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cuthian · 7 years

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Wrestle & Win - Part I

“Half the time when brothers wrestle, it is an excuse to hug each other.” --James Patterson

PART I - DURO

January 1998 BEPS International School, Brussels, Belgium

Duro Müller is a little short, he knows, for his age, but he knows no one would tease him at the new school, because he is Agron Müller’s little brother, and his big brother always takes care of him. Duro is five-and-a-half and his big brother is almost nine and they just moved to a new city in a new country that isn’t very far from their old country for their papa’s job, and Duro is super excited, because learning a new language and moving to a new country is way cooler than getting a swimming pool party for your birthday, no matter what cousin Saxa tried to tell him.

He holds his mama’s hand as they walk to the class and looks around with wide eyes. The school is a lot bigger than his old school and the kids are bigger and all look different and he is a little nervous.

He had practiced the new language a lot at home with mama and Agron, but he hasn’t really tried to talk to other people yet and it is a little scary. He is really brave though, like Agron taught him, and he wants to make his brother smile, because Agron doesn’t smile enough, like mama says they should.

“Mama, what happens when the other kids don’t like me?” he asks nervously in German, tugging on his mama’s hand as they slow to a stop at a brightly decorated door. There’s butterflies and drawings, and even a rainbow painted near the door handle, and Duro can hear laughing inside but he’s still a little too scared to go in without mama or Agron.

“They’ll love you,” mama replies steadily, kneeling down before Duro with a smile, ruffling her hands through his curly hair. “They’d be silly not to. You’re going to love it here, Duro.”

Duro tries not to pout, but he doesn’t quite succeed and mutters, “But Agron isn’t here.” It is true—their papa took Agron to school, since it was closer to his office than to Duro’s new school—and Duro doesn’t like that he won’t be able to talk to Agron during lunch break like he did in his old school.

“It’s only for a little while, bärchen,” his mama says sweetly. “You’re going to Agron’s school in September, when you’re six. That’s seven more months, baby.”

Duro nods and looks back to the door. He remembers. Agron had made him promise to make a lot of friends so he could bring loads of them with him when he came to the big school with Agron. “Okay,” he says seriously. “Can we go in now?”

Mama laughs and nods, getting to her feet again before she knocks at the door and pushes it open, where a man with dark hair and a wide smile and a guitar stands. “Hello there!” he says cheerily, in the new language that Duro isn’t really great at yet. “I take it you are Duro?”

Duro nods nervously and clutches at his mama’s hand before he remembers that he promised Agron he’d be really brave today. “Ja,” he says. “Mijn naam is Duro Müller.”

Luckily the new language is a lot like German, so it’s not too hard for Duro to understand.

The teacher smiles and shakes Duro’s hand when he sticks it out, like he’s seen papa do when he meets people. “Well, hello, Duro Müller. I’m Rik, and I’m your new teacher for the rest of the school year. Do you want to come in and meet the rest of the class?”

Duro only hesitates a little before following the teacher inside, and then he forgets all about mama and Agron because there’s a television in the classroom and the teacher has a guitar and there’s even a castle with pillows and a lot of toys and a slide. He eagerly bounces to the big orange pillow next to a boy with really dark hair and eyes and pretty skin that is more brown than his own and waves goodbye at his mama before turning to the boy next to him.

“I am Duro,” he says again, speaking slowly so he’s sure to say the words right.

The boy looks at him with wide eyes before he smiles shyly, and Duro has never really thought of someone else as pretty before, except for Ariel from the Little Mermaid and Princess Jasmin from Aladdin, but they’re not real. This boy is though, and he even looks a little like Princess Jasmin—only he is a boy, obviously. “I am Nasir,” the boy finally says, the words coming out just as slowly and carefully as they did with Duro. “Are we going to be friends?”

Duro looks at him carefully and then nods, deciding that the boy seems like a lot of fun. “Best friends.”

July 1998 Müller household, Brussels, Belgium

“Duro, Nasir is here!”

Duro shoves against Agron impatiently and pushes past his brother to stumble down the stairs. He is excited to see his friend, because it is the first time Nasir has been allowed to come over to play since school had ended, and Agron hasn’t met Nasir yet and it is Very Important that his best friend and his big brother like each other.

He and Nasir have gone to the playground with mama a few times, and Nasir’s nanny had taken them to see the new Disney movie—about a girl who pretended to be a boy and then saved the country and still got to marry the prince in the end—when it played in the movie theater, but this is the first time that they are actually going to play in Duro’s house with his toys and his comic books.

Duro is very excited about it.

Nasir is standing next to his own big brother in their hallway, looking incredibly tiny in the large space, smaller than Duro, but with a big smile that automatically makes Duro smile too.

“Hey,” he cheers excitedly as he slides to a stop—socks on their smooth floor is the best thing ever—in front of Nasir and his brother. “We’re going to have so much fun! Papa had someone install a swing and a slide and all kinds of cool things in the backyard and we’ve even got a swimming pool now!”

“That’s so cool!” Nasir cheers excitedly, before turning to his brother with wide eyes and uttering something in a language that is even more different than the one Duro and Agron are still learning.

Nasir’s brother says something back and then pats his little brother’s back before waving at the other two. “I’ll pick him up around eight tonight,” he tells Duro and Agron’s mama, who nods and sees him outside before turning back to the boys.

“Nasir, how about you and Duro go up to his room for a bit? He can show you his games and his comic books, before you go play outside. It’s still a little chilly.” Duro nods and grasps Nasir’s arm, barely waiting for him to get his shoes off before he drags the other boy up the stairs, excited to show him the comic books, and maybe to get Agron to read one of them to him.

Duro isn’t very good with letters yet, so Agron helps him with the comic books.

He tells Nasir all of this as they hurry up the stairs and through the hall, their socks slipping on the smooth hardwood floors as they laugh and giggle. “Do you have Captain America comic books?” Nasir asks curiously as they tumble into Duro’s room in their haste. “My baba got some for me when he went to America for busy-ness.”

Nasir’s nose wrinkles as he pronounces the word in Dutch carefully, shaking his head a little.

“No,” Duro frowns, “I don’t have those. But mama got me a lot of Belgian ones, so I could learn the language a bit. It’s not very different from German though.” Nasir nods solemnly and plops down on the floor at the foot of Duro’s bed as Duro drags the box with comic books from the cupboard.

“Agron!” He yells, “Nasir is here! Come say hello and help us read!”

He hears his brother putter around in his own room, grumbling in German, before turning back to Nasir, who is flipping through one of the orange Belgian comic books with a little wrinkle between his eyebrows. “How old is your brother?” Duro asks curiously, peeking over Nasir’s shoulder to see which comic he’s reading.

