#bruvers

His twin is standing in the doorway, leaning a little awkwardly against the frame. Saeyoung notices he’s changed his clothes, and he realizes it’s the first time he’s seen Saeran in anything other than a hospital gown or his clothes from Mint Eye. The first time in years, anyway.

“Hi,” Saeyoung responds, matching his brother’s level tone of voice. He spent years in the agency learning how to meet people at their level—how to mold himself to fit any situation, and how to use that to his advantage. It was never hard for him before. Now, with his own brother, the stakes are so much higher.

“What are you doing?” asks Saeran, and Saeyoung notices that his voice catches in his throat. This is hard for him.

But he’s here. Talking to me.

Saeyoung represses the feeling of glee that surges within him. Stay calm. Stay level-headed. Don’t be a total weirdo and freak him out and make him never want to talk to you ever again.

“Are you hacking?” Saeran asks, and Saeyoung realizes he hasn’t said anything yet. He hesitates, going over his options in his mind. His first instinct is to lie, to rush Saeran out of the room and away from the computers and this shitty, stupid job, as far away as possible from the life that Saeyoung never wanted for him.

Saeyoung’s an excellent liar. He’s been doing it for years.

And how well has that worked out for you with him so far?

Saeyoung’s fingers inadvertently drift to his neck, still purpled from his brother’s hands. It’s only been a few days since the last time his brother tried to kill him. It’s only been a few days since Saeran agreed to maybe start trying to believe some of what Saeyoung had to say.

Don’t let him down.

“Yeah,” he says finally, carefully avoiding his brother’s penetrating green eyes. “I’m, uh—just finishing some things up with my old job.”

Saeran raises his eyebrows.

“I thought you weren’t doing that anymore,” he says stiffly. “She said…”

He trails off, and Saeyoung is surprised to hear Saeran reference you at all. He’s never once looked at you since leaving Mint Eye for the last time—whenever you’d come into his hospital room, he’d mostly pretended to be asleep.

“You’re right,” says Saeyoung. “I’m not. I’m, um. Erasing it all. Me. Her. Vanderwood.” He hesitates. “You.”

For a split second, Saeran’s eyes widen, and he looks almost surprised. Then his gaze hardens.

“You don’t have to erase me,” he says harshly. “If anybody finds me, I deserve whatever I get.”

Saeyoung hates this, hates it so much, wants to tell his brother sweet lies like he used to, once to assure him that no one’s coming for him, he’s done nothing wrong, he’ll be safe no matter what.

He knows better now.

“I know you feel that way,” he says carefully. “I’ve felt that way too, lots of times. But please—let me just give us a fresh start.”

Saeran pauses, and Saeyoung isn’t sure if he’s going to demand that Saeyoung stay out of his business, or storm out of the room, or even lunge at him again. Saeyoung feels that he deserves any of these responses. He almost smiles at the thought—for better or worse, they have so much in common.

“Let me help,” says Saeran finally.

“Huh?” Saeyoung is so surprised he nearly falls from his chair. He catches himself, wanting nothing less than to look like a fool in front of his brother.

“I can probably do it faster than you can,” Saeran says, finally crossing the threshold and stepping into Saeyoung’s office. Suddenly, Saeyoung is self-conscious—of the code on the screen, of his stupid, childish decorations, of the general clutter. Saeran would never just leave piles of crap everywhere like this, he finds himself thinking. He almost tries to block the screen with his body, but catches himself.

He’s trying, Saeyoung reminds himself. He’s really trying right now. For god’s sake, let him.

“You having to learn this stuff…,” he starts, trying to decide how honest he wants to be. “It makes me…I never wanted—”

“Don’t,” says Saeran firmly, and some of the aggression that Saeyoung has become accustomed to is back in his voice. Saeyoung shuts up.

Wordlessly, Saeran pulls over Saeyoung’s other chair and slips into it. He scans the code on the screen with practiced eyes. Saeyoung is torn between admiration and disgust. He’d only agreed to do this work on the condition that Saeran would never have to stoop to this level. If he’d known what was really happening for all those years…

“Here, this will work better,” Saeran says, and his voice tugs Saeyoung out of his pit of guilt. Saeran slides his chair over and types a few lines and Saeyoung watches, his breath catching in his throat. “What?” demands Saeran, not looking at his brother as he types. He was right, Saeyoung thinks—his way is faster.

“Sorry,” Saeyoung mutters. Honesty. “It makes me feel like crap watching you do this. I’m never going to forgive myself for everything that’s happened to you.”

Saeran types for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he pauses, hands poised over the keyboard. He types like I do, Saeyoung thinks. Fast, like he’s running for his life—then a complete standstill.

“Look,” Saeran says finally, fixing Saeyoung with his piercing eyes, which Saeyoung continues to find both comforting and frightening. “I haven’t forgiven you, either.”

Saeyoung swallows. He knows this.

“But you weren’t ever going to be able to protect me,” Saeran continues. “That’s not how it works. That’s not the world we were born into. No one was ever going to come save us. We were always going to have to do it ourselves.”

Saeyoung doesn’t know what to say. He’s spent his whole life thinking he was subjecting himself to the loneliest life possible in order to protect his brother from the same fate. He’s always seen himself as the protector, the one who could keep Saeran safe from the harsh realities of the world.

But Saeran is right, of course. There were no saviors, no heroes. Just the two of them.

“Thanks,” says Saeyoung. He knows his brother is trying to let him off the hook, a little bit. He doesn’t deserve it. But it fills him with warmth all the same.

Saeran makes a disgruntled face and turns back to the computer. Saeyoung smiles at the back of his head.

Saeran strikes a few more keys, and the program runs. Saeyoung laughs.

“I’m supposed be the best in the industry, you know,” he says, somewhat weakly.

“I wasn’t in “the industry,” Saeran responds. He doesn’t look at his brother, but Saeyoung thinks he sees a ghost of a smile cross his lips.

Saeyoung’s phone buzzes; reflexively, he checks it. Saeran pointedly doesn’t look.

It’s you, of course. 

How are you? you ask. How is he? Saeyoung’s heart pounds. Oh, how he misses you.

I’m good, he types back with one hand, not taking his eyes off his brother. We’re good.