“Pretty sure there wasn’t enough left of him to confirm that cause of death.”
“Be’tessi.”
Flix and Bowser both froze at the new voice, the latter eventually letting Flix go and stepping away.
“Aneski,” Bowser turned toward the younger man as he approached, “You don’t have to deal with this. Go back inside, I’ll make sure he leaves.”
“No,” Ani shook his head, tearful gaze locked onto Flix. “I want him here. I want to talk to him.”
Bowser frowned and stepped closer, resting a hand on Aneski’s arm.
Flix inhaled slowly, telling himself to keep still. Reminding himself that he didn’t have the right to be jealous or angry at how close the two of them were standing to one another. Bowser had the right to provide comfort as Russ’s best friend.
Who was Flix?
Who was he to Aneski?
Just because the younger guy called him be’tessi—a term used for an older male who one was either close to or related to—didn’t mean Flix was anything special. Hell, even if it did, the usage of the term could mean he’d already been brother-zoned.
He didn’t think of Ani as a brother, but that didn’t mean the feeling was mutual.
“In light of what’s happened,” Bowser tentatively began, “I don’t think it’s wise to let him linger.”
“He was Russ’s—”
“His people are the reason we’re here!” Bowser snapped, and this time, when that caused Ani to flinch, Flix couldn’t hold back his reaction.
He grabbed Aneski and eased him away from Bowser, giving a warning look when the other man tried to stop him. Once there were a few feet separating them, he turned to Ani, brushing his fingers lightly through the younger man's ginger hair, fixing the wild strands.
Aneski, Russ's only surviving family member, was dressed as the head mourner. The white suit with the crimson collar, detailing on the sleeves, and triangular shoulders separated him from the rest but also somehow highlighted his age. There was only a year and a half between them, but Ani had always seemed a lot more innocent than either Flix or his brother Russ.
Now he was heading a funeral on his own, the most adult thing a person could do.
Flix opened his mouth, and it was on the tip of his tongue to offer his assistance. He knew how to run a death rite, having attended many in the past, knew how much work and energy it took.
He ended up dropping his hands and saying nothing instead.
Because Bowser was correct about one thing. Flix was partially to blame for this.
He’d given away his right to comfort Aneski.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Ani asked then, looking up at him with a mixture of pain and hope. It was the latter that tore Flix apart. “They said there was a fight with the Brumal and then a fire. Everyone else got out. Why didn’t my brother? Do you know anything?”
Yes. He knew everything.
But he couldn’t tell him any of it.
It wasn’t his place.
When it came to Ani, apparently Flix didn’t have one.
“I’m not sure,” he ended up replying. “The police report said there was faulty wiring in the building, and that’s what caused it. It was an accident.”
“Why couldn’t he get out?” Aneski demanded, though with less aggression than Bowser had used. He still believed in Flix. Still trusted him. “How did everyone else? Something had to have happened. Something more that someone isn’t confessing to.”
“He had to have been unconscious,” Bowser cut in, glaring at Flix as if daring him to deny it. “Someone knocked him out and left him there. Either because the fire started and they panicked, or on purpose.”
“Are you accusing us of starting the fire?” Flix asked, even though it was obvious that’s exactly what he was doing.