“He is… older,” Nasir grumbles in frustration. “I don’t know the word in Dutch yet. He is allowed to drive since last year. He doesn’t go to school anymore.”

“Oh,” Duro says. “That’s old. Agron is old too, but not that old.”

Nasir nods and turns a page. “That’s good. Adam is too old to play with me most of the time.” That sounds horrible, Duro decides, and it’s sad that Nasir has to play alone the whole time.

“I’ll share Agron with you,” he offers. “He’s annoying but he’s fun too, and he does the voices when he reads to me and he pushes the swing really high!” Thinking about it causes excitement to curl in the pit of his belly and he can’t wait to go play again, even though mama said they should wait until it’s a little warmer outside.

Nasir doesn’t say anything, and it’s not until Duro turns to see his friend staring up at the door with flushed cheeks and wide eyes that he sees his big brother in the doorway with a funny face. “Why’re you looking all weird?” he demands, poking Nasir’s shoulder petulantly when they don’t answer.

“You’re really tall,” Nasir blurts, and Duro frowns a little, because yes, his brother is pretty tall, but he’s not that tall, and honestly, everyone is tall compared to Nasir.

“You’re really not,” Agron says back, nose wrinkling weirdly as he says it.

Nasir, however, shrieks and jumps up, shoving the comic book into Duro’s lap as he yells, “You said my words!” And Duro doesn’t know a lot yet, but he knows that the words are important and that the person who says your words is your soulmate. He’s not too sure what a soulmate is, really, other than that they’re really important, and he doesn’t know what to think about his brother and his best friends saying each other’s words.

“You said mine,” Agron shrugs, walking towards Nasir and pushing him down onto the floor again before plopping himself down in front of them, and pulling the comic from Duro’s slack hand. “We can tell mama and your brother later. So, should I read this?” He yelps when Nasir suddenly leans forward though, punching at Agron’s knee.

“I can read,” Nasir says indignantly, pulling the comic back onto his own lap. “You can help.”

Duro watches his big brother and his best friend squabble over the comic book and decides that they are really weird, but he likes them and they’re his, so he guesses he’ll have to keep them.

February 2007 Müller household, Brussels, Belgium

Duro grinds his teeth and glares at his brother, who is currently smiling—wide and dimpled—at Duro’s best friend, gesturing wildly as he explains something or other. Duro has little idea of what they’re speaking of because it has been quite some time since he has been allowed into their conversations.

It is hardly the first time it has happened, and Duro doesn’t doubt it will happen again.

They don’t try to exclude him, but it happens nonetheless. Mama has told him it is a side-effect of the soulbond, and that neither his brother nor his best friend can really help themselves.

Nasir has barely left their home since the day he and Agron had met and had spoken their words to each other. Nasir’s parents had outright refused to accept that their son’s soulmate was a boy, and had demanded either permanent separation or adequate compensation—which had led to mama and papa agreeing to take Nasir in, to spare him and Agron the agony of separation.

Duro loves Nasir, much like he loves his brother, but sometimes he hates him.

He took Agron away from him, even though Duro knows, logically, that Agron is still there for him with whatever he needs—he needs only ask. He just wishes he wouldn’t have to. Agron is often preoccupied with Nasir and whatever it is that the younger man needs, but Duro knows his big brother is still his, too.

As it is, he’s spent much more time alone with Nasir, going to movies and amusement parks and trying to skate while laughing hysterically at Nasir’s clumsy attempts to stay vertical with roller-skates on.

It’s been a while though, since they’ve had time to go out to the movies or other fun activities—Nasir had basically locked himself in his room to study for his exams in January and Duro had, much more reluctantly, done the same, while Agron finished all of his exams in two weeks and spent the rest of the time hanging out with Spartacus and his other friends.

Duro kind of just misses hanging out with his brother and his best friend.

He glances back towards where Nasir is sitting on the kitchen counter, dressed in one of Agron’s much-too-large sweaters and jeans, swinging his bare feet back and forth idly, watching as Agron makes lunch for the three of them.

There is a breathless kind of smile upon Nasir’s lips as he looks at Agron, and he almost looks like the lovestruck girls they see in films sometimes, when they catch sight of the hero. It is a little sickening, and Duro knows that there are people who don’t like that his brother is destined to love another man, but he doesn’t quite understand that part.

Honestly, the only reason Duro thinks they’re disgusting is because Agron looks at Nasir as though he’s hung the moon and the stars and it’s sickeningly sweet.

“You almost done?” he finally asks, leaning forward across the counter to tug on the edge of Nasir’s sweater playfully. “Or are you two going to keep making heart eyes at each other?” Nasir splutters, blush rising high upon his cheeks, and Agron chuckles nervously. Duro feels almost bad for the implication, because the fact remains that Agron stands four years older than Nasir and Duro, and it complicates their relationship greatly.

Agron is eighteen already, set to graduate high school in but a few months—Nasir and Duro both still have another three and a half years in high school to go. Agron is prepared for a kind of relationship that Nasir has likely not even thought of—as far as Duro knows, they have never even kissed beyond affectionate kisses upon cheek and forehead.

Much as he likes to complain about his best friend and his brother easily forgetting about him when they are in a room together, Duro wouldn’t want to be in their place, with so much speaking against their evolving relationship.

Even their own father is less than pleased that Agron will likely grow up to marry a boy—even if that boy is Nasir, who they have known for years. At least their mama loves Nasir and has no compunction about his and Agron’s future relationship—Duro is almost certain that she’s been planning their wedding since the moment they’d met.

“It’ll be done in a minute,” Agron finally grumbles, turning back to the stove to poke at the grilled cheese sandwiches that he is preparing. “Get the plates, you lazy git.”

Duro grumbles good-naturedly and shoves at Nasir as he pushes past him to get to the cupboard, listening as Nasir chatters about school and his assignment for Latin, jokingly comparing his teachers to old biddies who had actually been alive when Latin had still been spoken across Europe.

Duro knows that Nasir only talks about his classes with mama and Agron because Duro has a tendency to simply tune him out—not because he is trying to be rude, but because he simply cannot follow Nasir’s train of thought. Nasir had, quite early on, proven to be an eager student with a taste for history and languages, and had been sent to a different school than Duro and Agron at twelve.

Mama likes to listen to Nasir speak of his studies because the subjects always interested her as well—Duro is still half convinced that the only reason Agron listens is because he is whipped as fuck.

He sets the plates on the counter next to Agron and hops onto one of the barstools that they really only use when it is the three of them, too lazy to set the table and eating at the counter instead. “Wanna do math together later?” he asks Nasir absently, pulling his new mobile phone from his pocket to play Snake while they wait for their food to be done.

