different.

He'd been there so many times, but now, this one time he didn't want to see anybody or anybody to see him, this was the time he'd been caught red handed, metaphor too appropriate today and just swallowing as he shoved past another familiar face and out with lungs tearing open. He found the nearest rooftop there was, ripping fingers open scrambling up and finally away from prying eyes he lay back against the hard surface, stared at the sky and squeezed his eyes shut as if that would hide him from reality.


He didn't want him to ask but then why had he gone there if not to be asked, to be questioned on this by somebody who might offer what he needed if he just told the goddamn truth for once, question registering and throat clogging. "What were you doing at the hospital?"

His voice was calm, curious but not prying and somehow he knew this time he'd be telling the truth but he had the feeling the words would choke him and he didn't quite know how he'd end up reacting, answering as plainly as he could. Maybe for once plain facts wouldn't hurt.

"Visiting."

"Visiting who?"

There was a strange sense of dread filling up his chest and somehow the horrible warmth of it made him feel so suffocated, taking a breath and actually maintaining eye contact as he spoke, as he revealed long kept secrets about himself to the only person he even remotely trusted. "I had a brother. A twin."

"Had?" He wished he hadn't caught on, but he wasn't dumb enough for that and he knew it wouldn't be long before the facts spilled and he could already feel his fingertips growing cold, eyes refusing to blink as if it would create a waterfall of moisture.

"Work it out for yourself, I'm sure you're smart enough."

"You- Wait, you were visiting him?"

"Yeah." He lit a cigarette he knew he wouldn't smoke and spoke without nodding, inhaling tar and feeling the sickness return tenfold as his throat ached. "But you're talking in the past tense."

"Yeah. He's dead."

It didn't hurt to say it for some reason and Mizuki's mildly distrusting expression helped with that, because perhaps he was entirely wrong and his mind had tricked him, maybe he was low on sleep and had hallucinated the whole thing. His Granny could have lied to keep him away from the hospital and the bed where his brother must surely still lie, but then something in his face must have remained still and stoic and Mizuki looked sick.

"You're serious?"

"Deadly." The pun wasn't lost on him and his mouth twitched up at the side, hiding the too fast blinking of his eyes and the slightly hysterical tone to the breathy laugh he gave a second later.

"Sly, I'm sorry." He didn't know the reaction those words would cause, the immediate wetness in his eyes as if somehow that simple word of honest sympathy, empathy, horrible, chest-twisting genuineness, was all he'd needed to hear to make this real. Of all people Mizuki was the one who could sense a lie and for once, for fucking once he wished his words had been. He laughed as he spoke but nothing was funny anymore and he did it because he didn't know what else to do and laughing was safer than whatever his other options may be.

He was talking like it was hilarious, unbelievable, like he'd never heard anything more amusing in his life, like he was recounting the act of his favourite comedian but in every tragedy there was always a comic relief character and for once he guessed it was him.

"Why? You didn't kill him, his lungs did. They flooded, and he drowned. He drowned in fucking air. Who does that? Who the fuck would die like that? What kind of sick fucking- Sick fucking fucker would di- Who wo-?" His voice had broken and he was angry but his eyes were wet and his laughter was definitely hysterical now, smiling wide but eyes crinkled in agony and clutching at his chest like it hurt, laughing even as his back began to shake and he choked on his own humour. But it was growing more into sobbing and less into laughter as he carried on, waving his hands around as if trying to explain the ridiculousness of it all even as his eyes got wetter and overflowed down his cheeks and he was choking out words now, drowned and something about not even being able to swim and fucking stupid.

Mizuki approached him then, horror and sympathy thick in his intentions but Sly pushed him away, words barely legible now, "no, no, I'm fine. It's funny, it's funny, right? Stupid fucker drowned. Don't you think that's funny, huh, Mizuki?"

