Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Gram’s acting weird.”

Words said in a dark room. To the empty air, unsure of where they’d go, what they’d do, what they were.

White hadn’t meant them– well, okay, he had. Just hadn’t meant to say them out loud. But it was one of those nights where his thoughts wouldn’t stay still in his head, and something about Sean’s entire existence made him feel the need to blurt out every idea, opinion, and feeling he’d ever had, ever. Which was both incredibly comforting and irritating. Mainly because now he’d have to actually explain this bullshit, and the gentle blue light from the moon accompanying the pattering of rain outside his and Sean’s room was really fighting to send him to sleep.

“He’s always weird.” Sean had replied, breath ghosting over the shell of his ear. Arms tightening around his waist. Sometimes, White wondered if he had a boyfriend or a backpack with extra steps.

“Weirder than usual.” He muttered, watching two raindrops slide down the window. Sean hummed behind him, shifting them closer together. Their legs tangled beneath the sheets, and White allowed himself a moment to bask in the domesticity of it all.

“Talk me through it.” He sounded more awake now. There was a brief pang of guilt for keeping him up with his probably nonsensical worries.

“That’s the thing,” White sighed. “I don’t know if I can. It’s– he’s not doing anything big. It’s all small, but now I’ve noticed I can’t stop.” Sean’s hair tickled the back of his neck as he pressed his face into it. The only indication he was listening was the way his thumb moved back and forth across White’s abdomen. “I guess– the main thing is… he never calls me by Black. It’s what I noticed first.”

If you asked, he wasn’t sure when it had happened. It’s not something most people tend to pay attention to, and for a while it was stranger to actually be called by his brother’s name than to not be. So maybe it had been happening for weeks, or even months, and he’d been blind to it. But Gram never, never, called him by Black.

Even in situations where it would be easier to call a name, Gram seemed to default to a ‘Hey!’ or ‘Dude!’, and the times he’d refer to White with another person, he’d stick to pronouns or a casual ‘my friend.’ He’d only really noticed after an over-complicated, confusing interaction wherein Gram was trying to get his attention from across the garage, but ended up attracting both Yok and Gumpa (from another room entirely!) before White had even thought to look up from his phone. It’d ended with a dramatic groan from Yok, and a question of: “If you wanted Black, why didn’t you just call his name, man?” Gram had tensed, shrugged, mumbled a half excuse and left without ever asking White whatever it was he’d needed to ask in the first place.

After that, smaller things seemed to stand out. White was hyper analysing every interaction he and Gram had, and every new conversation just bought another glaringly out of place habit.

Gram gave a conscious effort to keep a foot of space between them at all times. Gram couldn’t look him in the eyes. Gram’s texts were short, dry, devoid of any emotion. (Though, when White had collected his brother’s phone from Todd, Gram’s contact wasn’t even in it at first. So, whether that was a new development or not was hard to gauge.) Gram avoided the garage on days White hung around. Gram had moved his seat in lecture so that Nuch was sitting between them.

Gram was being fucking weird, okay?

“Did you argue with him about something?” Sean asked.

“No. I haven’t had the opportunity– he’s barely around me anymore.”

There was a pause.

“Do you think he knows?”

No need to elaborate about what. Because– well, wasn’t that what White was really worried about?

Gram had known his brother better than anyone else. Hell, he knew him well enough that he realised White had used a different cologne than Black usually wore within seconds. Besides that, he’d thrown an arm so casually over his shoulder and pressed his face into his neck with such ease. Comfortable, despite how everyone else seemed to nervously orbit around ‘Black’ like he was something to fear. So before he’d fallen for and then confided in Sean, Gram had always been the person White expected to discover his real identity first. Everything he did, everything he said around Gram made him nervous. Made him think. “Would Black say this? Would he sit like that?” It was exhausting, but it had been working, hadn’t it?

“Wouldn’t he have said something if he did? Know?” He asked. Sean made a couple disgruntled noises of vague disagreement from behind him. White (gently, of course) elbowed his ever so eloquent boyfriend in the chest to prompt further explanation.

“Gram’s not–” Sean lifted his head, hooking his chin over White’s shoulder, “He’s not really like that. It’s hard to explain.”

“Try. Please.” White whispered back, watching those same raindrops from before. One got caught, becoming stagnant as the other continued down the pane. As the distance between them grew, White felt his heart begin to ache. Sean was quiet for another minute or two.

“He’s not a confrontational person, really. Not like the rest of us.” He began, nearly struggling with his words. “Me, Yok, Black… we blow up. We scream and yell and cry and throw punches. If we have a problem, you’ll know, right? We don’t hold things like that inside.” Outside, the rain fell heavier. White shuffled further under their blanket, nodding along. One thing he appreciated about this group: it was (usually) pretty easy to tell when and how you’d pissed someone off. “Gram doesn’t do that. He festers. Figures it out in the background and then confronts you when he knows you have no leg to stand on.”

“So maybe he doesn’t know…”

“But he’s probably figuring it out. Yeah.” Sean finished. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he does though. It’s just how they are. They’re–” He laughs a little. “–They’re weird. Gram is the only one who can give Black shit without getting it back ten times harder.” Sean never really spoke of Black with an emotion other than faint annoyance, but as he described his and Gram’s bond, White felt warm. He was unmistakably fond. “He can always tell what mood he’s in, even when the rest of us don’t have a damn fucking clue. Like they had their own silent language none of us could speak. It’s seriously scary sometimes– useful, though.”

White smiled. It was both comforting and painful, to know Black had someone like that in his life. A person who knew him well enough to see all that shit he tried to hide under curse words and punches. Though a selfish part of White’s heart lamented at the fact it wasn’t him, that he’d lost that place in Black’s world, a bigger part sang with joy knowing he wasn’t alone. At least not for the last few years.

“Then, I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose or not?” He asked, more to the room than to his boyfriend behind him. Could Gram really see the difference between him and Black? Was it possible that, even if he hadn’t realised it yet, he was refusing to call White by his brother’s name, because deep down, he knew it was wrong?

White imagined a world where Sean was suddenly replaced with a more muted version of himself. He liked to think he would notice, and Gram was nowhere near stupid. Sure, he acted it sometimes, and Yok once said he had ‘the common sense of a two year old child’ (fair), but he was sharp in ways that mattered, and noticed the little things he and the others didn’t.

Then again, Sean was White’s boyfriend. Gram and Black weren’t like that.

Were they?

The stagnant raindrop suddenly fell again, catching up with the first in time for them to reach their end, together, on the edge of the frame. The rain fell harder.

“We’ll find out eventually.” Sean murmured, barely stifling a yawn. “Trust me, the second Gram figures his shit out, you’ll know. So sleep for now, worry in the morning.” Not the most comforting reply, but Sean’s no-nonsense attitude was one of those things White liked about him. He was sick of people sugar coating their words and making things easy for him, he’d had too much of that.

The whirling nervous energy in his head calmed having been expressed aloud. Not that the prospect of Gram’s wrath was any less horrifying, but Sean had taken it from his hands for now. “Goodnight, Sean.” He whispered, letting his heavy eyelids fall shut.

Sean pressed impossibly closer, dropping a kiss to White’s jaw.

(Goodnight.)

Gram was acting weird.

It hadn’t taken long for White to pin down the dynamics of the gang. Sean was the hot headed bad boy with a heart of gold (swoon), Gumpa was the ever suffering carer, Black had been the quiet, prickly, leader, and Gram and Yok were the loud, mildly irritating duo who would probably be by each other’s sides for life.

They were usually causing some kind of chaos somewhere, always running from Gumpa and the consequences of their actions. Always spread out across the sofas, beers in hand, loudly discussing Yok’s latest partner. Their arguments were the most commonplace– loud, petty, and violent. Never lasting for more than a couple hours, and always ended with a hug and apologies and ‘I love you’s’.

So when Gram had refused to rise to Yok’s prodding and poking, White instantly felt tense.

Yok seemed unperturbed, and had just turned on Sean and those two had picked a fight instead. But White kept his eyes on Gram, who was… well, so relaxed, and calm. He seemed nearly dazed, the ghost of a smile ever present on his face. Not that it was a bad thing, per say, it was just… weird. It left White wondering what the hell had happened to make him so happy.

Amidst the bustling energy of the garage, and how loud his thoughts were, he had almost missed the subtle vibrations on the couch. Gram pulled the source– his buzzing phone– from his pocket, and White watched as the ghost of a smile grew into a real, bright smile at whoever was trying to call him. He looked up and caught White’s questioning gaze, and the smile dropped instantly.

“Ah, I gotta go.” He said suddenly, swiping left to decline the call. Yok perked up, leaning across the sofa to try and get a glimpse at Gram’s phone screen. Whatever fight he’d been having with Sean momentarily ignored.

“Woah, woah, woah! Who’s it that’s got you on a leash that tight?” He jeered, his signature good natured grin in full effect. Gram rolled his eyes and pocketed the device as far from his friend’s prying eyes as possible.

