Flaky stared blankly at the untouched coffee cup on her table. She continued in dabbling at her eyes, drying nonexistent tears and rubbing her cheek raw. A blanket covered her exposed legs, the air conditioning powered on full blast in the background. It was the blanket Lifty had used when he slept on her couch. The same blanket.

"Flaky."

A comforting hand landed on her shoulder. It squeezed once in reassurance, accompanying the stern name.

Flippy, directing her to him, determinedly clasped her chin. Unlike his lenient if not prudish behaviour, this new abrasive touch startled Flaky. As tame and docile as he was, she found he could be surprisingly assertive when needed, if his unwaning persistence the last half hour gave no indication.

His fingers slipped to lightly descend upon hers. An unreturned gesture, seeing how she promptly retracted her hand into the many folds of blanket.

"Flaky, why am I here?"

Flaky shrugged sluggishly and snuggled deeper, impassively letting the question slide. Watching him with the utmost attentiveness, she hesitated in replying. "I-I don't know," she informed tentatively.

"Yes you do. You don't want to tell me for whatever reason, which would be?" Casually throwing an arm back, Flippy comfortably reclined. Flaky's dejected presence was protocol for an issue that was eating her away.

Flaky edged forward, grabbing the red clay cup, glazed with a coat of resistant shine, in a mechanical fashion. The rim raised to absently press on pursed lips.

In the absence of sound, the imperceptible buzzing and whirling of blades grew voluminous, almost deafening. Heralded by the crisp chimes of a grandfather clock standing impossibly in her hall, clicks which counted off seconds echoed from her mug. Flippy wasn't bothered by this unsettling quiet. His daily surroundings were composed of wood walls, and stacked upon these were hardback books. His company consisted solely of drifting dawdlers, inked pages, and solitary thoughts.

"There's no particular reason," she said, sitting her cup down. "W-we haven't talked for a while and I thought we could..get together."

"Flaky, when I walked in you were on the verge of tears," deadpanned Flippy roughly. "You're not okay."

"I wasn't crying.."

"No, but you were close to."

"You're talking to me as if I was a baby," sighed Flaky. "I-I don't always cry about my problems, so stop making me feel weak!"

Flippy affably shrugged and stirred his own mug, ridding the coffee of its steam. It was his turn to lift the cup to his mouth and ingest a drawn swig of the mahogany drink. His thoughtful eyes alighted on hers.

Flaky kneaded her knees. "I-I didn't intend to raise my voice at you," she apologized, seeming to find exhaustion in the toiling of picking her next words. "My nerves are frayed right now."

Flippy crossed his legs.

"That gives you no justification as to why you're taking your anger out on me."

"I know. I know.." Flaky encased herself further in the flimsy blanket. "I'm just..tired. I-I'm sor—"

The couch's springs creaked as Flippy rolled over and lightly cupped her knee through the covering. His thumb rubbed soothingly smooth circles into her leg. His smile usually distracted Flaky of her troubles, but currently, it made her feel like she was making a mountain out of a molehill.

"Are you apologizing for being agitated, or for your own blunders?" asked Flippy genuinely. He watched, intrigued for her response.

"B-both."

Flippy nodded knowingly. While under pressure, Flaky always cracked first. She didn't fare well when a problem loomed over her, disturbing the schedule she'd created of an average, uneventful life. That fabricated dream was one of mere illusion, of course, due to having to see death daily, but she still was opposed with difficulties. Her fragile mind couldn't cope with any stressing conflicts. She would shut down, reason and rationality leaving through an open door. When a problem like this arose, she could only ask for some assistance.

"Sometimes," Flippy started, "you take too much under your wing. You tried molding him into some perfect image, and you got a horrible mess as the result. Are you the one to blame?"

Her lower lip jutted out unconsciously.

"I wouldn't say it is. You tried, and that's all that anyone could ask for. This was beneficial to you and him alone. The others are going about their lives while you sulk for a lost cause."

"I wanted to help him though. I thought if I did.."

