KEREN

Clocks, a constant reminder of his irrelevant life. Nightmares haunted him long into every night. Sounds of the city echoed across the canopy of the tallest skyscrapers, held together by the bones of the Malakai syndicate — with the Azaika's erased. Mother's blanket draped over his shoulders, and he buried himself into the last pieces of warmth. He drove his face into the pillow, wondering if it was enough to suffocate him.

He kept his head above the waves but found himself without the will to swim.

"Keren?" Ethan's voice asked on the other side of his door.

Without the will to talk.

"What is it?" Keren groaned out of his pillow and sat up against the boiling in his stomach, sitting on the edge of his bed when Ethan walked in, a more hesitant step to his stride, though nothing else betrayed his passive expression, his rage quelled by the complete destruction of his enemies. Keren shrank into his shoulders when Ethan came closer, holding his datapad. "What? What's going on? Or are you even going to tell me?"

Ethan's face revealed a crack past the lie, and Keren left no room on his bed for Ethan to sit down beside him. "That depends," Ethan said.

"On what?"

"Well, I'd rather you not mope anymore—"

"Oh yes, because people will respect me somehow less than they do already," Keren snapped, but stopped when Ethan stiffened. "Look, Ethan, what happened weeks ago..." Keren shook out the Gorgot from his memory, choosing to gaze out his window.

"We don't need to discuss that."

"Of course not... we never do." Keren held onto the code of silence, trapped with no escape. He scowled when Ethan handed him the datapad.

"Come on," Ethan whispered. "We're going to go for a drive. Just me and you. Father's going to be busy all day, so I've got time to kill." Ethan reached forward to tap the schedule tab. "You've been avoiding me, Keren."

"Like you haven't done that to me..." Keren mumbled under his breath. Tension cracked the space between them, and Ethan's lack of response made him twist his attention to the datapad, and whatever drove Ethan to finally reach out to him after weeks of nothing. His last solace. Ships mocked his dreams, his wants in the form of a flight show, of all things. "What is this?" Keren lowered the datapad into his lap.

Ethan tipped his head with a smile. "What does it look like?"

Keren narrowed his eyes. "Are you trying to make fun of me now?"

"No, Keren." Ethan's smile died. "We're going so I can spend some quality time with my brother."

Keren hesitated, then pushed the datapad back into Ethan's hands. "Right," he choked on old tears, then laughed instead. "Right. Next, you're going to tell me you got me into a Flight Academy." Keren tugged himself out of Ethan's reach when he came closer, coiling into Mother's blankets. "I'll pass. I think I found my life calling in moping." He glared at Ethan, then scowled when he didn't move. "What?"

Ethan took a single step forward, but Keren knew he would never give what he should've given him so long ago. Happiness died at his fingertips, splattered with blood. Keren raised both hands when Ethan wrapped his arm around his neck and dragged him into a headlock. "Ethan..."

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he said with a small, teasing shake, but Keren sat himself back down on the bed. "Come on. We're going. Just us."

Keren scoffed. "I already told Chalen I'd come into the casino a little early to help him with something."

"Oh?" Ethan tipped to the side. "I wasn't aware of this."

That's odd. Keren shrugged. "I keep to my word. Isn't that what you do? Isn't that what this family holds to the code?" Isn't that the promise we made... that I'd still be your priority? "I'm just... not in the mood, Ethan, and since I don't want to talk... we're not going to talk, so just... I don't know, go hand that over to someone who'll actually go and not feel bad."

Ethan's shoulders slacked. "Keren, I don't want to bring you there to make you feel—"

"And yet," Keren rasped. "I will, Ethan, and this?" He pointed at the datapad in Ethan's hands. "That's just another attempt to keep up this facade that I just don't have the energy to keep up. You had your chance to do something like this, and I'm just not here for it."

Ethan's lips folded, the passivity cracking at a mirror's edge, rubbing the back of his neck with a slight, shuddered exhale. "I thought maybe we could also... swing by Mom while we are out. I can stay in the car if you just want to be by yourself, but I want you to get some fresh air and just get away from this for a bit, when I finally am able to do something with you."

Keren frowned at the hidden pain lacing his broken voice. A peek over the edge of the wall, and a horrible thought struck him.