“No one.” He said, far too unconvincingly. “I’ve got people coming over to check out some shitty piping in my dorm. I need to be there to sign them in and open the door.” As he spoke, he began gathering his things– packing them haphazardly into his bag in a near comical attempt to get out the door as quickly as possible. “I’ll try and swing by later, but don’t wait up. They might be a while. Bye!” Within seconds he was across the garage, slamming the door shut behind him.

There was a stunned silence in his wake. As the dust settled, Sean cleared his throat.

“So, he was lying.”

“Through his fucking teeth, yeah.” Yok agreed, bright eyed and mischievous. “He’s hiding something. A girlfriend, maybe?” Gumpa laughed at that, for reasons White couldn’t decide.

“Did you get to see who was calling?” He asked.

“Kinda? It was an unsaved number.”

Sean scrunched his nose up at that. “Why wouldn’t he have his girlfriend’s number saved?”

“He’s an idiot?” White offered.

“Not enough of one to not save his girlfriend’s number.” Yok hummed, stroking his chin in a terrible impression of some new-age philosopher. “Also, Gram seems like the type to have really gross, cheesy nicknames. Like snuggle bunny. Or honey pot.”

“Baby doll.” Sean added, nodding. White grimaced at even hearing those words come out of his mouth. The mental image he was forming was grim.

“In that case, I want to not meet his maybe-girlfriend for as long as possible.” He sighed, settling back with a shiver. A new girlfriend would explain his sudden happy daze, he supposed. Gumpa shook his head, smiling, whilst Yok and Sean quietly agreed.

The argument from earlier then slowly ramped back up again. Trust Yok to unsettle the peace within seconds– White never really paid enough attention to whatever they were squabbling about. He called it the 'Gumpa Technique’; ignore the idiots and either read, tinker, or fiddle with your phone, as he was doing now.

White's mindless Twitter scrolling was interrupted about ten minutes later by Todd’s caller ID suddenly lighting up the screen. It made him pause, throwing a cursory glance towards the other three in the room. It wasn’t like him to call midday… especially when he knew White was with the gang. It was probably something that couldn't wait.

“I have to take this,” He announced, springing up from his seat. There was a sinking feeling in his gut. “Be back in a sec.” Ignoring Sean’s concerned look, he put the phone to his ear, heading towards their bedroom.

“White?” Todd sounded panicked.

“Two seconds,” He huffed, pressing the phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he climbed the ladder. There was muted chaos happening on Todd’s side; hurried footsteps and slammed doors. “Is everything okay?” More chaos as White stepped across the threshold into his and Sean’s room.

“Black’s missing.”

Barely having closed himself off from the main garage area, White froze in his tracks. Whatever he'd been expecting when he picked up, it certainly wasn't that.

“Missing?” He asked incredulously, “He’s– he's in a coma, what do you mean, he’s missing? How do you lose a coma patient?” Todd made a frustrated noise on the other end of the phone.

“He woke up, that's how! I got the call just now. Apparently he decided that he was well enough to leave on his fucking own and now he’s gone! I can’t find him, and I’m– I’m worried. He was in such a state, White. I don’t think even his stubborn ass could make it very far like that.”

It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over White’s head.

Black was awake. Awake, and alone somewhere on the streets of Bangkok. The last time White had seen him, he was black and blue and covered in more bandages than an Egyptian mummy. His brother was tough; he was confident in that fact, but everyone had their limits. Black had been out of action for months. Could he even walk? How had he left the hospital in the first place? What if whoever had hurt him kidnapped his comatose body and intended on finishing what they’d started?

“You’re sure he left himself?” White asked, stumbling towards the bed in time for his legs to give out underneath him. Now was certainly not the time for a panic attack, fuck!

“Yes, there’s security footage of him leaving around 1AM last night.” His friend sounded… defeated, underneath the frenzy. “I seriously don’t know how– I– fuck. Stupid fucking– Look, if you see or hear from him, you need to bring him back to me, okay? He needs to be taken care of.”

White nodded.

“I’ll check his apartment. If he’s going to go anywhere, it’ll probably be home or the garage, and he hasn’t come here yet.” Thank god… “I’ll text you, okay?”

“Yes, yes. That’s good, thank you, White.” There was some shuffling of papers, then, “I’ll do whatever I can on my end. Call me back if you find anything, okay?”

“Of course.”

As Todd hung up, Sean’s head poked into the room. He was the picture of concern, and in any other scenario, White would’ve taken a second to mull about how cute he was when he was worried about him. Now, though, a million worst case scenarios were racing through his mind regarding his brother.

“White,” Sean called, gentle. He slipped into the room, closing the door behind him and coming to crouch in between White’s legs. Easing the painful grip he had around Black’s phone, and placing it on the floor, he laced their fingers together. “What’s happened?”

“It’s Black.” He breathed, now holding Sean so tightly he wouldn't be surprised if he bruised. Yet he showed no discomfort, just running his thumb soothingly over White's knuckles, and looking up at him with that open, loving expression. “Todd called me. He woke up. Black did. He– He– left, and no one knows where he went.” Sean went slack jawed. He felt his heart pick up, hammering so hard that his chest ached. “He’s hurt, Sean! Fuck, what if he’s de– what– what if–”

“Breathe.” His boyfriend warned, pulling one of his hands to his chest and breathing deeply, waiting for White to copy him before letting it out. They repeated this a few times before he was happy enough to speak again. “We’ll find him, okay? I’ll help you. Black wouldn’t do something if he didn’t think he could handle it."

White shook his head, hiccuping. His brother, his poor brother… What would he do out there all alone? It didn't matter if he was the toughest person in all of Thailand, it wouldn't curb White's worries any less.

He tried to focus, to notice any foreign aches or pains throughout his body. Something, anything just to tell him Black was alive.

He felt no physical pain.

"If he left the hospital, he was confident he could make it somewhere safe.” Sean promised, somehow completely at ease. The resolute way he spoke, the faith he had in his own words, allowed some of the tension to bleed from White’s bones.

"I just–" He just what? Wanted his big brother? He wasn't twelve, he couldn't say that out loud.

Black was the other half of him. Not knowing where he was, fearing for his safety; if White closed his eyes he was back in Russia and holding his head underwater. Heart and soul desperately crying out for its missing piece.

“I want to go check his apartment.” Was what he eventually settled on. They would find him there. They had to find him there.

Sean nodded, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead. Looking at him with so much understanding and care but never, ever pity.

“Good idea. Come on, I’ll drive us.”

The ride over had filled White's head with a fantasy. Opening the door to the apartment and Black being there, waiting for him. Maybe with that teasing grin. White would throw himself into his brother’s waiting arms, would be teased for crying into his shoulder, and he would take it all in his stride. He'd chastise Black for leaving the hospital, for being so fucking stupid, but Black would be there and he'd be alive and everything would be okay again.

But Black’s apartment was empty. Ransacked, and empty.

It was a hallowing sight, stepping into his brother’s living space to see clothes strewn across the floor, draws and cabinets left partially open, feeling the cool breeze from the open window that led to the fire escape floating through the room. At first, they feared an unknown threat lurking in the shadows, but when a cursory sweep turned up no men in black ski masks, Sean and White felt free enough to investigate the damage left in Black’s wake.

All that was noticeably missing were clothes. If Black had any more in his wardrobe than he did, White wasn't even sure he'd have noticed them missing in the first place. It seemed as though he'd taken enough for a whole outfit, but nothing extra.

“Are you sure that’s all that he took?” Sean asked from his spot on the bed once he’d voiced his findings. White nodded, closing one of the drawers.

“I have everything else he would’ve wanted anyways, right?” He reasoned, trying to hide his shaking hands, “Phone, bike, keys.”

“You haven’t had any calls?”

“None,” White unlocked his phone, checking one more time. As expected, his most recent call was Sean’s from the day before. “You?”

Sean showed him that, similarly, his most recent call was that same outgoing one to White. Or, Black, technically. (He'd changed the contact name to a white heart a little while back. Innocuous, but adorable.)

“Nothing. But I think I’m the last person he’d try to call… If anything, he’d contact Gram, or Gumpa.”

“You think so?” White asked, already navigating to Gram’s contact.

“Him and Gram are the closest.” Sean reminded him, watching as he came to sit beside him on the bed. “So he'd be my first guess. And Gumpa’s Gumpa, so.”

White agreed. He could picture it, Black stumbling into a phone box and trying to come up with a number to call. Gram would come to his mind first, right? Gram would probably come get him no matter where in Thailand he was. Plus, he didn’t know White was here, pretending to be him, did he? So of course he’d call his best friend instead of his own phone. It made the most sense.

Right? Black wouldn’t be so stupid as to think he didn’t need help, would he?

He hit the call button, pressing speaker and putting a finger to his lips. Sean linked their pinkies in his lap.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.Then–

“Uh, hi.”

“Hi Gram.” It was now White realised he didn’t really know what to ask. Has Black contacted you at all? Have you seen him? Hm? No, I know you think I’m Black, but I’m not actually.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, sounding somewhat distracted. “I’m, uh– studying. For that midterm. Could this wait?”

Sean narrowed his eyes. White agreed– cagey.

