The stale bedroom air hung between them like cobwebs. Chronos studied his brother's face - the new hardness around Charles' eyes that hadn't been there two years ago, the way his jaw clenched when he was trying not to show emotion.
Moonlight through the cracked window painted silver streaks across Charles' dark skin as he turned away.
"For real, I'm serious man," Chronos insisted, his voice rough with disuse. The mattress springs whined as he shifted his weight.
"Sure." Charles exhaled through his nose, the sound whistling past his chipped front tooth - another new detail. "Like it's even possible," he muttered to the peeling wallpaper.
The dismissive tone made Chronos' fingers twitch. "You really don't believe me, huh?"
Charles finally turned, his shadow stretching long across the mildew-stained carpet. "Isn't it obvious?" In one fluid motion, he pushed off the bed and crossed to the window.
The ancient floorboards groaned under his worn combat boots. "Come check something out."
Before Chronos could respond, Charles vaulted through the open window into the night.
"Oh God!" Chronos lunged after him. The night air rushed past, smelling of wet asphalt and distant barbecue smoke.
He hit the ground with a jolt that sent white-hot needles up his shins. His knees threatened to buckle as his nervous system screamed in protest.
Charles was already moving through the overgrown backyard, his silhouette cutting through knee-high weeds that whispered against his jeans. Dandelion seeds floated in his wake like tiny ghosts.
"Where are we heading?" Chronos hissed, limping to catch up. His palms stung where gravel had bitten into the skin.
"Don't ask. Just follow." Charles didn't slow down. The neighborhood had changed - more boarded windows, more cars on blocks, more chain-link fences sagging under the weight of creeping ivy.
The garage appeared like a mirage at the end of the alley. Its corrugated metal roof buckled under years of neglect, rust bleeding down the walls in long, tear-like streaks.
A murder of crows perched along the roof's edge, their oil-slick feathers glinting in the moonlight. One tilted its head, fixing Chronos with a beady stare that felt disturbingly intelligent.
The chain-link fence hung open like a broken jaw, its teeth twisted outward.
Thick mats of moss clung to the wooden penthouse above, their tendrils probing through cracks in the siding. Something small and furry crunched under Chronos' boot.
"What is this place?" He lifted his foot to reveal the flattened remains of a rat, its bones protruding through desiccated flesh.
Charles' hand hovered over the garage door handle, fingers trembling slightly.
"Somewhere I come to... think." The metal screeched like a wounded animal as he yanked it upward, revealing darkness that smelled of motor oil and old newspapers.
"Wait up, kiddo." Chronos picked his way through the debris - broken bottles glinting like diamonds in the moonlight, cigarette butts piled in ashtrays made from hubcaps.
Charles snorted. "Try to keep up, old man."
"I'm not that-" Chronos caught his reflection in a cracked side mirror. The face staring back had deeper creases around the eyes, a new scar bisecting his left eyebrow. "Am I?"
"Of course you are." Charles' smirk didn't reach his eyes as he heaved the door fully open with a metallic groan. "Get in."
The garage swallowed them whole. Chronos' nose wrinkled at the competing scents - gasoline, turpentine, and something sweetly rotten. "Where is this place? I ask again." His voice echoed off tool racks hung with skeletal wrenches.
clearly creeped out by the surroundings and the obvious crow that kept staring at him "What do you want, nigga?" He stared back, sighed then went into the garage.
Charles flipped a switch. Fluorescent lights buzzed to life, flickering like dying fireflies.
The sudden illumination revealed walls papered with photographs - hundreds of them, curling at the edges, some speckled with mold. All of Chronos.
"My pictures..." The words left his mouth in a whisper. There he was at Coney Island, licking melted ice cream off his fingers.
There he was passed out on the couch after prom, his tie knotted around his forehead. Each image a shard of a life he'd thought forgotten.
Charles perched on the hood of a dust-shrouded Rolls Royce, his fingers leaving trails in the grime. "Yeah. Came here every day after the fake burial."
"Wow, you missed me that much?" Chronos reached for a photo of them at their grandmother's funeral, their matching navy suits too tight around the shoulders.
"Don't make it more awkward than it already is." Charles picked at a loose thread on his jeans, but Chronos saw the way his throat worked when he swallowed.
A traitorous tear escaped Chronos' control, cutting through the grime on his cheek. "I missed you more, little bro."
For a heartbeat, Charles' mask slipped. His lips quivered before pressing into a firm line. "Yeah... I guess so." He slid off the car with practiced ease. "Come on, something else to show you."
The crow from outside fluttered in behind them, its claws scraping against a metal shelf. It cocked its head, watching with unsettling intensity.
"Damn crow!" Chronos waved his arms, sending the bird flapping to a higher perch.
"Leave him alone, dummy." Charles ducked under a low beam, his voice muffled. "He was at your fake burial. Probably as shocked as we are."
Chronos froze. "You said what?" He studied the bird anew. Its left eye was milky white, and something about the way it tilted its head seemed almost... knowing.
"Whatever." Charles disappeared through a warped doorway. Chronos followed, his shoulders brushing against walls papered with yellowed newspaper clippings about missing persons.
The back room was a time capsule. A single bare bulb illuminated a space no larger than a prison cell. In the center stood an easel supporting a portrait that made Chronos' breath catch.
The artist had captured his likeness in haunting detail - the slight crook in his nose from when he'd broken it at fourteen, the cowlick that always made his hair stick up in the back. But the eyes... the eyes held a depth Chronos didn't recognize in himself.
"Wow, you drew it?" He reached out but stopped short of touching the dried paint.
Charles barked a laugh. "Do I look like an artist to you?"
"I don't know." Chronos gestured vaguely. "It's been two years. Anything could happen."
"I paid someone." Charles' voice dropped. "They got your eyes wrong, though."
Chronos turned to study his brother - really study him. The new scars on his knuckles, the way he favored his left leg, the tattoo peeking above his collar that hadn't been there before. "You're different."
Charles stiffened. "How so?"
"It doesn't matter." Charles turned away, retreating back. The words tasted like rust and regret.
"Come on." Charles' voice was rough. "Mom and Dad'll skin us alive if we're gone too long."
They retraced their steps through the garage of ghosts, the crow's gaze heavy on their backs.
At the broken fence, Charles paused. "It's nice to have you back home." He didn't turn around.
Chronos stuffed his hands in his pockets, fingers brushing against something small and metallic he didn't remember putting there.
"Yeah... it's good to be home." The lie settled between them like another ghost as they walked back through the graveyard of their childhood.