He didn't leave the bathroom for an eternity, but he had to leave at some point. It would seem too weird for him to stay there all night.

Rilon waited until Asiah had gotten up from the door in defeat. They weren't going to try to reason with each other any further.

Rilon discarded his bloodied clothes in a trash can — he figured he could discard them somewhere better later — exchanging them for new, nearly identical ones. His glasses and coat, however, were still on the bed, where Hyde had supposedly discarded them awhile go.

Rilon cleaned himself up as much as he could and got changed. He cleaned up what had been the mirror, but picked up one piece and decided to keep it. Why he did, he didn't know.

He stole a glance at it, not surprised to find that what he had changed into did not hide the signs of Hyde's fight with Lear. He still needed to fix up the head wound, before it entirely slipped his mind.

Rilon would have to find a needle and thread… there had to be some in this Tower, for sure, if not in his apartment. Rilon could not recall whether he kept any here.

He strode into the main room, heading for the desk. The shard he still held in his hand he left in a drawer, abruptly shutting it at a voice.

“Did you make up your mind?”

Asiah had never truly left his apartment.

“My... my mind?” Rilon stammered. Something else had slipped his mind. He couldn't exactly remember what he had forgotten, but when he turned to his brother, the glare he was sent quickly sent his thoughts back. “Oh.”

He turned, leaning upon the desk, which creaked under his weight. “I thought I told you no. Did you not understand?”

“You can't just reject something as big as this, Rilon. It is — are you sure you're alright?”

For a moment, it had not occurred to Rilon that his brother could see what happened. He abruptly stood from the desk and turned away so that his brother could not see him. “I told you — I'm fine.”

“Lear didn’t hurt you yesterday, did he? Is that why you were hiding behind the door?”

“Asiah,” Rilon wasn’t lying as he further added, “No. That was from something else — this was from something else.”

“But… he didn’t, did he?”

“No.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but wasn’t a lie, either. “Asi, can we please change the subject?”

“I — sorry. Rilon, you have to make up your mind about the Presidency before someone suspects something.” As he wished, Asiah changed the subject, but it wasn’t a subject that Rilon wanted to touch upon either.

“I already made my mind.” Rilon whipped back around and nearly stomped over to his brother. “I’m saying that you should do it.”

“And I’m saying that I’m not fit to do it.” Asiah retorted, making an effort not to raise his voice. From what Rilon could hear, it was nearly an effort in vain. “You were prepared for this, not me.”

Hardly prepared. Lear seemed more intent on making his life miserable than preparing him for the Presidency. Asiah was just too blind to that.

“Yes, make a mentally ill man President, what a great idea.” Rilon backed away to his desk and leaned back against it. He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly through his nose in a passive-aggressive move. “A very great idea.”

Asiah ran a hand through his hair, echoing Rilon’s act almost mockingly. “First full day without both parents and it’s already gone to hell. I guess we were way too dependent on them.”

Maybe for you. Hyde retorted, a stinging remark in Rilon’s mind. For once, Rilon could agree. While Rilon had been in school, he’d hardly any help from his brother, mainly either out of ignorance or just the strong language barrier between them both. Not once in University had Rilon asked for help from anyone.

Asiah had a point in him taking the Presidency for himself, but there was only one obstacle keeping Rilon from actually taking it — the fact that he would be filling the shoes of someone he hated, despised. Someone he had killed.

He just felt too guilty.

“You really wouldn’t understand,” Rilon shut his eyes and chuckled, then shaking his head. “And for once, that’s a good thing. You just need to take it. I’ll work behind the scenes, help… somehow.” This was getting more depressing the more he went on about it. Rilon still had other things — more important things — to get to than just petty chit-chat.

“First Lord, then.” Asiah sighed. “Alright.”

What Rilon wanted him to do finally came true, as his brother finally gave up arguing with him, and left the apartment without another word.

As the door shut, Rilon got the sinking feeling that he was potentially forgetting something. Mentally he rebuked himself, knowing that what he had forgotten was important.

It finally took a sharp, stinging retort to himself to snap back his memory.

Needle and thread. Dammit. I need a needle and thread.

