I will fucking murder you.

“I’m glad you don’t take me seriously.” Rilon let out a deep, hearty laugh. “I’d be scared if you did.”

Again, Hyde let out a grumble. He sounded more impatient with this one. You don’t appear so. I'd say, after what happened, you —

Rilon abruptly stood from the chair. His temper had grown shorter in a second. “I don’t want to hear about it. Not about Lear, not about my mother, nobody.”

I thought you would like to hear what happened to your mother, or, at the very least, the fact that I know.

The very fact… Isn’t it obvious that I’d go digging around eventually?

His alter’s words came to him from a long while ago. Had he mentioned then also he knew about his mother? Had Rilon ignored him then?

How sad to see that you keep this from me. Why so, if it’s your most painful one?

This was all some game to Hyde. This was funny — wasn’t Hyde supposed to be protecting him instead of toying with him.

Is this why you’re so afraid, Arlett? Is this why you have never left the Tower?

“STOP!” The outburst surprised even his, startling him out of the chair. Rilon nearly threw it as Hyde pressed on. His breath was heavy; he fought back the urge to smash the balcony window as well. “Please, I need you to stop.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and adjusted his glasses, waving his free hand absentmindedly as if to dismiss his anxieties. “You know what? Forget it. You know, and that’s all that matters, alright, Edward?”

Hyde. The voice snarled quietly, frustrated that his plan did not go as he had hoped.

“Edward Hyde,” Rilon corrected himself only partially, frustrating his alter more. “Oh, how you should have chosen a better name.”

Fuck off. Hyde pouted. He fell silent again, and Rilon shook his head.

Right now, he didn’t know what to think of Hyde. He was as split on the decision as he was in his mind. He could nearly reel from it — it was making him sick, and the longer he waited, the sicker he would get.

Rilon couldn’t afford to get any sicker.

He sat back down in the chair with a mutter. It was lost to him what it meant as soon as it was spoken, but Rilon supposed that it didn’t really matter. Forgetting this wouldn’t exactly matter in the long run.

Unfortunate. Sole witness. Frustrating, isn’t it?

“I need to concentrate.”

Hyde ignored him, as though he simply did not care. Isn’t it, Arlett?

“Drop the subject, Edward, and we won’t have any further issues.”

Are you sure that you want me to?

“Listen here, you little prick, I really don't want to talk about this.” He knew that Hyde was attempting at getting a reaction out of him more than anything. This was at the top of his priority list.

Rilon ignored him, no matter how irritating his mocking voice was. He had his priorities, decisions to make, and delaying them wouldn't make them go away.

“Please, just let me concentrate.”

I don't think I intend on doing that. Hyde muttered, a clear taunt in his voice.

“Fine. Go ahead and ruin my life, if that's what you're after.” Rilon turned to his desk, eyeing the journal that lay there. He made no move to get it, but instead, waited on Hyde's reply.

He never replied; Rilon picked up the journal, where he found a journal entry, which had been dated nearly a fortnight previous. Rilon didn't recollect ever writing in the journal then, but when he saw the signature, similar to his but different in many ways, he knew.

“Hyde,” he let out a sigh, a very irritated one at that. “Didn't I tell you something about not touching my stuff?”

No, I don't recall. What Hyde said had been the truth, which only irritated Rilon further, but mainly at himself.

“Well, don’t.” Rilon set the journal back down and got up from the chair. “Just… don’t.”

Fine, but don’t expect me to listen to you.

Briefly, Rilon smirked, but it faded, only to be replaced with a frown. He opened his mouth to reply but found that the retort was more than likely not relevant to the situation.

He headed to the cabinets near the door, rifling through them until he found what he was looking for: a familiar vial filled with red liquid, somehow without identification. The memories of that night flashed through Rilon’s head as he held it, and once again he felt the familiar urge to throw it against the wall, to rid himself of it, but yet, all the same, he felt drawn to it like that night, like before that night, where he had found it.

What nobody knew was that he had stolen it from University after being drawn to do so for many months. He had hoped that nobody would notice that the two or so vials were gone, but somebody had. After a brief investigation and several interviews — which Rilon had successfully lied his way out of each time — the search was deemed pointless and called off.

