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I made a list of things I want to show him.

Your picture on my nightstand.

The spot in the garden where I sit to talk to you.

Alya, because she is the best part of this house.

My drawings. They aren’t good yet, but I drew you with wings. I hope that is allowed.

My candies.

I want Anton to know I can be a good little brother. I will share. I will not talk too much. Okay, I will probably talk too much. You know I talk too much when I’m nervous.

If he is nice, I will tell you every little thing. If he is not nice, I will still tell you. I promise I will keep writing. I don’t want you to miss my life just because you went in the sky. I will bring the letters to your grave like Alya said. I will put a rock on them so the wind doesn’t steal my words.

I love you more than knives and more than sweets.

Please don’t forget me. Please don’t forget Alya. Please meet Anton from up there too.

I can’t wait to meet him. I wish you could meet him with me.

I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

Your little sun, Ilya

Kento

A few days later, I sit across from Rei on the couch in Dimitri’s mansion.

I watch him curl into the corner of the couch, his legs tucked under him, his sweater sleeves pulled over his hands. He looks comfortable. Safe.

“I have something for you,” I say.

He blinks, visibly thrown off by both the smile and the sentence. “What?”

I reach beside me and pick up the small box I brought with me. I lift the lid.

Yakiimo yokan cookies.

I made them for him all the time when we were small. Sweet potato and red bean. He was never the biggest fan of sweets in general, but he always loved these.

He stares at the box for a second, then he looks up at me. “For me?”

I stand and move over to him. “Who else?”

His hands hover for a moment before he takes the box, careful with it. He looks down at the cookies, and when he smiles this time, he isn’t the person standing in front of me now. He’s a kid again, sitting cross-legged on a kitchen chair with flour dusting his shirt and pink cheeks from the heat of the oven as he beams at me like I’d just performed a miracle instead of baking cookies.

“I haven’t had these in forever,” he says quietly.

“I know.”

“You made them?”

“Obviously.”

He opens the box and picks one up, then he takes a bite.

I watch him chew. Which would be ridiculous if it were anyone else, but this is Rei, and I’ve spent too many years taking scraps of his life from a distance. I want to see the reaction. I want proof I still remember at least one thing well enough to give it back to him.