Tegan couldn't begin to fathom the nerve her sister had somehow accumulated overnight. Between the disastrous scenarios that painted out their innermost irritation and the silence that soon followed after, she didn't know where or how Sara got the idea that they were at all stable enough to handle a trip back home with the promise of nonstop interrogation. Their relationship had never been normal. They always had to be in competition with one and other, even when it came to sex. Instead of sentimental moments of forgiveness or cute talks, they had debates on who deserved the most pity and who had been through more to get an apology. In the end, they always wound up one on top of the other - literally. In such predicaments, it was the toss of the coin that determined who would behave the most selfishly, taking a step back to allow the other the reigns of their own downward spiral. Who had initiated this to begin with? Who had stepped up first? It seemed so long ago that Tegan couldn't remember; it was almost as if she didn't want to for fear that it might have been herself.

The forward lurch of the bus ripped them from their varying methods of denial as Tegan cursed and stood to follow the cologne that fell from her grip, Sara attempting to ease some of the burden on her older twin's shoulders as she leant down with the same intention. Avoiding an awkward brush of the hand that would only further the distance between them despite her initial anger with Sara, Tegan straightened and pulled back her shoulders, taking the cologne back to her suitcase. They both made as if they were back to their previous routine, but Tegan had a rock in her chest that refused to dissipate the heaviness that was choking all the life from her, and Sara struggled with the efforts of not comforting her the only way she knew how, the only way she'd been brought up to comfort someone in pain: through physical contact that was more than taboo at this point. The next hour and a half of their travelling brought on a silent game of don't ask, don't tell as one twin moved about the bus, the other carefully avoiding their body and eyes as the tension only grew more toxic with each passing second. Tegan was tired of having to watch her every movement, Sara was irritated with the fact that she had to purposely dodge her twin when, just a few days ago, they had been the other's only source of consolation.

"This is fucking ridiculous," Tegan muttered, the book propped up against her knees as she lay back in her bunk falling between the gap that came with each bump in the road. She was sick of the bus already, the inner turmoil inside of her brewing as she watched Sara ignore her. How long could they go without talking about what happened? How long would it be until their band was broken up over a silly mistake? Tegan wanted to have the decency to consider her sister's point of view - oh, how she wished she could understand the war that was no doubt raging behind fragile, pale skin - but all she could feel was the bitterness that accompanied the sting of betrayal and the loss of a bond that should have never been established in the first place. The risks they'd taken, the stares they'd gotten and the anxiety that had plagued them for so long apparently meant nothing to Sara, who had easily succumbed to the lull of alcohol when presented with even the slightest bit of attractiveness. As an adult, Tegan was as close to being curled up in a ball as she could get without losing her pride and dignity, hunched over her book as she bit on her lip to keep from thinking aloud. Sara had noticed the edginess and retreated further back into the bus, resorting to resting against the window as Tegan kept the bunk area hostage in her trial and error means of coping. The youngest of the two had found no relief in her dreams, as they consisted of nothing but her teary-eyed twin accusing her of all the things she hadn't yet, or even worse, more of the silence that she could barely withstand as it was, and she doubted Tegan had either, for she could often hear the muted sniffling from behind closed curtains in the middle of the night, presumably result of a different nightmare that was present even in her waking hours. Sara felt more alone than she ever had without Tegan's shoulder to cry on. Her rock was replaced with empty space and she was left to cradle her own injured heart in weak hands as she looked in on the trainwreck waiting to happen, knowing it was her fault. Tegan was often not expected to be the one pinned with the heavy responsibility that comes with restraining a possible burden to others, as Sara was often more vocal about such worries, but now that they were falling to their endless demise just for the sake of fuelling their insatiable curiosity, she felt the promise of onslaught. Perhaps they hadn't been careful enough when this slippery slope downwards had started or perhaps Tegan had been too jaded by her first love, but in any case, they had been naive teenagers - even in their most paranoid states - who thought they could best one of time's oldest, wisest relatives. Who did they think they were, exactly?