"What did you think would occur? You thought you'd be rewarded for this act of kindness?" Coughing to mask his doubting scoff, Flippy failed to meet her teary gaze. "You wanted someone to acclaim you as a hero? The only one who could was Lifty, and you see how that turned out."

The redhead's teeth clasped on her bottom lip. Containing its trembling, she disagreed with, "I wasn't trying to get rewarded! Do you really think I'm that s-shallow?..I was trying to be a good person. That's what people do, Flippy."

She had determination, he already knew that. Her determination and goodwill were what drew the veteran to the sweet redhead in the beginning. They were admirable feats, ones that the girls of this town regrettably lacked. He was reluctant to offer his help for the benefit of another man, but if it brought a smile to her saddened face he would do it regardless.

"How about this," Flaky sat at attention, Flippy having pulled the fuzzy shield from her face. "I'll go have a talk with Lifty? Okay? Maybe settle the score a bit."

By the tone he'd said it, Flippy was sounding like he would rather uppercut him than anything. His rounded face hardened, jaw stiff, as he rubbed his shaved chin, brooding on the suggestion. His character was one of good nature, easy going and capable of using his flexibility to calm disputes, but he was also unpredictable. His opinions swayed under pressure or emotional afflictions, as were with his actions. Flaky wasn't all too comfortable with relinquishing her problems into, his responsibility.

Because if things were to go badly, who would be to blame?

"As long as you promise not to do anything t-too rash..I can't stop you, I guess."

"So that's a yes?"

"Mm.."

"Come on, Flaky," he urged. "I need a yes!"

Finally, Flaky affirmed with a nod and a chaste smile. "Yes, it's a y-yes."

Lifty stretched his arm and admired the bland ceiling above him. But admired was an utterly wrong word to use when watching a boring ceiling. More fitting would be: Searching, looking, seeking some answers he wouldn't find. Yes, those were more appropriate. So he lay on his bed, looking at the ceiling with fatigue, monitoring the dust moats which danced over his nose, and seeking some answers he wouldn't find.

He shed his gloves and threw them under his bed. His hands free, he moved back his unkempt hair. Without Flaky to nag him about hygiene, naturally he would let his appearance go. Besides, as a boy, he wasn't particularly a stickler on his image.

Shifty was the brother who carried himself more..regally, if he could say that.

Lifty wasn't looking to impress girls or even other people with his outward aspect. They would judge anyways, even if he was garbed in a prim and pressed monkey suit, complete with a tie. If they were to immediately make assumptions, he took it upon himself to cut the time shorter with his scruffy, crumpled wardrobe. And maybe he would begin introducing himself with a precaution following his name, something along the lines of "Hi, my name is Lifty, and I'll fucking steal all your shit when you're not looking! But other than that, I think we'll be great friends."

He gave a raspy chuckle at his senseless thoughts. It shocked him that he didn't own a diary yet, noting how he contained his problems and melodramatic dramas.

Lifty seated himself, scooting back and bunching the covers on his way, and aligned his back with the grungy wall. His knees pulled to his chest, bare feet shoulder width apart, he admired—no, watched his wrinkled sheets (if one could watch sheets). They were an endless sea of creases and stitches, miles of thread sewn together to create his bed's covering. How many people had it taken to make this single blanket?

Ridiculous, how in a time as this he was thinking of absurdly random thoughts. It could be his mind's way of distracting him from his current troubles, or he was content in preoccupying himself with questions he wouldn't muster up the energy to find answers to. Either way, he was idling the day away by doing nothing but sitting.

Lifty's door creaked open, a fedora-crowned head showing through.

"Hey," Shifty greeted. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Just sitting here," Lifty warily replied. He tucked his knees in closer. The sense of distrust wouldn't leave him whenever Shifty was around; the feeling was minimal, but still there. "Thinking, kind of. What are you doing? Or better yet, what are you doing in my room?"

Shifty came to sit at the bed's corner, his additional weight causing the springs to protest. He faintly exuded awkwardness, his habitual wariness alerting him to constantly shift his position and remain aware. Keeping a craned neck and peering out the room's lone window, he slinked down. "What? I can't talk to my brother?" Shifty asked, accusation lacing both questions.