Nasir wrinkles his nose in disgust, but nods and sighs. “That’s for the best. I’ll probably fail the test again if you don’t help me.” Duro snorts, but doesn’t comment, because it is entirely true. As brilliant as Nasir may be in other fields and subjects, he is absolutely horrendous at math.

“Hush,” Agron scolds them, handing Nasir a plate with two grilled cheese sandwiches before curling his hand around the back of Nasir’s neck and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’re going to do fine.”

Duro scoffs, both at his brother’s words and actions, but accepts and digs into his own plate after tossing his cellphone aside. Agron makes a mean grilled cheese sandwich, and he hasn’t been able to make it for them in a while. He has been working on his final school work, with several assignments for each subject and a large overlapping project that takes up ridiculous amounts of Agron’s time.

At least he’ll have a business degree as well as a high school degree when he graduates now. In Agron’s own words: it’ll look great on his CV, and it’ll be worth the hard work. Duro will take his word for it and only be grateful that he did not choose the same classes as his brother had in high school.

They eat in silence for a time, until Agron glances at the clock and swears violently in German, shoving his plate in the general direction of the sink. “I have to go pick up mama,” he mentions as he rushes around the kitchen to collect his things. “We’ll be back in an hour at most. Clean up the kitchen before you do homework, okay?”

He hardly waits for an answer, stopping only to press yet another kiss to Nasir’s cheek and to ruffle Duro’s curls before he rushes out the door, car keys jingling in his hands as he slams the door shut.

Duro grins, mouth full of food, and winks at Nasir. “I guess it’s just us now.”

Nasir rolls his eyes and takes another bite of his food. “Oh joy,” he replies drily.

Duro elects to ignore him and instead continues to eat his grilled cheese.

Duro feels as though he’s stuck in a haze, hands trembling and heart pounding. The police officer still stands in their living room, talking to the social worker lady, who is eyeing Nasir with undisguised interest and worry. The other boy is sitting curled up on the large loveseat, legs pressed to his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around them. His hands are covered by the too-long sleeves of Agron’s sweatshirt, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks wet with shed tears.

They had known something had happened—that something was wrong—almost as soon as it had happened. Nasir had begun crying, begging Duro to call Agron, to call anyone, because something was wrong, Agron was hurt and it terrified the both of them.

The police hadn’t shown up at their door until an hour and a half later, and at that point, Nasir had become largely uncommunicative, leaving Duro to freak out all by himself.

The social worker had insisted on calling Duro’s father, even though Duro knew he’d be in meetings all day and likely wouldn’t answer his phone until it was time for their daily phone call around seven. He still feels weak in the knees when he recalls the social worker lady—“please, call me Karen”—sitting down with him and Nasir and telling them there had been an accident involving his mama and brother.

He looks at the police officer again and swallows thickly before timidly asking, “Can we go see them?”

He gestures back to where Nasir’s curled up on the seat. “We’re going crazy with worry, and Nasir and Agron don’t do well with separation—they haven’t really been apart much since they bonded.” It is not exactly the truth, but he is not above exploiting the whole soulbond thing a little if it gets them to see his mama and his big brother sooner.

He doesn’t miss the raised eyebrows and the skeptical look that the two adults share before the social worker shakes her head. “They’re not listed as soulmates,” the woman finally says, though she genuinely looks concerned when she glances towards Nasir, who has yet to respond to anything.

“Does that matter?” Duro demands impatiently, hands curling into fists in frustration and fear. “The only reason they’re not listed is because Nasir’s not sixteen yet! They’re my family, Nasir’s family. We just want to go to the hospital.” He could make a scene out of this, and he definitely feels like it, but he knows mama and Agron expect him and Nasir to take care of each other, and causing a scene would not do anyone any good.

Instead, he swallows his fear as best as he can and carefully sits down beside Nasir as the adults talk.

Nasir barely stirs at all, eyes fastened onto the far wall, decorated with pictures of him and Duro and Agron, fingers twitching against the seam of his jeans. Duro feels a little guilty then, for forgetting how badly separation affects Nasir and Agron sometimes, for being jealous of the soulbond and for whining about Nasir and Agron forgetting the rest of the world—and him—sometimes.

His hand briefly slips down to scratch at his upper thigh, where his own words curve around the muscle, as of yet unspoken. It’s not unusual, he knows—he’s only fourteen. Most people don’t meet their soulmate until much later in life—and his brother and his best friend are exceptions to the rule.

He shoots another glance at Nasir, who has his fingers curled tightly around his own wrist, where Duro knows his soulmark is, rocking back and forth gently. Nasir’s words are looped around his right wrist, much like a bracelet, in Agron’s scratchy handwriting, while Nasir’s loopy script flows across his brother’s collarbones.

They annoy the shit out of him sometimes, but Agron is his brother and Nasir is his best friend and Duro has no idea how he’s supposed to deal with anything if something bad were to happen to either of them. “You’d know, right?” he croaks suddenly, surprised by the wavering of his own voice, swallowing thickly when Nasir looks up at him in question. “If he—if—you would know, right?”

“Yeah,” Nasir nods shakily, voice scratchy with disuse. “I think so anyway.”

Duro nods, but his heart squeezes painfully in his chest, and the only thing he can do to keep himself from falling apart is to curl his own fingers around Nasir’s wrist too, without actually looking at him, eyes locking on the wall too, waiting until the policeman and the social worker decide what to do.

They sit like that, curled together, entwined fingers wrapped around Nasir’s wrist, for a few more hours, Nasir finally, restlessly dozing off against Duro’s shoulder. He takes it as a good sign, because if something was seriously wrong with Agron, Duro is sure Nasir wouldn’t be able to relax at all, but it does less to reassure him than he’d like.

He just wants his mama and his brother.

He startles when the social worker suddenly puts her hand on his shoulder, offering him a kind smile. “Your father just called us back,” she tells him quietly. “We’re going to take you to the hospital to see your brother now, and your father will be home in a few hours.”

Duro nods stiffly, not missing that she said nothing about seeing his mother, causing fear to coil in the pit of his stomach, and gently shakes Nasir to wake him, reading the question in the other boy’s eyes before he’s even asked. “They’re taking us to the hospital,” he says softly. “Put on some shoes.”

Nasir stares at him for a moment before nodding shakily and stumbling to his feet, rushing towards the hallway where they’d left their shoes after carelessly kicking them off earlier. Duro follows at a more sedate pace, unsure of what to think or do other than follow the adults, because at least they’ll take him to his mother and brother.

The car ride passes in a blur, and all Duro finds himself truly aware of is that at least he knows Agron is not dead, and neither is his mother—surely they would have told him if she were.

Nasir has fallen silent again, eyes unfocused and unseeing, fingers rubbing over the writing on his wrist continuously, and fear and uncertainty thrum beneath Duro’s skin, and he wants to snap, to yell and to scream until he is safely seen to his family’s arms again.