"Not really," his voice was soft, and whether that was what broke Sly or whether it was his hands on his shoulders he didn't know, but his last, hysterical, out of control laugh choked him and he almost gagged on his own saliva, freezing in place for a second before his entire face crumpled and he was just sobbing instead. Stood there on the spot, completely vulnerable and unable to stop himself even as he tried, breathing coming too fast and erratic, throat closing over and nose beginning to run as Mizuki just pulled him into his chest and wrapped arms around his shoulders.

His head was bent down, forehead resting just below the neck of his shirt, fingers coming to grip into the sides and shoulders shaking hard with every sob, body seeming to tear apart with each almost wailing exhale of air.

Mizuki couldn't recall if he'd seen him cry before, he had the feeling he must have done, but even if that event had happened, it could never have been as horrifying as this, watching him completely break apart under his fingers. He hadn't even known he had a brother, let alone a twin, he'd known something was going on but he figured it couldn't be anything too bad or he'd have reacted to the asking more viciously than he did. But then perhaps the terribleness of it had resulted in him being so stilted and accepting of everything that had been happening, so passive and only breaking into true anger when pushed ridiculously.

But he supposed thinking about how he'd been acting was a little useless now, though he had to admit he didn't know what to say, he hardly had any family of his own to draw experience from, and Yasu's death wasn't the same. Nobody close to him had ever died, though he knew assuming Sly was close to his brother was a dumb thing to do, but he'd never had anybody that significant in his life suddenly pass away.

He guessed there was nothing to say, he couldn't bring back his brother or make him feel instantly better or make a joke that hey, it was better than living in this shithole! Anybody else might have been horrified at the way he reacted, might have seen him as heartless or cold for laughing when his own sibling had died, but the sheer inappropriateness of it had only made it more blatantly true because it was such a Sly way to react there was no doubt it wasn't one hundred percent real.

He let him hold him for a while, choking audibly on his own spit and coughing so hard his whole body shook, shaking under his hands and still in a state beyond mere sadness but not quite bordering on hysteria any more. Then he pulled away suddenly and somehow seeing his face made it all so much more horrible, the hopeless, distraught crinkle of his eyes and the wetness of his mouth was so open and vulnerable, making Mizuki's chest ache for him.

He'd stopped gasping for seemingly long enough to speak one more sentence, voice shaking and wobbling over itself, wet with anger and dissolving into sobs by the end, "I shouldn't even be here!" It was too much for him to hold in, that was the only way Mizuki could describe it, hand over his mouth and nose, fingers splaying all the way up to his eyes just trying to hold it in, this emotion was too much for him and he was backing away with an arm tight around his waist.

He inhaled then, long and shaking like a tree in a hurricane, trying to gain control only to exhale in breathy, panicked sobs, back hitting the wall and letting himself fall to the ground, not sliding slowly like people did in films but buckling instead, hitting the carpet with a thump.

"Sly," still no words, pausing as he approached because he'd reached a hand out as if pushing him away even as he lingered too far away to touch, wiping his eyes as if they didn't soak again seconds later.

"Leave me alone."

"No, Sly-"

"Please, just leave me alone, Mizuki. Please."

He didn't want to, but he'd said please like he never did so he nodded and did as he said. Or he sort of did anyway, returning seconds later to drape a blanket over him, watching as he scrabbled to pull it around himself, hiding his face, not reacting to the mug of ridiculously sweet tea he placed beside him.

Good for shock, they said, but if anybody was in shock it was Mizuki.

He didn't really understand why Sly drank the tea, but he didn't fully know why he'd bothered to make it either, just glancing over occasionally to see him sipping messily from the mug, hidden between his knees and hair falling down to conceal his face. He was still crying though, or if not then at least still trembling all over, shoulders hitching every now and again and hiccupping on the next breath he took, sniffing and keeping his knees tucked into his chin protectively.