The thickness that had settled between the two upon Tegan's return to the bus seemed to melt away as the blurs of green outside became more recognisable, the easy nostalgia of childhood washing away their pain with the droplets that started to sprinkle their windows. Tegan stood with her hands on her lower back, stretching out her tired limbs with a yawn, and, when the bus finally stopped moving, she picked up her suitcase, eager to leave the pessimistic energy behind in hopes of rebuilding herself. Sara had grown quiet and Tegan made no implication as to whether or not she wanted to find out why, a single glance over her shoulder solidifying the growing idea in her counterpart's mind that she truly was the burden she thought herself to be. Sara waited until Tegan was halfway to the door before she stood and made her way to her bunk with shaking hands, her eyes focused on her feet as she stepped around her sibling. How could she let it get to this?

...

As she had spent the majority of her day cooking, the small hope that her hair would remain untainted by the various ingredients she required to compile Tegan's favourite dishes continued to diminish as time went on. The two furry creatures curled up against each other for warmth on her sofa roused now and then due to the constant commotion she provided, most likely penetrating their dreams with words their small, innocent ears had never heard before, or with tones that would make even a Rottweiler turn away. Sara's elocutionist disposition proved to be a gift with each winning debate she found herself in, but the curse of being so easily charismatic lay in the fact that, the more she used her talent, the more people got used to her strategies and evasive tactics, not including the constant eroding affect her dependence held over such a familiar fall-back. Instead of assembling a varying set of witticisms that would blow her twin away, Sara was instead accumulating all of her efforts normally reserved for their arguments and applying it towards the many dishes she had made and had yet to make, for, when in love, she was easily distinguished as the one to never forgive herself; unless appropriately hurt in return.

Finally administering the last spice imperative to the recipe, Sara ripped the apron surrounding and protecting her chest and waist area from her torso, then threw it in the hamper that had yet to be appropriately placed within the walls of her first home. She turned on her heel and clapped her hands together several times to clear them of the flour and various other additives that had since caked themselves into the lines of her palms since the beginning of it all, and carefully crouched in front of the kittens, extending one hand that was halted by Ptosis Kitten's playful pawing, at which she laughed, then, redirecting her attention to the other small cat that resumed ignoring her existence and lack of treats, resumed to scoop the pair into her arms, setting them down in front of the door, but far away enough to ensure their safety. With Tegan's arrival, she pushed her weight off the wall she'd been leaning on, picked up and placed Ptosis Kitten in her sibling's arms, and proceeded to wiggle her way in-between the two somehow, wrapping her own arms around the pale neck her lips barely brushed against as she whispered a heartfelt "I missed you," before familiarising herself with the scent she'd been deprived of for so long.

...

"Tegan, would you wake your sister? We're almost to the house and I'll be damned if she thinks she's going to make her mother carry her things for her at her age." Sonia broke the uncomfortable silence that had been sinking the car, Sara stirring from her dream to hastily wipe the tears from her eyes. She started up, gripping her suitcase and shaking her head. "No, it's all right, Mum," she started, fighting to keep the shakiness her hands had adopted from reaching her voice, "I'm up."

Tegan watched Sara carefully before slipping her hand between the spaces of her sibling's in attempts of offering her the only form of comfort she could cope with giving before Sara jerked away, either oblivious or uncaring towards the amount of pain she caused as result. Bruce cleared his throat to break the immediate tension that sprouted thereafter, signalling that the car had been successfully parked and it was time to get out. Tegan was the first to leave, huffing as Sonia led her to the house with keys in hand, her bags by her feet as she paused to unlock the door and Bruce following behind once it was ensured that Sara could handle carrying her things without stumbling from the effects of a deep sleep, though it wasn't her physical stability that was erring on the edge. She was emotionally exhausted, at her wit's end, the dream that had come to her in the last thirty minutes of their drive had done nothing to melt the anxiety crippling her every breath.

Their relationship was a push-and-pull, back-and-forth game until fatigue won over, or one of the pair decided to give the other a good head-start shove. A compromise between these disputes was only in the calm before the storm, which would be interrupted with the slightest step out of line. This type of conflict manoeuvre, much like their new album, which consisted of songs that retaliated heavy blows only able to be conveyed through music, most likely didn't seem fitting for two women of their age. The perfect torture that the process of recording a new album provided, in Sara's eyes, was repeating her mistakes in lyric form, not even given the mercy of being in front of a crowd, but the audience being reduced to the suspect and the victim, and, having spent over a year being forced into repeating herself, she came to know her role very well.

