I wouldn't be able to tell you what woke me from slumber as nothing remarkable had happened. No shift in the bed. No loud sounds. No distress-like smells to plunder my nose. But I knew, as I blinked and fought my exit from the land-of-dreams that something was wrong. 

“Tim?” My tongue felt heavy on my mouth. 

I glanced around, finding nothing. I was alone in the room. Narrowing my eyes as I read the hour: Four in the morning. 

It takes me a moment to orient myself, the room unfamiliar but the smells lingering close enough to home to confuse my half-sleep brain. We’re at the safe-house. Not home. Drake and Raphael had pushed for the pack to stay over for a while even now that the open treat is gone. 

I push myself up, getting out of the room and walking down the halls as quietly as possible. I have no desire to disturb the other’s rest. 

Experience dictates that Tim’s either in the gardens or in the kitchen. If he’s in the garden, the night might end turning ugly, if he’s in the kitchen then there will be tears and bruising kisses that taste of self-hate. 

Either way, this night is going to suck. 

I decided to look into the kitchen first and to my relief, I found Tim sitting at the table. Fingers running through his blond looks, he’s staring off into the darkness, his breathing heavy and uneven. 

The amount of empty bottles worries me. 

I hesitate on the threshold, biting my lip as I calculate the different ways to approach this. I’ve never been one to preach for responsibility but this habit of his makes me quite angry and yelling at him is tempting even when I know it would only make things worse. 

He broke his promise, an angry voice points out, it sounds a lot like Jason’s. I shake my head, that is not a train of thought that is welcomed. ‘He’s mourning.’ I remind myself and the voice. ‘He’s in his right to be upset, to lash out. To make stupid desicions in his grief is normal, a couple of drinks is harly the worst thing he could have done.’ 

Pushing the anger down is not as easy as I would have wanted. 

Slowly making my way towards him, with the same care I would use to not spook a feral cat, I surround his shoulders with my arms, pressing my chin against the top of his head. Tim stiffens and immediately tries to play it off. 

“I’m fine.”

Tim hiccups and my remaining anger dissipates; hard to be angry when you’re heartbroken, after all. 

“Shh, it’s going to be alright, love.” I whisper, making sure my scent transmits safe-warm-love to ease him back to the real world. “I have you, Tim. I have you.” 

Tears don’t take much to start running and in seconds my arms are full of a distressed omega, the almost pungent sweetness makes me gag but I focus on cooing soft reassurances and rub little circles in his back, maneuvering him so his face is hidden on the curvature of my neck. 

“Sowwy, ‘Tou…” 

The slurring makes me sigh but I force a smile, the last thing I want is for Tim to feel like I hate him or something like that. 

 “It’s alright, love.”

“Our pomise… I broke it… sowwy…” 

“I forgive you. There’s no need to apologize, love. I’m not mad at you.” Hurt, yes. But not angry, at least not anymore. If anything, I’m tired. So, so tired. “Come on. Let’s go back to bed, yes? Up, you go. Yes, that’s perfect. Put your arms around me… shit. Wait, no. Alright. Walking is a no, so, we’ll try something different. I’m gonna carry you, love. Is that alright with you?” 

“Mmm-uhh.” 

“I will take that as a yes.” I chuckled. “Alright, think you can put your arms around my neck?” 

Tim compiled clumsily, making the strength of his hold take me by surprise and making my not-so-awful luck the only thing that kept me from falling backwards. Thinking quickly, I leaned forward and made sure to support his bottom so his legs would stay around my waist. 

‘Wanna cake… choco cake… make some for me? Pwease?” Tim’s breath is warm against my ear, it tickles. 

“Sure thing. How many levels do you want?”

“Lots.” 

“Lots is not a number I know, I’m afraid.” 

“Lots are… lots! Like six! Or four!” 

“Alright, alright. I’ll make a cake with six levels for you.”

“Yay!” 

‘Fuck, he’s cute when he has no filter.’ It does bad things to my heart, really, it does. And it’s not like he’s not cute normally but he’s rarely childish like this. It’s nostalgic. Bitter-sweet in the way happy memories of better times are. ‘If only making Tim happy was this easy all the time…’ 

Making it back to our room without anyone crossing paths with us felt like a victory, one I’m sure it's only possible with divine intervention. Thus, I promise to add some flowers to the offerings I’ll be bringing to the temple as thanks for the Ishmal. 