“Ah, that’s actually what I was calling about…” Perfect. He tried to sound as disinterested as possible. “I can’t find my textbook. Must’ve left it either there or the garage. Could I come by and check?” Ignoring the fact he hadn’t been in Gram’s place for like, a month and a half now, but whatever.

“Oh, uh–” Shuffling. “I’m not home. I’m in a study cafe right now. I’ll be here ‘till late, probably.”

“Do you keep a spare key around? I’ll be in and out.”

His answer was sharp and immediate. “No. Sorry, I’ll check for it when I’m home later. Look– I’ve really got to go. Talk later.”

“Gram–” Beep.

Both him and Sean stared at the phone in shock.

“What the fuck.” Sean sighed, “He’s hiding something.” White nodded, running a hand through his hair. Gram was nothing if not a bad fucking liar.

“Thing is, it could be that secret girlfriend Yok thinks he has.” White fell back on the bed, feeling all the energy in his body leak out all at once. “I know you said Gram festers, but surely if Black contacted him, he would want to talk to me? Yell at me for lying to him, at the very least?” Sean laid beside him, in a similar state of limbo.

“I think so. I don’t know.” He admitted. “This isn’t really one of those situations you can predict behaviour for, you know?” White turned to look at him, hoping that looking into Sean’s eyes would give him that same spark of energy it always did. Sean looked back, all warmth. “We’ll figure it out.”

White smiled, nodding. His eyes drifted to the bedside table just past Sean’s head, needing a second to just… be.

He sat up suddenly, staring a hole into a wooden surface.

“What?” Sean asked, lowly.

“Something else is missing.” White pointed to the wooden surface. “He had two dolls there.”

“Dolls?” Sean asked incredulously, sitting up as well. Leaning closer, he saw the disturbance in the dust pattern. Where two objects that hadn’t been moved in a long time had left imprints behind.

“Ceramic ones. They had little, like, crocheted accessories with Gram and Black’s initials on them.”

“Wha– are you sure? You didn’t move them at some point when you stayed here? They're not on the floor or something?”

“I’m sure, and no, you'd have spotted them easily.” He hadn’t touched them since that first day he was here with Todd. Something about it felt wrong. Black didn’t seem like the sentimental type. He had barely any decorations or trinkets, no photos or seemingly unimportant things squirrelled away for memories sake. The only real decor he had was the dolls and the motorbike model, so they must’ve been important to him in some way– the fact they were monogrammed with his and his best friend’s initials only further cemented that idea in White’s mind.

“So… let me get this right,” Sean sighed, “He comes here, changes out of the hospital clothes, trashes the place, and then the only things he takes are two dolls that are sat in plain sight?”

“The doctor did say he’d hit his head…” White muttered. Though he heard what Sean was saying. Black’s actions made near to no sense. It was worrying.

“But if he’s being illogical, that means it’s going to be so much harder to figure out where he’d go!” Sean groaned, throwing himself back onto the mattress again. He laid there for a second before adding, "Sorry, not helpful."

White chewed on the inside of his mouth, hard enough to break skin. “Maybe we just have to wait for him to come to us…”

The idea of sitting around doing nothing made him physically sick, but Sean, unfortunately, was right. Black’s erratic behaviour meant it was going to be far more difficult to map out what or where he could possibly have done or gone. In that phone box, what if he’d called their mother? Eugene? Or some random person the gang didn’t even know about? Now anything seemed possible.

Plus White already had the handicap of not really knowing the person his brother had grown into over the past decade, and Sean was self admittedly not close enough to him to know of any hideouts or favourite spots he might’ve had. Then Yok, Gumpa, and the person who would’ve been most helpful here, Gram, didn’t know that White had been Black for the past three or so months. So unless he wanted to sit them down and give out that confession without his brother by his side– which was how he’d been planning and intending to do it since the beginning– their help was off the table as well.

Sean eyed him. Whether his anxiety was coming off him in waves, or if Sean just knew him too well by now; all White knew was that Sean reached out, anchoring him with a hand on his knee.

“You’re okay with that?”

“Not really.” White choked out, the despair crashing into him like a freight train. Sean immediately sprang up, gathering him into his arms. White sobbed into his shoulder, balling up the fabric of his boyfriend’s shirt in his hands. “I’m so fucking scared, Sean. I just– I just want my brother.” Suddenly his pride didn’t matter anymore. It all came spilling out against his will. “I want to talk to him again, see him again– what if I don’t get to?” Fingers combed through his hair, scratching at his scalp soothingly.

“Black’s a stubborn bastard." Sean murmured, face half pressed into the crown of White’s head. His body trembled in his arms with the force of his sobs. “I once watched him attend two weeks of university with appendicitis and act like nothing was wrong. He probably could’ve staved it off with pure audacity alone if not for Gram. You’ll see him again.”

White cried even harder, taking shuddering breaths in and out. Though the idea of his brother just saying ‘no’ to having appendicitis was admittedly a funny mental image, he just felt weak– physically and mentally.

“You don’t know that.” He whispered.

“No, I don’t.” Sean pulled back slightly, enough to be able to see White’s face and wipe the tears from his cheeks with a comforting smile. “But you know what? I believe in him.” White watched his face, the way it softened as the tears in his eyes gradually began to dry. "I hate his guts sometimes, and he’s a massive prick, but I’ll never doubt him. He’s proved to me over and over he can look after himself too much for me to do that. I know my word isn’t a lot to go on, but trust me on this, okay?" And White wanted to. God, he wanted to. "Black will be fine, and you’ll get to scold and yell at him all you want for being reckless and self sacrificial when we find him.”

White did chuckle at that, albeit wetly. That was undoubtedly the first thing he was going to do. His brother was so damn stupid. Sean’s eyes crinkled at the edges, brightening at the sound of White’s laugh.

“Okay…” He whispered, leaning his cheek into one of Sean’s palms. Letting his eyes fall closed for a few seconds and just basking in the sheer love and support he was being faced with. How he would’ve coped with this alone, he didn’t know; the thought of doing any of this without Sean by his side made him shudder. “You’re right. Let’s– let’s go home.”

Black would make his way to the garage eventually. That's what he told himself. He had to. And White would wait for him forever– would be there whenever his brother finally stumbled through that door. He would be angry. He would scold him and likely get scolded back, but they would be beside each other again and that’s all that mattered.

In the meantime, he’d search where he could. Keep a watchful eye on the apartment, any hospitals, the university, and their soul bond.

One way or another, he’d find his goddamn brother. Whether he wanted to be found or not.

Gram was, big shock, acting fucking weird.

Again.

Though at this point, he’d been weird long enough it was uncomfortably close to becoming his new normal. Though the weirdness continually evolved into somehow being even more weird than before, so it kept feeling, well, weird.

The most recent ‘weird’ had lasted a few days now. Suspiciously, ever since White had gotten that call from Todd that his brother had left the hospital, still halfway on death's door, and disappeared. Gram was just extra fucking cagey, spending less and less time around the garage and always leaving whenever his phone rang. Each time with excuses dwindling in believability, and White caught him on more than one occasion smiling or honest to god giggling to himself in a corner.

Yok was convinced he was hiding a girlfriend. White wondered if he was hiding someone else.

Sean was… half with him. He seemed to think that Gram, while not as hot headed as the rest of the gang, was ill tempered enough that if Black had turned up at his door the very first thing he’d do was break down their door and yell in White’s face for three hours flat about lying to him for the past few months. But he couldn’t deny that the sudden change in behaviour was coincidental at best.

And White was getting restless. He'd resolved to wait, to let Black sort his shit out and come to him; but there had been literally no sign of Black anywhere. Not at the apartment, or the university; not a single ache or pain sent down their soul bond. That made him especially nervous.

When they were younger, pain was their tool to communicate. Pressing on bruises in the dark whenever their parents insisted on them sleeping in their rooms, telling the other that they were there, they were still awake. White had found himself resorting to it again– pressing down hard on fading injuries and making his eyes sting.

There was never a response.

He hadn’t slept properly in days, despite poor Sean’s attempts to coax him into bed. Closing his eyes just treated him to horrific pictures of Black’s body in a ditch somewhere. He found himself getting snappy with everyone– which was, luckily, not out of character for Black– but especially with Gram. That nagging feeling in his gut that he was hiding something was eating White alive, and he got progressively more and more irritated at his secrecy and shady behaviour.

What do you know that I don't? What are you up to?

It ended up all coming to a head ten days after Black had gone missing.

Sean had taken him on a convenience store run, both to clear his mind and get him away from the garage before he ripped Yok’s tongue out for all his theories around Gram’s behaviour.

To his credit, it worked for about ten minutes. The fresh air and the rush of the wind against his skin as he rode with Sean settled his nausea somewhat. Walking around somewhere other than the dingy garage lifted a weight White hadn't realised he was carrying. Hell, he'd even laughed at one of Sean's dumb jokes. The smile he'd got for that was blinding, and things felt normal for a second. However normal they could, anyways.

Until White spotted a certain head of bleached hair and all of his obsessions and suspicions came flooding back at once.