"Didn't mean to get you upset." Lifty dropped his stare, burrowing his brows. "It was a simple question. People usually ask someone what they're doing..when that person enters their room."

Shifty spared him a look. He promptly concealed his anxiety, tuning his voice to return to its sensually suave take. "Just thought you'd be ruffled up," he said gruffly, "from earlier and that whole..encounter."

"Even if I was, what's it to you? Watching me in discomfort is your sick version of entertainment." He idly reached for a ring on his nightstand. The loop of onyx twisted and twirled around his finger, a bare contrast to his light skin. Lifty may or may not have been distracting himself from Shifty's solidified stare, but judging from the intermittent glances he gave, he was hoping his sibling would leave.

It wasn't that he held hostile feelings for his twin—actually it was. Disregarding the incidents prior to the commotion and uproar of whether to maintain family bonds, they had been a set of..special twins. Alike in some features, but contradistinctive in other aspects.

Shifty was greedy, well-kempt, and quick like a whip when it came to claiming opportunities. Lifty was subdued to his brother's whim, a tad slower, and lacking interest for his looks. Even more than that, but those were the visible surface differences. They shared resemblances and an insatiable urge to steal, the same enemies and allies (though they lacked the latter), and the goals and assumptions of the world around them. They trusted no one save for themselves and each other; in their view, there were two groups. Themselves, and those who weren't them. But when these differences and similarities were tallied up, one would find they weighed even.

For all their alikenesses, there were more notable contraries which barricaded them from the other.

Shifty preened pleasurably. "You know me as good as I do," he sniggered and caused Lifty to snap his head up. "Your awkwardness is just another way of getting my kicks, I guess. But you should know I was genuinely worried for your feelings and, hm, whatnot."

"No you weren't," accused Lifty blatantly. "You haven't had concern for me since we were kids, and you know it."

"Yeah, but I wanted to spare your feelings~ but seriously though," Shifty changed his tone to accompany his stoned face, all joking set aside. His humour fleeting into a dryness, he tisked. "I'm trying to protect you from Flaky, because you're peanut brain is too small to process that she fooled you from the start."

"But it was you who kicked me out to begin with." Lifty locked his jaw. "Didn't you? You said you didn't need my assistance since you got a new helper—who turned out so flipping helpful," he acridly finished the reminder.

"I might have done that, and I might have done other things you're not fully aware of yet." Lifty recoiled as Shifty touched his knee. "But who during that time led you on? Who made you think she gave you her trust? She didn't even trust you enough to believe you were innocent, despite everything. That doesn't spell trust to me~"

"But..—"

"But what? You haven't got a counterargument for this, know why? Because it's true, and you're too infatuated with your sweet little redhead to realize shit." Lifty watched with an apathetic mask as Shifty stood from his bed and made a move to the door. He could just deck the smugness off his identical face; then his obnoxiously pompous brother would know how much he appreciated their talks.

He wanted to go after him. To get up and slap him, punch him, anything. It was so infuriating knowing that Shifty was in charge and he was a doormat under his feet. His brother held no remorse for any of his treasonous actions, the betrayal of his brother another passing action. Why could he not get up and smash a lump over his head..

Self-control? Compassion? Please, Flaky had rehabilitated him to an extent, but that couldn't possibly mean anything.

Shifty turned back, his mouth agape as to speak more, when the churning of tires on pavement sounded. The duo fell silent. They listened intently, habitually anxious. Visitors were rare in their lives. Most of the town preferred to stray from their neighbourhood, and even more from their household.

Shifty was the first to regain his mobility. Promptly following a signal to stay, he exited the room. The squeaks of springs brought a curse to his lips; obviously his younger sibling was looking to eavesdrop, like a disobedient mongrel. Sometimes Lifty's waywardness for his commands was more an annoyance than their jubilant town.

Shifty heard the thrumming of wood before the actual voice, and by then he was already seen through the window. It wasn't that he disliked company..but he really hated it. Especially when that company was the likes of an overly optimistic excuse of a soldier.