There wasn't much Mizuki felt he could do with Sly in such a bad state, he'd feel callous turning on the TV or doing anything much but sitting still, absently reading a magazine article and making sure to check on him every now and again, because if he wanted to be left alone he'd follow his wishes. He flicked through brightly inked pages absently, stopping on the occasional page to scan the information or to examine the tattoo submission page, wondering if one day he'd be able to send off his own work for the world to see.

He'd just begun reading an article about a new range of specially pigmented inks for use on darker skin tones, when he heard the gentle sound of the blanket dropping to the floor and Sly's sniffs grew purposeful before he spoke.

"I-It's funny, because you would have liked him. You would have really liked him, I know you would, and he would have liked you. Ironic, huh? If I'd been the one tha- The one that died. You could have fallen in love with him instead and things would have been easy for you."

This felt weirdly like an apology even as he spoke to the back of Mizuki's head as much as he focused his gaze on the emptying mug in his hands, familiar sturdy handle in his fingertips. He wasn't sure what it was an apology for, maybe for his brother, who'd never gotten a chance to meet people and make friends, a way to say sorry that he hadn't tried harder in his stead. An apology to Mizuki, perhaps, for not making things easy as his brother undoubtedly would, for being the cold one who struggled to make nice conversation, who made friendships but refused to acknowledge them as that. "But no, he had to die. He never even did anything wrong. It's not fair. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve any of it."

Anger had seeped back into his tone but it stayed dry this time, exhaling shakily and wiping at his eyes when he turned to regard him, knowing what to say this time as well as what the answer would be. "But you would?"

"Yeah, have you not met me?"

He didn't respond to that, just shook his head as if saying it was useless to argue now and probably cruel to as well, if wishing he could've traded places with his brother made sense to him, made his guilt less severe, he didn't want to destroy that, incorrect though it was. It seemed ironic though, cruelly so, that Sly's brother perhaps hadn't wanted to die whereas anybody who knew Sly well couldn't deny that he had that air about him, of one who wanted an escape. Sly might have been happy to sacrifice himself for his brother, perhaps the act of dying to save another would make him finally feel worthy, that one act of kindness might bring him some relief even as he slid into a medicated coma he'd never wake from.


He went home after that, to his Granny's, crept inside and noticed instantly how chilled the air was, the entire place dark and unwelcoming, it felt like it had been abandoned for years but he wasn't surprised to see the old lady sat quietly sipping tea at the dinner table.

She'd always been a strong sort of person, or he'd felt so anyway, like a solid, sturdy battleship of flesh that could do anything and be everywhere at once, productive and taking no nonsense, but he'd always seen her weaknesses too. The bruises on her ankles where she'd fallen or bumped herself, the sores on the soles of her feet as she rushed around too fast for a lady of her age, the wrinkles growing around her mouth and the tired, weary way she stood up from a chair.

Now he wasn't sure what he was seeing, standing before her in the kitchen and knowing he wasn't the person she wanted to see, knowing he was almost never the person she wanted to see but feeling like today this was picking the scab off a wound. She answered his questions plainly, the way she always did, not expressing any emotion even as Sly's throat thickened again and he knew if he hadn't cried all his tears at Mizuki's that his cheeks would be wet.

But then he asked one last question as she stood and washed her mug and her hands stilled under the stream of warm water, sponge squeezed in her hand suddenly and exhaling so shakily Sly wished he hadn't asked.

"Did you hold his hand?"

"Yes, I held his hand," and then her voice had gotten horribly breathy and the mug hit the bottom of the sink a little louder than she'd intended, remembering with horrible pain that she'd been right there, holding her Grandson's icy cold hand as he'd slipped away.

Sly didn't know if he was comforted by her answer, he just nodded and held her shoulders and told her softly to sit down, to leave him to tidy up, refusing to look her way because he knew she was trying to conceal her tears and they were alike in that at least.