“It's Gram.” White hissed, grabbing his boyfriend by the collar and dragging him down to his height, trying to keep him out of their friend's view. Sean stumbled slightly, swearing.

“Wha– White!” He batted away the arm, adjusting the neckline of his sweater. White abandoned the packaged ramens he’d been deciding between, quietly stalking after an unaware Gram, who was meandering down the aisles of the store. Basket in one hand, phone in the other.

“What are you doing?” Sean asked, trailing just behind him.

“I want to know what he’s getting.” White muttered, squinting at the half full basket dangling from Gram’s elbow. He was too far away to get a good look at what was in it.

“You could just… ask him?” Sweet, naïve Sean. “We are friends, you know.”

“Too obvious.”

“Obvio– White, come on.”

White pointedly ignored his boyfriend, who he loved so, so very much, but really wanted to punch in the face right now. Sure, he was acting a little irrational, but it had been nearly two weeks, and he was at his wits end. Plus, he knew Sean would follow his lead anyways. Manipulative? Maybe. Necessary? Absolutely.

The pair of them followed a little ways behind Gram around the store, watching as he picked up a pint of milk, some eggs, and a couple vitamin drinks before heading to the checkout.

“We need to talk to him about situational awareness when this is all over.” Sean grumbled. White paid him no mind.

He watched him like a hawk as he scanned and packed everything he bought, though from the angle he was standing at, Gram’s body blocked him from seeing most of the items. When he’d think back on it later, he’d probably laugh at how ridiculous he looked– scowling at some guy who was just quietly doing his shopping.

Once he was packed up and paid, Gram hurried out of the store, dialling someone on the phone as he went. White resisted the urge to follow after him and beelined straight for the checkout kiosk he’d been using, nearly shouldering some poor college kid.

‘Thank you for shopping with us today.’ The screen read, ‘Would you like to print a receipt?’

White hit ‘yes’ with such vigour it was a wonder he didn’t break the LEDs.

“Seriously…” He heard Sean mutter behind him. White snatched the newly printed receipt with a near feral grin, allowing Sean to drag him to the side, having abandoned their shopping at some point in favour of supporting White’s antics. He owed him a nice dinner after this was all over, really.

“Let’s see…” White mumbled, straightening out the paper. At first glance, it read just like a normal receipt. Some drinks, a couple packs of noodles, a pack of oranges. All perfectly normal for a university student living alone. But as White’s eyes scanned further down the list, he caught some odd ones. Max strength headache tablets, bandages, bruise cream… At his side, Sean sucked air through his teeth.

“Fuck,” He whispered, shaking his head. “That sounds like the type of shit you’d buy if you were–”

“–Looking after someone who’d just woken up from a coma.” White finished.

All at once a dozen conflicting emotions were set loose in his heart. Anger, betrayal, relief, confusion, fear. Did Gram really have Black this whole time? Had he been looking after him? If he had, surely that meant he knew everything? Or at the very least, that he wasn’t Black? So why hadn’t he said anything? Was Black okay? How was he recovering? Why didn’t Gram take him back to the fucking hospital? White laughed, near hysterical. “I told you he was suspicious! Oh my fucking– do you think he really has Black?”

He couldn’t keep his hope out of his voice.

“Only way to find out is an impromptu visit.” Sean murmured, already preparing his keys. “Fucking hell, what is my life?”

“I’m back.” Gram called, sing-song and chipper as he stepped into his apartment.

“Seven minute ride.” Came the grumpy voice from the lump under his covers in the other room. “You’re slipping!” Gram grinned, dropping the bag of groceries on the side and heading into the bedroom.

“It’s rush hour, give me a break.” He complained, circling the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Black blinked sleepily up at him. Gram brushed the hair out of his eyes as he struggled to catch up with the question. It was all mussed and tangled from the days of bed rest; he’d have to comb through it later– maybe when Black passed out from the pain meds so he didn't have to go through the trouble of convincing and/or holding him down.

“My brain is trying to explode itself out of my fuckin’ head.” He complained. Gram placed the palm of his hand on Black’s cheek, only to have it predictably slapped away within seconds.

“I’m checking your temperature.” Those lovely lips twisted into a scowl. It was still so damn relieving to see.

“I’m not sick, asshole. You’re just looking for an excuse to put your filthy hands on me.” Gram chuckled, though relented for the moment and returned to where he’d left the bag of medicine earlier. Once he’d found and opened the painkillers, he came back to the bed, offering two of them to Black alongside his still half full glass of water from that morning. (Concerning. He’d have to bring that up with him when he was a bit more mentally capable.)

“I don’t need an excuse.” He reminded him, watching carefully as he took and swallowed the medicine with minimal fuss. “And if I did, I’d find a better one than that. I was always good at it.” Black, in one of those rare moods where he was too tired to pick an actual fight, settled for mocking Gram under his breath. Though these days his sharp words and unabashed insults only made Gram smile.

Because he’d missed this. Missed Black. His Black. The witty, snarky, blunt, sarcastic, no bullshit asshole he’d fallen in love with on the back of a motorbike some three years ago.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Gram asked, fully aware of the dopey look on his face. He snuck a kiss to the top of Black’s head, just barely avoiding the responding thwack across his shoulder with an even bigger grin.

“You’re such a gross fucking dork, holy shit.” Black huffed, though Gram caught the way his lips curled slightly upwards. “I look like I’ve been dragged under a semi truck, and yet somehow you can still manage that disgusting expression.”

It wasn’t wrong– Black was bruised and swollen all over, and every slight movement he made caused him to wince so hard that Gram felt sympathy pain. But Gram had spent so long watching his brother be a ghost of who Black really was. So to have him here, alive, scowling and cursing and tucked into Gram’s bed where he damn well belonged was good enough for him. The bruises, the injuries, they’d heal. Besides–

“Nothing could make your face any less handsome.” He cooed, immediately ducking out the way of the pillow Black hurled in his direction. Laughter bubbled up in his throat as his ever so lovely boyfriend threw expletives and half baked insults his way, all betrayed by the flush high on his cheeks.

“The second I can move without feeling like I’m encased in broken glass, you’re getting a punch in the fucking face for that one.” He ended with, finally settling down into bed.

“I’ll be waiting.” Gram chuckled. Black shuffled around a little under the covers, getting cosy. “Still sleepy?”

“Those stupid meds knock the fuck outta me.” Black complained, “I feel like a pile of mush.”

“Serves you right for running away from the medical professionals who were looking after you.” Gram replied snarkily, though he wasn’t that mad anymore.

When Black had shown up at his door, skin looking like the aftermath of a damn oil spill or something, Gram had nearly had a fucking meltdown. Black made fun of him for it later, in one of his more lucid phases.

(“You were yelling like you were gonna kill me, but touching me so gently. It was hilarious. Didn’t even know your dumb hands could be so careful.”)

“Medical professionals hired by the lunatic who put me in the hospital bed in the first place.” Black reminded him, not bothering to open his eyes as Gram headed down the hall. It was another one of those little things that screamed to Gram how much Black trusted him. To ease his own mind, he left the door open enough that he could still see into the bedroom, and went about putting their groceries away.

See, on the rare occasions Black would fall asleep in an open area, or around the gang, the second someone moved or got up he’d open his eyes and track their movements. Only once they were out of the room or back in their seat did his eyes ever fall shut again. It seemed to be muscle memory– he did it even when drunk. It used to confound Gram, then it made him sad. Made him wonder what the hell Black had been through to feel that need.

So when Black stopped doing it around him– collapsing into his bed at the end of a long day at uni, or a particularly frustrating study session, not bothering to watch Gram as he went about packing their books and paper away– it had made Gram’s heart flutter. Because Black trusted him.

White, on the other hand, had no issues taking power naps on the garage sofa, regardless of who was there. Gram could stomp around him and he wouldn’t bat an eye.

Seriously. His attempt at pretending to be Black was laughable at best, and downright confusing at worst. Gram couldn’t help the incredulous looks he’d send the gang’s way sometimes, when White would do something so out of character. Either everyone else was genuinely fucking moronic, or Gram was so head over heels in love with Black he was the only one to notice all the tiny missing details in the way he acted.

Probably the second option, but whatever.

“They could still look after you better than I am!” Gram called from down the hall, even though he only half believed it himself. Say what you wanted about him, he was a damn good caretaker. Black’s responding huff told him he felt the same way, if not a little smothered.

Better smothered than dead. He thought idly.

Once everything had been stored away, Gram headed back to the bedroom, only to stop in the doorway at the sight of Black already completely passed out again. Hell, if he listened close enough, he could make out soft snores.

It wasn’t unusual, these days Black had a habit of falling asleep mid conversation. It was probably a combination of the head trauma and the maybe ridiculous cocktail of painkillers Gram had been feeding him. It was a little cute at first– watching the usually so serious Black zone out and trail off mid sentence, only for his head to drop into Gram’s waiting palm. But then it just started getting worrying, and now Gram just hoped it was a habit he’d lose once he was a bit better off and didn’t need so many meds.

