Ethan had spent the rest of his shift dodging his brother and Charlie, and hiding in various places. His head was in a mess; still trying to process what had happened. It didn't make sense, why wouldn't his mum tell him and Cal that they were adopted? Who was this Emilie? Where did she live? What did she look like? Did she have a partner? Why didn't she contact them both to tell them they could have inherited an incurable disease? Why didn't their mother tell them - even on her deathbed - that they were adopted?

Why did Cal keep it from him? They were meant to look out for each other. Cal held important information from him, life-changing information from him. How could he ever forgive him?

Ethan groaned to himself as he unlocked the flat. He could practically feel the bruise on his shoulder and he couldn't wait to take some more painkillers or try and distract himself. As much as he wanted to tell Cal how much his shoulder hurt, and how it was probably very damaged (but the embarrassment of telling anyone and telling them why Cal was so drunk in the first place was enough to make him avoid medical attention), he refrained because a tiny part of him was telling him Cal was probably feeling horrible anyway.

He hoped Cal had listened to his... rant and moved out. He'd gone home before Ethan, so he had enough time. Ethan couldn't bear to see his face knowing what he knew. He kept it from him, was he never going to tell him? Was that why he was so out-of-character recently? Whatever the reasoning, he shouldn't have kept it from him. They could have gone through it together. They could have worked through it, supported each other. But Cal blew it. Especially because Charlie had to tell him. Especially because Charlie - a guy he had known for two years - knew before his own brother.

He shrugged his jacket off, trying to ignore the shooting pain through his shoulder, and put it on the hook. He proceeded to take his blazer off and roll his sleeve up - inspecting his green, yellow, and purple shoulder. At least the swelling went down.

As he walked through into the living room, he noticed Caleb. A drunk Caleb with finished alcohol bottles scattered around him. There was no indication he had packed to move out. Ethan felt like punching his brother. He hated seeing him knowing what he held back, knowing he was lying.

Knowing that Cal could have an incurable disease and Ethan can't cure it.

"Caleb!" Ethan shouted, watching as Cal looked taken aback to see him. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Drinking, Nibbles. I am... drinking," he mumbled; voice slurred.

Ethan felt tears gather in his own eyes - and not for the first time that day. Cal was well and truly broken, using alcohol to drown his sorrows because he couldn't face anything. Ethan wished he could do that, but he'd watched it destroy his father, and was slowly watching it destroy his brother too. He swiped his hand over his eyes and gulped. "You're meant to be gone," Ethan said, voice strained. He didn't know why he wanted him gone - he liked his brother's company.

But now he looked at him, he couldn't help but wonder why he ever gave Cal a chance after their mother died. After their adoptive mother died. He was reckless, useless around the flat, and expected Ethan to pick up the pieces after he ruined everything. But he loved Cal. Cal was there for him when he was younger, and he was always there for him when Ethan needed help or advice.

So why did he lie?

Ethan knew Cal was in no state to move out now, and maybe Ethan could reconsider. "Go to bed, Caleb. We can talk more in the morning," suggested Ethan, starting to pick up the alcohol bottles from around Cal.

Cal stood up and glanced at Ethan's shoulder. "What happened?"

"Like you care," Ethan muttered under his breath, but regretted it a second later when Cal pushed him back. Ethan could smell the alcohol on his brother, but he looked stone-cold sober.

"Of course I care, you imbecile! Why the hell do you think I asked?! Oh, poor little Ethan who's brother tried to protect him!" Cal shouted, pushing Ethan back once more.

"Protect? Are you serious?! You weren't protecting me! You were so, so selfish. You kept it to yourself because you like having a secret. You've always liked having secrets! You never wanted to protect me - you never protect me! You go around doing whatever you want. I try to help but you push me away. I try to fix things but you ignore me! I try and try and try to look after you and what the hell do I get in return?! A brother who doesn't give a damn about me!" he screamed at his brother, who stepped back like he'd just been held at gunpoint. It was unbelievable that Cal had so much to drink when he seemed so sober.

"That's not true... I do care... I do 'give a damn' about you. I protect you, Ethan," he whispered. "I have tried... I swear. I didn't want to lose you."

"You know what?!" Cal shrugged helplessly. "You've already lost me!" he shouted, storming into the hall and grabbing his coat. "You can stay here. I'm moving out. I'll pack my stuff tomorrow and I don't want to see you or hear from you when I've gone. Too many things have happened, Cal, and there comes a time when I have to stop looking after you. You're a man, Caleb. Not a little boy anymore."

"No. Please. Ethan, wait! We need to talk!" Cal called after him as he left the flat.

Ethan knew he shouldn't have said any of that, and regretted it straight away, but it was true. Cal had to grow up and Ethan couldn't do it for him. Maybe it was better if they were both out of each other's lives. Cal could have all the secrets he wanted, and Ethan could find a new start somewhere. Somewhere where he knew no one.

At least, this way, Ethan didn't have the chance to find out his older brother had Huntington's. This way, he didn't have to watch Cal suffer and know he couldn't fix him. This way, if Ethan had it - if they both did - Ethan didn't have to burden his brother or anyone. He would do it alone because no one needed to care about him. He shouldn't have to lean on his friends with something like this.

He already knew his birth-mother would die. This way, he wouldn't have to lose her too. He'd gone through enough losses and bad news and deciet. He was sick of it.

This way, he could escape.

He heard Cal's shouts and calls after him as he left the building, but he couldn't be there with him, and he couldn't bring himself to care about Cal's thoughts (or indeed, feelings) about Ethan's sudden decision. He had too much to think about. Too much to dwell on and decide about. Too much to -

- pain spiked his side. It hurt... it hurt so much. So, so much.

Then it all went black.