The truth of the matter held strong with the fact that, when she had left their home at twenty-two, she had pushed her twin away and closed herself off, the recent impact of guilt rendering her unable to even speak her sister's name without complications, for fear of coming to terms with the consequences of her actions. The woman in question, however hard she may have tried to push her away with one hand and pull with the other, had continued to pursue her, for the absent-minded sort of behaviour Sara had adopted at the time was quickly recognised as reaction—not unlike an instinct—towards breaking her own heart.

Completely convinced that she didn't deserve the attention she so craved, her mind reversed herself as she backpedalled to be standing in the doorway of Tegan's room, and, without her assent, her eyes left the neutral staring ground they'd stumbled upon and settled for drinking in her sister's apparel as if this would be the last time she'd be seen, and her hands gripped at the sleeves of her jacket. Thoughtlessly, her head inclined forward until their lips were mere centimetres apart, the only thing jarring her from her current train of thought and future actions being the thudding of her overwhelmed, shaken heart. She let out a breath before mentally nodding to herself in regards to her own rule created so long ago that it was better off forgotten, and moved away from Tegan. "My mistake." A depressing, hurt air surrounded both her physical frame and her short sentence as she redirected her gaze to the floor, reminding herself that if she wanted her band mate to even consider staying, she had to allow her comfortable space alone, meaning she couldn't crowd her. "I know." She added, expecting an onslaught of accusations and a ready speech with the perfect accentuation on the support, enough to make her own charismatic allure look trivial.

Turning to the door, Sara opened her mouth, flinching back at the cold stare she was presented with before quickly releasing the words that had been cause for her unusual silence.

"You know, our first kiss was alcohol-induced." She whispered, turning to leave before she could be accused of anything more, for she was sure that her small heart wouldn't be able to take the words that she expected from her twin, or the songs that would soon follow.

Tegan rushed past her carbon copy and into the bathroom of their old home, fighting not to release her anger in the way her knuckles were begging her to, although still bruised and cracked from her last rampage. She instead turned to the sink and splashed water on her face, pulled off the jeans that were suffocating her heated body and rid herself of her shirt, turning on the shower to the coldest temperature in hopes of absorbing some of the chill and calming herself to a more appropriate level.

...

"Tegan, please come out!" Sara had grown restless; it had been five minutes since her twin had disappeared in a frenzy of violent animosity and she was starting to worry that she'd finally pushed Tegan over the edge and into an irreparable form of herself, a mere shell of the glowing, vibrant woman she had grown to love over the years. She wrung her hands until they were red and stinging, turning to Sonia, who had joined Bruce by the door, and asked for the key to the bathroom, unprepared for what lay beyond. Tegan was unconscious, laying on her back with fluttering eyelids and a horrible murmur of unintelligible words leaving her lips.

Sara's frantic state provoked morbid thoughts that cancelled out upon the recognition of unbridled horror in Sonia's eyes, her own lashes adopting a layer of mist as they called emergency transportation. Bruce stood over her sister's unresponsive, nearly limp body, calling her name in hopes of rousing her from her catatonic condition. The sound of Tegan's sporadic, gurgling breaths was still ringing deeply in her ears even after she watched the ambulance pull away with Sonia by her eldest daughter's side. Her nerves were misfiring within the confines of her pale skin and she felt as though the very air in her lungs had been sucked out, ineffectually handed over to her sibling. She felt belittled, made out to be the equivalent of a child when she received a text ordering her to stay home with Bruce, and, with the relentless thought that she was useless and inadequate in situations of crisis, she threw her phone down, tears leaving significant trails down her cheeks as she openly sobbed. She could feel her breaths becoming shallower as time went on and her crying continued, her lungs constricting too fast for proper inhales of oxygen. She knew that she would need her puffer soon but her feet stayed rooted to the spot, fear gripping her completely, enveloping her entire capability of movement and pulling her under. Her head was swimming at the inescapable thought of being alone, disconnected from her other half for the rest of her life and she struggled to fight against the black spots in her blurred vision, knowing that she would be of even less help if she fainted.

"I'm going," Sara said, turning to Bruce with an open palm, snatching the keys from between his fingers and rushing to his car, slamming the door shut, and stomping on the gas once the engine finally turned.