The one upside was that Gram could do basically anything around the house and Black wouldn’t budge. He was a light sleeper originally, and Gram slightly dreaded the day he’d have to go back to tiptoeing around the place to avoid disturbing him, but for now he’d take advantage. Their teacher had sprung a particularly nasty sounding test on them, set for a week's time, so Gram fished his textbooks out of his bag and settled at his desk, intending to get some studying done before he’d need to wake Black for dinner in a few hours.

Ugh, he was so domesticated.

A few hours of studying, however, was basically a few fucking seconds. As soon as he’d set himself up, there was knocking on his apartment door.

He went still. Maybe it was the woman across the hall’s door?

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Nope, unmistakably his.

It sent a chill down his spine. He didn’t get visitors anymore– the one guy who was usually on the other side was currently laying in his bed, and quite frankly, if it was any of the gang, he did not want them in here right now. Especially not Sean or, god forbid, White.

Both he and Black had agreed that, until he was able to at least walk around on his own, Gram would keep quiet. Despite how desperately he wanted to get in White’s face and scream at him every time they were in the same room, he bit his tongue. Only after Black, with a heavy heart, had confessed he didn’t exactly trust his twin right now, with how Gram had described the current situation to him.

The reasoning had been hazy at the same (see above mentioned cocktail of painkillers), but it was something to the effect of their childhood friend, Todd, AKA asshole supreme, AKA Black’s evil semi-ex, AKA master of all evil, AKA the guy behind it all, was a lying, manipulative scumbag and likely had White at his beck and call. Meaning if he knew where Black was, there was a non-zero chance he’d report back to Todd. And, in his current state, Black wouldn’t be too hard to… finish off.

The very thought made Gram fucking nauseous.

Anyways– the door. He didn’t want to open it. Not because he was scared or anything, but because he was realistic. If there were five Todd cronies behind it, his ability to fend them off didn’t inspire any self-confidence.

There was another knock, a little more insistent this time.

“Gram, open the door! We know you’re in there!”

White.

“For fucks sakes, the one fucking guy…” Gram muttered, getting up from his desk. He made sure to shut the bedroom door behind him as he went, closing off any view of Black peacefully sleeping through this living nightmare. If he could just keep White in the hallway/kitchen area, he’d be good.

Life wasn't usually so easy, though. Brace for impact…

Begrudgingly unlatching and opening the door, Gram was met with the sight of White, fist still poised to knock, with Sean standing just behind him.

Great, it’s both of them.

“What are you doing here?” He tried to sound as suitably calm as possible, but if the look White gave him was anything to go by, he wasn’t doing a fantastic job. Also unsurprising– Black once told him he had all the subtlety of an art student in a business lecture. Whatever that meant.

“Can we come in?” White asked, a little hostile. Unfortunately having no good reason to say no, Gram stepped to the side. The pair filed inside and he shut the door behind them, immediately standing in the way between them and the bedroom.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, arms folded.

"What makes you think something's wrong?" White retorted. Lord, they were doing this, were they?

"You don't come see me unless something's wrong."

"That's not true."

"It is these days." Gram couldn't quite help the snark. It was a reflex at this point, okay? "I don't get graced with your presence in my home unless something's happened."

As they spoke, Sean’s eyes were scanning the shelves that lined his hallway walls. Gram didn’t like it, though he didn’t know why.

“Well, you’ve been acting weird lately. We wanted to check in.”

“How kind.” Gram drawled. White's face pinched, and he readied himself to reply, when Sean shook his shoulder a little to get his attention. Both he and Gram followed his now wide-eyed gaze.

"Are those…? You said earlier–"

Fuck. Sat nestled next to a pile of his other trinkets were the two ceramic dolls he’d gifted Black for his birthday all that time ago.

Black had been wearing Gram’s clothes at first. Partly because the sight of him in a hospital gown depressed the fuck out of Gram. But Black was nothing if not prideful, and suddenly every hour he was awake he would bitch about having to wear someone else's too-big clothes. (Which, what the fuck? Gram used to literally have nothing in his closet because all of his stuff ended up in Black’s wardrobe, somehow.)

So, being the good, caring, loving boyfriend he was, Gram broke into Black’s apartment and grabbed him a change of his own clothes. He’d intended on only taking the one outfit, not wanting White to notice if he ever ended up actually staying there instead of the garage. Plus, he was confident he could wrangle Black back into his clothes for an hour or two whilst he washed them.

But then he'd caught a glimpse of the dolls.

He still remembered how his heart had soared when Black put them on display. Kept them close, despite his teasing comments about Gram going soft on him. It was before they got together, but right at the height of Gram’s intense pining, so seeing them had always made him smile. Even after they sorted their shit out and started dating, he couldn’t help but remember that day. How happy he’d been– the way Black had looked at him when he realised he not only remembered his birthday, but bothered to get him something. The tiny smile he’d forgotten to suppress when he pulled the dolls out of the box and Gram excitedly pointed out their initials.

It felt wrong to leave them behind. He didn’t know why. But he needed the dolls with them, where they belonged. So, he’d taken them, roughed up the room a little to hopefully distract from their absence, and put them up on his shelf. His plan was to show Black when he was up and walking– use them as like, a reward, or motivation to walk to the hallway, or whatever.

But now it seemed his sappy heart would be his downfall.

“Don’t tell me you’re just here to criticise my decor.” It was a futile attempt at redirection, but hey, he tried.

White turned on him.

“You were in my apartment. You stole those.”

He was seriously still pretending to be Black? Gram shrugged.

“So? I have a key. And I bought the damn things.” He relished in the way White shifted nervously. Probably uncomfortable knowing Gram had access to the apartment the whole time and he didn’t know. Oh well. Not like it was his any more than it was Gram’s. “Did you forget? Or did you just never know?”

White stared at him, hard. Searching his face.

Gram stared back, unphased.

Then all at once the facade dropped.

He straightened his posture, rolled back his shoulders, stopped leaning all his weight onto his left foot. A certain glint returned to his eyes.

“Where is he?”

Finally, Gram was facing White. Not a mimic of Black.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” White took a step forward, eyeing the bedroom door.

“Yes, you do.” He all but snarled. “Where’s my brother, Gram?”

“You’re not even going to introduce yourself before making demands? That’s cold, White.” He watched as horror dawned on both his and Sean’s faces. That same twisted satisfaction curled in his gut.

“You know his name?” Sean asked. Gram met his eyes.

“So, you know, too?” He asked, “Did you figure it out or did he have to tell you?” Admittedly, his delivery was a lot harsher than he intended, but this was months of pent up frustration and indignance all coming out at once. Not to mention pure anger.

Anger that Black had been hurt. Anger that White had lied. Anger that no one else had fucking noticed.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Gram laughed, genuinely fucking dumbfounded at Sean’s nonchalance. He looked away for a second– fearing if he kept their gazes much longer he’d punch one or both of them.

White took that as his moment.

He ducked into Gram’s blind spot, delivering a blow to his side hard enough to make him stumble into the wall. He then swerved, dodging the flailing limbs and beelining straight for the closed door. There were sounds of a scuffle and arguing behind him, but it was all lost under the ringing in his ears as he pushed open the door.

There was a figure laying in the bed. White rushed to their side, crouching down and gently peeling back the covers enough to see–

“Black.” He whispered, sagging in relief.

It was really him. Comfortably tucked into bed as though nothing was wrong. If not for the bruises on his cheekbone, the image was so mundane it hurt. White watched as his chest slowly rose and fell as he slept on, oblivious to Sean and Gram practically tumbling into the room at each other’s throats. Once Sean laid eyes on Black, muttering a simple ‘oh, shit’, Gram seemed to give up on keeping them out, only giving Sean one final shove away from him. They both stood, a little awkwardly, as White brushed back some of his brother’s hair.

“How long has he been here?” He demanded, tearing his eyes away to level Gram with a look he hoped stung. He shrugged, having the decency to look at least a little sheepish.

“A week or so…” He sighed. “You won’t be able to wake him up, I’ve got him on some intense shit.”

That same conflicting cocktail of emotions swirled in White’s gut. Black had been here the whole time. He’d been safe, been looked after. The reason White hadn’t felt anything from their soul bond was because Gram had been so vigilant in making him as comfortable as possible; and he couldn’t deny that Black did look healthier than he did the last hospital visit. Less gaunt, more full in the cheeks.

But at the same time, Gram had lied. Looked White in the eyes multiple times and lied through his teeth, probably knowing full well that he’d be losing his mind worrying about where his brother was.

“Why the hell didn’t you say anything?” Sean asked, sounding just as irritated as White felt. Gram’s expression darkened.

“If either or both of you are about to get on my ass about not telling you he was here, fucking think again.” He hissed. “He lied to my face for months pretending to be Black– and you,” he turned to Sean, “Knew who he was for however fucking long you’ve known and didn’t tell us either. So I’d reconsider getting all fucking angry on me for being a liar.”

“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been about him?” White asked agitatedly, “He was in a coma for months and then just up and vanishes! I didn’t know where he was for nearly two weeks!”