That was the only time Rilon had such tendencies, which he had claimed at the time to be driven by some voice in his head. Crazy to think now that he knew who the voice may have been.

You’re not exactly good, either, Arlett. Hyde’s voice startled him out of his trance. And to think that you were the good brother.

“I am,” Rilon forced down any negative emotion in his voice. “I just… it wasn’t my fault.”

Of course not. Hyde didn’t believe him. Rilon refrained from retorting and set the vial down onto the countertop. It was the little voice nagging in the back of your head that keeps telling you to do it, nagging you to do things that you shouldn’t.

“Alright, that’s enough poetry for one day.” Rilon picked up the vial, staring hard at it. “Shut up before I make you.”

You wouldn’t. Rilon nearly burst out laughing as panic rose in Hyde’s voice; however, Rilon began to panic, but he forced it down hopefully before Hyde noticed.

“Oh, trust me… I would.” The very thought of dying made Rilon’s breath hitch in fear. It was an empty threat, and they both knew it. “I can and I fucking will.”

Eventually, fear made Rilon store the vial back in his cabinet. Slamming the door shut, Rilon held tightly onto the countertop, panting in a vain effort to catch his breath. He suddenly did not even believe any of his threats, especially the one he had made only moments before.

Scared, Arlett?

Rilon let go of the countertop and his hands fell to his sides. His breath caught, but he swallowed any fear, dashing out the flames as if he had blown out a mere candle. “No. I’m not scared.”

I’m fucking terrified.

He made sure that Hyde heard him, loud and clear.

Rilon pulled out his hair and ran a hand through it, his breath shuddering. Nausea rose in his throat, and he welcomed it. It dashed his fear quicker than any other anxiety-ridding tactic would do; it was nearly an anxiety-ridding tactic in itself.

Suddenly, he fought back the urge to vomit, leaving the countertop and running to the bathroom. The sink was the closest thing he could get to.

His heart was pounding in his ears, drowning anything else, especially background noise. He looked up, and almost felt rage as it dawned on him that he still had no mirror. It had been broken in Hyde's rage, a shard of it used in the making of Lear's demise.

The thought of that made Rilon even sicker.

Get it together. He's gone. You should be relieved. What was supposed to be a reassurance nearly made him lose it; a frustrated, terrified wail escaped from his throat, echoing through the confines of his room. Rilon didn't even care if anyone heard him. He would reject any help that came, anyway.

The only thing you should be glad about is that your brother can't see you like this.

Hyde was right. Asiah's presence would only frustrate him. Rilon feared that they'd fight over the childish emotions he had. Tensions were already high between them; he didn't need more.

With some relief, Rilon sunk to the ground, but he still felt as sick as ever. The idle time he was wasting brought more fear into his mind — his breath caught again, and he stood.

As he returned to the main room, he picked up his discarded hair tie from the countertop and redid his hair. Some normality made him feel better, but not by much.

The escape of his room was too much at the moment — in fact, it no longer felt like an escape, but rather a prison.

Rilon flung himself outside into the hallway, slamming the door behind him. Instantly, he felt relief at the release of his prison. The fact that he was — mostly — alone was more releasing than not. He nearly flew down the hallway, fueled by euphoric joy. He didn’t want it to run out, but, as all things had to, it had to end.

He turned a corner, nearly collapsing against a wall. The euphoria had left him, but the happiness had not. He stifled a laugh as he slid back against the wall, sitting down to catch his breath.

You know you forgot something.

“Shut up, I’m happy.” Rilon ignored Hyde altogether, burying his face in his hands and giggling like a child. “I rarely get days like this.”

After giving himself some time to calm down, Rilon caught his breath and stopped to rebuke himself for being so childish.

But he stopped and shook his head.

Nah… He sniffed, letting out another, yet short-lived, childish giggle. I did nothing wrong.

“Ri?”

Rilon startled awake from his desk. Groggily, he shoved out a breathless reply. “I’m up,” he muttered, wiping away specks of drool from his face. “What is it?”

“Get ready.”

It was Asiah. Who else could it be?

“For… what exactly?” Rilon suspected, but he didn’t exactly know. So much has happened lately, and especially things that his brother didn’t even remotely know.