The hospital, when they arrive, is quiet, nurses moving through the long hallways with practiced ease and deliberate silence, and it sets Duro’s nerves on edge even more.

He keeps his fingers curled around Nasir’s arm, tugging him along steadily, because he is almost certain that, should he release him, Nasir would not move at all, as affected as he is by separation sickness. It is, after all, the longest Agron and Nasir have been separated since they had bonded.

Even on school days, they would call each other during lunch breaks to stave off the effects of the bond—it is the main reason Nasir and Duro have cell phones of their own, too.

“Duro, Nasir,” the social worker says with a kind smile as a tall woman with dark, gleaming skin and a grim frown wrinkling her forehead, dressed in baby blue scrubs follows her. “This is Dr. Dubois. She treated your brother, and she’s going to talk to her colleagues to find out where your mother is right now.” He is sure she meant it to be comforting, but the idea that they have no idea where his mom is in the hospital only makes Duro feel sick to his stomach.

Before he can say anything though, the doctor shoves forward and reaches for Nasir, who’s pale and shaky, more so than Duro had even noticed, and he feels a pang of guilt for being so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed how poorly Nasir was feeling.

“Nasir?” he asks worriedly, reaching for his friend, only to be pushed back by the doctor.

“He just needs to see Agron,” he exclaims, angrily trying to pull his arm from the social worker’s tight grasp as the doctor examines Naseer. “He’ll be fine once he sees him. Agron can’t be much better—it’s been hours since they saw each other!”

“They are bonded?” the doctor demands harshly, her accent—French, he’s guessing—lilting the words, glaring at Duro as though this is his fault. “And you did not come to the hospital sooner?”

“She didn’t believe me!” Duro yells angrily, pointing at the social worker, who has the gall to look affronted when the doctor rounds on her. “I told her they were soulmates as soon as she told us Agron and mama were in the hospital!”

“They’re not listed,” the social worker stutters, blush staining her cheeks. “I was just—”

Dr. Dubois aims a withering glare towards the social worker, cutting off her stuttered explanation, before shaking her head and curling her fingers around Nasir’s wrist and leading him towards one of the rooms. Duro tugs his arm out of the social worker’s grasp and follows them, heart pounding high in his throat, because finally someone is letting him see his brother.

Fine, letting Nasir see his brother, but Duro’s not about to let the opportunity slip from him.

He follows them into a private hospital room, much smaller than the one he himself had occupied and shared with three others after getting his wisdom teeth removed.

His breath catches in his throat when he catches a glimpse of his brother on the hospital bed, looking much smaller and less imposing than he had in years, pale, with both hands resting on pillows at his sides, splinted and bandaged with fingertips that are so badly bruised and swollen he can barely even tell they are his hands at all.

Most of his attention is diverted when a choked sob falls from Nasir’s lips, a deep, guttural sound that makes him shiver even as Nasir rushes towards Agron, who is lightly stirring, eyes blinking open lazily to take in Nasir’s undoubtedly teary eyes as the younger man leans over him, obviously dying to touch Agron, but unsure of where to put his hands to avoid hurting him.

“I’m okay, little man,” Agron whispers weakly, and it terrifies Duro, because he’s never heard his brother sound so faint and so weak, and he’s not even looking at Duro or even acknowledging his little brother’s presence—like he hadn’t been just as worried as Nasir had been.

“Don’t call me that, you big lug,” Nasir scolds tearfully. “You scared the hell out of us!”

Duro steps forward hesitantly when Agron rolls his head slightly to the side, blinking sluggishly as he looks at Duro, before his lips turn up into the dopey kind of grin Duro has only ever seen him direct at Nasir. “Hey little brother,” he grins. “You were worried?”

“Yeah,” Duro says thickly, joining Nasir at his brother’s bedside, trying to ignore the way Nasir’s fingers trail across Agron’s collarbone, where Nasir’s words curl across Agron’s skin.

“Silly,” Agron hums, head lolling back onto his pillow as his eyes flutter shut again. “I’m okay.”

Duro almost believes him.

Three weeks later Müller household, Brussels, Belgium

“I don’t want to go.”

Duro’s voice is thick with unshed tears, and he feels stiff and uncomfortable in the suit his father and grandparents insisted he wear. Saxa snorts and tosses a packet of gum at his head from where she is lounging on his bed, long blond curls splayed out across his dark blue comforter, her black dress just on the right side of indecent.

“All you have to do is stand there and look pretty, kleiner Neffe. That’s all your dad wants from you.”

Duro sighs and pops the gum in his mouth so he won’t have to actually say anything. He has less than half an hour before he is expected to put in an appearance downstairs for the masses that have turned up for his mother's funeral; to pretend they’re devastated about the car accident that took her life.

Most of them never even met her.

They’re business associates of his father’s, here to schmooze and talk business after the burial, using his mother’s death as a fucking business opportunity.

Agron, barely out of the hospital and still barely capable of standing upright without Nasir or Duro holding him steady, had sent him upstairs with their cousin Saxa to cool off after he nearly bit off someone’s head when they tried to engage him in small talk.

“They didn’t even know her,” he finally grumbles, swallowing thickly when tears burn in his eyes. “I don’t even know why they’re here.”

Saxa grins and shrugs one shoulder. “They’re grown-ups. And humans. They suck. Ignore them.”

“You’re a grown-up,” he replies petulantly, barely resisting the urge to pout at her. He hadn’t seen Saxa in four years before she and the rest of their family from Germany made the trip to Brussels after Agron and mama’s accident in order to help papa out.

They’d stayed longer after mama had… After his dad had decided to…

He aches at the mere thought because it still doesn’t feel real, and he still expects to wake up and walk down to the kitchen to find Nasir and Agron being gross and cute and his mom making them breakfast while laughing at them—

Not this…

This half-life where his mama is gone and his brother may never be able to use his hands again and Nasir can’t bring himself to stray from Agron’s side for longer than ten minutes at a time and everyone is so damned sad all the time.

“Come, kleiner Neffe,” Saxa drawls eventually. “Let’s go make fun of old rich people trying to suck up to your dad.” She stands gracefully and brushes off her dress, extending her hand towards Duro to drag him up from his desk chair. He grudgingly allows her to do so and to drag him down the stairs, where they’re immediately swamped by said old rich people.

He feels like he spends hours talking to people, but he’s never felt more… alone.

He catches a glimpse of Agron and Nasir, who are standing by the fireplace together, Agron leaning heavily on Nasir’s shoulder, both hands still bandaged and bruises on his arms and face in the later stages of healing, turning yellow and green. Duro has yet to see them separately since the accident, and though he knows—he knows, okay—that they’re just trying to recover and deal with everything too, it feels like they’ve just decided to leave him out of it altogether.