But the mug and teapot were clean too fast and he ended up curled up beside her on the sofa, holding her hand while she cried in silence, staring dead ahead and not so much as moving an inch, not reacting to his comfort because it had never been there before. He sat there quietly and he thought about Mizuki's offer and wondered if maybe this was why his brother had stayed alive this long, if he'd somehow known that Sly would need somebody to replace him, he seemed the type of considerate bastard to stick around until he was sure he'd be okay without him.


He'd been abnormally excited for this shift and he wasn't sure why until Kin walked in with a bag over his shoulder and dark circles under his eyes, looking somehow frustrated already and just aiming a thin smile at him as he disappeared into the back.

But then he remembered that this was his debut as assistant cocktail mixer and that was always a baptism of fire, between making drinks and serving people, they entertained, throwing bottles between them and juggling with shot glasses, shaking up mixtures with elaborate gestures and pouring from high above for appearance more than anything else.

Cocktail nights were fun and they drew in a different crowd to other nights, mainly women who liked the special discounts and offers on the fruity beverages, willing to tip for a good show from the attractive workers and offering many compliments and 'oohs' of amazement. Tio didn't get sick of bar work, but he had to admit that pulling pints and uncapping ciders night after night got old, and making the elaborate mixtures was more challenging, especially when there was a group of customers waiting and those who had come just for the show itself.

He liked entertaining people, he always had, making them laugh with jokes or well told stories, by lighting shots in a plume of impressive blue flame, holding dumb themed nights with drinks like the ever classy, 'blow-job shot', milky liquor topped with whipped cream and drank without the use of your hands, right off the counter. He always left work feeling more rewarded those nights, the very exhaustion in his bones proof that he'd done the best he could and knowing the people who left the bar had started their night off great because of him and whoever he was working with.

But alas, the dream to make sure Kin felt that buzz of achievement seemed to die the moment he stepped behind the bar to start making drinks, faltering with everything, bottles slipping in his hands and making drinks wrong, rum instead of vodka and other mistakes he shouldn't be making. He was too focused on trying not to fuck up that he didn't even have the chance to make his pour more dramatic or to throw and catch the slice of lemon that ended up on the rim of the glass. But Tio could take over, throwing around his cocktail shaker and lining up jaeger-bombs so the purchasers could watch the shot glasses of jaeger neatly tip like dominoes into the energy drink below.

Almost everybody had drinks by the time he was able to ask if Kin was alright, having been watching him from the corner of his eye and growing more concerned each time, "you were good at training, Jesus what happened?"

"I think I'm nervous." That was obvious and Tio could see his hands shaking, trembling on the bottle he held and liquid splashing onto the counter as panic seemed to build in him, no real time to try and reassure or comfort him, people were waiting for their drinks and their show.

"We'll call it that, sure. You ready for the routine before we get back to serving?" His nod was tense but he could hardly say no so Tio considered it was the best he would get, finishing off his tray of drinks and setting it neatly on the counter, listening to Kin's bottles clank worryingly behind him and debating that this might have been a terrible idea.

He was proved right far too soon, it was clumsy and uncoordinated, Tio trying his best to recover every time Kin caught a bottle too late or sent one at a dumb angle, bumping into the back of the bar counter hard to catch one and grimace only making his co-worker more nervous. He figured it was a one-off mistake, just a bad throw he'd tried to correct messily, lunging for the bottle and all but slipping on the wet ground, watching Kin try to catch up only to completely forget what he was meant to be doing and stand there uselessly.

But less than ten minutes later it happened again, knowing it was going fine as the crowd surrounding them cheered and clapped appreciatively, waiting for the second of the song where they'd rapidly shift positions and bottles. He, of course, had been doing this for quite a while now, at least three years, and knew the routine and the steps off by heart, but Kin had less than four hours experience and none in front of actual people. So he shouldn't have been surprised when he turned and crashed right into his chest, aware in the second he grabbed his shoulders and managed to shove him aside that their bottles were too low in their arc and if they caught them it would be a miracle.

