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Muffled footsteps make you raise your head to its origin, your hands clasp together in anticipation of your brother, wanting the comfort of his face in the light of your actions last night. But Tony isn't the one coming down the stairs, it's Yuno, the light of your life, the heart of the entire family.
("Mista Lang?" his voice wavers. But his eyes, oh, how they hollowed your chest and brought tears down your cheeks. So trusting, so loving, even when the gun you hold points straight at his head.
"I'm sorry, Yuno," you whisper.
A shot rings out.)
"Mista Lang!" Obviously holding traces of sleep in its roughness, Yuno greets you with an audible smile. "Good morning!"
"Morning, baby," you weakly return. "Sleep well?"
He skips to the table, settling on your left. "The best!"
Fuck, fuck, fuck. You can't deal with this, not so early in the morning and sure as hell not this soon. Everyday, he wakes up in his apartment, but today of all days, he chooses your room, your bed to start his day with.
You, his family. You, his killer.
("I'm sorry, baby, forgive me," you cry. You're holding him down below the water, watching him struggle and gasp for air. His hands are tight on your forearms—and just that. He doesn't scratch you or break out from your hold, even as the ocean hides his tears.
"I love you, Yuno. so much," you continue, choking on your words. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, my heart. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.")
It's instinct to slide your plate of food to him; sharing meals is a staple in the family, after all. But your response is a lackluster that's good, and it makes him raise his head in question.
"It is," he says haltingly, ignoring his breakfast completely. "Had a good dream, too. Is there something wrong, Mista Lang?"
"No, no," comes the immediate denial. "Nothing wrong, Yuno, just a lot on my mind. I'm so—"
("I'm sorry I had to do this. I love you so much.")
"—S-Sorry," you stumble on your apology.
He gets more worried. "Are you sure you're good, Mista Lang?"
"Yeah, don't worry about me, Yuno," you assure him. "Just cooked." You motion to the plate, "You should eat."
A blessing and a curse that he can't remember, you think while watching him practically inhale the food. The burden of the memory falls only to you: the weight of his unconscious body dragging on the sand, him floating on the water before you pull him down, all that is gone from his mind. Only you get to live with the guilt, how you considered your love for him to be ocean-deep, and how it drowned him in the end.
You push the extra cup of tea you prepared for Tony to him, still silent as your act of sin plays on loop in your head, details getting clearer and clearer on every run-through. It cuts just as heavily as his smile when he accepts the drink, not even bothering to hide his smile. A sign of trust, you know, also a blatant display of his undying but undeclared love.
And the man's hands that he looks at with fondness have hurt him in the way others have. In a way you promised you'd never do. What makes you different from the other gangs now? What makes you still worthy of that devotion, that loyalty, that love?
Raymond's voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and yet makes it worse. See, he would understand, but also wouldn't. He'd definitely put a bullet through your head, and this time, the family would wholly back him up. Raymond intimately knows the grief and the excruciating process to gain everyone's trust back after doing shit like this, and he'd understand that, but not why you did it.
No one would.
Because you killed the heart and life of your family, drowned him, and left his body for locals to find.
"Ray!" Yuno excitedly turns to his brother. "Finally awake this time, huh?"
The usual teasing starts between your twins, and you hear them laugh, hear Yuno giggle and see him hide his smile behind a hand. He's happy, he's here, and yet all you can think is how his tears disappeared in the ocean while you pinned his shoulders in the sand, letting water invade his lungs.