Xin Hua's body had been discovered floating in a river the next town over by county police. Stepping forward to claim it was out of the question, and Miss Miriam was not one for the sentimental, so the death hung over the rest of the House like a pall, smothering the halls and rooms. People spoke quietly and moved like floorboards would crack under the stress.

The retrieval team came back empty handed. Flower had refused to return home, knowing Xin Hua would not be there. She had played her part exceptionally well, and had convinced the Ocahame House Boss to let her in for another job. However, she did pass on some choice information.

The attack that caused Xin Hua's death had been launched by Eiro forces. Whether or not they were sent to kill or rescue Oliver was unclear, but once this came to light, most members of the Yelkcots House gave Fukase and Oliver a wide berth, their gazes brittle with resentment. They spoke Fukase's name with a sneer, like they were really spitting out a curse word.

Oliver ignored it all with a steadfast determination. He had enough in his mind already. Even though his thinking was dominated by Fukase, this morning, as he lay in bed facing his savior, he couldn't help his wandering thoughts.

She was just so still.

"Oliver, meet Rin."

She sat up in bed, staring straight ahead. Dull blond hair and sunken cheeks, empty eyes and emanating silence. A puppet with its strings cut. Still. So, so still.

"Hello..." Oliver let go of Fukase's hand and grabbed his arm instead. He didn't know what to expect when Fukase lead him to the upstairs bedrooms of the House to introduce him to someone, but this certainly wasn't it.

"She was a lot like you, a long time ago. Her power was too great. She was imprisoned alone and only saw one person, and she became so closely attached, that when...." Fukase trailed off, then continued. "When that person left, she broke."

Broke. Oliver couldn't tear his eyes away from Rin. She broke. Was he broken? Was he breaking?

"She's been in an unresponsive, almost catatonic state all year." Fukase spoke in a resigned tone. "She can't do anything by herself. We have to help her eat, drink, bathe, change clothes, exercise, absolutely everything."

She sat so still. The only thing indicating she was alive was the slow rhythmic movements of her chest and occasional blinks. To think that this girl, Rin, had once been full of life, of energy, of power, like him...

"Oliver, do you ever want to live like that?"

She was so, so still.

"No." Oliver turned away, shaking his head. "I don't."

Fukase didn't need to say anything else. Oliver had made his resolve. The Lectrinn Effect would not get the better of him.

"We'll work together," said Fukase. "Hopefully, in time, you won't have to be scared anymore. You'll be able to live without me."

He would not break.

But how could this be described as breaking?

There was no other place he felt safer than in Fukase's arms. He simply held Oliver close, secure, never trying to kiss him, or even look at his face. If Oliver could wake up every day like that, he wouldn't mind being—

He forced himself to sit up, careful not to disturb Fukase. Fukase was making an effort to break the Lectrinn between them. It would go to waste if Oliver didn't try to do the same.

Yet still, deep down, guilt had its claws stuck deep. Oliver didn't want to move on. He didn't want to break the Lectrinn binding them together. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't want the warm, safe feeling to go away.

He slowly got out of bed, ignoring the trembling in his hands. The floorboards were cool underneath his bare feet as he crossed to the room's door. He touched the back of his neck, finding it cold since Luka had cut his hair short. She was the only House member who still spoke to them on a regular basis.

It had been a busy week. Everyone was trying to take on as much work as possible to make things feel normal again. Most of the House members were out on patrols, searching for Lectrinn users in the city, so the place was almost empty. Luka and Yuu has been sent on a mission in another country along with someone else Oliver didn't know. Fukase stayed with him.

Oliver looked back at Fukase's still sleeping form. Together they were breaking the threads that connected them, one by one.

Oliver planned to go to the kitchen and start making breakfast for Fukase before he woke up, to show that he could do something all by himself. But as he walked down the stairs, he felt the anxiety building in his chest. What if something happened? What if he was hurt? What if Fukase disappeared when he was away? What if, what if, what if.

He could feel the horrid threat of emptiness like a shadow wrapping around his ankles. He put his hand on the banister, but didn't go back up the steps.

What if everything turned out fine?

He could do this. He would do this.

He had been taking steps on his own lately and Fukase had told him so many times how proud he was. Oliver knew he could do this. He turned his back to the stairs.

Down the hall in the kitchen, he looked around, and only then did he realize he didn't know the first thing about cooking. What did Fukase usually eat for breakfast? Toast. Eggs?

Oliver padded around the kitchen, looking in cupboards and the refrigerator and moving things around and generally not getting anything done. He couldn't even find the toaster, much less the bread. The eggs were too delicate. The stove was intimidating. The kitchen was too small, too big, and too much.

"There you are."