Agron hadn’t even tried to hug him when mama had died. He’d been too busy holding Nasir, crying quiet tears of his own that dripped into the younger man’s hair as they stood and waited for mama to take her last breath after all machines had been turned off.

Duro swallows thickly and turns away from his big brother and his best friend.

His mama just died.

He’s too tired and too hurt and too sad to deal with them right now.

He doesn’t really care all that much anymore to begin with.

Nothing really seems to matter anymore.

He just wants mama back.

December 2008 Almasi household, Brussels, Belgium

“Truth or dare!”

Both Duro and Nasir groan dramatically when Naevia Almasi’s shout is heard above all other suggestions for games to play before they go to the Christmas party held at Agron, Duro and Nasir’s house, but they are quickly outnumbered by their classmates, who seem all too eager to make fools of themselves.

“Fine,” Duro whines, kicking at Nasir’s leg petulantly when the other boy elbows him in the ribs. “Fine.”

“It’ll be fun,” Naevia insists, long curled hair bouncing around her shoulders as she leans forward to smile at him. Diona, sitting by her side with a more demure, shy smile, eyes Naevia somewhat distrustfully, but doesn’t say anything to deter her friend from her plans. He looks away quickly, before the girl can catch him staring—again—because he doesn’t want to be creepy, and he’s still not quite over the disappointment he’d felt when they had first spoken to each other and he had realized she wasn’t the one to utter his words, no matter how much he’d hoped she would be.

He’d had a crush on Diona since she joined his school and Naevia came to Nasir’s school in September, having moved to Brussels with their adoptive parents for their father’s job.

Nasir had befriended Naevia almost immediately, and brought her and Diona over to the house a few times to do homework and hang out together, and Duro had hoped he could meet Diona more easily like that too, but it had still taken him a month and a half to gather up enough courage to actually say anything to her, and he had been crushed when the words she first said to him were not his words—not even close.

Chadara, one of Nasir’s other close friends, had been the only one to notice he’d acted a little different towards Diona afterwards, and Duro can’t even begin to express how much it hurt that his supposed best friend couldn’t even see these things anymore.

Had he and Nasir really grown apart that much in so little time?

“I’ll start!” Naevia exclaims, dragging him from his depressing thoughts, bouncing up and down in her seat as she aims a devilish grin towards Nasir and—oh. Oh.

He sees where this is going now.

They probably should have known that a game of truth or dare would turn into an opportunity to wheedle more information about the soulbond and Nasir’s relationship with Agron.

Their friends are unduly fascinated with Duro’s big brother and it’s a little disgusting to think about, because he knows they’re all a little too interested in knowing whether or not Nasir and Agron are sleeping together yet, and Duro really does not want to know about his best friend’s sex life—or lack thereof—with his older brother.

Besides.

They’re all way too young to actually have a sex life, aren’t they?

Nasir is four months shy of sixteen, sure, but Duro is barely fifteen, and most of their friends are younger than he is too, and Duro has never even had a girlfriend for any length of time, and he knows none of the others have either. Nasir is the only one of them that has anything resembling a relationship, and he’s pretty sure Nasir and Agron have been purposefully not doing anything sexual yet, because Agron is almost twenty and Nasir barely sixteen and it’s a little scary—and…

Well, the whole soulmate thing complicates things rather than simplifies them.

Nasir had told him once that when he and Agron would take the next step in their relationship, their soulbond would solidify and ensure a more intimate relationship than they would be capable of having right now, with Agron studying in Ghent and Nasir finishing high school in Brussels.

“Truth or dare, Nasir?”

The words drag Duro from his thoughts and he chuckles a little at the weary sigh that falls from Nasir’s lips before he replies. “Truth, then. Let’s get it over with.” The girls in the group squeal, and Duro aims a desperate look towards Pietros, who looks back with an expression that tells him he, too, is all too resigned to their fate.

Naevia grins wickedly and leans forward, biting her lower lip in contemplation before she asks, blunt as ever, “So have you and Agron done it yet?”

The entire group whistles, catcalling and winking when Nasir blushes deeply, shaking his head as he tries to avoid the question, begging Naevia for a different one. Honestly, Duro wouldn’t mind a game of truth or dare where things weren’t about Agron and Nasir for fucking once.

Neavia, however, is relentless, refusing to take back the question, ribbing Nasir until he finally snaps. “Fuck the Gods,” Nasir exclaims exasperatedly, rubbing a hand through his hair. “No, we haven’t. Can we just not bring it up again? What I do or don’t do with Agron is really no one’s business but ours.”

Duro exhales in relief, because often, Nasir would indulge people, blushing and shy as he did so. Not because he liked the attention—Duro had known him long enough to know better—but because Nasir didn’t know how to say ‘no’ to people’s genuine curiosity.

Agron, on the other hand, was more likely to bite someone’s face off if they asked questions of slightly too intimate nature. It’s a miracle he and Spartacus had remained friends for as long as they had.

The group surrounding them boos in disappointment, but Nasir remains firm and turns to Duro instead, demanding, “Truth or dare?” before anyone can protest or try to wheedle more out of him.

Duro only sighs.

It’s going to be a long night.

Müller household, Brussels, Belgium

There is cheery Christmas music playing and their house is filled with his father’s coworkers, all dressed in appropriately fancy clothes while waiters wind their way between the guests, carrying trays of hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne and orange juice, and Duro swears he hates everything about it.

He is not feeling particularly festive, and if his father hadn’t threatened to ground him until next year, he would have locked himself in his room and played video games all night instead.

Their lives had turned into an endless parade of dinner dates and handshaking, their father insisting on showing a united front as a family, even after such devastating loss, and Duro almost felt like he’d lost his entire family the day his mother died.

It’s not like he hadn’t still spent time with his brother and with Nasir in the nearly two years that followed, but mostly that Nasir and Agron have barely spent any time apart at all since the accident. Agron had graduated on schedule, but postponed starting university until the bond between him and Nasir had settled down a little again, which took the better part of six months.

Agron had only taken classes during the second semester of that year, and postponed actually moving to Ghent until Nasir finished high school and could join him. Their father had been making noises about possibly asking a woman he worked with out on a date, and everyone is moving forward, planning for the future, except for him.

They’re all leaving him behind, and it doesn’t feel like anyone’s even going to miss him.

“What are you doing here in a corner all by yourself?” He looks up to find Diona standing before him, black locks braided back to keep them from falling into her eyes, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she looks up at him.

His breath catches in his throat, but he manages to smile—he thinks so anyway—at her as she hands him a flute of orange juice and bumps their shoulders together playfully.

