Chapter Text
Black swims his way to consciousness slowly, each step feeling like he’s fighting through quicksand. He frowns for a moment, eyes drifting lazily around to take in his surroundings. He bolts upright when his memories flood back. Chasing Todd’s men, being caught, running away, being caught again and getting the shit beat out of him. But how did he end up in the hospital? He though for sure he was dead. They must have called Todd to tell him Black had been sneaking around, so why did Todd not kill him? Leftover feelings from when they were friends, Black supposes. He hadn’t pegged Todd as being so sentimental, but he is glad not to be dead. Either way, Black needs to get out of here before Todd finds out he’s up. He slides out of the bed slowly, wincing and hissing through his teeth when he has to twist sore muscles. He gets to his feet without drawing any attention, and he has to find a way to continue that. Wherever Todd is and whatever he is doing, any edge Black can get on him is good.
He makes his way out of the hospital, carefully, haltingly. He feels fuzzy, not quite all there, and he doesn’t know if that is a result of the beating or something else, but he knows he doesn’t like it. He has to get to his apartment before Todd realizes that he’s awake. He can get everything out of his apartment that he needs, and then he’ll go to the garage to try to figure everything out with Gumpa, Yok, Gram, and even that bastard Sean. Black’s face twitches at the thought of Sean, but when that causes pain to radiate across his face, he doesn’t scowl like he wants to. He doesn’t like Sean, everything about him rubs Black the wrong way. He’s a hair pin trigger to begin with, and Sean seems to take great pleasure in poking at him.
He circles around the perimeter of his building first, to make sure that there’s no one waiting to beat the shit out of him again and send him back to the hospital. He doesn’t see anyone, but he still makes his way into the building and up to his apartment quickly and quietly. No sense in tempting fate. He yanks open his door, sliding in quickly. His apartment looks…different than he left it. He frowns. That’s odd. No one else had a reason to be in his apartment. Maybe Gram was in here looking for him? But he’s gone AWOL before, why would Gram be worried enough that he’d be looking for Black? How long had he been in the hospital? His stomach flips at the thought that it may have been long enough for Gram to be worried about him. Gram should never be worried, not about someone like Black.
He grabs a duffel from under the bed, quickly shoving clothes, socks, and an extra pair of shoes into it. Then he grabs the framed picture of him and White from behind the desk. He looks at it carefully for a moment, like he always does when he pulls it out. Then he carefully wraps it in another shirt and sets it in the duffel. The figurines from Gram get the same gentle treatment. Then he turns in a circle to make sure that he hasn’t forgotten anything, and he’s headed out the door when he hears someone making their way up the stairs. He freezes. He has two options. One, make a run for it. Two, see who’s coming to his apartment and confront them. He smiles wryly. He’s always leaned toward confrontation.
He slinks off into the depths of his apartment, setting the duffel down by the door so that he can grab it in a hurry if he needs to. Then he grabs a crow bar helpfully settled against the window. He has no idea why that’s there, but he’s not going to question it when it’s worked out so well for him. He’s waiting for the door to his apartment to open, expecting his mother, Todd, maybe even Gram, but the last person he was prepared for walks through the door, an identical copy of Black. Black’s eyes go wide, and his breath catches in his chest. White is here. His baby brother is here, right in front of him, after more than a decade.
Black watches as White makes his way into his apartment. White doesn’t look surprised about anything in the apartment, which means he’s been here before. But why? And how? Black didn’t know White was even back in the country, much less being comfortable in his apartment. And…White is dressed like him. He even has the piercings and tattoo. Black frowns. He doesn’t like what this is shaping up to be. White is still just looking around, and Black can’t quite tell what he’s looking for. Feeling mischievous, wanting to slip back to the days when they were kids and Black used to sneak up on White all the time, Black creeps behind White slowly. He holds the crow bar sideways and loops it over White’s head, pulling White against him. It shocks him a little, the feeling of his little brother at his side after so long, enough that White is able to pull his legs up and throw Black over his shoulder. Black hits the ground hard and spins to look at White automatically. Alright, where did White learn that? He watches, bemused and proud as White smashes a nearby bottle against a table and comes after him with the weapon. Alright, someone has been teaching White to fight. He dodges White’s arm, grabbing it and twisting it to force White into a backbend with the bottle aimed toward him instead. Then he finally speaks.
“Ai’White.”
White freezes, eyes going wide and already tearing up. Black smiles slightly, more a twitch of his lips than anything else, and drops the bottle. He yanks his brother around and into a hug, taking a moment to just…feel White, warm and alive and here after so long apart. White is clinging to him just as tightly, tears dropping lightly onto Black’s neck. Black holds him, rocking him from side to side slightly, until White pulls back.