Oliver jumped and rushed to meet Fukase with a hug. He didn't say anything, just buried his face in Fukase's chest as a soft greeting.

"I woke up and you were gone." Fukase gently hugged Oliver back. "I worried for a moment."

"Ah!" Oliver stepped away, wringing his hands. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry. I won't do that again. I'm really sorry."

"That's okay." Fukase rubbed the top of Oliver's head. "It's good you want to do things by yourself. Were you going to make something to eat?"

Oliver gave a halfhearted glance about the kitchen. "I was, but I don't know where to start."

"Then it's a good thing I do," Fukase said, rolling up his sleeves.

In no time, Oliver was inserting bread into the toaster while Fukase beat together eggs and milk in a bowl. The house sat silent like a kitchen was a bubble anomaly. As the toast popped up, Oliver took it out and gingerly buttered one side.

"Fukase?" Oliver started.

"Yes?" Fukase set aside his bowl and began to chop a green pepper.

"Um, can I ask you a question?" Oliver placed the toast slices onto the two plates Fukase had set next to the stove.

"Of course."

Oliver's question came out hesitant and small, like he was preparing to take back the words at a moment's notice. "What... What did you look like? Before?"

Fukase lifted the knife to cut another slice, but his hand stopped in the air. "It doesn't matter." The knife fell. "Xin Hua can't give me my old face back, so I might as well forget what I used to look like. Will you pour some water for us?" He pointed. "The glasses are in that cupboard there."

Oliver nodded and quickly filled two glasses with tap water, placing them next to the plates. He folded his hands, then unfolded them as he spoke again.

"What about your name?" This question sounded even more hesitant and small. "Is it really Fukase?"

"It doesn't matter." He slid the peppers off the cutting board and into the hot oil in the frying pan. A crackle filled the air, then died to a soft sizzle with a sharp odor.

Oliver couldn't think of what to say, and folded his hands again. He could almost hear the thin ice fracturing beneath his feet.

"I love you, Fukase," Oliver ventured out.

Fukase sighed deeply and added the beaten eggs to the pan. Another crackle. His pushed-up sleeves slipped back down his arms.

"Oliver. Can I tell you something?"

Thousands of different ways the scenario could play out ran through Oliver's head, but he forced himself to ignore them and be present in the moment. "Anything."

"You asked me once if I had a Lectrinn ability, and I told you no." Fukase stirred the eggs.

Oliver nodded. He remembered that.

"Well, that was only slightly true,"
Fukase continued. "While I don't have an ability now, I did have one in the past. Miss Miriam Locked it when we met. It was called Delete. I—"

Fukase paused a long time. The eggs sizzled in the pan. Oliver began to wonder if he should fill the silence before Fukase went on.

"Anything I touched with my bare hands was erased from existence," Fukase said carefully. "Anything. It manifested seven years ago and I was never able to control it. Miss Miriam saved me from myself. My... My family wasn't so lucky."

His eyes strayed to his hands. "They're dead because of me." They snapped back to the frying pan. "But Miss Miriam gave me a new start. A place to live. A job to do. Purpose when I was falling to despair. That's why I can never go against her. I owe her my life. I've tried to make her see from our point of view, to Lock your ability too, but she won't listen."

Oliver folded his arms, hugging himself.

"I'm telling you this because—" Fukase whipped around to speak directly to Oliver, but his sleeve caught the frying pan's handle and pulled it off the stove. Oliver jumped backwards to avoid the steaming pieces of egg and pepper bouncing out of the pan, and Fukase hit his hand on the hot stove. He yelled and his flailing arm knocked the two glasses of water to the floor.

"Fukase!" Oliver started towards him, but halted. Bits and shards of glass littered the wet floor, along with what was supposed to be their breakfast.

Fukase thrust his burned hand into the sink, yanking the handle to get cold water. Oliver scanned the wound without thinking. A first-degree burn. Superficial. Time limit of eight months and eleven days, give or take. He firmly shook his head to clear it.

What mattered now was the glass that sparkled on the floor. He would have to clean it up so Fukase didn't hurt himself more.

"Where's the broom?" he forced out, staying where he was. What he wanted was to walk right across the cutting shards to make sure the burn wasn't serious, even though his power had already shown him it wasn't.

"Laundry room," Fukase replied through gritted teeth. He shot a shaky smile over his shoulder. "It's okay, Oliver. I'm fine. It was just an accident. Can you get the broom by yourself?"

Oliver bit his lip. Even when Fukase was hurt, he always thought of Oliver's well-being too. He nodded and hurried to the laundry room. Spying the broom handle leaning between the washing machine and the wall, he reached for it.