He supposed at best there would be some in his cabinet. At worst, he would have to go searching for some around the Tower.

He despised this. Some days he wished his hair had been shorter. It would make things so much easier.

Today, unfortunately, was one of those days.

Without a mirror, Rilon found that it was a struggle to get the stitches in as they needed to be. Most times he'd gotten several inches off, others he missed his head completely. After a while, he was about ready to give up, when he gave it one last shot, and got it.

It wasn't the most comfortable job, but he supposed that this was one of his costs. Comfort was a luxury that he could not often afford.

At long last, he finished, taking the spare pair of scissors he had found at the back of his cabinet and snipping off the remaining thread. He pulled the stitches tight, wincing, then tied the end of the thread.

Rilon prayed that it would stay, just long enough for it to heal at least partially, or long enough for anyone not to take notice.

Unfortunately, the bruises around his neck were enough to cause concern from just a glance, and too late had Asiah already noticed them and had gotten worried.

He stole a glance back out the window from his bed, tossing the now-empty thread spool away. It landed without noise or out of earshot, but with a glance, Rilon spotted nothing in his room.

He fell back upon the bed and winced again. All he wanted to do was sleep, but an unknown external force was keeping him from doing so — the overwhelming feeling of numbness suddenly took over him. He hated what it could do. It was supposed to lull him to sleep, to help him forget what he was externally feeling, not keep him awake.

Personally, Rilon hated when this happened — this overwhelming feeling of numbness, even on the best of days, he found himself just unable to feel anything.

This was one of those moments. The guilt returned to him, and he muttered impatiently under his breath.

He has decisions to make, and not all of them were fair ones.

First Lord. That title felt foreign on him. Lord Arlett.

It felt strangely familiar to say the title, and no wonder it had brought him so much disgust. His father had held it at one point in his lifetime.

He spat it out audibly, with more distaste than he had ever felt in his lifetime. “Lord Arlett. Stupid, petty title.”

Rilon got up from the bed, muttering the title over and over until it felt less and less foreign to him. Still, it felt disgusting to say, knowing that his father also had held that title, although before Rilon was born.

Still, he didn't like it at all. He wanted nothing to do with the change. He was fine with his current title; this “Lord” business was too formal. It made him sound too mature and distasteful.

His thoughts escaped him and left his mind empty once more. Unable to stand any longer, Rilon crumpled to the floor in a heap.

He began tracing at the floor, marking intricate equations that should have escaped his mind from years back. When that had grown boring, he folded his hands in his lap and shut his eyes.

Usually, his escape, his mind space would come to him easily, but now he found it harder than he should. It was something that was supposed to naturally come to him when he was overwhelmed and overloaded.

Was Hyde doing this?

Rilon took his hair down, opened his eyes, and shrugged. “Is this what you want, Edward?”

He kept his voice low on an effort for nobody to hear him.

His ruse didn't work; Rilon quickly fixed his hair back up and stood.

Still no response.

Frustrated, Rilon sulked into his main room, over to his desk. He picked up the journal that had lain on his desk, abandoned, and a pen, which also appeared to be unused.

Quickly he wrote in it,

“November 10, 2663

What do you want from me?”

Rilon refused to sign and time it, fearing that it would take up too much of his idle time. Nobody was going to read it but him, anyway.

He set the journal down, still impatient and frustrated at the lack of response.

I want you to understand what I was doing. Hyde's voice was quiet; he was mentally drained as Rilon was.

“You didn't have to kill my father. The point was already proven.”

He still could have gone after you, Rilon. What are you, blind? It was obvious that he was up to something.

“I'm fine on my own, thanks.” Rilon picked up the journal and the pen, finally bothering to add the time and signature.

“02:21, Rilon Emrys Arlett.”

I read your journal. Why did your name become so… plain?

“Why were you reading my journal? You should know that’s private.” He sighed. Hyde may be his other personality, but he sure wasn’t him if that’s how it was going to go.

Rilon, I asked a question.

“Is there something wrong with my name?” Rilon set the journal and pen back on his desk. “At least it's Rilon, and not Henry or Gabriel, or God forbid,” he sneered — this was intentional. “Edward.”

