The apartment smelled like last night's beer and burnt toast, with a faint undertone of damp that never quite left the place. The air was heavy, stale, like it had been trapped for years. A single ceiling bulb buzzed overhead, swinging slightly from a chain, throwing crooked shadows across peeling wallpaper stained from hands that had leaned too long against it.
Kai sat at the kitchen table, elbows tucked close, spine curved inward, eyes fixed on the chipped plate in front of him. Half a crust of bread. Nothing else. His shoulders ached from the day's work, but still he held them in, making himself smaller.
The front door slammed open hard enough to rattle the cheap frame.
Rian's boots thudded against the floorboards in slow, deliberate steps. Each one was heavy with the swagger of someone who knew exactly how much space they owned in a room — and how little they'd leave for anyone else.
"Still breathing, huh?" His voice was rough, hoarse from either drink or shouting at someone before he got home. He let his jacket fall onto the counter like it belonged in a trash heap, then sniffed at the air. "Bread again? You're pathetic, Kai."
Kai didn't look up. 'If I don't answer… maybe he'll just pass through.'
"Hey." The word cracked like a whip. A hand shoved his shoulder, just hard enough to make his chair creak. "I'm talking to you."
Kai's breath caught, but he kept his gaze locked on the bread.
Wrong choice.
The shove turned into a grab. Suddenly his collar was twisted so tight the fabric bit into his neck. His chair scraped back with a squeal across the linoleum, one of its legs catching on a crack in the floor.
"You can't even look at me now?" Rian's breath was sour with beer, his pale blue eyes sharp as glass and full of something that had nothing to do with brotherhood. "Think you're better than me? Think you're too good to answer?"
Kai's voice came out thin, a rasp. "No."
The first hit wasn't a fist — it was the back of Rian's hand, snapping Kai's head sideways so fast his neck ached. The second came from the other direction, catching his cheekbone. Then the punches started coming in rhythm, as if Rian were keeping time with a song only he could hear.
'Don't cry. Don't make a sound. That makes him worse.'
But when the hits turned into hands around his neck, Kai's resolve cracked.
It wasn't a squeeze — it was a vise. Fingers dug into the sides of his throat, thumbs pressing deep into his windpipe. His hands flew up on instinct, clawing at Rian's wrists, nails scraping skin.
The ceiling bulb wobbled above him, throwing dizzy shadows. The edges of his vision blurred, doubling, tripling. The sound of his own heartbeat roared in his ears like a war drum.
'He's going to kill me. He's actually going to—'
The pressure stopped.
Kai collapsed forward, coughing hard enough to make his chest spasm. Rian stepped back, breathing harder than him, as if strangling someone was just a workout.
"Pathetic," Rian muttered again, wiping his hands on his jeans. He dropped onto the couch in the living room, grabbed the remote, and turned on the TV. The flicker of colors lit his face — relaxed, smirking, like he'd just swatted a fly.
Kai stayed on the floor, one palm pressed to his throat. The walls felt closer than before, the ceiling lower. His vision still pulsed at the edges, dark spots swimming in and out. Somewhere in the distance, a laugh track played from the TV, wildly out of place in the silence between them.
He didn't move for a long time. The cold linoleum seeped into his palms, grounding him in the moment, reminding him he was still here. His throat burned with each swallow, air scraping past the bruise already forming inside.
'He could've just kept going. He wanted to. Next time he will.'
From the living room came the crack of a can opening. The fizz hissed sharp, followed by Rian's first gulp and the long sigh he always made after drinking. His feet thumped onto the coffee table. Something on the TV made him snort.
The apartment was too small for distance to mean anything. Kai could smell the beer from here, hear the shift of Rian's weight on the couch cushions. He tried to steady his breathing, counting in his head — four in, four out — the way he used to when the panic attacks got bad.
Four in. Four out. His ribs still trembled.
Slowly, he picked himself up. The chair he'd been in lay sideways. He set it upright, careful not to scrape it too loud. His bread was still on the plate, stale, the crust curling upward like it was trying to escape. He broke it in half, chewing just to keep his mouth busy, though every bite felt like sand in his throat.
From the couch, Rian's voice carried over the hum of the TV. "You ever gonna look like a man, or you just gonna stay that little twig forever?"
Kai's teeth clenched.
"Guess that's why nobody ever sticks around for you." Rian chuckled, a lazy, bitter sound. "Even Mom and Dad bailed on you. Couldn't take it."
Something inside Kai flinched harder than if Rian had hit him again.
'They didn't leave me. They died. And you know it.'
But he didn't say it. Words only ever gave Rian something to swing at.
Another hiss of a can opening. A new channel flickered — some loud commercial with grinning faces and bright colors. Rian leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Man, look at that. Even a goddamn vacuum cleaner's got more strength than you."
Kai's fingers tightened around the bread crust until it snapped in two. He pushed the plate away and stood.
His room was barely big enough for the bed and dresser. The air was cooler here, but stale in its own way. The walls were bare except for one corner where the paint had bubbled from water damage. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the floorboards, running a thumb over the ridge of a scar along his wrist. Not deep — just a pale reminder from when he'd been twelve and Rian had slammed the door on him.
The laughter from the TV filtered through the wall, mixed with the drone of Rian's voice. Every few seconds, another jab. Another casual cruelty tossed into the air like nothing.
'Ten years,' Kai thought. 'Ten years of this. Every bruise. Every shove. Every night wondering if I'd wake up tomorrow. And nobody's coming to stop it.'
He lay back, staring at the ceiling. The lamp's light barely reached up there. Even in the half-darkness, the shadow of the ceiling fan's blades hung still. His throat pulsed in time with his heartbeat.
Something shifted in his chest — not numbness, not resignation. It was heavier, warmer, almost alive.
Rian shouted his name from the other room, no reason, just the sound of it, sharp and commanding.
Kai didn't answer.
He lay on his bed, motionless except for the rise and fall of his chest. Rian's voice seeped through the walls like smoke — impossible to block out, curling into every corner of his mind. The sound wasn't loud anymore. It didn't have to be. Every word carried the same weight: a reminder that Rian could end him at any moment.
His fingers traced the ridges of the scar again. The faint line under his thumb seemed to hum, alive with memory. He didn't want to remember, but memory had never asked permission.
He saw himself at twelve, smaller, thinner, cornered by Rian in the hallway. He'd tried to slip past, but Rian's arm had shot out like a steel bar, blocking the way. No shouting that time. Just a cold smile before the slam of the door against his arm, the wood biting into flesh until skin broke. No reason. Just because he could.
Kai's hand curled into a fist.
'If I hadn't moved, if I hadn't breathed wrong, if I'd just—' He stopped the thought before it could finish. That path always ended in blaming himself. Always.
The muffled sound of the TV shifted to a bass-heavy commercial, voices booming, canned laughter erupting. Then Rian's laugh again — genuine this time, at something stupid on screen.
'How is he allowed to just sit there? Like nothing happened?'
His throat still throbbed where Rian's hands had been. Every breath scraped, a reminder of how close those seconds had come to being the last. The bruises would bloom in full by morning, and he'd hide them like always.
But this time… this time something in him didn't want to hide.