Aconitum Napellus

Brothers

Blue arrived home at around five in the evening, completely emotionally drained. Razz had dropped him off even after Blue had insisted that he could simply walk. The other had hit him softly on the head and dragged him to the car with a frown. Without a doubt, Blue was extraordinarily grateful for the dumbass of a friend that he had. They'd only really known each other since that morning, but meeting another version of yourself probably makes it a lot easier to get to know someone. Afterall, they're you. They probably know things about you that you don't even know. That said, they'll never know your story until you tell them, and, as much as he loved Razz, Blue was not ready to spill all of that baggage onto him yet.

Ever since the bomb had blown up, everyone Blue had known had had a truckload of emotional trauma forcefully dumped on them. As much as he had wished to keep the situation private, it was difficult to do that when the case was forced to go to court. He had begged for the charges to be dropped, but, apparently, he had no choice in the matter, and, so, to court they went.

It had taken months upon months for Blue to come to accept that maybe (just maybe) it had been for the best that the trial had happened. Maybe it was for the best that Dust had had to go to therapy and rehab. It helped him to be healthier, right? It helped him to cope. Besides, it wasn't like he had been in jail.

The progress that Blue had made trying to convince himself that what had happened was the right thing seemed to have been almost completely stripped away now.

Now, he was back with Dust.

Now, he knew how Dust really felt about the therapy and rehab.

Now, he was afraid all over again.

Not afraid for himself, no, but afraid for Dust.

What would happen if Blue did something that happened to piss Dust off? What if Dust went into a fit because of something that Blue did? What would happen if they had to go to court again? What would happen if Dust was put in jail?

Flipping out his pocket knife, he began to click the blade in and out, the steady rhythm comforting him but not enough.

"Are you alright, Blue?" his brother asked, interrupting his thoughts. "You seem... nervous..." He gestured towards the pocket knife, and Blue quickly put it up.

"Oh, yeah, I'm alright," he stuttered out. He'd forgotten how uncomfortable his habit made his brother, but it was difficult to resist when his thoughts were swirling like they were now.

"Are you sure...?" Stretch insisted.

Blue thought back to what Razz had said before: that he needed to talk to someone about what was happening. The mere idea made his stomach clench and his eyes water.

For now, he decided, that was much too much. He couldn't do that to his brother, or, maybe more importantly, he couldn't do that to himself. Not yet.

Besides, nothing bad had happened...

Maybe talking about before... maybe that would help.

Maybe it wouldn't.

Either way, he knows that he has to say something.

He has to.

"Uh, no, actually." Blue sighed, leaning back into his seat. "I'm kind of having a moment."

Remote in hand, Stretch turned down the television's volume, leaving the two chefs on the screen to scream at each other silently. The taller skeleton got up from his chair and settled next to Blue gently. He didn't sit too close or too far, waiting to gauge the situation.

"What's up?" he asked.

"It's just-" A pause. "I just..." A sigh.

"Hey, it's okay," Stretch encouraged with a smile. "Take deep breaths."

Blue inhaled sharply then exhaled slowly. He did this a few more times before he decided that it would just be best to get out with it.

"I can't stop thinking about Dust."

Immediately, Stretch stiffened, eyes widening slightly. He remained silent for a few moments, nervously fiddling with the television remote that was in his lap.

"Oh," he said.

Blue couldn't help but flinch at how scared he sounded. He knew that it was an incredibly hard thing for his brother to talk about, but, he supposes, not to what extent. While what had happened hadn't affected Stretch so directly, it had had an extreme impact nonetheless. At first, Stretch hadn't trusted Blue to go anywhere by himself. He hadn't trusted Blue with anything remotely dangerous. He'd hidden Blue's phone for the first few weeks, saying that he didn't need to be exposed to anything that could "potentially hurt him more". Blue knew that he just didn't want him to see the endless barrage of messages that Dust was sure to be sending him. That was probably for the better.

Overall, though, it had been overbearing, unhealthy, and, above all, annoying.

There had been days where it really got to Blue, and he'd lashed out.

He'd said things to his brother that he would always regret.

He wonders if his brother ever thinks about the time that he said that he hated him.

He wonders if Stretch ever thinks about all the times that he blamed everything on him.

He hopes that his brother has forgotten.

But there are some things that you simply don't forget.

"Yeah," Blue mumbled, looking away. He tiredly placed his head in his hands. "Yeah."

"What, uh," Stretch started, "what specifically are you thinking about?"

"Everything, I guess." He sighed. "Court's really sticking out right now."

"You mean being in court itself or...?"

"I mean the shit that lead up to it. Ya know, the cause of it all."

"Ah." He paused. "That."

"Yeah," Blue huffed. "That."

"Do you want to... talk about it?"

A bitter laugh drew itself out of Blue's throat. "You already know what happened. Do we really need to talk about it again?"

"That's not what I-" Stretch took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Yes, I know what happened. You had to repeat it god knows how many times during the trial. I just... We never really talked about it, you know?"

"What do you mean...?" Blue frowned.

The other placed a hand to his forehead. "I mean, I heard it over and over and over again. You said it just as many times, if not more, but we never talked about it together. One on one."

His frown deepened. "I-"

"I'm not saying that we have to," Stretch interjected, seeing the look on his brother's face. "I'm just saying that if you want to talk about it, then we can. I'm here for you, and I want to help."

The decision wasn't immediate. In fact, it took a while for Blue to decide and even longer for him to voice that decision, but, even so, Stretch waited. He waited as Blue's brain had to go through the pros and the cons. He waited as Blue's brain drowned him in 'what if's. He waited as Blue's mouth was glued shut. He waited as the words refused to come out. He even waited as Blue anxiously clicked his pocket knife. The one that he, technically, wasn't supposed to have.

"Sure," he finally said, turning to look his brother in the eye. "Let's talk about it."