Later that evening, darkness had settled over the city.
The large bay window reflected the apartment's warm interior back at them, turning the glass into a mirror. Beyond it, only scattered streetlights and the occasional illuminated apartment window pierced the darkness.
Ivo sat at what was technically their dining table. Calling it a dining table, however, felt increasingly dishonest. At some point, it had quietly evolved into a permanent workstation.
Camera parts occupied nearly every available inch of space. Tiny screws rested inside bottle caps. Lenses sat atop folded cloths. Old instruction manuals formed precarious towers that looked one careless movement away from collapse. A small desk lamp cast a warm pool of light over the disassembled vintage camera spread out before him.
Leaning forward, Ivo carefully adjusted a loose wire. He wasn't entirely sure when his fascination with old cameras had begun. Maybe it started when he was younger. Maybe during one of the countless films he had watched growing up. Or perhaps it was because cameras captured moments that would otherwise disappear forever. Whatever the reason, it had eventually become more than a hobby. It had become a dream he was finally allowing himself to pursue.
For years, his entire world had revolved around someone else.
Every decision.
Every plan.
Every sacrifice.
Looking back now, he could hardly recognise himself.
How had he become so blind?
How had he ignored so many warning signs?
His grip tightened slightly around the tool in his hand. Never again. Not for anyone and certainly not where Acheron was concerned.
The memory of nearly losing his younger brother still haunted him. That fear lingered beneath his skin as a constant reminder.
Never again.
Ivo glanced up from the camera. His gaze immediately found Acheron.
As expected, Acheron was occupying his usual spot on the couch. Three blankets covered him despite the apartment being comfortably warm. Nimbus had curled up beside him, pressed firmly against his hip. An untouched mug of coffee sat on the coffee table, and beside it rested his sketchbook.
Closed.
That, more than anything else, caught Ivo's attention.
Normally, Acheron would have filled several pages by now, absentmindedly sketching while watching videos or scrolling through his phone. Instead, Acheron seemed to be in some kind of daze; the sketchbook remained untouched beneath his gaze, as though he couldn't quite bring himself to open it.
Ivo frowned.
"Hey, Achie?"
"Mmm?" That sound alone revealed how deeply he'd been drifting through his thoughts.
"You okay?"
A few seconds passed, then Acheron slowly nodded.
"Yeah." His fingers played with the edge of the blanket. "Just thinking."
Ivo returned to the camera.
"Careful."
"Hm?"
"Don't burn out your circuit boards."
"Pfft." A small giggle escaped him.
The sound made Ivo smile. Unfortunately, the laughter faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. Acheron let out a groan and sank lower into the couch.
"This new project for my Oil Painting and Contemporary Expression module."
"How much is it worth?"
Acheron sighed. "The largest percentage of our grades so far."
"That's terrifying."
"That's not even the most concerning part." Another sigh escaped him before he could continue, Nimbus let out an irritated meow.
"Sorry." Acheron immediately apologised.
Nimbus closed his eyes in satisfaction.
Ivo watched the interaction in astonishment.
Did he just apologise to a cat?
Shaking his head, Ivo stared in disbelief. As if determined to make the situation even more absurd, Nimbus stretched a paw toward Acheron. Without a moment's hesitation, he held it.
"Unbelievable." Ivo rolled his eyes.
Acheron smiled faintly before his expression grew thoughtful again.
"Mrs Ruth kept me after class."
That immediately caught Ivo's attention.
"Oh?"
Acheron looked down. "She said my work hasn't had much soul lately."
The apartment grew quiet. Ivo slowly stood and crossed the room. He picked up the sketchbook from the coffee table before sitting beside Acheron on the couch.
Ivo flipped through the pages.
Sketch after sketch filled the book. Technically speaking, they were all beautiful. Acheron's talent practically bled from every page. His understanding of colour, composition, light, and form was undeniable. Even the rough studies and unfinished pieces looked impressive, each one displaying a level of skill that most artists spent years trying to achieve.
Unfortunately, Ivo's understanding of art was fairly limited. In his mind, artwork fell into one of two categories: good or bad. There were probably dozens of other classifications that artists cared about, but he had never learned them. Acheron's work, however, had always belonged firmly in the good category.
Ivo looked up from the sketch book.
"Do you agree with her?"
Acheron didn't answer immediately. Instead, he tucked his legs closer beneath the blankets.
"Yeah, I do..." His voice drew quiet. "She told me to paint what I'm going through or what I've been through."
His eyes drifted toward the sketchbook.
"To let my art express how I feel."
The silence stretched.
Then he looked away.
"But I don't really feel anything." The confession came softly, almost reluctantly. "I just feel numb."
Ivo studied him carefully. His posture remained relaxed, his shoulders unguarded, his voice steady. Nothing about him suggested he was masking the truth. Acheron wasn't hiding anything; he meant every word.
The numbness didn't come from sadness, but came from surviving too much. It is the kind that arrives when a person has spent so long feeling everything at maximum intensity that eventually their mind pulls the emergency brake.
"I think that's normal."
Acheron looked up.
"Really?"
"Achie."
Ivo gently nudged his shoulder.
"You survived something horrible."
Acheron's gaze lowered.
"You don't have to be emotionally profound every second of every day."
A tiny laugh escaped him.
"I suppose."
"Honestly, I'd be worried if you weren't tired."
That earned another small but genuine smile.
"As long as you don't stay numb forever." Ivo shrugged. "You'll be okay."
"Mmm." Acheron nodded.
Then Ivo gently tapped the sketchbook.
"But listen."
"Yeah?"
"Your art doesn't have to hurt you to mean something."