"Shifty?" The thief stopped by the door. He briefly wondered if he could canter back to the room before Flippy realized he was waiting. That didn't stop the soldier was continuing, however. "Don't even try to pretend you're not home. Your van's out in front and I saw you pass by."

Begrudgingly, Shifty grasped the nod. It felt cold under his hand. Turning the spherical-shaped metal, he grimaced.

"Hey, Flippy," he greeted charismatically—well, as charismatic an unamused larcener can get.

Flippy was callous towards his seemingly friendly greetings. Pushing away Shifty's hand, he gave the cluttered living room behind a once-over scrutinize. He was visibly unimpressed with his findings. "Where's Lifty?"

"Lifty..?"

"Your brother? The boy who looks exactly like you? Come on, he can't be that easy to lose. Don't play dumb. I know he's here, so bring him out," Flippy scornfully commanded.

Shifty made no move to leave; he simply watched the slowly angering soldier.

"Why do you want to see Lifty?"

"Why else? I want to talk to him. It's not like I came to your house to..visit you." His nose crinkled in repulsion.

Ah, it was nice to know they still retained a grotesque ring to their name. Flippy's cringe appeased him enough, even if it was directed at their rickety house. "Just bring him out."

"For..? I dunno why you think I'll bring Lifty because you told me too~"

"Son of a—" Flippy withheld the annoyed curse, sweeping his hair back. "You think I drove here from Flaky's house just to be told by some distasteful scumbag that I can't see his brother? I need to talk to him, is that not reason enough for you to call him?"

Tease lit in Shifty's eyes. "You're persistent, aren't you? They teach you that in the war? This ain't war, soldier boy, so maybe you should turn around and walk away."

"Would you just shut up and move aside?" Flippy snapped. "I'll find him myself."

"Can't do that~ you don't have any kind of lawful permission to enter~" Shifty informed provokingly. "You don't even have permission to be on my property."

"Like you give a damn about the law!"

"Hm, hm, hm~" Shifty leant on the doorpost, casually tapping his fingers on his forearm.

Oh, yeah. This was infuriating.

Shifty could be a paid professional if there was a career for being annoying.

Flippy did his best to send an ominous glare at Shifty, resulting in nothing but a ricocheted scowl.

That shit-eating grin he wore sent an electrical tingle from his fingertips to his toes. He never truly liked Shifty—mostly due to his habits of disturbing the surreal town—and taking with him other citizens in his genius plans—but he could never hate someone. He didn't have a mean bone in his body. But right now, seeing that content grin and hearing the echoing laughter, the laugh alike to that of a psychopathic hyena, he could presume the burning in his chest to be one thing.

Hate. Loathing. Detestation. He couldn't hate anyone without reason. Shifty, however, had given him too many reasons to count.

Flippy fought to not send a choke-inducing jab to Shifty's throat. "Just move."

"Make me~"

Flippy curled his fingers, huffing out a steamed breath. Being reasonable hadn't gotten him anywhere. This thief was inane and reasoning with him, even being straightforward with his request, and he couldn't foresee this conversation going any further. There was something so unlikeable about the twin. Be it his unappealing attitude, overbearing actions, or uncivilized manners, he was worse than Lifty. God, he would prefer the latter male over the former.

At least Lifty was capable of changing. Shifty seemed to be permanently twisted.

They'd both offended Flaky, the kindest meekest girl he'd met. They were both in the wrong. Typical, ironic even, that a set of twins would be punished for the same crime. A crime which wasn't relevant to the law.

"Oh, I'll make you."

I officially hate this story. I've even had a little rant to Crystal..This fic will be the death of me. Just the quality of writing has fluctuated repeatedly, going from okay, to mediocre, to rushed and just.

Why.

Why.

Updates for this will be sporadic at best, seeing how I intend to add a few more chapters than stated..two chapters ago? I really just want to be this on hiatus while I either rewrite earlier chapters, revise the entire story with an ACTUAL plot, or write an entirely new fic but with a LiftyxFlaky, Semi-antagonistxProtagonist, FallenxUplifter theme similar to this. Someone..tell me what to do.

I'm just tired.