Asiah sent Rilon a glare, and he flinched. “Oh...” It came to him, accompanied by a sickening pang. He sighed. “Right.”

Noting the way that Asiah had not pushed him further, he only needed to do the basics, mainly fixing up the mess of himself. He didn't need to change.

Yet he didn't want to, fighting back the urge to tell Asiah that, but he couldn't go about telling him why in case his brother questioned him.

Rilon would have to put on this facade of grief and go about his day knowing what his brother saw wasn't rather grief, but guilt.

“I'll wait outside… give you time.” Asiah gently patted Rilon's shoulder, before Rilon heard the door shut seconds later.

He would think that the loneliness would be more comfortable, but somehow it wasn't.

I'm contradicting myself, aren't I? Rilon sat straighter in his chair. He shook his head, throwing away the thought. No, I'm not.

He got up from the chair and headed to the balcony door. As he slid it open, he dashed anything negative in his mind.

The cold air hit him in a sudden wave and nearly threw him back inside. Rilon shivered against it, pushing himself forward to the railing.

He gazed out onto the city, which had grown unusually quiet for this time of the morning. Rilon knew that the streets would soon be crowded, mourners coming from around the world as they usually did.

The very thought that they did not know what Lear had done made Rilon shudder with disgust. These people would mourn a man that had become so cruel in Rilon’s heart. It was disgusting.

Disgusting. The word made Rilon choke back another sob.

He wasn't going to get ready. He wasn't going out among those streets for a man he would not mourn. He wasn't going to mourn a man who never genuinely loved him.

He clutched onto the railing, catching his breath, letting out a low, deep sigh through his nose. This was going to be stressful. He couldn't let himself get stressed — this was a stupid time to get stressed. Rilon smacked his forehead multiple times to remind himself that.

No, he would not rebuke himself in such a way. There he was, contradicting himself again.

The sight of the city was making him think too much, but he couldn't head back inside — there he would have to talk to his brother.

There's no way out of this.

“Glad to hear that you're up.” Hyde's threat meant nothing, not at this moment. Empty. He stood up fully and let go of the morning. “So how is it, knowing what will soon happen to you?”

Me? I what now?

“You were so in the moment that you never considered the repercussions, didn't you?” Rilon had to be honest — he was in the moment, a different kind although feeling great about himself. When Hyde didn't immediately reply, he repeated his question. “Didn't you?”

Still, Hyde did not reply, which only frustrated Rilon further.

“Fine, be that way.” As he headed inside, it took everything for him to not slam the door. His breath once again steadied, then caught as he noticed Asiah sitting on his countertop. Fear that he may have seen him only quickened it.

Rilon bared his teeth and spat through a thinly veiled snarl, “I’m not going.”

“You’re going,” Asiah crossed his arms, mocking Rilon’s snarl. “And if I have to drag you outside, I will.”

“Fine,” As much as Rilon wanted to scream ‘no!’ and bolt for it, he didn’t, He mocked Asiah and pulled a face. “Do it. Drag me out there, Feigling.”

Coward.

The word brought him a strange joy when he spoke it, especially so when the person reacted. This was one of the very few words that his brother didn’t know, but with the context he had just been given, he knew now.

He regretted saying it.

“Rilon.” Asiah pointed to the bedroom door, eyes narrowed and blazing. “Get ready. You’re going.”

There was an unspoken message in his eyes, one that Rilon found too painful to look at for long.

Whether you like it or not.

Rilon shook his head once more, but reluctantly stomped to his room like an angry child. He slammed the door behind him, locked it, and slid down it. His breath came to him in shuddering gasps, inaudible to his brother. After a moment, he took off his glasses, staring at them as though they had become foreign to him, then his hair for the same reason. Only when he heard his brother’s footsteps leave the room did he curl up, hugging himself tightly.

Asi doesn’t know. If I’m like this, he never will.

What he had held back came spilling out into emotions, the one sob he had let escape multiplied into another; his eyes stinging with tears that he — frankly — should have cried earlier. His brother would have left him alone — now there was no way that he would be left alone now.

God, I’m such an idiot. Rilon wiped away the tears with a hand. I just… need to get myself together. I can do that, can’t I?