His fingers narrowly met the cold neck and there must have been millimetres between the base of the bottle and the hard floor, hearing a loud smash and a curse, liquid splashing onto his legs even as he straightened up with his own bottle. The crowd took it well though, booing half-heartedly and some of them laughing, occasional comment filtering through, that it was bad luck, Tio turning to see Kin looking so incredibly embarrassed he felt really sorry for him.

"It's his first night guys, be kind to him!" They seemed a little more understanding then, Tio spinning the bottle in his own hands and drawing their attention as Kin almost crawled around on the floor, rapidly sweeping up glass and laying down towels to soak up the rum. "Alright, who wants a flaming Sambuca?"

Cheers erupted then and the disaster was neatly averted, no words exchanged between them but a quick look ensuring Kin didn't so much as spin a bottle again, setting out to make sure everybody had drinks and letting Tio be flashy, trying to hide how disappointing he felt he'd been.

He was too quiet while they cleaned up and Tio could tell something was wrong, possibly more than just the effect of a bad shift, pausing almost nervously with the mop in his hand, "you okay?"

"Yeah." He answered too briefly, pushing his question away and resuming changing the large rum bottle mounted to the wall, not bothering to turn around even as he was addressed, fingers slipping on the shot measurer he was trying to align it with and cursing under his breath.

"You don't seem so okay to me."

"I jus- Fuck," his voice changed from feigned calm to irritated so fast that Tio blinked in surprise, almost slamming his fist into the counter once the bottle was securely fixed in place, self-depreciating in a way he'd never seemed before. "That went so badly. Maybe Mizuki shouldn't have promoted me, I- I can't fucking do this, it's too hard, I'm clumsy as it is without throwing bottles all over the place."

"You stop that. You did fine, alright? On my first shift I threw a bottle and knocked Mizuki out for a good five minutes. Believe me, that went very smoothly."

"You knocked him out?" It seemed that for every terrible story he had, Tio could one-up him but he appreciated it normally and certainly did now, just looking a mixture of horrified and entertained at the idea of knocking your co-worker unconscious in the middle of a shift.

"Mm-hm. He promoted you for a good reason, we just need to practice more, alright?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"I am technically your boss too."

"What do you mean?"

"He asked, you know, about whether you could do it, whether you deserved it. I told him nobody did more than you, alright?" He felt abnormally embarrassed for saying that, or perhaps it was Kin's smile that was making his cheeks feel pink, honest tone turning scolding a second later. "And that's the truth, so don't make me feel shitty by saying you can't do it when we both know you can. Anyway, let's count up the tips, you start on the jar and I'll work out what's in the till," Kin just nodded, looking only a little consoled but doing as he was told anyway and unaware of Tio's eyes lingering on him for a moment before he began his own task.

They divided the tips between them equally and Tio locked up for the night, heading home together as always but Kin still too quiet for the walk to feel anything but uncomfortable, offering a cigarette he took and knowing he was still annoyed with how it had gone.

"I know I've asked you like five times already, but are you sure you're alright? I know you had a pretty bad shift but it wouldn't normally bother you this much."

"I'm just… A bit stressed, I guess. Looking after mum and trying to get to visit her, and doing team stuff and working two jobs and trying to have a social life without bankrupting myself. It's just like, I don't know, this promotion came at exactly the right time so I guess I'm trying to work really hard and prove I can do it but I know if I fail I'm screwed," he laughed then, more of a snort if anything, but his voice had changed the tiniest bit, not wet as if he was going to cry any second, but thick, like he was trying his best not to. Tio had never really heard him like this before, just listening quietly as he listed everything he'd been stressing about, how difficult it was for him just to manage his time, let alone his money on top of that, a bad shift probably the final nail in the coffin for him.

They'd paused at a red traffic light, a single motorbike roaring past and the road deserted past that as it always was, Kin sighing so deeply his shoulders dropped about a foot back down to where they should be, tension seeping out of him and rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "Sorry, I don't mean to be a downer. It's just been one of those days. Or weeks, really."