Gram stared at him like he’d grown three heads, or like he’d never heard anything more outrageous in his fucking life. In fact, if looks could kill, White would be fearing for his life right about now. He barked out a laugh, though it was devoid of any real humour.

“You were worried?” He asked, eyes wide. “You? I’ve been wondering where he was for fucking months, White. So, tell me, how the fuck did you think I felt, huh? When you showed up, pretending to be him? How do you think I felt when he turned up at my door in a hospital gown? When I found out you were working with that motherfucker Todd, huh?!”

“W– What?” White felt faint. “You’ve… known? This whole time?”

“Yeah, I’ve known.” Gram spat. “You do a shit impression of Black, by the way. Took me less than a couple fucking days to realise who you were.”

“Hold on– what the hell, dude?” Sean stepped forwards, putting a hand on Gram’s shoulder. He was roughly shrugged off, but it didn’t deter him. “How the fuck did you know? Why didn’t you tell any of us?” Gram was quiet for a second or two. His eyes strayed to where Black slept, and White couldn’t help noticing how they softened once on him. It reminded White of… well, of how Sean would look at him.

“He mentioned White, once.” Gram explained, a little less heated now but still on edge. “It was his birthday, and he was way too drunk for his own good. Mentioned something about a little brother and how he hated birthdays without him.” White gripped Black’s hand a little tighter. Me too, Black. “At first I thought it was some weird fucking prank, I don’t know… I thought maybe he’d spent a few days catching up with you and decided to fuck with us all by having you pretend to be him for a day before introducing you properly. I thought it was kind of funny so I went along with it. But then a day turned into a week, and suddenly it wasn’t a fucking joke anymore, because no one seemed to notice anything was wrong; you had his phone, all his clothes, his tattoo, his piercings. It all seemed too much.”

"And you kept that to yourself, because…?" Sean prompted. The softness left Gram’s gaze as he turned back on Sean.

"Because clearly the rest of you didn't care to notice in the first place! You were so wrapped in this 'new' and 'improved'," He scowled so deeply on that word it was a wonder his face managed to escape the expression at all, "Black. I tried to tell you all something was fucking wrong but no one wanted to hear it. So I decided I'd find him on my fucking own and look– I did.”

Well, he found me, but fuck the semantics.

White just… stared at him in shock. Processing everything he was saying.

“You seriously figured it out the first day I came here?” He asked. “I thought Black had just, like– I don’t know, I thought you knew because he was here! That he’d told you when he got back!” Gram rolled his eyes.

“You were like a lost puppy or something. You didn’t act at all like him. Wasn’t too hard to connect the dots.”

“You know about Todd, too?” Sean asked, in that voice he used when he was fending off a headache. “Literally how the hell do you know about him?” Gram rolled his eyes.

“White doesn’t take his secret phone calls very secretly.” He muttered. “And I got to hear all about him back when he and Black–” He cut himself off, grimacing again.

“Hang on–” White cut in, standing up. “‘That motherfucker, Todd?’ What do you mean by that?”

Gram narrowed his eyes at him.

“Has he seriously got you that far up his ass?” He asked, a little breathless. “Todd is the one who did this, dumbass!” He motioned to Black, passed out and injured in his bed. The responding, dumbfounded silence only prompted him to speak further. “That power hungry asshole got too big for his boots, and didn’t like that Black wasn’t going along with his shitty little plans! So he hired thugs to beat the fuck out of him, and now he’s got you up his sleeve as well!”

“What are you talking about?” White was near hysterical at this point. “Todd wouldn’t– he wouldn’t do that. You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh, I don’t?” Gram asked, stepping towards him. White got closer too, fully readying himself for a fight.

“No! You don’t!”

“Guys–” Sean tried to intervene, stepping between them slightly. Gram hip checked him out of the way, not hard enough to knock him into anything but enough to make him stumble a little. It only furthered White’s anger.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“You just can’t accept the fact you’re wrong, can you? That you got duped?” Gram asked, leaning down slightly to get in White’s face. He refused to back down, glowering.

“Why should I believe you?” White demanded, though his mind was racing with sudden glaring inconsistencies in Todd’s motivations and behaviour. He didn’t want to believe it– didn’t want to think that way of his childhood friend. But what Gram was saying was feasible, it made the most sense out of any other theory White had come up with since he assumed Black’s identity. He’d ruled out the gang as suspects ages ago, along with people like Eugene and Nuch, and Black seemed to have no one else close enough to him to either want to or have the means to hurt him. Realistically, the only person left was Todd.

Plus, deep down, White knew that with his connections, surely he could’ve found Black’s attacker in other ways anyways? Why would he need, or want White to pretend to be his brother?

“Because unlike you,” Gram spoke lowly, with such venom; a sort of hatred White had never heard from him. Admittedly, it sent a cold chill down his spine. “I actually know Black.”

Later, he’d probably be ashamed of how instantly he’d swung. The pure adrenaline and rage coursing through his body fuelling him in a way he’d never felt before. If not for Sean’s ridiculous reflexes, White didn’t doubt his fist would’ve connected cleanly with Gram’s cheek.

“Woah, woah– chill the fuck out, both of you!” Sean yelled, pushing White’s fist back and half stepping between them again. He put a hand on Gram’s chest as he surged forward, presumably to launch an attack of his own. Whipping his head back and forth between them, he kept a strong pressure on both White’s hand and Gram’s body, trying to discourage them from lunging for each other again.

Gram started spitting insults, which White responded to with bitter words of his own. Sean tried to talk over them, mediate the situation somewhat, but was drowned out by the hateful words they threw at each other. In the chaos, no one noticed Black stirring awake, blinking his eyes open and jolting upright in the bed.

The sudden movement, however, did catch their attention, and it was probably comical; the way they immediately silenced and turned to look at him at the same time.

Black blinked a bit of sleep out of his eyes. They first went to Gram, then Sean, and finally landed on White.

“What the fuck,” He muttered, voice gravelly from sleep. “Gram, am I having an out of body experience?”

Gram sputtered, seemingly unsure whether to laugh or not.

“N– No? That’s White.” He explained, Black’s consciousness apparently being enough for him to simmer down almost immediately. Like a dog. “Remember? He’s pretending to be you?” He took a step back from Sean, watching as Black stared vacantly at White’s deer in the headlights look.

“Huh.” Was all he said, nodding slowly. “Right.”

“Holy shit, how doped up is he?” Sean whispered, unable to help the grin stretching across his face. White slapped him on the arm, out of habit.

“Not enough, clearly, since he’s awake.” Gram sighed, crossing the distance between him and the bed to brush Black’s hair from his forehead. Surprisingly, he let him, not moving his gaze from the wall just past White’s head. “You in there or not?” It was the softest Gram had spoken since White and Sean had walked in. For a minute, the only response was a couple slow blinks. Then, finally, Black turned his head– not quite looking up at Gram, but more talking to his midsection than anything else.

“Make me food.” He demanded, with all the authority of an injured kitten. Gram huffed, smiling so softly and so genuinely it sent White reeling.

“Sure, just don’t fall back asleep.” He muttered, brushing through his hair a few more times before heading toward the kitchen, now fully ignoring Sean and White’s existence. The pair shared a look, prompting Sean to trail after Gram and White to hesitantly take a seat in front of his brother on the bed.

It seemed that, only then, did Black really realise who was sitting in front of him. White could see the moment it registered in his brain, when the fog cleared behind his eyes and– in a rare moment of vulnerability, he supposed– he smiled. Then he reached out, taking both of White’s hands in his own and squeezing.

“I would hug you,” He laughed, searching White’s face, trying to trace the years he’d missed, “But I can’t really raise my arms high enough.”

For whatever reason, that’s what broke him.

Within seconds he was a blubbering mess and all but throwing himself (mindful of his injuries, of course) at Black, clinging to his brother like he was a lifeline. Black gently wound his arms around White’s waist, mumbling reassurances into his ear.

“I was so worried, Black.” He clung tighter as he spoke between sobs, “Seeing you like that– and then you disappeared– I had no idea, I thought I might not ever get to speak to you again… I missed you so much, I can’t even begin to tell you–”

“I know, I know…” Black sighed, pressing his nose into the side of White’s head. “Me too. Missed you more than I thought I could.”

They sat like that, quietly basking in each other’s presence for however long it took Gram and Sean to make food. Could’ve been ten minutes, or thirty; White certainly wasn’t keeping track. At one point they pulled away long enough to rest their foreheads together, hands still linked, and White hadn’t felt such warmth in his chest for years. It was no surprise his brother’s absence had left a hole in his heart, but White supposed he got so used to it that feeling it being full again really put into perspective how truly empty he’d felt without Black. Now the absence of absence felt more foreign than his presence itself.

Gram and Sean eventually made their way back in– both carrying two bowls of ramen– and so White regretfully scooted back from his brother to make room for them on the bed. Sean settled next to him and Gram next to Black, laying one bowl in his lap and offering the second to White.

“Olive branch.” He explained, seeing White’s expression. Gently nudging the bowl against his hand, “Sorry, I was being kind of a dick.”

“So was I.” White sighed as he accepted the food, pointedly ignoring Sean’s proud face. “Sorry, too.”

