A/N This is a short chapter because I had to write and rewrite it many times, and eventually I just decided to cut out all the parts of it I didn't like, and this is all that was left over.

James was greated with a large hug the second he entered the house. "Where were you? You didn't tell me you had afternoon plans". Over her shoulder, James could see the stack of boxes that had been there this morning, nothing unpacked. It was awful, learning his prediction of her actions was wrong. She hadn't been unpacking by herself as she waited for him, but worrying over his absence. The thought made him hug her a little tighter.

"I'm sorry," James apologized. "Tyler took me to get coffee and I thought it was a good time to give him Ace's letter. I should have let you know before had".

"No," she said, pulling away from the hug and resting her hands on his arms instead. "It's alright. I trust you". Her smile was tired but warm, and James wanted to hug her again. "How did everything with Tyler go?"

"Good. He didn't talk much about how he felt about Ace, but he talked to me about how I felt, which was an improvement. Still, I don't think he's going to be reading that letter anytime soon".

"That's alright". His mother moved away from him, but continued to speak, so he followed. "You remember how long it took each of us to read our own, right?" She lead him into the kitchen, and then poured him a glass of tea from the kettle on the stove.

"I remember," he agreed, sliding into one of the wooden bar stools at the peninsula. The chairs were yet another complementary item from the Bradford family, who seemed determined to assure the Anders had an expensively furnished house.

It had taken James nearly a month to open the letter his brother had sent him. He had felt he needed that time to prepare to read the words, but in the end it hadn't really mattered. It had hurt just as much as it would had if he'd read it directly after his brothers death.

Still, he hadn't told Tyler this, afraid it would completely sway his grieving friend from ever reading the letter, fearing the pain. James knew the importance of the words his brother had written before his death, and knew the sense of closure and acceptance they would eventually bring to Tyler, just as they had brought to him.

It was his brothers letter that made James stop believing that he should have been the one to die.

"Just be there for him when reads it, alright? He's going to need you." James nodded, because of course he would be there for Tyler. They were best friends, and that's what bestfriends were for. With a smile, his mother poured herself a steaming cup of tea before joining him on the other side of the peninsula, pushing herself up onto her toes to be able to sit on the stool next to him. "So how was school then?"

With raised eyebrows, James regarded his mother. It was strange to him, her looking at him with such interest and intent after asking what he thought were with dull questions. They were the kinds of questions that used to be asked over dinner with half interest, or during commercial breaks while watching television. It was just another reminder of all that had changed.

Back in Florida, a few months before, right when they were starting to push back the grief of Ace's loss and continue with their lives, James had heard his parents talking about the change they were going to make in parenting. He had been awake to use the bathroom when he'd picked up on their voices from their bedroom, speaking softly back and forth. "It's too late for us to be better parents to Ace, but we still have time with James, and we should make the most out of it," his mother had said. It was the first time that James heard her mention the death of his brother without the sound of tears in her voice. "We can't miss out on letting him know how much we love and care about him. I never want him to think that we don't care".

The memory brought a tight feeling to James's throat that he forced back with a big swallow of tea. It meant a lot to him, this shift in his parents, even though it meant he sometimes received more attention from them than he wanted. For a while, after he had been forced out of the closet, the tension between them had made him doubt that they truly accepted him, that they truly cared, but the newfound interest in his day to day life effectively silence those doubts. Of course, they still rarely discussed his sexuality up front, but he understood that their silence about the topic had more to do with their acceptance of him than their distaste for his preference.

Him and his mother had been discussing Taylor when she had explained their mindset about the whole thing. "Heterosexual kids don't need to talk to their parents about their sexuality, so we don't want to make you feel like you have to talk to us about your homosexuality. It doesn't matter. You're still James".

"School was fine," James finally responded, smiling at her over his drink. "It was pretty uneventful, but the food was wonderful".

She laughed softly. "Tyler mentioned that to me many times when you were getting ready this morning. I'm glad he wasn't lying. How was your chemistry class".