“Just trying to avoid the old ladies that want to pinch my cheeks and tell me how grown up I’m looking,” he replies grumpily, rolling his eyes when an elderly lady with grey hair piled on top of her head and an entirely unflattering pink dress reaches out to pinch and pat Agron’s cheek, disregarding that she can barely reach his cheek at all, and ignoring Nasir’s baffled expression from where he stands with Naevia, a little behind Agron.

“I’m sorry about Naevia,” Diona says quietly, reaching out to touch his arm, and Duro tries desperately to pretend that his skin isn’t tingling where hers brushed over it. “Earlier. She just wanted to tease Nasir. He’s been so close-lipped about Agron… We were just curious.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, looking away from Diona to where his brother and Nasir are standing, Agron’s arm casually tossed around Nasir’s shoulders as Nasir leans into him. “People always are.”

Diona is silent by his side, and he feels bad immediately, because at least she is trying to talk to him. Most people try to ignore him because he is the younger, insignificant brother—the one that did not meet his soulmate at ten and that did not beat the odds and who managed to graduate with honors without losing the soulmate connection or falling into bed with someone else while waiting for his soulmate to reach the moment they’d be ready to enter into an actual relationship.

“Sorry,” he sighs, turning back to Diona and offering her a soft smile. “People have always been really weird about the whole soulmate thing. I just get a little tired of it.”

“I can imagine,” Diona offers empathetically. “I promise I won’t bring it up tonight.”

And she doesn’t.

They spend hours talking in the corner, filching snacks and drinks from the passing waiters and mocking the other guest’s fashion choices, and Duro feels lighter and happier than he has in a very long time. Diona is funnier and livelier than he had ever thought she was, and she likes comic books and skating too, and Duro is just a little bit in love with her by the time that most guests are filtering out of the house.

There’s still music playing and there’s some people dancing, swaying lazily to old tunes that all of them know by heart, and Duro’s stomach clenches when he catches sight of Agron and Nasir wrapped in each other’s arms, trading soft kisses as they sway to the music.

“They are cute though,” Diona pipes up from beside him, bumping their shoulders together playfully so he’ll look at her again. He must admit he much prefers looking at her. “I think we could do better, don’t you?” she adds, winking at him when he gapes at her, unsure of what to do or say to that.

She just laughs at him and tugs on his hand until they’re stood in the middle of the makeshift dancefloor, slinging her arms around his neck while he gingerly puts his around her waist, feeling slightly nauseated, because he has no idea what he’s doing or what this means. Does this mean that she likes him, too? That it doesn’t matter that they’re not soulmates?

How can it not matter though?

He knows his parents weren’t soulmates, and he knows a lot of people never meet their soulmate and that they have happy relationships anyway, but seeing the way Agron and Nasir are together, Duro has always kind of expected to eventually find his own soulmate and have the same kind of relationship—he has no idea what to do with having feelings for someone who isn’t his soulmate.

It’s scary.

“Hey,” Diona says quietly, drawing his attention back to her. “You know we don’t actually have to make this into something more, right?” Her voice is kind but he can tell she’s disappointed, despite keeping a sweet smile on her lips as she looks up at him.

“I kind of want to though,” he admits gingerly, his heart beating a mile a minute as he watches her smile transform from shy and small to wide and bright as the sun.

“Yeah?”

He nods shakily. “Yeah.”

They’ve stopped swaying at that point, and Duro’s breath catches in his throat when she leans up onto the tips of her toes and draws him in, sharing a breath before their lips brush—

He would swear his heart stops beating for a split second before it starts racing. It’s his first kiss and he has no idea what it’s supposed to feel like, but he hadn’t expected it to be so simple. Their lips press together chastely and her lips are really soft and taste like blueberry chapstick, and he kind of wants to press harder, hold her tighter, but he doesn’t dare to because he doesn’t know how or even if that’s something she wants from him.

He really should have listened more when Nasir told him about kissing Agron the first time.

Finally Diona leans back, breaking the kiss and smiling softly at him.

“I’d never done that before,” he blurts, cheeks burning with heat when Diona chuckles. “I don’t have any idea what to do now.”

“It’s okay,” Diona grins, pulling him in again. “We can figure that out together.”

That sounds like a pretty good compromise to him.

June 2011 Hoofdstedelijk Atheneum Karel Buls, Brussels, Belgium

“These students graduate with high honor in Greek-Latin Sciences: Claire Cocquyt, Chadara Cornelissen, Nasir Labaton—”

Duro cheers loudly along with Agron and Spartacus, disregarding the disapproving looks other parents cast upon them, laughing at Nasir’s furious blush as he moves to the front of the auditorium to receive his diploma from his class teacher. Duro’s high school graduation had taken place the previous day, and his brother, Nasir, and their friends had caused just as much embarrassment for him when his name was called.

He looks forward to spending their evening celebrating their respective graduations, away from his and Agron’s father, who has not even bothered to show up to Nasir’s graduation, as though Nasir had not been living with them for the past thirteen years.

As if Nasir is not going to be a part of their family for the rest of their lives.

“Are you sure you will not join us, brother?” Agron asks quietly as they retake their seats, never once tearing his eyes from Nasir, who is waiting for the rest of his classmates to receive their diplomas before retaking his own seat. “We would not have you left behind.”

Nasir and Agron are set to leave for a holiday the day after next, their first together as a couple. They had invited him along, but Duro has very little interest in tagging along on their love-fest. Now that Nasir has graduated and he and Agron are set to move in together in August, so Nasir can begin his studies at the University of Ghent while Agron finishes his Master’s degree, Duro is pretty sure it’ll take them only hours of being alone together to take the last steps to complete their soulbond.

“I have no interest in being a third wheel, Agron,” he sighs, nudging his brother with a grin.

Agron makes a face, and Duro knows he probably feels guilty, for being so caught up in his plans for the future with Nasir, but he can’t find the words to relieve said guilt.

The three of them had taken care, in the past years, to repair their relationship as much as they could, but Duro is reluctant to admit that resentment still burns deep within, to see his brother and his best friend so happily planning for their future without much regard for Duro’s plans.

He’s even more reluctant to admit that he really just wants what they have.

“We’ve told you,” Agron whispers as Nasir’s principal steps up to speak again. “You’re more than welcome to bring someone along. I know you and Pietros—”

“Don’t,” Duro hisses sharply, drawing his eyes away from the front of the room to glare at his brother. “Don’t you dare. You know Pietros and I haven’t—there’s nothing…” He breaks off and shakes his head, rubbing his hands through his curled hair. “Just drop it, okay?”

Agron taps his fingers on the back of Duro’s hand in apology, but drops the subject of Duro’s love life, or lack thereof, as requested. It does not, however, stop Duro’s mind from continuing on, thoughts drifting to Pietros and their reasons for not starting anything even closely resembling a relationship right now.