Is it me...? Did I create this wall between us?

Isn't this what I want from him? Isn't this what I've always wanted? Will it make him happy? Will it make me happy? Keren chewed on his lower lip then stood up to meet Ethan. "You don't have to stay in the car," he forced out, trembling. "I'll go with you, Ethan. I'll call Chalen and tell him I won't be able to help him."

Keren brought a hand to his compearl and clicked Chalen's line. It chirped in his ear, and he fought down tears when it struggled to connect. It buzzed into silence. Again. Again. Again. "He's not answering me."

"I can send him a message telling him where we went and you'll be preoccupied," Ethan said, a little brighter.

Keren followed him down into the garage and threw himself into the passenger's seat and tried to build a foundation of excitement at seeing ships up close. If I can just watch them maybe... Keren glanced at Ethan, the truth of his pointless dream of flight, the shattered remains of a broken toy Keren found himself stumped on how to fix. "Thank you for this, Ethan. I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

I... I don't know. Keren drifted off when Ethan took them to the flight grounds. Ships hummed with different songs along with their pilots. Tricks and twirls Keren dreamed of attempting himself. If life will ever give me that chance.

Keren frowned when Ethan tapped the side of his head. "Go enjoy yourself, I'll just follow along until you're ready to go."

Just like that ship museum... when you weren't really there. So close to his singular dream, he found himself frozen in place, but he forced himself forward, on the move, to walk. Everyone kept a safe distance from the ships of varying sizes. Sanctum Titan's patrolled the skies of the grand event of Eteran, and Ethan kept close to him through the thick crowds, clearly in discomfort. On the edges, away from the bulk of people as moments passed, Keren observed a scout twirl and dance across the air with expert precision, without hesitation and without fear. It swung on the tip of its wings, slowing on its own axis into a gentle hover.

"It's really hard," Keren mumbled.

"I know."

"I wish I could learn to fly like that."

Ethan lowered his head and took in a quiet inhale. "I know."

Keren tucked his hands into his pockets, then whispered, "I want to go now."

Ethan nodded and guided him back to the car, unable to enjoy his one dream with his brother fading away on the atomic particles of the universe's frozen death. Back in the car, they sat without the musical silence, neither of them trying to wrest control of the radio from each other. Onto the outskirts of Roxton, Keren drove his teeth into his tongue when Ethan swiped his ID over the graveyard's gate console. Wheels crunched over gravel as Ethan slowed to a stop along the grass, beside rows upon rows of marked stones. Keren went to leave, but stopped when Ethan sank into his seat.

"What?" Keren asked.

"You can go," Ethan whispered. "If you want to be by yourself."

"Don't do that." Keren dragged himself out of the car. "I don't want to be by myself. We're her sons."

Ethan breathed deep and left the car to follow him down the row, to her headstone, the last proof of her remembered existence. Keren swayed on his ankles as they both came to a stop in front of him, left in the quiet of their ghosts. Birds chirped in the expansive trees, the leaves whistling in the wind. He looked over when a branch knocked against the funeral home nearby. Keren slipped onto his knees before they gave out, sitting cross-legged to stare into the markings of her name.

"Sit down," Keren said.

Ethan sat down beside him without argument.

Alone with her, with his brother, and no one else.

"Do you think the dead talk?" Keren asked.

Ethan squinted. "No."

Keren nodded, then gazed at him. "Then... I want you to tell me why." He leaned closer, and Ethan frowned at him. "Tell me why you've done this, Ethan. You didn't have to do this. You could've just—"

"Acted like I knew nothing?" Ethan whispered. "Acted like she did when it came to us?"

Keren frowned, then sighed. "I guess now that you put it into those words..." He sighed, then tucked his hands between his lap. "Ethan... just... be honest with me, just once. If you think the dead can't talk, what are you worried about? Because you know I won't say anything," Keren whispered. "Just tell me. Tell me why. Tell me why you gave everything up to take care of me. Tell me why you didn't let me help you. Why did you two fight so much? Why couldn't we just be a family?"

Ethan sat in silence. "You didn't need to deal with that," he whispered to the wind.