Oh, dear God. Mentally Hyde must have been rolling his eyes. You do have a point… please shut up before I strangle you.

“You almost got that down.” It was a terrible joke, and Rilon knew that. At least he was trying to lighten the mood, or, at the very least, change the subject.

He wasn’t even going to try to hide the bruises — he’d given up on that when he’d stitched up his head. What people were going to assume, and at the worst, he’d get an ask or a passing muttering behind his back. All he could do was not care in the least. This was his own business.

The room was getting too small for him. When he left, Asiah was hanging around across the hall, joined by a man that looked to be of Middle Eastern descent. They both were involved in quiet mutterings with one another.

“Asiah?” Rilon saw him startle as he spoke — he hadn’t heard him leave the apartment. “Who’s this?”

“Oh? You don’t know him?” Asiah stood fully upright and crossed his arms. He was trying not to panic. He was avoiding Rilon’s gaze, sending helpless glances to the other man as if hoping for a response. “Vice President, Amil Karim?”

Amil himself was shorter than Rilon, around the same height as Asiah, yet he held himself with such maturity that nearly eclipsed Rilon. He held out his hand expectantly.

Rilon quickly calmed himself and took his hand. After a brief handshake, he stared back at the floor.

“So,” he murmured, then turning his gaze toward Asiah. “Still the Vice President I’m guessing, from what you were talking about?”

“You could put it like that.” Asiah scratched the back of his head, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath. He sent another glance to Amil. Amil nodded back. A silent message that Rilon couldn’t decipher passed between the two of them. Amil nodded back but said nothing. Before Rilon could protest, they headed off down the hallway.

“Well,” Rilon murmured, sighing. “What do you make of this, Edward?”

I don’t want you calling me Edward anymore. Hyde pouted.

“Fine, Hyde. Answer my question.”

I haven’t met him, so I don't know. 

Exasperated, Rilon muttered a curse under his breath. “You’re no help.”

You’re welcome.

The two were still heading down the hall as Rilon watched them. He thought he felt a pang of jealousy strike him, but he couldn’t be so sure of himself. He couldn’t trust his emotions much anymore. Especially jealousy.

Jealousy, Rilon knew, was a stupid thing to feel, for over friendships that he never had, over romantic relationships that he would never get into. Long ago, he had especially denounced the latter, favoring his studies over it. He figured that romantic affection was something some people felt and other people did not.

Rilon knew — and he had for a while now — that he fit into the category of those who did not.

Amil is only a friend of his, Rilon turned back to head for his rooms, reassuring himself in vain. Just a friend, that is all. You need to get your head together, please.

When the door had closed behind him, Rilon slid back against it, drawing out a long breath as he did so. There was this emptiness inside him that he couldn’t explain, but, at the same time, it felt normal. Painfully normal.

Did I just… skip everything and head right for the depression part of grief, because it sure fucking feels like it.

I-

Rilon cut Hyde off before he could even start. “I don’t want it.”

Ar-

Rilon, bared his teeth in an effort to keep his voice from rising. “What did I say, Edward?”

I’ll… shut up… and leave you alone.

As Hyde fell silent, Rilon let out another sigh. It shuddered, full of the emptiness he felt.

Finally, he was free in an empty mind.

It was too empty, too quiet.

The silence made his ears ring, overpowering all of his senses. He got to his feet, covering his ears as though that would help him.

Rilon stumbled to his desk and uncovered his ears. He slumped down as the ringing gradually died off, quietly murmuring to himself.

"Mir geht es…" the final word on his reassurance escaped him for a split second. "Mir geht es gut."

It didn't seem to reassure him much, but at least it had brought a small amount of peace to his mind. He repeated it to himself for good measure.

The simple phrase was interrupted by Hyde, who muttered, are you finished, quite impatiently.

Rilon laughed humorlessly. "Give me six months at the most, then maybe I'll let you speak again.

Hyde gave another incoherent grumble, then fell silent.

“Oh,” Rilon rolled his eyes, drawing out the word. “You think that I seriously mean tha’.” He mockingly imitated Hyde’s tone. “Do you, dear Arlett?”