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It is far too early in the morning when the doorbell rings. But I’ve been awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, so I roll out of bed and go peek through the peephole to see who’s knocking on my door at such an unearthly hour.
I catch a glimpse of a mop of curly orange hair and a big grin.
Oh. Yeah.
I forgot he was coming by today.
I open the door slowly, yawning hugely. Second is an early bird, which surprised me when I found out. After all, he’s always napping.
“Good morning!” Second says brightly. He looks like he wants to give me a hug, but he wisely refrains. I don’t like being touched.
Hugs make me think of Dark. He was always hugging me – or trying to.
“I was asleep,” I say, which isn’t true. But I wish it was.
“It’s seven o’clock, Chosen,” Second says, following me into the apartment. He looks around, eyebrows drifting upwards. “It’s not…that…early.”
“I’m getting to it,” I say, waving a hand in the direction of the living room. ‘Chaos’ is probably too mild a term for it, but I’ve been struggling to get out of bed most mornings. I definitely don’t have the emotional energy to clean right now.
“Mm-hmm,” Second says, picking up a handful of plastic wrappers. “Chosen, you know how to cook.”
“So?” I growl, heading for the coffee machine. I’m going to need at least two cups before I start feeling like a stick again.
“Like, really, really well.”
“And?”
Second opens the dishwasher, pulling out the rack. There’s about a thousand coffee-stained mugs waiting to be washed, a horde of dirty forks and spoons, and just about nothing else.
“You’ve been living on coffee and takeout again, Chosen.”
“I’m a grown stick,” I mutter, rubbing my temples. “I can do what I want.”
Second doesn’t answer. When I glance over, he’s starting the dishwasher. There’s a look on his face that I don’t quite like. His ‘stubborn’ look.
Second’s easygoing and eager to please, most of the time. But sometimes he gets a bee in his bonnet over something and then he just won’t let it go.
I sigh.
“At least I remembered to eat this week, right?”
Second raises an eyebrow. Clearly, he’s not convinced that I’m doing just fine.
I’m probably not doing fine.
Whatever.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and sit down at the kitchen table.
“I’m cleaning up,” Second says. He’s got an empty trash bag in one hand, and I can see him entering ‘cleaning mode.’ He has this manic energy for cleaning. If you activate it somehow, you’re in trouble, because as far as I know there is no way to turn it back off.
“Be my guest. I’m not helping you, though.” I take a sip of coffee and sigh as the bitter, acid fluid travels down my throat.
Best part of waking up. Only good part of waking up, really.
I could never understand why Dark always insisted that coffee tastes like death.
“No. You’re going to go take a shower after you’re done with your coffee.”
“I showered yesterday,” I protest. I pause. “A couple days ago, anyway. I’m clean enough.”
“You are showering,” Second says, poking a finger in my direction. “End of discussion.”
“You’re not my boss, Second.”
“Just your younger brother,” Second says cheerfully, giving me a cocky grin.
He disappears into the living room, leaving me to my coffee. I take another sip, glaring at the kitchen table.
Dark was always this way, too.
What is it with my younger brothers always feeling like they need to look out for me?
I…kind of missed it, after Dark died.
I’m never letting Second know that I sort of like it.
Whatever. I’m still not going to shower.
When I get out of the shower, my living room and kitchen are sparkling clean. Second’s busy reorganizing my pantry, obviously cataloguing my food supply.
“Put some real pants on,” Second says, opening a box of cereal to check how full it is. “You and I are going out after I’m done here.” He pulls out the empty bag, stares at it for a moment, and then throws the box away, a funny expression on his face.
I call it his ‘really, Chosen?’ face. I feel like he uses it far more often than he needs to.
I pour myself another cup of coffee and lean against the counter. Watching Second work is kind of relaxing. He’s so focused on the task at hand, so absorbed in what he’s doing. It’s like he doesn’t even know that I’m there.
Except he one hundred percent knows exactly where I am and what I’m doing. I have no idea how he does it.
Dark was the same way.
“And where, exactly, are we going?”
“First, the grocery store,” Second says. “To buy some real food.”
“Takeout is real food.”
“That’s debatable,” Second says, checking the expiry date on an unopened jar of pickles. His eyebrows shoot up, and he tosses the jar into the trash. “Second – hah – after the grocery store, we are going to have lunch.”
“You’re not going to make me cook it, are you?”
“Not unless you want to,” Second says. I catch a tiny drop of hope in his voice, and I know that he’s really hoping I’m willing to cook. He somehow thinks that how much I cook is a good indicator of my state of wellbeing.
“Nope,” I say.
“Okay, that’s fine. I know a place with good burgers, we can go there.”
“Burgers don’t count as takeout?”
“These are high enough quality that they count as actual food.”
“I see. And how do you know that?”
“Green’s girlfriend works there, and she and Blue were talking about it the other day.”
