The rain had finally stopped, but the air still clung thick with the scent of wet pavement and decaying leaves. Daniel sat on the fire escape, a half-empty bottle of whiskey dangling from his fingers, watching the streetlights flicker to life below. His phone buzzed—another message from Claire, no doubt—but he ignored it.
Then, a knock at the door.
Not Claire's sharp rap. Something hesitant. Uneven.
Daniel didn't move.
The knock came again, louder this time.
With a sigh, he hauled himself inside and yanked the door open.
Luke stood in the hallway, his shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep into the pockets of a hoodie that was too thin for the weather. His face was pale, his dark circles pronounced under the dim hallway light. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Luke was Lila's younger brother. Eighteen, quiet in a way that felt heavy rather than shy. He'd been staying with an aunt since the funeral, and Daniel hadn't seen him since the day they'd lowered the casket into the ground.
"Hey," Luke finally muttered, his voice rough.
Daniel swallowed. "Hey."
Another silence. The kind that pressed down on them both.
Luke's gaze flickered past Daniel, into the apartment. His jaw tightened when he saw Lila's jacket still hanging on the hook by the door, her shoes lined up neatly beneath it.
"You wanna come in?" Daniel asked, though he already knew the answer.
Luke shook his head. "Can't."
He didn't explain. He didn't have to.
Daniel understood. This apartment was a museum of absence. Every corner held something of hers, something that would gut them both if they looked too long.
Luke shifted on his feet. "I, uh. I got something for you."
He pulled a crumpled paper bag from his pocket and held it out. Daniel took it, the cheap material rustling under his fingers. Inside was a keychain—a stupid, novelty thing shaped like a slice of pizza. The kind you'd buy from a gas station.
Daniel's chest ached.
Lila had loved shit like this. Cheap, ridiculous trinkets. She'd collect them from every road trip, every diner, every thrift store, and hang them from her keys like trophies.
"Found it in my stuff," Luke mumbled. "Thought she'd want you to have it."
Daniel's fingers closed around the keychain. The metal was cold.
"Thanks," he said, but the word cracked.
Luke nodded, his throat working like he was fighting back something. His hands were trembling.
Daniel remembered then—Luke had been there when it happened. He'd been the one to call 911. He'd been the one to hold his sister's hand while they loaded her into the ambulance.
And no one had asked him if he was okay.
"Luke—" Daniel started, but the kid was already stepping back.
"I gotta go," he said quickly, like if he stayed another second, he'd break.
Daniel wanted to stop him. Wanted to pull him inside and tell him to sit down, to talk, to stay. But he didn't. Because he knew what it was like to run from the weight of a loss this big.
So he just nodded. "Okay."
Luke turned to leave, then paused. "She talked about you, you know."
Daniel stilled.
"All the time," Luke continued, staring at the floor. "Even when you weren't around. It was annoying as hell."
A laugh punched out of Daniel, wet and unexpected.
Luke's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but close.
Then he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the hallway, leaving Daniel standing there with a pizza keychain and a heart that felt both shattered and, for the first time in months, seen.