"You didn't need to either," Keren pointed out, and Ethan twisted to him, a deeper frown on his face. "Ethan... look at what you've done to yourself in the name of someone else, Kellzoro. Is this what you wanted?"

Why couldn't you stay and just... hold onto me? I was still there.

Ethan's breath came out a soft laugh. "There is always a choice," he remarked. "I... I just wanted to protect you because that's what she would've wanted." He nodded at the headstone, then gazed at it. "Because..."

You're so close.

"Because what?"

"You're my little brother," Ethan said, dodging the conversation. "Of course I was going to? You're my family, and you're my responsibility, even if I couldn't give you the life you deserved. I wanted to take care of you, this wasn't forced upon me, it was my choice, and you're all I have left."

Keren refused to let it go. "But that still doesn't tell me why you've always done these things. Why did you deal with everything alone and push me away... what are you so scared of? Why did you two fight so much?" Keren bounced. "Ethan, you can tell me. You promised. We both did. We will trust no one but each other. Just tell me," he pleaded, once more for his happiness. "Say it, the dead can't talk. You say I'm all you have left, but don't you realise it goes the same direction? Tell me, I won't hurt you. I promise."

Ethan's false smile died when he leaned into his own shoulders, chewing his cheek. "She always did love you a little more than me," he whispered, and Keren kept his silence, listening, wanting nothing more than his brother to finally, finally talk. "If I couldn't make her happy, then maybe by taking care of you she'd..." Ethan's hands shook, and he continued to breathe deep. "I guess I thought she'd realise that I'm still her son too."

Keren flinched. "Do you resent me?"

"You didn't ask to be born, and I didn't either," Ethan said with a slow shake of his head. "But she wanted you."

"Ethan." Keren froze when a thin layer of mist grew over the green black holes, a breath of sobbing life. "Ethan, what do you mean? She wanted you too."

Ethan shook his head.

"Ethan."

"I knew exactly what Mom felt about me," Ethan said.

You tell me I can cry, why can't it be the same for you?

It was on the edge of the abyss, and among the dead, it left only him to listen to Ethan's tears though he refused to let them fall. "Ethan," he pleaded. "Ethan, do you think... we could be happy somewhere else?" He reached forward, and hooked his fingers into his sleeves. Can I make you happy?

Ethan's lips parted with a strangled sigh.

It's okay, Kellzoro, come back to me, it's okay. I'll understand, just help me.

Ethan's compearl chirped.

He listened to whatever was on the other side, and his broken expression steeled into confused dismay. "What?" He shook himself out of the breath of life on the edge of the event horizon, slamming to his feet, hanging up on the other side. "Fuck. Keren, we have to go back."

"What?"

"We have to go back." Ethan gripped his shoulder, but then rushed back to the car.

"What? Why?" Afraid of being left alone among the gravestones, he bolted after Ethan, entering the car when Ethan.

He made no noise as they drove away from Mom.

"Ethan?"

"Keren?" Ethan asked. "What did Chalen say to you earlier? Word for word."

"Uh..." Keren grappled with his memory. "I don't... know."

"I need you to tell me."

"I don't know," Keren whispered, and Ethan turned his attention back on the road. "I don't. He just said he needed my help moving some stuff around. So? Father always has me move stuff around, I didn't think anything of it. I know Chalen was worried about me after what happened, so..." Keren frowned at Ethan's emptiness. "Ethan? Why?"

Ethan's fingers dug into the wheel, where the black hole's vulnerability turned back into rage. "Shit!" He slammed his palm against the dash, and Keren lurched at the outburst.

"What?"

"Are you sure you don't recall what he said to you?"

"Yeah," Keren said. "No, he didn't tell me anything."

Ethan rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Chalen's gone AWOL, and no, it's not like when Jesti went missing. He didn't answer Father's call about the meeting, and when people went to look for him at the casino, he cleaned the place out. There's no trace of him."

Keren grasped for his memory. His brow pinched with weary horror within the browns.

"Maybe this is a misunderstanding?" Keren asked.

Ethan eyed him.

... What a joke. I was so close.

There were no misunderstandings. Only messages, and this one spoke to his soul.

"You remind me of myself when I was your age."

Keren kept silent, his life full of things he wished he hadn't known at all. Always there to remind him he'd never have peace — and would never have the chance to run.