“I see.” I take another sip of coffee. Then my brow furrows. “Wait, Green has a girlfriend?”
“Yeah. They only started dating a couple months ago, but they’ve known each other for a while. I think I told you about her before.”
“What’s her name, again?”
“Purple.”
“Wait – Purple, as in, the Purple who almost got Green and Blue killed in the End? That Purple?”
“Yeah…”
“The Purple that helped that King Orange guy almost destroy Minecraft, while you guys were still inside of it? That Purple?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Why is he dating her?”
“She’s changed a lot. And we were sort of friends with her, even before that.”
I stare at Second, completely confused. “I don’t get it.”
Second looks at me like he wants to say something, but then he shakes his head. “Anyway. It’s her day off, so we probably won’t run into her. She and Green are going out someplace.” He steps back from my pantry, brushing his hands off in satisfaction.
“Wait, Green came with you to the Outernet?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Second gives me a look, clearly anticipating what I’m going to say. “You don’t need to worry about flying him back up to the IP grid, though. Purple can do that.”
“She has superpowers?”
“Elytra.”
“I have no idea what that is.”
“I’ll explain it later,” Second says cheerfully. “Let’s go the grocery store.”
My truck broke down a few weeks ago, but I haven’t found the time to get it fixed yet. Second accepts my explanation without a word, but he takes out his phone and texts someone as we start walking towards the nearest grocery store.
I can’t make out the contact name, but I catch a glimpse of lemon-yellow hair and thick glasses in the contact photo. Second’s texting Yellow. Probably to tell him that he needs to come fix my truck.
“You don’t need to do that,” I say.
“Yellow needs something productive to do,” Second says, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “He claims he’s run out of ideas and he’s driving all of us crazy, moping around the PC. You’d be doing me a favor.”
He grins at me.
I sigh.
“Fine.”
“Thank youuu,” Second sings, clasping his hands.
I roll my eyes, shoving him gently. “Shut up, Second.”
But I can feel the beginnings of a smile tugging at my cheeks.
It’s a nice day outside. It’s late enough in the fall that although it’s bright and sunny, there’s a chill in the air. It’s clearly having an invigorating effect on Second. He walks with an extra bounce in his step, eyes sparkling. The breeze is ruffling his orange curls.
I squint at his hair. It didn’t use to be this short, did it? When did he cut it?
He’s grown so much. I only vaguely remember when he was a gangly sixteen-year-old.
I wonder how much of his personality I’ve missed. Even over the past year he’s changed and grown so much. Back then, when I first met him, I…
I wasn’t in a good place.
I wasn’t really in a state of mind to notice much of anything at all.
I wasn’t sure living was worth the effort.
With Dark gone, nothing had meaning anymore.
“Chosen?”
I blink, realizing that I’ve been staring at Second. “Sorry.”
“I’ll grab a cart,” Second says, ushering me through the doors of the grocery store. “You head to the produce section and start picking out some fruit!”
“Teenagers and their energy,” I grumble.
“I’m twenty, Chosen.”
Wait, when did that happen? I squint, tilting my head back and looking at the ceiling as I try to think. Is Second really no longer a teenager? When was his birthday, again?
“Last month.”
I whip my head around. Second shrugs, acting like he hasn’t just read my mind, and jogs off to get a cart.
Gah. How does he do it?
I shake my head, then head in what I think is the direction of the produce section. I’ll just poke around until Second gets there. If I don’t pick anything out, he’ll just do it for me, so…yeah, why bother?
I’m really too tired for all this.
Second takes forever to find a stupid cart. When he finally reaches the produce section, I glare at him.
“Did you stop to admire the view?”
“I got distracted,” Second admits, pointing to several boxes in the cart. “I made the mistake of going through the exotic foods aisle.”
“What does that even say?” I squint at the top box, trying to read the label.
“I don’t remember. I recognize the characters, though. The main character in one of Yellow’s k-dramas is always eating these, so I’m going to surprise Yellow with them for his birthday.”
I huff. “I’ll let you off this time.” I shift positions as one of the apples cradled in my arms slips, just managing to catch it before it tumbles to the floor.
“I’ll grab a bag or three,” Second says. “You really went to town, Chosen.”
“I thought that was what you wanted,” I grumble.
“And you’re correct!”
When we leave the grocery store twenty minutes later, each of us with both hands full of grocery bags, I have to admit – only to myself – that Second is the winner of this particular battle of wills.
At least he isn’t the gloating kind.
Not like Dark. Dark would have gloated for days.
The burger place that Second wants to go to has only just opened when we get there. It’s a tiny place, which would normally make me nervous. I don’t like small spaces. But with its white walls and enormous windows, the burger place doesn’t make me feel closed in. It just feels…welcoming.
How odd.
Second gives the stick at the register his trademark grin. She smiles back.
“Hey! You’re one of Purple’s friends, right? Orange?”
