“You’re still staring,” Bilal said.
“Since when did you smoke?”
“Since when did you care? Do you want a joint or something?”
“Actually, yes… if you happen to have another one on you.”
Bilal reached into his other pocket casually and produced a second one, passing it and the lighter on to his brother.
“Thanks,” Octavius said.
Bilal didn’t respond at first, just continued looking out into the gardens.“Why are you still out here? It’s been more than an hour, and it’s thirty-three degrees out. You’re not even wearing a proper sweater or a scarf,” he said.
“I don’t feel cold,” Octavius lied in the way he always did, fighting the urge to shiver when a cold breeze blew over him.
Bilal looked at him briefly like he could see right through his facade, but said nothing. Octavius smiled a little at the thought that his big brother had come out here just to check on him.
The pair occupied the outdoors, smoking together in blissful silence for a few moments, before Octavius went and ruined it.
“Remember when we used to be friends? This kind of reminds me of then.”
“Remember when you weren’t annoying?” Bilal replied dryly.
Octavius laughed. “I’m not sure a time like that has ever existed, which means you must have seen the appeal in my annoyingness at some point.”
Bilal ignored him, possibly because he knew the statement had some truth to it, but also because the fencer clearly did not like to dwell in the past.
Seeing them together now, it would be hard for anyone to believe that the pair used to be close. That they had each been the first person the other had come out to. Octavius remembered the summer it had happened, several years ago, when they both still sported their rose-tinted glasses. They were in the attic watching oldBuffy the Vampire Slayerepisodes, as they often did during their late-night sibling meetups, but this time it was just the two of them. Bilal had admitted quietly that he found the character Spike aesthetically pleasing. Octavius had looked at him in disgust and stated that Xander was obviously hotter. They’d argued a little before agreeing to disagree, but Bilal’s prepubescent shoulders finally relaxed now that they had a massive weight off of them. He’d smiled at Octavius, who smiled at him back. They had an understanding.
So much had changed since then.
“How’s your leg?” Octavius asked as he took a longer hit.
“Broken,” Bilal muttered.
“As are your spirits, I see,” Octavius said.
He could feel Billy glaring, sending daggers his way.
“You’re not funny. That’s probably why we don’t speak anymore.”
Octavius rolled his eyes.
They both knew why they didn’t talk anymore, and it was definitelynothumor related. Their reason for no longer talking was something that they never acknowledged. Acknowledging it would make it real and heavy. Though not acknowledging it seemed to have had the same effect.
So really, what was the point? To protect their secret, Octavius supposed. The only secret they had between each other, one that no one elsealive—but Henry—knew.
Keeping it quiet was an unspoken rule between them, but today Octavius was feeling careless and didn’t mind breaking the rules.
“Do you ever think about…it?” he asked.
He could see Bilal stiffen a little at the mention. Hesitance. “No.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then why ask?”
Octavius shrugged. “I don’t know.” He took another hit of the joint and exhaled this time through his nose, plumes of smoke ribboning out into the bleak air. It made him cough a little, choking on the fumes as he said, “Henry called to tell me once that Dad still pays…paid, I guess?… their family a bonus, you know? Fifty thousand dollars a year. Just to not ask questions. How fucked up is that?”
