Ryan Diaz

I didn't think Ian and my dad still lived in the same house as the one we were in when we were six but when Myra stopped in front of the house, I recognized it immediately. It was still the same one as before. There were a few changes here and there and it was obviously repainted but apart it was the same. I was in awe and couldn't control the wide smile that appeared on my face. I didn't even know I have missed this place so much until now. Back in Cuba and England, the bad outweighed the good when it came to remembering where I lived but now I could remember the good.

I remembered when Ian and I would struggle to leave the door at the same time, running to catch the school bus. I remembered the numerous times I tripped and fell. I remembered when my mom would try to separate us from fighting and pretend like she was leaving the house forever if we didn't stop. I remembered how I cried in horror after Ian lost his first tooth and then after that I cried to lose my own tooth too. I remembered dad buying us snacks and asking us both to chose which hand of snack we wanted when he hand his hand behind him and after debating and choosing, everything would turn out the same thing. It's crazy how many times Ian and I feel for that trick.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Myra asked me, slanting her body on mine as we stood in front of the building. "I could go in with you."

"Nah, I would be alright," I sighed. "He might smell me out the moment I open my mouth to talk and then we would be in deep shit but I'm willing to risk it all. I need to see him no matter what."

"Yeah, put on your best Ian act. Ian is quite close with his dad, they don't usually get a lot of father to son time because they are both very busy all the time but he loves his dad and is always so afraid to lose him."

I bit on my lip in anxiousness. "It'll be my first time seeing him in all these years and I can't even be me while I do that."

"Tough luck," she kissed my cheek in goodbye. "Bye, I'm going to the bar to go check on my sister. I'd see you in school tomorrow."

"Okay." I waved her goodbye and watched her run off, disappearing down the street. I inhaled and exhaled, got my hoodie's hood over my head and walked further inside. I almost knocked but thankfully, I got myself quickly and just turned the knob like I lived here. The door opened and I got it, locking it behind me. I feel like living the door open is my dad thing and I could vaguely hear my mom complaining about it. "Dad?"

Usually it's Wayne but not this time.

"Ian?" He called, his voice was deeper and rough. "Kitchen."

I put my hands in my pouch and walked towards the kitchen, taking the little time I had to look around. There were pictures on the wall, pictures of dad, pictures of dad and Ian and a picture of dad, Ian and me when we were small and at an amusement park. There was a Ferris wheel behind us and I barely remembered the day. That was the only picture of me and there was none of mom. The furniture was different and less but the house was basically the same and the carpet in the center of the living room was bringing back memories. I walked into the kitchen and my dad was there, backing me and slouched over the stove as he fried something.

"You can cook?" I didn't know when the words left my mouth and I immediately bit on my tongue. Shit.

My dad turned to me and turned back to his pan. "This is no time to jab at my cooking skills, I was just trying to put something together for dinner since I'm basically a bachelor now."

"What?" I was still processing what he looked like now. Time has really done a number on him but he was still my father, he looked like him.

"Where have you been boy?" He turned off the stove and got his pan out, picking up a plate. "It's been weeks. I let you stay at that junkyard and work because you said it's easier for you and closer to school but I never said it should be your home. You're still underaged and under my roof. What exactly is going on in your head?"

"I'm seventeen," I shrugged. "Basically an adult."

"Ian!"

I betrayed a smile, then coughed and ran my hand over my face. "Fine, I'm sorry. I mean, I still called and texted."

"Through Myra's phone! That alone is suspicious act. I was going to go to the police and try to find that junkyard of yours if you didn't show up this week."

"Yeah, my phone," I tilted my head to the side thinking of a lie. "Charging point had an issue, had to get it fixed." It was actually because Myra couldn't open up Ian's phone, it was locked with face recognition.

My dad narrowed his eyes at me. "Are you okay? Something feels off."

I immediately brought my head back down, clearing my throat. "Just really tired. These have been long weeks."