Tim’s continued survival was a miracle. Of this I had no doubt, and so, it would be incredibly rude to not show my gratitude. 

I ran my knuckles against his jaw after tucking him in, there was a mess in the kitchen and I better clean that up before returning to bed. This was not our house, after all. Not that if it had been our house I would have felt inclined to leave it there but cleaning always felt more urgent when you weren’t in other people’s home. 

Tim pulled at my hand, stopping me from leaving. 

I tried to tug my wrist away but it was of no use, Tim is way stronger than what he looks. 

“Don’t go…” Tim mumbles, eyes closed. “Stay with me, Jay.” 

My heart skips a beat. 

Bile rushes up my throat the moment that name leaves his lips. Tim’s fingers feel like red-hot coal where they connect with my skin. Too hot against the cold that fills my entire being, freezing me in place. Too scared to move. Too scared to even breathe. 

It’s not like Jason’s name doesn’t make appearances in our relationship. In fact, both of us tend to call for him in our most vulnerable moments. 

At the start, both of us mouthed his name against the other’s skin. Carving the wound open, letting the blood and misery flow, ensuring we would never, ever, forget just why we were together in the first place. 

A sharp, wild smile. Warm, calloused hands. Freckles against dark skin. A sense of companionship, of belonging. 

“Touma!” 

A deepened voice, strange and unfamiliar. Changed by puberty and the time we spent away from each other. A voice that no matter how different it was, I could have recognized between a requiem of other voices just by the way he said my name. 

Gods, I missed him so much. 

It was not surprising Tim felt the same. Yet, hearing him say Jason’s name hurt anyway. Especially as nowadays his ghost was less present, less heavy on our shoulders now that we had real feelings for the other. 

Feeling gutted I learned to press a kiss against Tim’s temple, doing a good impression of Jason’s voice. “It’s ok, Tim. I'll be back soon. Go back to sleep.” 

“Ok.” Tim mumbled, fingers loosening. “...gonna be waitin’ for you.” 

‘Fuck, what a way to shred my heart into pieces.’ I tugged my hand aways, feeling as light-headed as if I had been the one to chunk down all that alcohol. ‘I need to leave now, before I start crying like a bitch.’ 

Right, I needed to clean the mess. Let’s focus on that. The less time I spent thinking about the past the better. It’s not like it would change anything anyway. That had been a lesson I had learned the difficult way back on juvie; ghosts would only hinder you. 

Glancing around I was happy to notice the halls of the house were as empty as they were before. 

‘Good, being awake at this hour is bad for the body.’ The rest still had jobs so they needed to rest well to give their one-hundred percent. ‘Maybe I could prepare breakfast? It’s not like I’ll have time to sleep once I finish cleaning… and that’s a thing you do for people you care about, right?’ 

At least that’s what Tim did when I was having a bad day; warm food and hot chocolate. A soft blanket. 

Kindness did not come naturally to me, this was the truth. It was a foreing concept since the beginning, I just couldn’t understand why you would coddle others like that. Guess that’s why Maria always liked Asahi better than me or Jason. He was better at the whole older-brother thing. 

‘One… two… three.. Four…five… Five whole bottles!’ I glared at the table, eye twitching. ‘For the gods’ sake, Tim! You wanna die or what? Forget about that cake, he was getting only greens for the next week. See how he likes that.’ 

Pettines, on the other hand, came to me as natural as breathing. 

‘Now, where the fuck is the trash-can for bottles?’ The house must have one, considering there was too much alcohol in this place. But I couldn’t find it. Jeez, I really miss our department. 

“Under the left drawer, remember? It’s hidden behind the door.” 

“Oh, right. Thank you.” 

My fingers were touching the handle before the voice registered. 

Glass shattered against the floor. 

“Jason?” I turned so fast my neck hurt, my voice sounding weak even to my own ears. It was impossible. Impossible. Jason was dead. Had been dead almost thirteen years! ‘What’s going on? Did I finally lose it?’ 

“Yo!” Gods, that shit-eating grin couldn’t be faked. “What’s with the face, Touma? Didn’t ya miss me?”