"Great," James answered, thinking about Kalen and his golden eyes. "I really like my teacher. I think I'll learn a lot".

"That's nice," she offered, her eyes dropping briefly to his sweater vest. "How do you feel about the uniforms? They look very nice".

"Ah". James dropped his chin to peer down at himself before blowing out a huff of air. "They get hot at times, but other than that, I don't mind it".

"Navy makes your eyes look more blue," she claimed. "It's looks very handsome". James rolled his eyes then, and his mother laughed softly, seeming pleased that she could still embarrass her son. "Do you think anyone noticed?"

"Mom," James groaned, shooting her a look. Talking about boys was something James literally never wanted to do with his parents, no matter how much either of them— mostly his mother— pushed. "No".

"Is that a yes?" His mother continued to tease, her eyebrows raising playfully. With a huff, James shook his head. "So it's not a yes?"

"No mom". James couldn't help but to chuckle at her persistence. "No one noticed".

"I'm sure someone did. Maybe you just didn't notice them noticing". For a split second, James considered telling her all that Tyler had told him, about the people who would make his life difficult if they ever learned of his sexuality, but he decided against it. His mother knew best the stress and fear James had gone through before he came out back in Florida. If she knew he was struggling with a similar situation that could possibly inflict this same emotions, she would do anything in her power to stop it. If she found out, James was worried she'd make him move schools and leave Tyler behind.

He just hummed in response to her, which made her grin and nudge him with her elbow.

They didn't unpack. Instead, they talked, over many more cups of tea, and began making dinner together once his father gave word that he'd be home soon. It was nice, just spending the time the two of them, something they hadn't done in years, but James knew that was because it had always been the three of them up until seven months ago, and the feeling that his brother was missing was something that wouldn't go away.

***

After dinner, they moved into the living room to unpack the final boxes. As they worked, they made random chit chat, continuing their conversation from dinner about the Bradford's. When James mentioned that one of them was his lab partner, his mother's face stretched into a smile. "Really?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, cutting open one of the boxes with the sharp tip of a pair of scissors. "The youngest one".

"That's wonderful James! You should invite him to do something with you and Tyler someday. Or maybe he could come over for dinner-" his mother was interrupted by a laugh, coming from his father, and James suspected the look of horror on his face was what was so funny to the older man. "What? Is he not a good kid?"

"That's not it," James assured, bringing his attention away from his parents and instead towards the contents of the box he had just pulled open. "It just... we don't really know one another well. It might be awkward if I suddenly start asking him to hang out". She frowned, not understanding, though James had never expected her to.

His mother had always been one to make fast friends, so it often confused her when James opted to take time to build a friendship, or even not to make one at all. He had always been a man of few friends, and because of this, his mother thought he was lonely, and often tried to encourage him to be more open about the whole thing.

"We'll see," James offered to make his mother smile again. "Maybe we'll be closer in a few weeks and then we could hang out or something". It worked, and she smiled warmly at him, but it faded when her eyes dropped down to the open box in front of her.

"Oh". Curious, James dropped what he was doing, as did his father, and they both moved to stand on either side of her. The things in the box were as familiar to him as his own possessions. He had worn some of these shirts, had read some of these books.

The box was filled with his brother's things.

Even though Ace hadn't moved with them, they had all been unwilling to leave his stuff behind, so they had brought it with them. It had slipped from James's mind at sometime during the last week– he had been occupied by other things, like catching up with his best friend– but the sight of the familiar items hit him like a brick wall. "Oh," his mom repeated again, dropping her head as a thin trail of tears began to make its way down her cheeks. "I can't believe I'd forgotten".

Silently they stayed like that, all thinking about her words. Ever since moving, it had seemed like a weight had been lifted. There weren't constant reminders of their loss surrounding them any more, and it had put them at ease, allowed them to smile a little wider and laugh a little more. It was a natural progression, James knew, reaching this point in the grieving of his brother, but he felt slightly guilty having forgotten about all of Ace's things, by having not realized that he was no longer surrounded by his brother's possessions.