It’s only common sense, honestly.

Duro is set to spend a year in Germany, taking his first year at university in the city where he was born, while Pietros is staying in Belgium, having taken and passed the entrance exam for medical school. It would be weird for them to start dating so soon after Duro and Diona had broken up, even though the main reason they had broken up was that Duro had feelings for Pietros and knew those feelings were reciprocated.

He and Diona had been together off and on for the past three years, and they’d only properly broken things off two months ago, when Duro had kissed Pietros on a dare and hadn’t thought to stop, despite all of their friends and his girlfriend watching them.

So honestly, while he and Pietros both wanted, they both agreed now was not the time.

Duro swallows thickly and looks down, shaking his head a little. Besides, by the time he’ll be back next year, Pietros might very well have met his own soulmate, or moved on in general.

Duro might meet someone in München.

There’re endless possibilities, and he would not lose a really good friend because they chose to give into their hormones at the wrong time.

He is only drawn from his thoughts when applause sounds yet again and all graduating classes get to their feet again before they scatter towards their families in the audience. Duro shakes his melancholy thoughts and stands up, first to catch a jubilant Nasir in his arms as the other man cheers, nearly dropping the folder containing his diploma and other documents as he thumps Duro on the back enthusiastically. “We’re done!” Nasir exclaims, leaning back from the hug with a smile so wide, it has to be hurting his cheeks. “We’re finished, Duro!”

Nasir’s enthusiasm and excitement is contagious, and soon Duro’s forgotten his troubled thoughts, laughing along with his best friend, sharing teasing remarks as they flip through the folder with Nasir’s report card and diploma for only a moment before Agron swoops in with boisterous laughter and sweeps Nasir off his feet into a bear hug while Duro and Spartacus watch in amusement.

“I am so proud of you,” Agron tells Nasir in a tender whisper that Duro is sure isn’t meant for his ears. “Du bist ein Wunder, mein Schatz.” Duro diligently pretends not to have heard his brother’s sappy declaration even as Nasir coos and tiptoes to press his lips to Agron’s for a far-from-appropriate kiss.

“Come,” Spartacus finally interrupts, breaking Nasir and Agron apart with practiced ease. “There’s free drinks at the reception, and then we have a party to get to.”

Duro grins, because they have been going to parties non-stop this week—tonight is the last they’ll all be able to attend together for a while though, and he would make the most of it. “Come on then,” he exclaims happily, squeezing himself between Agron and Nasir before tossing an arm around each of their shoulders. “Let’s get to the free booze part!”

They’re going to have fun.

Cocquyt household, Brussels, Belgium

The night really doesn’t go as he’d planned.

“Pietros,” he whines, a breathless gasp falling from his lips as the other boy scrapes his teeth over Duro’s earlobe. “Pietros, shit, I thought we weren’t—we’re not supposed to—”

“Shut up, Duro,” Pietros chuckles against his skin, pressing up against Duro until all he can feel is the weight of Pietros’ body against his. “I know you want this, too… Let’s just have this. Let’s just enjoy ourselves and stop thinking all the damned time.”

Duro gasps as Pietros kisses down his throat, nipping at the skin there almost aggressively.

“But what about—”

“I don’t care about him,” Pietros cuts him off almost viciously, sounding so wholly unlike himself for a moment that Duro pushes him back, startled by the sudden change in mood.

To be perfectly honest, the entire night had baffled him, from witnessing his brother trying to swallow Nasir’s lips to seeing Pietros meet a tall, dark-haired man that spoke the words curved around Pietros’ neck. His heart had broken, because he’d seen his chance with Pietros slip away before they’d even gotten the chance to try to be something more—

And then the other man had shoved Pietros away, and though Duro had been too far away to hear the words that were exchanged, he’d seen the way Pietros’ shoulders had drooped, even before he had stormed back over to Duro and demanded drinks and dancing. It hadn’t taken too much longer for them to end up in an empty bedroom with Pietros’ tongue in Duro’s mouth after that.

“I don’t care about some guy I just met,” Pietros repeats, softer this time, smoothing his hands down Duro’s chest. “And even if I had, he didn’t want me anyway. I don’t care about a man that I don’t know, Duro, soulmate or not. I care about you, okay?”

Pietros’ eyes are wide and sincere, and Duro’s heart squeezes a little in his chest before he nods shakily, barely managing to smile before Pietros’ lips are on his again, his hands soft but insistent on Duro’s cheeks. Duro kisses him back, slipping his fingers in the other man’s curled hair for purchase, gasping against Pietros’ lips when he deepens the kiss, tugging Duro’s shirt up until they have to break the kiss to tug it over his head.

Duro grins a little at the breathless look of desire Pietros gives him and pulls him back in, the kiss messier this time, with clacking teeth and too much tongue and Duro loves every second of it.

Pietros’ hold on his hair is just on the right edge of painful as he drags Duro’s head back, mouthing his way down Duro’s throat with hot, open-mouthed kisses. “Fuck,” Duro moans, heart pounding as he allows himself to get lost in Pietros.

The world tilts alarmingly for a moment when Pietros manoeuvres them onto the bed, his lips once again occupying Duro’s in a downright filthy kiss, and Duro vaguely thinks that he wants to kill whoever taught Pietros to kiss like this out of sheer jealousy. They grapple for control for a while, feverishly attempting to unbutton trousers without breaking the kiss.

Duro groans, eyes rolling back in his head and blunt fingernails digging into Pietros’ shoulders when Pietros bites down on the skin just above his collarbone before soothing over the mark with his tongue.

“Pietros,” he whines, slipping his hands down Pietros’ back to his bottom, pulling his hips down to grind on his own and holy fucking shit—

Pietros shudders in his arms, his eyes slipping shut for a short moment before he moves to straddle Duro’s legs, slipping his fingers between Duro’s and drawing their hands up until they’re resting above Duro’s head. “Keep them there,” Pietros tells him, his eyes dark and pupils blown wide before he leans in for a slower, deeper kiss than before. Duro’s eyes flutter shut as Pietros slides his tongue along his own in an erotic kiss that Duro has never experienced before.

Holy shit.

The kiss grows more frantic and desperate, and Duro almost thinks… No, he knows Pietros is trying to claim his territory. He finds that, as Pietros rakes his fingernails over Duro’s nipples and grinds their cocks against one another, he does not mind being marked as Pietros’ one bit.

He cannot quite contain the whimper that falls from his lips, and he can feel Pietros smile.

Pietros’ hands skim down Duro’s chest, slipping his fingers underneath the waistband of Duro’s trousers and tugging them down impatiently. He can’t suppress a gasp when his erection is freed and arches into Pietros’ touch when the younger man wraps his fingers around his length.

