Four

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Chapter Four: melt

"He's gone."

That was the first thing Yan said when she showed up at Lillian's house at seven-thirty in the morning.

Truthfully, he didn't know just how his friend had found him. He'd opted to stay in the guest room in his partner's house for the night—she had made a good point, and it was cheaper than staying in an inn. Perhaps the other girl had told Yan about the issue.

Avis frowned at that. He was going to die in three days or so; money shouldn't have mattered so much to him. Was it just an excuse?

He didn't wanted to think about it.

"Ah." He tried his best to avert his gaze. The look in Yan's eye was too woebegone for him to even stand. "I'm sorry."

She glanced up at him with a hazy expression, and it was a wonder how so much melancholy could be expressed in just one teary eye. "He also told me about what was going on. About...well, how you're going to—"

"Ah," he repeated, unsure of what more to say. "It's fine. I don't mind dying."

"That's the same thing Aiden said," she muttered, her tone more than scathing. "I know that you two aren't the same, but you're brothers, right? Aren't you just trying to convince yourself?"

He blinked once. "You know how I am. I don't give a shit about what happens to me."

"That was true of you before everything happened." Yan ran a tired hand through her hair—her pink locks had lost it's previous lustre, and it was clear that she was a wreck. "I can't even remember who I was before this. It all seems so long ago."

The two of them remained silent, but a mutual agreement still manage to pass between them. He wasn't an apathetic asshole who hated the world anymore. Yan wasn't the same sweet girl whom the customers loved the most.

"We've changed a lot, huh?" His voice shifted once again. Aiden's softer timbre escaped his lips, and the both of them stumbled back in surprise.

He clapped a hand over his mouth as Yan's eyes darkened—it was almost as though she'd seen a ghost, and he had to remember that it had been less than a day since his brother had disappeared. If she'd been like this a month back, he'd have told her to screw off.

She cut him off before he could apologise again.

"I spoke to him," she muttered, arranging her bangs so that they fell over the white bandage. "He was trying to run away from his problems, but I think I got through to him in the end. You two really are more alike than I thought, huh?"

The jab didn't come to him as offensive. It was like an arrow that had broken when it had touched his skin; all he felt was an overwhelming sense of numbness and a sort of funny relief that made him want to cry in laughter.

"I didn't mean to apologise for that." His whisper was almost stolen away by the wind. "I meant to say sorry for everything I did to you."

"What did you do?" the girl murmured, and her voice seemed hazy. He wasn't sure why it was that way. "Not believe in what I told you from the beginning? I was used to it already. And if you're talking about everything else—you had a reason."

You had a reason. Yan hadn't quite forgiven him in the end, but it was good enough. It was more than he could ask for.

"Besides, I should be the one saying sorry," she admitted. "I'm sorry for not recognising you and all. I'm sorry that I was so selfish and tried to get Aiden to stay—if he ends up living, you'll have to die, right?"

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