Gram smiled, and while it didn’t quite reach his eyes, it was a start.

“Eat.” He said, taking the bowl handed to him by Sean. “We’re about to have like, three different exhausting conversations, and being hungry isn’t going to help.” Black snorted and mumbled agreements around a mouthful of noodles.

“Black, could you pick up an opioid habit?” Sean asked, watching him with unbridled wonder. “Maybe I’d enjoy your company more.”

“Shut th’ fu’k up.”

“If you choke on that, I’m not helping.” Gram warned, side eyeing Black as he ate at a frankly alarming pace. White poked at his food for a second or two. Black noticed.

“Whatever it is,” He started, jabbing the other end of his chopstick into White’s thigh between bites, “Just start asking. Someone’s got to get us going.”

“Have you been with Gram since you left the hospital?” He blurted out, trying his best to sound as non accusatory as possible. Gram bristled a little, regardless, but Black spoke before he was able to say anything.

“Yeah, I came straight here. I didn’t have the key to my place, plus it was further away. I didn’t intend on staying, but–”

“Yeah,” Gram laughed, “Dumbass thought I’d open my door to him looking like this, and all I’d do is give him a change of clothes and then let him go off to who knows where.”

“–Will you let that go already?” Black groaned, though Gram’s shit-eating grin very clearly said that no, he would not let it go. Not any time soon. “Anyways, I’ve been here since. Gram caught me up on what’s been going on, more or less.”

“My understanding of it anyways.” Gram pointed out, “Which is literally: Black goes missing, his twin brother replaces him and gets with Sean.”

“We’re gonna talk about that, by the way.” Black warned, sending daggers to a smug looking Sean. “Are men in Russia bad enough that they make him look appealing?”

“Just because you’re hurt doesn’t mean I won’t still hit you.” Sean smiled, ice cold.

“I could get you a pet rat.” Black offered, undeterred. “Basically the same thing.”

“Alright, alright. Stand down.” Gram put a hand on Black’s shoulder, gently guiding him backwards. White hadn’t even noticed when he’d started to lean closer– what the hell? “As hilarious as that fight is going to be, we’ve got other things to talk about first, remember?” He spoke as though he was bringing an unruly toddler down from a tantrum, and the comparison had White biting back a laugh. Gram’s hand rubbed circles into Black’s muscles, easing the tension. “You’re lucky I warned him about you two, and that he’s still half dosed up,” He stage whispered, turning to Sean and White as he did, “He was not happy hearing it the first time.”

Sean, despite his bravado, blanched.

“Still not fuckin’ happy.” Black hissed, though seemed to give up under Gram’s insistence, returning to his bowl of noodles. “Anyways, my turn. Why the fuck are you pretending to be me?”

White laughed nervously, feeling a sudden rush of cold air from Gram's direction. Yikes. It was weird– he’d rehearsed this explanation in his head a million times, but now he was here, and he was really going to have to talk it through, it felt nearly impossible. Like the words were getting caught in his throat and he didn’t know where to begin.

“Well… I got back to Thailand three or so months ago.” Black nodded, giving him his full attention. White tried to focus on him and no one else. “I was only here for a couple days when you got attacked.”

He paused, watching as Black turned what he was saying over in his head. The second it clicked, his face fell.

“You were in Thailand? When I got hurt?” He asked, sounding so small. Both Sean and Gram seemed to recoil in shock. “White–”

“I got taken to the hospital, afterwards. Though I knew what had happened.” Black was getting visibly agitated, so he reached over and took his hand, offering the most reassuring smile he could muster. “I’m okay now. We always were, right?” His brother gripped on tightly, nodding despite the tension in his jaw. “Todd heard somehow, I guess through Dad. He got in contact and told me you were– you… well you were dying.”

That phone call, those words… they haunted him to this day. The first news he’d heard of his brother in nearly a decade and it was that he was dying.

“I came and saw you, and you were– you were just laying there.” Fuck, why did he get emotional so easily? He hated how his voice wavered. “I wanted to know who hurt you. I wanted to stand up for you the way you always used to for me.”

“White…” Black muttered. He sniffled, determined to finish this train of thought before he was largely incoherent again. Sean’s hand came to rest on the small of his back, a welcome and comforting presence. Even Gram had lowered his hackles, now instead flitting his gaze nervously between the twins.

“Todd suggested I take your place. He told me you were involved with an illegal gang, and convinced me that maybe one of them would have a reason to hurt you. I thought it’d be easy– just wait for one of your friends to be surprised to see you walking around all fine.”

“Wait– you were using yourself as bait?” Gram asked. “You… you thought one of us had tried to kill Black, and decided to just walk into the fucking garage? With basically no plan?” White shrugged. In hindsight, yeah, it was a pretty shitty idea.

“Fuckin’ idiot.” Black sighed, though there was undeniable pride hidden in his voice.

“I figured out quickly that none of them were the ones to hurt you though. No one was shocked that you were around.”

“Only confused as to why he acted so weird.” Sean confirmed.

“Mm, he’s really shit at pretending to be you. For me, anyway.” Gram added.

“Thanks.” White cut in, dryly, making Black chuckle. “Anyways, by the time I’d ruled the gang out, I was… invested. I believed in what you guys fight for, and I didn’t want to just walk away before we can finish what we started. Plus, I still didn’t know who’d hurt you, and I figured that by hanging around the garage and the gang I’d find something out of place eventually…”

“Okay, wait– so…you’re not working for Todd?” Gram asked. Black, despite the obvious pain, thwacked him upside the head.

“No!” White exclaimed. “I seriously never even thought he could’ve been the one to hurt Black… we’ve all been friends since we were young, I had no reason to believe they were on bad terms!” Black rolled his eyes, and White tugged on his hand slightly. “What happened between you two?” He asked, already mentally planning the thirteen different ways he could twist each of Todd’s limbs to cause the most amount of pain possible. Black’s expression went dark, and the tension that had slowly left his jaw returned.

“They haven’t spoken in nearly a year.” Gram cut in, eyeing Black. He paused for a moment or two, allowing him to take over the explanation if he wanted. “Todd ended up being the same as most other trust fund baby rich kids, right?”

“More or less.” Black agreed. “He’s just a coward. Wants to hide in his penthouse and delude himself into thinking he’s doing good when in reality he’s just upholding the same social structure that divides us all. Got restless when he realised we were actually making changes, wanted to send a message or something by hurting me.”

“Like anything could stop you.” Gram huffed, fondly, carefully taking the now empty bowl from Black’s lap and moving it out of the way, alongside everyone else’s. “If you could be kicked down that easily, you’d have been dead a long time ago.” The words seemed to trouble him, but he smiled nonetheless.

“Mm.” Black agreed, staring down at where his and White’s hands were interlocked. Then, like he’d been shot, he jolted. Sat upright with a look of genuine panic in his eyes. “You– if you felt the attack, then… the doctors said–”

He didn’t need to go any further. White knew.

Reluctantly, he nodded.

“Twice, your heart stopped.” Vivid, painful memories flashed through his mind. Gram froze where he stood. Black’s eyes went wide.

“Fuck–” He suddenly wrenched his hand away, scooting back. “No– that means–”

“Black–”

“It stopped?” Gram asked from across the room, his words sharp yet so, so fragile.

“You felt it, didn’t you?” Black asked, his emotions indistinguishable. It was like he was on the precipice somewhere between sadness, guilt, and anger. “Your heart stopped, didn’t it?” White felt that familiar lump forming in his throat.

He nodded again.

“No–” Black seemed catatonic, a look of horror painted on his face. “White, you– fuck… fuck–”

“Wait, what?” Now Sean was getting involved, both he and Gram sharing looks of panic and confusion. “What the hell are you two talking about?”

“It’s okay.” White tried to take his hand again, only to feel his heart shatter when he pulled it away like he was burnt. “Black–”

“You shouldn’t have come back.” The words were like a knife in White’s gut. “You should’ve stayed in fucking… Russia, where you were safe–”

“Why would I want to stay in Russia?”

“So you could live your own goddamn life! So that me pissing people off and dying wouldn’t affect you! Fuck, I could’ve killed you, White!”

“Your death would’ve affected me either way!”

“At least it wouldn’t have fucking killed you–”

“You think I’d want to live if you were dead?”

Silence. All eyes on him.

“White–”

“Bond or not, I would’ve died when you died.” White said, firm. “The second I heard. I wouldn’t have… all that kept me going was the idea I’d see you again someday. If you died, either of those times, and I was still in Russia I– I would’ve–”

“Don’t say it.” Black whispered, defeated. And it was then that White knew; knew that he felt the same. That despite how much he wanted to yell at White for that line of thinking, for ever even considering something as stupid as that… he couldn’t.

“And don’t even think about trying to convince me to leave, or to go back to Dad, or Russia, or wherever the fuck.” White finished, “I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere no matter how hard you try.” Black shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Ah… how do you still know me so well?” He muttered, finally lifting his gaze again. A glint of mirth in his eyes. “Stubborn bastard.” White smiled.

“I love you too.”