Pietros hums amusedly against his lips before breaking the kiss. “Someone’s excited,” he mutters, and Duro wants to smack—or kiss—that mischievous grin from Pietros’ lips.

“Jesus fuck, Pietros,” Duro groans, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Pietros’ hair. “Get on with it, you fucking tease.”

“Watch who you’re calling a tease, pretty boy,” Pietros murmurs as he kisses his way down Duro’s chest, gazing up at Duro from beneath his lashes, lips pressing a kiss to the tip of Duro’s cock as he wraps his fingers around the base. Duro’s head falls back onto the pillow, relishing in the delicious feel of Pietros’ hands and lips on him, moaning loudly as he tugs on Pietros’ hair.

It feels so much better than he’d ever even imagined.

He’s not got much experience with boys, but holy hell, Pietros is ruining him for everyone that will come after him. He’s so close, teetering on the edge, his fingers tangled in Pietros’ curls, when the door to the bedroom they’re in slams open.

“What the fuck!” Duro exclaims, watching as the man who had spoken Pietros’ words—Pietros’ soulmate, a treacherous little voice in the back of his mind whispers—rights himself, fingers clenched in another man’s shirt, their lips swollen and pupils blown wide. “Knock next time,” Duro hisses, watching as the blond shoots Pietros a venomous look before dragging the tall dark-headed man outside again, slamming the door behind them.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath before he turns back to Pietros, who is still kneeling on the bed, eyes wide and swollen lips parted as he stares at the door. His fingers are rubbing at the soulmark, and Duro has seen both his brother and Nasir repeat the motion often enough to know what it means.

“Do you feel the draw?” he asks slowly, unsure of whether he actually wants to know.

“It itches,” Pietros croaks, drawing his gaze back to Duro and Duro’s heart nearly shatters at the sound of agony in Pietros’ voice. It hurts more than anything else ever would—knowing that much as Pietros might like—even love—him now, he will always ache for the other man in some capacity, even if they did not complete the initial stages of bonding, and there’s nothing they can do to change that.

He falls silent, unsure of what to do or say when Pietros shudders and leans into him, curling his fingers back in Duro’s hair. “Kiss me again,” he demands, climbing into Duro’s lap.

“Whatever you want,” Duro breathes, tangling his fingers in Pietros’ hair as he presses kisses to his jaw. “I’m all yours, Pietros. Whatever you want.”

Pietros is quiet only for a second before he grinds himself down on Duro’s still painful hard-on.

“I only want you.”

Duro has to admit he is only too happy to oblige.

August 2011 Zaventem International Airport, Brussels, Belgium

Duro paces impatiently, tapping his foot against the tiled floors as he glances up to the large sign that shows his flight number and gate. He’s got an hour to get through security and board the damned plane and still there’s no sign of his brother or his best friend.

“They’ll be here.”

He turns back to where Pietros, Diona, and Naevia are standing beside his carry-on bag, having already checked in the rest of his luggage.

“They were supposed to be here an hour ago,” Duro spits, grinding his teeth in frustration as he checks his watch again. Agron was supposed to drive Duro to the airport and see him off, with Nasir joining them, of course, because it’d be the last time they’d see each other for months, and Duro liked to think that they at least cared enough to tear themselves from their bed for a couple of hours.

“I’m sure they just got held up in traffic,” Naevia offers, though she sounds less certain than she would like, Duro’s sure. It’s not the first time Nasir and Agron have stood them up since they’d completed their soulbond in July and it’s getting a little old.

“I’ll just try calling Nasir again,” Diona suggests sheepishly, moving a little away from him and Pietros, with Naevia trailing behind her as she mutters about getting them all some coffee while they wait.

“Duro,” Pietros says quietly as he steps closer, their fingers tangling together. “They’ll be here. You know they love you, that they want to be here to say goodbye to you.” Duro sighs heavily but doesn’t reply, all too familiar with Agron and Nasir’s tendency to forget the world by now to really try to say anything on the subject anymore.

He’s just… so done with them sidelining him in his own damn life.

“Can we… Let’s just not talk about them, please?” he requests quietly, leaning his forehead against his… whatever he and Pietros are at this point.

Pietros chuckles, and they are close enough that Duro can feel the other man’s breath on his lips, and he knows he needs but tilt his head forward to be kissing him again—as they’ve been doing practically without coming up for air for the past month. “What do you want to talk about then?”

“Who says I want to talk at all?” he breathes, leaning in to brush his lips across Pietros’ before a mechanical voice interrupts them, calling out Duro’s flight number and gate, reminding all passengers that boarding will begin soon.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling away from Pietros in disappointment, something deep inside his chest squeezing when he realizes that he has to go, and he’ll have to do it without saying goodbye to his big brother or his best friend. He shoots one more furtive glance around the boarding hall before he shakes his head and turns back to Pietros, pressing a quick, deep kiss to his lips before pulling back.

“I am going to miss you,” Pietros sighs sadly, pressing his fingers to Duro’s cheek in an attempt to keep him close . “Don’t fall in love with someone else while you’re over there.”

The words are said as a joke, Duro knows, but the possibility still exists, and it hurts both of them.

“I won’t,” he promises, smiling half-heartedly as he kisses Pietros one more time before turning to Diona and Naevia, who throw their arms around him to hug him tightly, whispering soft goodbyes and pleas not to forget them while in Germany.

“Guys,” he chuckles, carefully extracting himself from their embrace. “It’s only like a seven-hour drive. The flight is a little over an hour. Come visit me. I’ll come see you guys for Christmas or something.”

Naevia nods, and though her eyes shimmer with tears, she offers him a bright grin and shoves him towards the security desks. “Go already, Müller. We’ll see you in December.”

Duro smirks but does as she says, grabbing his backpack from the floor and shooting one more furtive glance towards the doors, wishing for his big brother to run through them, to sweep him up in one of those great bear hugs and apologize—

The fantasy bursts when a gaggle of tourists step through the doors instead, and Duro swallows thickly, disappointment and hurt aching deep within his chest.

He doesn’t know why he thought this time might be different.

Agron and Nasir have always gotten too caught up in each other to stop and think about Duro and what he needs and wants. It’s only gotten worse since they completed the last steps to seal the soulbond—really, he should have known better than to expect anything.

Pietros catches his eye again, offering a soft, tender smile that lifts Duro’s heart to better spirits without even trying, and he shudders out a deep sigh, returning the smile before turning to the security desks.

Screw them.

He’s got his own path to walk now, and if he has to do it without Nasir and Agron…

Well…

So be it.

#nagron #ss ducky #(eventually)#duro x pietros #barca x pietros #auctus x barca #soulmate AU #duro #nasir #agron #barca of carthage #auctus #spartacus #mira #naevia #crixus #fanfiction #duro x auctus x barca x pietros

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