"What do you want to do with this?" His father asked softly, which made his mother cry a little harder. James exchanged a look with the older man as he pulled his wife into a hug. For a minute, he averted his eyes and allowed his parents a moment, but as soon as his mother's cries became sniffles, he lifted the box from where it sat on the coffee table and moved towards the staircase.

There were two bedrooms on the second floor, James's, and then a room directly to the right of his own. It was just like his and Ace's rooms had been at home, so it felt fitting on move in day to set up his brother's old bed in there, along with any additional furniture they had brought from Ace's room back home. That was where James brought the box, setting it on the bottom of his brother's naked mattress before opening it again.

"I figured we could set it up like it was at home," James said, knowing his parents had followed him. "I know he won't ever get to sleep in here, but I think it would be nice for us".

Both of his parents were silent for what felt like a long time, and James didn't dare move. It would be ultimately up to them what they did with Ace's things, and he didn't want to begin unpacking the box if it would only upset them.

His mother came to his side, and reached into the box, taking out the first item. It was a framed family picture of them, from long ago, when James was still just a young boy. He recognized it as the picture that had stood on his brothers bed stand for many years. Without speaking, she moved over to said nightstand and set it there gently.

His father broke the silence. "I'll go get the rest of Ace's boxes then".

Together, James and his mother began placing his brothers things throughout the new room, setting it up to look as much like Ace's room as possible. They moved slowly, pausing every couple of minutes to reminisce over the things they removed. James's father brought several more boxes for them to go through– a task that would take them all night if they continued at the pace they were currently using– but still, James found himself on the floor in front of the bookshelf, reading the backs of each of his brothers favorite books before sliding them into the next space on the shelf.

It was exhausting work, emotionally, and eventually physically as the numbers on the digital clock by the bed grew higher, and eventually plumated. There were no suggestions of going to sleep though, no you have school tomorrow and should rest. They all seemed to have the same mindset that this was something they needed to finish in one sitting.

When they were done, the clock read 2:47, and the room looked familiar enough to the one back at home that James felt his throat close, and hot tears run from the corners of his eyes for not the first time that night. The three of them stood in the doorway of the room for a minute, all of their eyes red as they looked around. James had the last item from his box clutched in his hand, and his father held a roll of tape, which he had been instructed to grab minutes prior.

"We did well," his mother said, breaking the silence. All James could do was nod in agreement before backing out of the doorway. His parents stood there a minute longer before turning out the light and retreating after him, pulling the door shut behind them.

They watched as James taped the familiar beat up band poster to the back of his brothers door with shaking fingers, neither of them offering to help, somehow knowing it was something that he felt he had to do. Once upon a time, he would have laughed at the sight of the poster, since it had been first hung up during his brother's elementary years and was from a band Ace hadn't listened to in years, though he still refused to take it down. "I just don't get it? Why don't you take it down and hang up something you actually like?"

"That'd take effort," had been Ace's answer, while kicking at James at the bottom of his bed, or looking at him over a book, or smiling at him across the dinner table– it was a question James had asked many times, so he could remember his brother answering in countless situations. "Also, I kinda like it. I feel like it shows my growth as a person, if that makes sense. If I've changed that much since then, then I can change even more over the next ten years, or even the next twenty years".

At the time, James didn't get it. "Why's it matter, stupid. You're still going to be you".

He understood now. Understood the importance of having things that helped you remember the past. For Ace, the poster had meant looking back to who he had been years before, and appreciating the growth in himself yet to come. To James, the poster meant looking back at how his brother had shaped him, before, and even after his death.

When the poster was hung, they all stood back and looked at it before turning to one another. His father hugged him, and his mother pulled him down to her level in order to press a kiss to his forehead, and then they left him with the soft instruction to "get some sleep".