He stayed silent and kept looking at me and I quickly closed the distance between us and hugged him. I have really missed him and would have wanted him involved in so many aspect of my life. Growing up without him sucked. I looked for him in every man I encountered, Wayne included. He smelled like chlorine and coffee. It was a weirdly calming scent and I wanted to wear the jacket he had on. Dad hesitated, put eventually hugged me back.

"If there's something wrong, you can tell me, you know that."

I just nodded, I didn't dare speak and then he knocked me on my head. "Ow," I pulled away, raising a brow at him.

"That's for leaving me all alone here, worried about you."

"Dad!" He stuck his nose up to me and I immediately grabbed a fork of his meal, putting it in my mouth and running off.

"Ian!" Then he sighed. "Should I make something for you?"

"No, I'm fine, goodnight."

I ran up the stairs and go up to the familiar room there. Although finding Ian's room couldn't be hard because there was only one door with a DO NOT DISTURB sign. When we were small, Ian and I shared this bedroom. As I entered it, I could hear our children laughters and fight and the voices faded as the room comes to sight. It's different now. Very different. It's painted differently, there's only one bed, a couple of band posters and motorcycles on the wall. A guitar by the corner, a chair and table and full length mirror on one of the wardrobe doors. I liked the room. The color was not really my style but I could tell I would get really comfortable here.

I collapsed on the bed, stretching my hands wide on it and taking his scent in. "Hi, Ian." I felt if I slept and woke up on the bed, I would be more Ian than Ryan. Silly, I know.

There were two framed pictures on his bed, one of us both at 6 and the other of him smiling next to a motorcycle. It wasn't a recent picture, I looked like that when I was about 14 or 15. I smiled, I was happy Ian kept me close, I was happy he had the opportunity to. I had no single photo of him and that's not just because I'm a shitty brother but also because my mother wouldn't let me. She wanted me to forget everything about Virginia, so I had nothing from this place with me.

There have been times when I could have really used a picture of Ian present in my life. Times where I felt like he wasn't real and just a dream or a figment of my imagination. Times where I felt really lonely and abandoned. I grabbed the picture of us both and hugged it to my chest. "I'm sorry, Ian. I'd be a better brother, I promise."

Ian room wasn't really scattered, one could tell he didn't spend all of his time in here. In his wardrobe he had similar types of clothings; hoodies, sweatshirts, basic color t-shirts, two leather jackets- black and brown-, big flannel shirts then joggers and jeans. All black jeans by the way, most of them ripped. My face fell as I moved the clothes looking for something that would stand out, spark my interest, identity with me but then nothing. "Really?" I couldn't believe I was sentenced to a life of wearing these clothes. His shoes weren't any different, sneakers, slides and converse. He had a beautiful Air-force that was separated from the rest though and I grinned widely when I noticed I had a pair of the same shoes. This must be his favorite slash lucky shoe. I loved it.

Ian read a lot of books apparently, he had a collection both at the junkyard and here. I wasn't much of a book lover and that was because I always had other things occupying my mind but now that I was here, I should have more time to read a book or two. I changed out of my clothes and as I walked past the mirror, I stopped and stared at my reflection. Then I turned to back the mirror and I got to see the tattoo on my back. I had almost forgotten it was there. When I looked back at myself, I didn't see Ryan in that mirror, I saw Ian. The hair, tattoo and bracelets were not Ryan Diaz.

I found the bathroom, took a bath - at least I loved his soap and shampoo - yeah, Myra didn't let me come with my stuff. She literally confiscated my bag and only allowed me my toothbrush and boxers. That girl.

By twelve midnight, I was sitting on Ian bed, crossed legged and half naked with only my shorts on and his diary-ish book in front of me and his phone. I slapped my hands together and closed my eyes, "if we have some kind of twin connection, then I hope you get to hear me form across the world. I'm sorry I'm about to intrude into your personal space Ian but I'm practically living your life now and I don't think it gets more personal than that. Give me just this one chance. Thanks."