“When did you wake up?” White is touching his face, stroking lightly over his bruises and it stings slightly but Black lets him.
“About an hour ago. Why are you dressed like me?”
White pauses, eyes darting up to meet Black’s like he is afraid, and Black absolutely does not like that. White should never be afraid of him, ever. They are on the same side, always. He pulls White in again, pressing his forehead against his twins.
“It’s alright. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.”
White shudders, and bursts into tears again, although this time, he doesn’t try to hide it. Black pulls him toward the bed, bullying him up against the headboard and pulling him so that Black can wrap his arms around the twin and still see the door. He keeps the crow bar close. Whatever is going on with his twin takes precedence over whatever Todd is doing at the moment. Besides, they have time for the short version, and if necessary, they can go out the window. Black has done it before, on a dare from Gram, he can do it again.
“Todd called me.”
Black freezes, and White tenses up as well. Black resumes stroking his hand through White’s hair, and manages to keep his voice calm as he says, “What did he tell you?”
“Just that you had been attacked and were in a coma. He told me—I—He” White cuts himself off and wiggles closer to him, and Black wraps himself around White.
“What did he tell you, White?”
“He told me that someone in your gang had attacked you, and he said that impersonating you was the best way to figure out who had done it.”
Black lets that sit for a moment, humming slightly so that White doesn’t think he’s angry at him. So, to keep the others from getting suspicious about why Black had vanished off the face of the earth, Todd had called White, his identical twin, and convinced him to take Black’s place. But why? Maybe he thought Black had been keeping the others updated on what he was looking in to. “How long was I in the hospital?” And Black doesn’t really want to know the answer to this, doesn’t want to think about how the gang would have reacted to White trying to impersonate Black. His stomach clenches nauseatingly as he thinks about how Gram would have felt about a Black who didn’t know him, who didn’t know the secret ways they take care of each other that no one else sees, and how Gram must have felt about that. Did he think Black had abandoned him? Had he been doubting Black’s feelings for him the whole time? They’d never spoken anything out loud, but Gram had made a space for himself by Black’s side, right next to the empty space where White belonged.
“You were out for two months, P’Black.” White sounds remorseful, tears clogging his voice, and Black hates it because it’s not White’s fault he got himself beaten into a coma.
“Right.” Black forces himself to take two deep breaths, pushing the air in his lungs out hard. He pushes his feelings about what Gram and White had been through in the past two months to the back of his head, pulling up that same energy that made him put himself between White and anything that wanted to harm White. “We need to go. Todd was the one who beat me.”
White looks at him, absolutely horrified, but they don’t have time for this right now. White can freak out later, when they’re safe at the garage and Black can properly reassure him this is not his fault. He pulls White to his feet, leading him out the door and grabbing the duffel bag on his way out. He keeps ahold of the crow bar, which is good because there are two men waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Todd must have gone looking for him, then. Black gets a vicious sort of pleasure in imagining the panic Todd must be feeling right now. He motions for White to stay put and pulls his hood over his face. Then he goes after Todd’s men with a vengeance that is probably a little much, but Black has never been one for self-regulating.
Then they reach his bike, and Black is shocked when White climbs on and starts her up, pulling a helmet over his head and handing Black the spare. Black goes with it, both because he wants to see if White can actually ride, and because he’s feeling a little hazy still. Maybe it’s the drugs from the hospital? Whatever it is, he probably shouldn’t be driving. White makes it to the garage in record time, which makes sense given he’s been pretending to be Black, and Black leads the way into the garage, still holding the crow bar. He doesn’t know if he’ll need it here, but better safe than sorry. White follows along behind him, rounding his shoulders nervously. Black doesn’t like it—White is afraid of the gangs reaction to what is about to be revealed, and Black decides that if anyone takes potshots at his baby brother, he’ll handle it himself. Gram included.
Thankfully, they walk in on all the rest of them gathered around the table. Yok turns to them first, a wide grin on his face as he catches sight of Black, and then he falters when he sees White. His gaze darts between them like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. Gumpa only raises a knowing eyebrow, and really, Black should have known Gumpa would figure it out. Sean looks similarly smug, and Black wants to punch that look right off his face. Then Black turns to Gram, and his heart breaks. Gram is looking at him, at Black, and his eyes are suspiciously shiny. He doesn’t look smug or relieved or angry. He just looks sad. Black steps forward automatically, ready to lay it all out for Gram in the hopes of erasing that look from his face, but Yok interrupts.
“Ok. What the hell?” He says it at the top of his lungs, gesturing between White and Black like he’s an actor in some drama. Black resolves to punch him for it later.
“So,” Black says, still looking at Gram. “This is my brother, White. He’s been pretending to be me for the past two months to try to figure out who beat me so badly I ended up in a coma.”