"Hm, it's okay, it sounds pretty crappy. Guess a bad shift was the last thing you needed."

"Pretty much. I should have told you I didn't think I could do it tonight, I was really nervous when I arrived, I mean, that's not the right word. Like jittery?"

He didn't know how to describe it but Tio had noticed so he didn't really need to after all, the other filling in the blanks for him easily, "you seemed kinda freaked out, did something happen before you arrived?"

"Nearly got fired from the restaurant for something that wasn't even my fault," his voice had broken the tiniest bit there but his jaw was set hard and he looked as annoyed as he clearly was upset, irritated at himself and for being blamed for something he couldn't help. "Some dumb woman let her dog wander round everywhere and I tripped over it, poured soup all over somebody. My manager went insane, started screaming at me, almost fired me right then."

"What happened?"

"The guy I covered in soup rescued me, said it wasn't my fault and that I tripped. It kinda worked but he still might fire me if anything else happens then I got into work tonight and fucked everything up." He was annoyed at himself and it was obvious in the exasperated hand he ran through his hair and the aggressive, disappointed way he spoke, tense and still letting little mistakes bother him.

"Kin, you didn't fuck everything up, and even if you did nobody would ever fire you for one mistake." It was odd, being the one to reassure him for once, their roles reversed and wondering if maybe every time Kin saw him distressed he felt this horrible knot of worry in his chest, the strong urge to try and make things better.

"I know, I know, I don't like being made to look like an idiot and it's happened twice today now. It's- Whatever, it's over now, it's fine."

"You don't sound fine," Kin just looked at him then, shrugging, not sure what he was meant to say to such an obvious comment, the other suddenly taking his arm and leading him in the wrong direction, blindly following along. "Come on, I know this great place that does mochi and these awesome salted caramel hot chocolates, my treat."

"How original."

"Isn't it just? Now come on, cheer up, big guy. At least you got tips." Kin opened his mouth then and Tio almost anticipated his words, holding up a hand to silence him and frowning up in his direction as he looked sheepish. "Don't you dare say you don't deserve them, we get half each no matter how crappy either of us are, alright?"

"Alright." But his smile was warmer and Tio could tell he'd already started to relax, laughing as he wrapped an arm around his broad middle and patted his back, a friendly gesture he seemed to appreciate even as he made a joke about Tio taking advantage of his vulnerable state.


When Sly thought about constants in his life, he was aware there weren't many. Drugs? They were fairly constant, most days if he was lucky and could get the money. Alcohol too, and cigarettes were even more constant, about every half hour, often much more if he felt the need.

But the normal things? Money, food, sleep, clothing, hot showers? They were erratic as fuck.

His company was erratic too, spending days alone only to be approached by five guys on the same day, constant of money following the pattern of company. In fact the only thing he could think of that was a true constant, was Mizuki.

Maybe that was what he needed, something regular and normal, something constant to get him into a routine, perhaps his wild lifestyle was only making his grief more erratic, more painful than it would be if he allowed himself to be looked after. Strangely enough, just thinking that made his eyes well up and he hitched in a breath because god, he really wanted somebody to look after him, just for a little while until the hole in his chest healed up.

His brother had been a constant too, but he let that thought slip away as soon as it came because thinking about him still made a sharp rock wedge into his breast bone and he didn't know if he could deal with the weight of it today. So yes, his brother had always been there, when they were kids he'd been in and out of hospital, he'd never really met their 'parents', Granny had kept him pretty much a secret so perhaps she'd known something Sly hadn't. But there had been a brief period between them leaving and Sly going entirely off the rails where he'd been able to return home, albeit mostly bedbound, he'd at least been nearby and in relatively good health.

He'd liked that, it was probably what had prevented him from turning to the freedom of the streets earlier. But he'd gotten a chest infection when he was about fourteen and been readmitted. He'd never gotten out again after that, he'd been wheeled through those white doors and never smelt fresh air again or felt the sun on his always abnormally pale face.