The distant look in Acheron's eyes eased, and a little light returned. Not much, but it was enough to make him look more like himself.
"Thank you, Ivo." Before Ivo could respond, Acheron leaned forward and hugged him.
His arms wrapped around Ivo's shoulders, and the blankets came too. Apparently, Acheron and blankets were now a single lifeform.
Ivo laughed, causing Acheron to squeeze tighter. Lately, he had been seeking physical affection more often. They are all small things, like leaning against someone, holding hands and enjoying lingering hugs. He especially enjoys curling up beside his family during movie nights.
At first, nobody had commented on it. But everyone had noticed. It reminded Ivy especially of the child Acheron used to be.
Before boarding school.
Before Hadeon.
Before life taught him to pull away from people.
Back then, he had always sought comfort without hesitation and without fear. Now, little by little, that version of him seemed to be returning.
He is healing in ways none of them fully understood yet.
Ivo wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer. Acheron immediately melted into the embrace, feeling more than just comfortable but also safe.
Nimbus stared at them from the couch.
More than a little offended, after he decided he had had enough, he stood up, climbed directly onto both brothers, and wedged himself between them. Demanding inclusion.
"Nimbus is feeling left out." Acheron laughed.
"I've never seen such a jealous cat."
Nimbus responded with a loud meow.
Acheron gasped.
"Don't listen to him."
The cat rubbed his head against Acheron's chin, whose entire expression softened. Ivo watched his younger brother smile down at the cat. He has noticed the warmth slowly returns to his little brother. Nimbus has done wonders to help further Acheron's healing.
Acheron's phone chimed softly beside him. The sound was innocent enough, but the reaction it caused was immediate.
Acheron shifted away from Ivo almost too quickly, as if the contact itself had suddenly become too warm to handle. Nimbus meowed in protest as he slipped off of Acheron's lap, immediately offended by the betrayal.
"Sorry," Acheron murmured automatically, patting the cat once before reaching for his phone. He unlocked it, and the screen lit up his face.
What greeted him was a message from Eamon. It was short, simple and straight to the point.
Are you free right now? Coffee or dinner if you haven't eaten yet.
Acheron read over the message over and over, his expression softening subtly but still not unnoticed by Ivo. Acheron hugged his knees slightly closer, phone tilted away from Ivo almost unconsciously. His thumbs moved quickly across the screen.
Acheron reread the message several times, his expression softening in an almost imperceptible way, but it didn't escape Ivo's notice. Without seeming to realise it, Acheron drew his knees closer to his chest and angled the phone away from his brother. His thumbs moved quickly across the screen, an eager smile threatening to tug at the corners of his lips.
I can meet you.
He paused, reading over the message before typing another.
Coffee and dinner sound good.
Acheron stared at the words for a long moment. His thumb hovered over 'and dinner', debating whether to delete it. After a few seconds, he quietly decided against it and pressed send.
Ivo noticed everything. How Acheron's posture shifted, the desperate need to hide his phone screen, and even the slight hesitation in replying. Ivo narrowed his eyes slowly and leaned further back into the couch.
Had Acheron found someone he liked?
When did it start?
"…Have you started dating?"
Acheron nearly choked. "What?"
"Who is it?" Ivo grinned.
Acheron immediately shook his head.
"No. It's not like that."
"Uh-huh." Ivo's eyes flicked toward the phone again.
"You're acting suspicious."
"I am not."
"You literally just hid your screen."
Acheron frowned. "It's privacy."
"Since when are you a 'privacy' person?"
Acheron opened his mouth, then immediately closed it.
Ivo's focus narrowed. "Let me see."
"No."
"Why won't you let me see?" Before Acheron could respond, Ivo lunged. Acheron immediately twisted away, pulling the phone behind his back.
"What are you doing?"
"Investigating."
"There is nothing to investigate."
"That is what guilty people say."
"Ivo!" The couch turned into a battlefield of blankets, limbs, and offended cat noises. Eventually, Nimbus jumped off entirely, offended by the chaos.
Acheron tried to roll away, but Ivo pinned him down easily, one arm braced carefully so he wasn't actually hurting him, just trapping him in place.
"Just give me your phone."
"You're being ridiculous!"
"I am a concerned older brother."
"You're a nosy older brother." Ivo reached out again, but Acheron squirmed, still clutching his phone against his chest like a treasure.
"I'm serious, Achie. Who is it?"
"It's nothing!"
"Then show me."
"No!" That single refusal only made Ivo more suspicious; he narrowed his eyes.
"Is it someone you like?"
Acheron froze for half a second.
"It's just Eamon." Ivo paused, a little surprised by that name.
"…Lawyer Eamon?"
Acheron sighed, still laughing slightly as he pushed Ivo's hand away.
"Yes. Mr Sauveterre. The only Eamon I know."
Ivo slowly sat back; the suspicion didn't completely vanish. It simply… reorganised itself.
"Why is he texting you at this hour?"
Acheron sat up, fixing his blanket like nothing had happened, cheeks faintly warm.
"He wants to have dinner."
Acheron stood up and casually put his phone away as if his entire battle earlier had never occurred.
"I'm going out for a bit," he added, already slipping his feet into his shoes near the entrance. "Don't wait up."
Acheron paused at the door. Nimbus, still offended, trotted over and sat directly on his shoe.
Acheron bent down immediately.
"I'll be back later", Nimbus looked up, entirely heartbroken.
"…That's unfair." Acheron gently scratched under the cat's chin.
"Be good." Nimbus leaned into the touch instantly, barely forgiving him.
Ivo watched this exchange with increasing disbelief.
"You're just going to leave?"
"Yes."
"With the lawyer?"
"Yes."
"Right now?"
Acheron looked up.