A scream came from the kitchen, followed by a dull thud. He instantly forgot the broom.

"Fukase! Are you okay?" Oliver ran back to the kitchen, his feet slipping on the floor. "What happened? Fuka—"

A man stood in the kitchen, wiping down a knife with a handkerchief, but it wasn't Fukase. Because Fukase was crumpled on the floor, gasping and twitching. The image of Luka's snapped neck and Fukase's bleeding arm burst up in Oliver's mind and he gasped. A metallic spider jumped off of Fukase's body and skittered up the man's leg, folding itself into a capsule in his pale hand. The intruder focused his scarlet gaze on Oliver, who froze.

"Hio?"

Oliver slapped his hand over his mouth immediately after the name slipped out, like saying it made the situation more real.

"There you are." Hio sighed in relief. "I thought she would have hidden you away somewhere, but here you are, coming straight to me." He shook his head. "Still so naive, my cute little Oliver."

"Get... Get out," Fukase wheezed. The broken glass had cut him when he had fallen, making beads of blood on his face and hands. "Find Miriam!"

"No." The word slipped out. Oliver's body had stopped working, his mind screaming at him to run, to get away, get away, but his heart wouldn't let him move. Suddenly, Oliver placed the metallic spider. It was a poison carrier. Fukase gasped in pain, struggling to form more words.

"Now, aren't you going to say hello to your big brother?" Hio held out his arms, as if he expected Oliver to give him a hug. "Come here, won't you? I want to see if my little Ollie's grown any taller."

"I'm not yours!" Oliver's hands tightened into fists. The House had finally felt safe, but no longer. Hio ruined everything. Oliver's voice cracked as he yelled, "Leave us alone!"

"Shouting isn't going to help anyone, Oliver. You know why I'm here." Hio calmly shut off the sink faucet, which had been forgotten in the moment. "I saw the garden outside. Your power needs to be contained, you could hurt someone."

"You're wrong! I know how to control my Lectrinn. And..." Oliver lifted his chin. "And I'm not scared of you anymore."

"Oh really?" Hio raised an eyebrow and took a step, his boots crunching on the broken glass. "Then why are you trembling? Why are you moving away?"

Oliver's back hit the wall. His mouth opened to reply, but nothing came out.

"You say you're not scared of me? We both know the truth." Hio walked closer, his voice frightfully even and controlled. "But you don't have to be scared anymore. I'm here to help you."

"Get away!" Oliver screeched, lashing out. Hio halted only for a heartbeat before continuing to inch forward.

"Oliver, there are tears in your eyes," he whispered. "You know I hate it when you cry."

Oliver cringed in fear as Hio stood directly in front of him. "Please... Please, don't..."

"Here, let me." Hio wiped away the tears with his thumb, then cupped Oliver's cheek with his hand. "You need to come back home, Ollie. It isn't safe for you to be here. You're too naive, too young to realize what's happening."

"Don't touch me."

"Shh... Oliver. All I want is to help," Hio said, running his hand through Oliver's hair and leaning in close. "Miriam and her thieves, they're awful people. They're brainwashing you every moment you spend with them."

"You're wrong." Oliver refused to look Hio in the eye. "I'm not leaving. I'm never going back."

"You are, and you know it. Listen to me when I say I know what's best for you. You'll never be able to live a normal life, Oliver. You know that." He straightened. "After all, you've killed a girl."

"Shut up! Stop talking!" Oliver pressed his hands over his ears. The smell of burnt hair and sweat, the sound of ripped duct tape. "I didn't! I didn't do it!"

"You're not well, Oliver. You could hurt yourself. Ann believed you're dangerous and wanted to get rid of you." Hio's eyes flashed. "I'm the only one who actually cares about you. Ann sent me to kill you, understand?"

Oliver choked on his own breath. Ann wanted him dead. His own mother. He knew she never felt as other people, never loved or laughed or cried, but having the small relationship he did have crushed so thoroughly hit him like a punch to the gut.

"But I won't. She crossed a line." Hio's tone softened, sweetened. "Don't worry Oliver, I made sure she'll never hurt you again. Do you understand what I'm saying?" He grinned. "You can come home, Oliver! I killed her! Ann is dead."

"I wish you were dead!" Oliver yelled, and struck Hio across the face. Immediately Hio's fingers wrapped around his wrist, wrenching his arm so hard it hurt.

"Hey, we're family, Ollie." Hio's grip tightened, causing Oliver to gasp. "Family means we don't hit each other."

"Let go!" Oliver twisted and struggled to free himself. "You murderer!"

"I'm not the only murderer here!" Hio's expression grew frantic. "Neither of us had a choice! It wasn't my fault!"