But he didn't like to remember that, he'd prefer to recall the days when it was so cold outside there was little else to do but stay safely inside with hot drinks nearby, curling up beside him in his bed on better days and watching old movies on video tapes that crackled and popped with age and bad treatment. Or Sly would sit there for hours trying to do something with his brothers' hair, he'd try to weave it into elaborate plaits while he slumbered or talked with him quietly. The attempts were never very aesthetically pleasing but Granny always showered them with praise and Sly would glow.

But it was definitely over now, if the hospital had put an end to their closeness then his coffin would be the true destroyer of whatever fragile bond they'd had left.

He told himself he wouldn't, but the day of the funeral he crouched, concealed on his Granny's roof and watched her leave, dressed all in black and with a couple of friends he didn't recognise at her sides, holding her arms and presumably comforting her.

He didn't go the cemetery, he hated to think of his brother in that tiny box when he'd always deserved so much more.

He stayed in his perch until she returned, alone now, looking small and steps shuffling and faltering as she padded up to the front door in worn shoes she'd always hated but that cushioned her work-tired feet and soothed them. Funny, that a pair of shoes offered more comfort than he did.

But he forced himself to snap out of the past and back to now, at his Granny's still, sitting motionless on what had been his brothers bed, made up neatly and none of his things moved, as if they'd expected him to return, like they'd been waiting for four years. Ren was sat on his lap, silently regarding the room but knowing not to ask questions, he had a vague idea already and AI or not, he was at least programmed to have some tact.

He had the feeling Granny would shout at him if she found him there, in the shrine-like room, maybe she'd yell and cry and be angry that he was wrecking the only things of his they had left now, his stupid stuffed animals and his tiny clothes because if Sly was skinny his brother was something else altogether. But he knew she wouldn't do that, he knew she'd pause to regard him with that blank stare, flick the light on so he wouldn't be sat in the dark and she'd leave him there to do whatever it was he was trying to do.

She would think maybe he was grieving, not that he was silently making a list of pros and cons. Pros of staying with Mizuki for a while, and cons of doing just that. The problem was that the list of pros was so long and tempting that he wanted to throw caution to the wind, and fuck that Mizuki loved him and just go anyway to somewhere he wouldn't be judged the way he felt here.

He'd been distracting himself quite well, but for some reason a sudden swell of angry, unfair rage built in his throat as he wondered who had gone to the funeral. Strangers, a bunch of people who hadn't even known him, might not have even known he existed but he, his fucking twin, wouldn't have been able to get anywhere near.

It was the unfairness of it all that had him curling up into the cold bed and staying there until the sun rose up and he'd made a decision, pretending the pillow wasn't damp as he stood to shower, collect his things and leave.


He wasn't remotely surprised to see his right hand man when he entered his apartment, they'd agreed to hang out anyway and waiting in the hallway when he had a key would be both illogical and stupid. "Oh, hey, Tio, you haven't been waiting for me for ages have you?"

"Nah, just feels that way, it's only been about ten minutes."

He'd responded a little oddly but he brushed it off and apologised anyway, or sort of did, reminding himself that he probably should actually say sorry rather than just making excuses the way he normally did. "Okay cool, somebody caught me in the street and wouldn't shut up, that woman from the post office with the ugly dog, God she can talk!"

Tio smiled and opened his mouth, presumably to supply her name, when the sound of the toilet flushing reached both sets of ears and Mizuki frowned, glancing towards the bathroom in curiosity more than anything else. "You bring Kin with you?"

"I wish," he rolled his eyes and it took him a moment to register what that must mean, though by then his other guest had appeared back into his apartment, shooting him a lazy peace sign and looking completely okay after his meltdown of only a week or so ago. Tio's eyes just tracked him cautiously as he sank onto the sofa next to him but a little further down, watching him as you would a snake, prepared for him to attack at any moment and clearly on edge.