There’s a stunned silence at that. Black waits for them to quit blinking at him stupidly, idly twirling the crow bar, which he is still holding, in his hands.
Sean and Yok get over it at the same time, blurting out question after question before Black can even hope to answer.
“When did you switch?” That one is from Sean, apparently aimed at White.
“Why didn’t you tell us you had a twin? An identical one at that!” That’s Yok, who both looks and sounds scandalized enough that Black wants to laugh.
“Were you waiting to tell us?” Sean again, and he’s looking at Black’s little brother with a fond look on his face.
Black narrows his eyes. He does not like the look of this one bit. He looks back at White, who is staring at Sean with big eyes and trembling lips, and Black immediately wants to vomit. Does his brother…like Sean? He turns back to Sean. Absolutely not. Unacceptable. Black moves between them without thinking about it, and Sean scowls heavily at him. Black sneers back. This is Black’s little brother, and Sean thinks a scowl is going to get him to move? Please.
Then Gram speaks up. “Were you ever going to tell us?” His voice cracks and the others immediately go silent, and that silence is one of the worst sounds Black has ever heard. He hates it. Silence between Black and Gram has never been bad. Now it is, and Black has no idea what to do about it.
Gram seems to take his silence as an answer, because he nods slightly to himself before spinning and walking towards the door.
“Gram,” Black says desperately, taking a half step toward him. And…Gram ignores him. He keeps walking, and Black wants to scream at that because Gram has always listened to him.
“Go, P’. I’ll explain this to Gumpa, Yok, and Sean.” White presses against his back, urging him to take off after Gram, and Black points the crow bar at Sean.
“Stay away from my brother, Sean.” He growls it, low and deep in his chest, because he absolutely does not like the idea of his baby brother looking at Sean the exact way he’s looking right now. Then he heads back toward his bike at a dead run. He can barely see Gram, and Black nearly falls off at how fast he tears after him. He follows Gram for a while, until they reach Gram’s apartment.
Gram isn’t running, exactly, but he isn’t matching pace with Black like he usually does. Black just got out of a coma, he’ s remarkably less able to chase Gram down and pin him in place and demand answers than he usually would be. He makes it to Gram’s door just in time to stop it from slamming with his foot. He winces. That hurt—he sends out a mental apology to White, taking a moment to relish in the thrill of doing that, before shoving his way into Gram’s apartment. He closes and locks the door after him.
“Gram.”
Gram whirls around, clutching his hair. “What the fuck, Black? You have a twin brother and you didn’t feel the need to tell me? You were in a fucking coma, and I didn’t know because your twin fucking brother was pretending to be you!”
Black opens his mouth to respond, but Gram barrels on.
“He was doing a pretty shitty job at pretending to be you, by the way. He was all cozied up to Sean instead of me. I thought you—I thought—” Gram cuts himself off, pressing his lips together and folding his arms.
“Gram, I…”
When Black doesn’t say anything else, Gram’s face hardens. “Get out.”
And Black’s stomach drops so quickly Black feels dizzy. Gram has never, not once in all the time they’ve known each other, told him that. Not even in jest. And he just stares at Gram, wide eyed, because he didn’t think that Gram would be mad. He’d been planning to tell Gram about White, had been working on a plan, even. And then, of course, Todd had sent his men to attack him and everything had gone to hell.
Gram snarls at him striding toward him and getting in his face. “I said get out! I don’t want to be near you right now.”
Black can feel tears coming. He clenches his jaw against them, looking away from Gram before meeting his eyes again. Gram opens his mouth to say something else and Black can’t listen to Gram tell him to get out one more time. Instead, he drops to his knees. Gram goes silent immediately, so fast that Black would think it comical if it were for any other reason.
“I’m sorry, P’Gram.” And Black doesn’t usually use honorifics with anyone, really, much less his…whatever Gram is to him, but he knows he messed up in not telling Gram. He can’t imagine how hurt Gram must have been, watching who he thought was Black fall for Sean—and Black resists the urge to gag—instead of him.
Black waits for Gram to say something, anything, but Gram only walks closer to him silently. Black ducks his head more. He watches Gram’s shoes get closer and closer through his fringe, determinedly not looking up. He will get this point—that he is sorry, he’s so sorry, he should have told Gram everything—across if it kills him because if he doesn’t then Gram wants him to leave and that cannot happen.
There’s a long silence, so Black whispers it again. “I’m so sorry, P’Gram.” He’ll say this as many times as he needs to for Gram to believe him, on his knees and however else Gram wants him to say it. What is being on his knees to losing Gram? He waits again, for Gram’s judgement, trembling with all the emotions he’s feeling. He’ll wait until Gram is ready, he decides. He shuffles a little, getting more comfortable on his knees. He’ll wait as long as he needs to.