“That’s me,” Second says, pointing to himself. I forget sometimes that he never goes by Second, except when he’s with me. He only does it to humor me; I can tell that he thinks “The Second Coming” isn’t really who he is.
He’s wrong, but…I don’t have the heart to disillusion him. It’d be so painful for both of us to talk about that day.
Second’s never going to forget it. How could he? He’s still got the scars from The Dark Lord’s ViraBlade, even if he…
He…
Nevermind.
“Who’s your friend?” the stick at the register asks, leaning against the counter.
“Oh, that’s my brother, Chosen.” Second gestures in my direction. “Chosen, this is Coral.”
“Your brother? Wow! You guys must take after different sides of the family,” Coral laughs.
I glance at Second, who shrugs. The resemblance between us is subtle, which is slightly ironic given that he’s supposed to be my return.
But his resemblance to Dark is so strong that sometimes it hurts. If Second were red…
But I’m not going to think about that.
I don’t think about Dark.
It’s better that way.
“Well, I should take your order,” Coral says, winking. “What’ll you two have?”
Second looks at me, and I shrug. He knows better than anyone that I’m the antithesis of a picky eater.
“Two double cheeseburgers with bacon, two large fries, and two large chocolate milkshakes,” Second says.
“Coming right up,” Coral replies. “That’ll be thirty.”
I start to pull out my wallet, but Second makes a shooing motion. “I made you come to lunch with me, I’ll pay for it.”
I start to protest, but Second has that stubborn look again. So I shut my mouth.
“Do you want to eat here, or outside?” Second asks while we’re waiting for our order. “There’s a patio area, or we could go to the park down the road.”
As surprisingly pleasant as the interior of the burger place is, I’ll never be able to resist the outdoors. It’s one of the few places I can ever feel truly free.
So, we go to the park. We find a bench under a tree and sit down. Second starts laughing when he sees a tall pile of orange leaves in the grass.
“Did I tell you that Green made a fall-themed family portrait?” he asks, grinning. He picks up a leaf, twirling the stem between his fingers. Then he holds it up in front of his face, so that it blends in with his bangs. “He used a leaf like this for my hair.”
I smile. “I’d like to see it.”
“I’ll take a picture of it and text it to you,” he says. He starts laughing harder. “If only some leaves turned black in the fall. He could have drawn you, complete with a caption: ‘Leaf me alone!’”
For a moment, I stare at him.
Then I chuckle.
“You’re ridiculous, Second.”
“Guilty as charged. Eat your burger before it gets cold.”
“What are you doing?”
Second looks at me, confused. “What do you mean?”
“You’re dipping your fries in your milkshake,” I say.
“Oh. It’s good. You should try it.”
“No, thank you.”
“Come on, I thought you’d eat anything!” Second says. “Just one bite, Chosen.”
I hunch my shoulders. “No.”
I half expect Second to keep pushing me, but he seems to sense that something is wrong, because he doesn’t say anything. He just turns his attention to the fries, waiting for me to untense. Not forcing me to say anything or do anything. Just…being there.
“…he used to do that,” I whisper.
Second looks at me. It takes a few seconds for comprehension to dawn. His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes grow somber. “Oh.”
We sit there in silence for a long time, holding our half-finished milkshakes. Neither of us makes a move.
Then I feel a hand in mine. I look down. Second’s orange fingers are a stark contrast to my deep gray, almost black, ones. There’s a long, pale scar right across Second’s knuckles.
“You miss him a lot,” Second says. He doesn’t look at me. He seems to know that it makes me feel cornered, sometimes, if it feels like someone’s paying too much attention. “I’m sorry.”
“He needed to die.” The words sound so flat and harsh. My throat’s burning, my eyes prickling.
A tear slips down my cheek.
“It feels like half of me is missing, Second. Like I’ve lost a part of myself that I need desperately, and I can’t find it again.”
The words hurt so much to say, like they’re being ripped out of my heart.
Second leans against me. I hold onto his hand tightly, feeling like if I let go, I might lose this brother, too.
“I was supposed to protect him,” I whisper. “I was always the big brother, the idol, the hero. And I failed him in so. Many. Ways.”
Second doesn’t say anything. What is there for him to say? He wouldn’t lie to me.
“You aren’t failing me,” he says finally. “But I’d love you, even if you did.
“Dark loved you.”
He sits silently while I cry. Just being there. Seeing me. Knowing me. Loving me anyway.
When the tears are all gone, I take a deep, shuddering breath. I feel empty, drained.
But also…sort of peaceful.
Second seems to sense that the period of vulnerability is over, that it’s time to return to the status quo. He lets go of my hand, dipping another fry in his milkshake.
I take a fry, then pause for a long time. Staring at it.
Then I, too, dip my fry in my chocolate milkshake.
It’s an odd combination.
Salty and sweet.
Hot and cold.
But it’s good.
It reminds me of Dark.
And…it reminds me of Second, too.