"I'm not a murderer," Oliver growled through a knot in his throat. "And you had a choice."

"I do now." Hio forced Oliver across the dirty kitchen tiles and threw him down next to Fukase. Oliver flung out his hands to catch himself and glass pierced his palms as he hit the ground hard. Tears blurred his vision. Fukase's eyes were no longer open and his breathing was erratic.

"Go ahead. Undo his wounds. But if you do, you're agreeing to come home with me. If you don't want to cooperate, I'll just kill him and take you home by force. This is my choice, and now it's yours. You know what to do, Oliver." Hio took several steps back. "Heal him."

Oliver hesitated. It's a trap. He knows it. And yet Fukase might be left alone if he obeys. But God he was so scared. Where was Miss Miriam? Why hadn't any of the other House members come to help? Had they not heard the struggle? Had Hio gotten to them first?

"Don't you want to come home?" Hio's voice oozed concern, sympathy, and pure avarice. "I can protect you. All I ever wanted was to protect you."

Oliver sucked in a thin breath, and shakily let it out. Every single word out of Hio's mouth was a lie, and yet his brother said them with such honesty in his voice. It shook Oliver to the core.

"You'll have a home here until the end of time, if you promise me." Miriam's rings dug into his hands once more. "Unless I tell you to, you will not use your power for anything. For anybody. For any reason."

But Fukase wasn't anyone.

Oliver was no longer afraid.

He placed his hands on Fukase. He could feel the life draining away as his blood smeared on his clothes.

Looking over the wound, he assessed the damage in one glance. A stab wound to the side. It hit nothing major and was shallow, only fatal if he lost too much blood or it became infected. The main concern was the poison injected at the same spot. It needed to be removed immediately. He couldn't identify what it was, but judging by Fukase's violent shaking and the bluish tinge to his skin, it couldn't be ignored.

Oliver grabbed the air above the wound with his fists and pulled, willing the stabbing to be undone, for the poison to exit, to unenter. A heartbeat later and Fukase was unconscious on the floor, never have been stabbed in the first place. Unstabbed, you could say.

Oliver felt the injury convert into blast damage and he kept it buzzing in his fingertips, where it could stay for the approximate time limit of six days and eighteen hours.

Then the poison converted. Its toxins struck like metal crushing his brain, fire rushing through his veins. A time limit of less than twenty minutes. The buzzing built into an unbearable itching across his arms and back, throbbing in his fingers like they were burning.

Oliver was acutely aware of his brother standing in the doorway. There was no plan in his head other than the only action he could take that could buy him some time.

He stood, opened his palm, and shoved it out in Hio's direction. Even before his hand struck Hio's chest, Oliver knew he had made a mistake.

His brother hadn't even attempted to dodge.

Hio smiled, but it was full of pity.

"I hoped you wouldn't do that."

The blast damage backfired. Oliver felt the pain as if the knife had buried itself in his own flesh. He screamed in shock and pain, clutching his side and staggering to the right, only dimly aware of Hio in front of him as the pain flooded his system and threatened to take him under. How. How?!

"I had to develop a new type of Screen just to safeguard against you, Oliver," Hio whispered to him. "You're a danger to others, and yourself. Can't you see that? All I want is to help you. To take care of you."

Oliver could feel the poison as it grabbed hold of his consciousness, numbing his limbs and blurring his vision. His mouth tasted like copper as coldness and muffled fear took over, a static in his ears.

"If you had just come with me, you wouldn't be in this situation right now. Honestly, Oliver. It's embarrassing how stupid you are."

The tears came and Oliver let himself sob as his body ignited with hurt and the poison assaulted his nerves. Every sense was rebelling against him.

Hio scooped him up and cradled him in his arms. "Oh, shh. It's okay. Your big brother's here. We're going home. You'll have the antidote in no time"

The last thing Oliver saw before the poison stole his sight was Fukase

opening his eyes.

Hio drew his handgun and shot Fukase in the head.

Oliver felt the bullet bury itself in his gut.

Lectrinn snapped and broke, not with the delicate precision of the past weeks, but with a heartless fervor bordering on insanity. The strands didn't leave, severed, but tangled and shriveled and died where they were, leaving nothing but dead bodies between Oliver and his savior. A careful bond transformed to a corpse.

Oliver felt himself lifting away from the earth. By the time the roaring echo of the gunshot faded from the room, he had disappeared, leaving behind an empty shell. A puppet with its strings cut. Still. So, so still.

A boy with silver hair sauntered into the room with a skateboard tucked under one arm. He jerked his head towards the door. "Just so you know, there's a huge-ass plot hole right in the middle of you guys' living room. Like, Hell, man, you should put a rug over it or something."

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