I picked up his phone and tried to squint as I looked at it just incase there was something different in the eyes that it could notice but I didn't need to try that hard because it just opened up. What would I do if it locked and needed password? Shit, I better start guessing his passwords now before it gets to that point. Ian's wallpaper was a race track, mine was my face, in a really cute look by the way. I opened up his gallery and he had pictures of him, food, bikes, books, memes, he and dad, he and Anissa, he and the entire gang but he looked like he was forced to take the picture, he and an older man with bald head that I recognized as Jon, pictures of streets and shops, and then finally August.

August pictures weren't recent though but they were all unaware. August looking at his dog, August shirtless and frowning at his hands stained with oil, August mid conversation with Santi, August shirtless and watching a motorcycle. August smiling with his back rested on a locker that looked to be in a school's hallway.

Damnit, he must have really liked August.

I zoomed into the picture of August smiling in the hallway and as I looked at it, it had to be one of the most beautiful pictures of a man that ever exists and I was saying this knowing there are k-pop guys, anime guys and those freakishly good looking Arabians. His smile betrayed a peek of his canine white teeth, his eyes were nearly closed, he had a dimple and barely there wrinkles at the edge of his eyes. His curly hair stood shiny on his head and tamed, jawline shimmered and his nose was just there like it was made for that moment. I smiled, how did he manage to look cute and hot? Then his lips, reddish, spread in a smile and still looking full and soft...

...his warm cheek rubbed over mine, eyes closed and he whispered. "What? What? What?"

I blinked, looked away from the phone, puffed my pretty hot cheeks out, exhaled, looked back at the phone and chuckled, swiping away. "Damn, August, you really know how to leave an impression."

After going through his gallery, I went through his notes and found a note labeled passwords. Thank God. I also went through his music taste and was so grateful we had familiar taste in some music. And that was all with his phone. Next, I moved to the diary. True to what Myra had said he had a list of people he delivered drugs to and where to meet them. He didn't write about everyday on his diary, I noticed as I read but only about specific big things and things he didn't want to forget.

"I really like his smile and hold but then we can't be together, I'm supposed to hate him." I read and I wondered if he was talking about August. It had to be.

"So... he kissed better, I think. I nearly came... that would have been so embarrassing." I laughed at that.

I was reading the middle part and contemplating whether to go backward or forward from there.

"He got me a bracelet, I would never wear it though. It'll just say I like him and no way, he's supposed to like me more. Am I foolish, yes."

I decided to go forward.

"I hate him! I hate him so much."

"Why would he lie? I would understand if it was out of his control. Okay, I wouldn't understand but why lie? It's supposed to me! I would tell him the truth."

"Fuck, I hate revenge sex. I hate myself. Why do I do things like that."

"Jon's death wouldn't go just like that. I know he was killed because I was with him."

"Jakob doesn't trust or believe me but I can't tell him how I know Jon was killed. They would never forgive me. I couldn't save him! I want to die too."

"I saw his eyes. I know it was him." Angry pen scratches. "Fuck!"

That was the last written stuff on the last page. I was completely spooked and trying to understand what exactly I had just read. Did Ian know who killed Jon? Holy shit! It's someone he knows. Is it someone from the gang? Someone close? My mind ran a mile a minute. It like I was just injected with a drug stronger than me.

I quickly flipped to the beginning of the diary.

"Third book, I'm addicted to this shit."

"Still figuring out this gay shit. Am I really gay? Ryan thinks so though. Why do I have to be something? Argh."

"One fuck... and I've messed up. A.U.G.U.S.T. No way..."

"So I can't fucking look at Myra anymore. But I'm not going to be the one to tell her he's gay. The stupid idiot, why doesn't he just tell her he's not straight?  He knows she likes him. Everyone does. Stupid narcissist."

"Ryan! Can I save up and go to England? What about dad?"

"I can't with August anymore. No."

"Stop!"

I fell asleep reading Ian dairy. It's was like a window into his soul. A window that hadn't made up its mind if it wanted to be closed or open. And a soul, so dark, you could barely see anything. There were a lot of doodling and scratch off in Ian's book, like he couldn't decide what he wanted and a lot of pages had his whole day detailed on it from when he woke up to when he slept. He was bottling a lot of things and a lot of things hidden.

I fell asleep wondering who could have possibly killed Jon and my suspect was August.