“Adorable, really,” Sean waved his hands in front of their faces, transforming Black’s smile into a scowl. “But what the fuck are you two talking about? White, your heart stopped because Black’s stopped?”

“Black, your heart stopped?” Gram echoed. The twins both sighed.

Here we go…

They explained their bond– how it worked, how their parents separated them due to it, to a rapt audience. Gram seemed a little less concerned than Sean, and White supposed Black had told him the broad strokes already. Sean was absolutely beside himself learning he’d walked in seconds after White had basically experienced cardiac arrest and hadn’t been told or allowed to help. Gram was nearly flying off the walls with a mix of despair and rage upon hearing how much more injured Black had been than he’d been led to believe. It took Black about ten minutes and a lot of coaxing to get Gram to sit back down and chill out a little.

“You–” Gram grabbed Black’s hand that was closest. He used his free one to cup the back of his head, pulling him close so their foreheads pressed together. “–Are the most emotionally exhausting person I have ever had the misfortune of being around. What the fuck?”

Both Sean and White went still. Touching Black like that was a bit like touching a feral cat. Dangerous and inadvisable.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Black deadpanned, not even flinching at the proximity. Their noses bumped as Gram tilted his head.

“Well, every time I try to say something nice you hit me.”

“Because you’re gross.”

“How is telling my boyfriend that I love him gross?”

Sean and White’s jaws dropped at the same time.

“It just is.”

“Black,” He cooed, “I love you.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I loved you for so long. You know I still can’t believe I get to be with you like this?”

“You’ve said that before. Now you’re just being unoriginal.”

“I’m saying it again because it’s still true, my darling.”

Black slapped Gram hard on the chest, though neither made any attempt to move away from each other. Sean gripped White’s thigh like a lifeline, and one look at his face showed he was mere seconds away from a mental breakdown.

“You’re disgusting.” Black muttered.

“You love me too.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Say it.”

“No.”

“I love you so much, Black.”

“Fuck. Off.”

“I’m not letting go until you say it back.” The grip on the back of Black’s head tightened.

Black sighed. Long, drawn out, and sufferingly. Gram only grinned in response. Sean and White exchanged confused, concerned looks.

“You… are okay sometimes.” Gram raised a quizzical eyebrow. “... Most of the time.”

There was a moment or two of hesitation before he nodded, diving in for the quickest peck on the lips White had ever seen before finally pulling back. He had the biggest, dopiest grin on his face. How had he ever been even slightly intimidated by him? Or convinced he was ‘highly dangerous’? Gram was just a big, dumb lovesick puppy.

They gazed at each other in silence for a few seconds as Sean and White tried to compartmentalize and process what ever the fuck had just happened in front of them. Sean was the first to reach acceptance.

“I never thought I’d see anyone look at Black like that.” He shuddered, “Makes me sort of sick. What spell has he got you under, man?”

“Love spell.” Gram replied almost instantly, twisting his body out the way of the reflexive smack to his side. “See! Look what he’s like, I can’t be nice!” He instantly complained.

“There’s less gross ways to be nice.” Black hissed, in spite of the way his cheeks coloured. Not to mention the fondness and love White suddenly felt for Gram down the bond– damn, his brother had it bad.

Speaking of–

“Wait, how long has this been a thing?” He asked, motioning between them. Gram hummed.

“A year and a half?” He said, a little unsure. “We both have different start dates for the relationship.”

“‘Cos this idiot didn’t realise we were dating till like two months in.” Black nodded. Gram’s responding huff said that this was an ongoing issue.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for not realising that you kissing me once when we were both half-asleep and then never bringing it up again for two months meant we were dating.”

White stared at Black, unimpressed. His brother just shrugged.

“A year and a half? So you’ve been dating in secret?” Sean asked, leaning his weight onto his hand. “Damn. Didn’t think Gram had it in him.”

“What the hell, man! We literally hid it so well that the guy pretending to be Black even had no idea!”

“That’s– Yeah, hang on, that’s a point–” Sean turned to White. “You literally had his phone and free access to his apartment. How did you not know?”

“Gram’s contact wasn’t even in the phone!” White defended, a little shrill. “And Black owns like, two shirts and a paperclip!”

“You don’t have my contact saved?” Gram asked, a little hurt.

“Deleted it and any trace of you a few days before I got attacked.” Black rubbed at his forehead. “I felt that Todd was going to do something, just didn’t know what. I didn’t want him getting my phone and deciding to use you against me.” The way Gram positively melted on the spot at those words was cartoonish. White suddenly really understood what Sean had said earlier– those love drunk eyes directed at his brother felt wrong. “Also, not true. I own like, three pieces of decor.”

“Two of which are in this apartment currently.” White pointed out.

“They’re what?”

“Nothing.” Gram said, with all the innocence of a kid who’d been caught knee deep in the proverbial cookie jar. Black was either too doped up or too tired to care, though.

“You’re impossible.” He muttered White’s way.

“You’re dating Gram.” White replied.

“You’re dating Sean.” Black shot back, full of disgust.

“Oi!”

Gram laughed– light and airy.

“Well, maybe now you better understand how I figured you out so easily.” He wagged his finger at White. The hostile, prickly demeanour from earlier had been completely replaced with his usual friendliness. It seemed as though only a little bit of attention and contact from Black had distracted him from being mad at White for the whole pretending to be his brother thing. Disgustingly cheesy? Sure. But Sean was just as distracting to White, (they don’t talk about the time they got so wrapped up in each other they absolutely forgot it was a Monday and they, in fact, had classes to attend) so he couldn’t fault him too much.

“Yeah, I guess it was probably confusing when I acted as though you and Black weren’t dating…”

“If you’d fake dated my boyfriend, I would’ve killed you.” Black said, as menacing as he could whilst he squinted his eyes at the light like a newborn kitten. Gram put a hand out to shield them– despite some protests and multiple adamant ‘I can take care of myself, asshole’ adjacent phrases from Black.

“Never said that you couldn’t, but I do think it’s time for the coma patient to go back to sleep.” Was the gist of the reply. It was phrased more as an order than a suggestion, especially with the way Gram was basically manhandling Black back under the bedsheets, again, despite an obvious amount of struggle. Sean and White stood back to allow them some room, unable to help the way they chuckled at the, frankly, ridiculous situation unfolding in front of them. Battered and bruised Black refusing with a vigour to just get back in bed even when he was clearly starting to feel the strain of being up and cognisant for too long, all whilst Gram tried to balance enough force to keep him down and enough gentleness to not hurt him further. Accompanied by squabbling, too.

“It’s sort of nice,” Sean whispered to White underneath all the yelling, “Seeing someone mother hen Black like that. If it were anyone else, I think they’d be dead right now.”

White watched, amused, as Gram tightly tucked the corners of the bedsheets and gave Black an exaggerated kiss on the forehead. He got a middle finger in return, which only made his smile glow brighter.

“Oh, six feet under. For sure.” White agreed. “He didn’t even let our actual mother tuck him into bed like that.”

“I can fucking hear you.” Black grumbled.

“Please don’t provoke the beast,” Gram laughed, “I’ve just settled it.”

“I can still fucking hear you!”

“Shhh…” Gram placed his hands over Black’s ears, “There’s no one here, go to sleep.”

His brother thrashed about for a little longer before his exhaustion seemed to properly overtake him, and his limbs went limp. Gram ducked to check his face, then nodded.

“No way he’s out already?” Sean asked.

“He goes down easy.” Gram explained, a little prideful, removing his hands and doing one final adjustment of the pillows and bedsheets before stepping away. “Whether it’s the head trauma or the meds is yet to be determined.”

“Do you think we should take him to a hospital?” White asked, unable to keep the concern from his voice. Gram gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I’ve tried, trust me. If we put him in another hospital he’d just walk out again somehow… and I don’t know if he’d come back to me after that. I’d rather him be here where I can watch over him and know he’s safe.”

A beat.

“You really love him, huh?” Sean asked softly. Both grateful and confused. Gram shrugged.

“Wouldn’t you want the same for White?”

Sean went quiet. Gram took that as his answer.

Two hours ago, White intended on storming into Gram’s apartment and extricating his brother under no uncertain terms. Now, though, seeing the way he spoke of and treated him… well, the reality was that his perception of Gram had been warped in a way. Their friendship had been born on a foundation of deceit and distrust– so it was no wonder that he’d come to know Gram as cold, distant and untrustworthy. Seeing him now, like this, and being able to speak to him freely as White with no walls separating them, it felt as though he was finally getting to see the Gram he’d heard his brother had been so fond of.

It was like meeting a whole new person. He was brighter, livelier, warmer. The perfect accompaniment to Black’s stormy nature.

“Gram?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you. For looking after him.” It was a loaded statement, and Gram’s heavy gaze told him he understood the weight behind the words. Not just thank you for the week, but for the years Gram had been by his side when White couldn’t be. For caring about him just that little bit extra. For loving him enough to notice when something was different. For not giving up on him when he was difficult. For seeing the person hidden underneath layers of barbed words and cold gazes.

“Always.” He replied. “It’s my honour.”