There was a packet of cigarettes between them on the couch and Sly picked them up the way he always did, helping himself to one and offering the box over to Tio who just stared at him like he was insane.

"Are you really offering him my cigarettes right now?"

Tio answered before Sly could, though he was a little grateful for that because he didn't want him to turn cold and scornful, not with company he'd already pissed off once. "I thought you'd quit? But I mean, if they're yours," he tried to smile jokily as he took one, nodding in way of gratitude at Sly for an offer that wasn't really genuine but he felt needed some kind of acknowledgement. He lit up nonetheless, knowing Mizuki didn't really mind either of them taking them, benefits of being friends with him he supposed, though associating Sly with the word friend still seemed odd to him.

"I only smoke with him. But why are you both here?"

"He was here when I arrived and I wasn't leaving after walking the whole fucking way here."

"Right, makes sense I guess. Is there something I can help you with because we kinda had a thing planned?" He felt a little bad for essentially trying to make him leave after knowing he'd had a terrible time lately, seeing Tio's eyes tracking the same things he was, the torn open flesh of his fingertips, the red rings around his eyes, the puffiness of his face. He'd been crying and it was very obvious but neither were dumb enough to bring it up and Mizuki wondered then just what they'd been talking about before he'd arrived, if they had been at all, perhaps Tio had just been sat there in silence, letting Sly study him.

"Your proposition."

His voice hardened immediately and Tio's expression thinned a little, lips downturned in confusion at how vague they were both being, how whatever this was spoke of being some big secret, and the fact that Sly had presumably needed to think about it meant it must be serious. His initial, worrying thought was that it had been some bizarre sexual thing, but with how seriously they were talking it couldn't be, the bartenders sudden stiffness making him seem like this was really important to him. "What about it?"

"I'll do it." He didn't let himself pause, or hesitate or lessen the meaning of what he said with dumb jokes or quips at the bartenders expense, just looked him in the eye and spoke, tapping ash into the tray he and Tio were politely sharing, amused as the man who had punched him not long ago now sat in his company, a little uncomfortable but with seemingly no ill feelings towards him.

"Seriously?"

"No, bartender, I came all the way here to raise your hopes then smash them." He really wanted him to just accept that for once he wasn't lying, but when he did it so much he supposed he should have expected some distrust. Feeling vulnerable and exposed with an audience here, even if he didn't know what was going on, what he'd just agreed to, he felt put on the spot and he wanted to run but he'd promised himself, and his brother, that he wouldn't.

"You would totally do that though."

"True, but nah, I'm serious."

"Alright," he shrugged, making a big deal out of it was a sure-fire way to freak him out enough to rapidly change his mind and start a tirade of angry reasoning's he didn't want to hear. "Why?"

Silence fell and even the awkwardness Tio had felt at being alone with him was nothing compared to the atmosphere now, bitten down fingers tapping ash that hadn't formed yet into the tray and taking another drag with cracked lips. One of his legs was bouncing erratically, tapping on the floor, creating a loose staccato beat, a nervous twitch for sure and not the actions of one who was fully happy with their decision, whatever it might be.

But an equally cryptic answer came through and it must have been enough for Mizuki because he just nodded and let him leave, telling them with less sarcasm than normal to enjoy their night, heading off to who knew where.

"You know why."

He was grateful, at that moment, to Sly's brother for having been the one thing, the one person that had allowed him to finally take a chance, even it had taken his death to do it, saying some kind of quiet thanks to him. He too, was grateful that Tio didn't question anything that had happened, just letting him take too long to get them both drinks before snapping him out of it by demanding they watch some dumb action film he'd been told was good.

So they returned to the evening as if nothing had happened and Sly did whatever he did, Mizuki knowing it might be a while until he turned up to actually fulfil his part of the bargain but knowing that when he did, things would get a damn sight messier than they had been already.


Next installment will be called 'Contaminated'