Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Terzo is going to die.

He can feel it, deep in his bones, like he’s teetering on the edge of a black hole. He’s not used to this. His emotions have the tendency to give him burns of the third degree if he settles in them too long; he can’t even cross his legs and lounge in happiness, let alone whatever the fuck is going on right now. His body feels used up and dry like an old bottle of toothpaste, and he doesn’t have to look in the mirror to see the deep wrinkles curving along his face. He’s inexplicably out of his depth, and every time he tries to pull a foot underneath him it sinks.

Speaking of feet.

He smacks his lips and rolls a leg off the bed, presses a socked foot to the linoleum to quell the lurch in his stomach as the room moves a sway or two behind his eyes.

He doesn’t remember the last time he got drunk, not this drunk. He’s much more used to a glass or two of pinot before bed because in that way it feels a tad more justifiable. And yet, it had still taken a whole bottle of wine and two glasses of whiskey to get him so far gone he nearly can’t remember why he wanted to get drunk in the first place.

Nearly.

He scrunches his eyes closed and presses his toes harder into the floor, grunts at his toenail scraping against the wood, his hand splaying outwards to grab the two fingers of Jack he’d left on the bedside table earlier. With trembling fingers, he manages to grasp the glass, but in his dazed state, he does not sit up, and instead tries to drink it lying flat, proceeding to pour it over his chin and down his front, right over his white shirt. The sigh he lets out is loud and his mouth moves, though he’s unsure he says anything at all.

He doesn’t have it in him to care really, but he grumbles anyway, sliding the glass back onto the side.

He stews in self-pity for a while, floating in a limbo of reality and paracosm, where he’s not about to embark on a trip he’s been dreading for the past two months. It’s not that he doesn’t want to go, or at least he doesn’t think so, he just can’t help but think he’s being… pitied. Sometimes he hates his brothers.

He blinks his sticky eyes open to look at the ceiling and frowns, his head pulsing dully. Maybe he’s a little too old to get this drunk. He wishes he still smoked, but he’d given up three years now and doesn’t have any cigarettes in the flat.

A flurry of knocks on the front door brings him out of his stupor, but he does not move. The front door is all the way on the other side of the apartment, and there’s no way he’s going to find his Ugg slippers and dawdle all the way over there without tripping over his own feet and knocking over something expensive. He can see it, his €4000 vase he got in Barcelona when he was 32, smashed all over the floor. Which is a shame, because he loves that vase. Except he never gets any flowers off of anyone to put in it.

He yawns, turns his head to press it into the pillow, ignoring the way the knocks finally halt, encompassing in him in a suspicious silence. If he was sober, he’d probably realise that the quietude was not a good thing, but alas, he does not give a fuck.

He goes back to contemplating his life decisions, smearing fingers into the whiskey still dripping over his chest, thinking about how he’d replace a vase that’s nearly two decades old and how that certainly means he’s too old to be getting drunk and that maybe he should have thought of an escape plan instead of getting wasted in his own apartment. He thinks maybe his balcony would be a good way out; he could swing down to the one below him. But that would startle his neighbour and he does like seventy-six year old Mrs Stuart too much to give her a heart attack. No, she does not need a fifty-year-old man nearly dying from jumping down onto her balcony and breaking his old knees. Maybe he should take up a sport, his knees haven’t felt this bad since-

“What the fuck are you doing?”

At the sound of a voice, he startles, cut off from his own inner monologue, craning his neck upwards to see his younger brother stood at the end of the bed, mouth agape.

Terzo unceremoniously slams his head back down into the pillow.

“What s’it look like?” he slurs, rubbing at his nose. Cazzo. When did he give Copia a key?

“No,” Copia says, appearing in his eyeline, bent over him. He looks both annoyed and unsurprised, his eyes way too alert for this early in the morning. “You were meant to be downstairs like twenty minutes ago. We’ve been sat in the taxi waiting for you. I’ve been calling.”

Terzo frowns, looking up at his brother, cares not to mention that his phone is on silent in the living room. “What time is it?”

“Four thirty.”

“In the morning?”

Copia nods before curling his fingers around Terzo’s shoulders and hauling him into a sitting position

“Ah shit,” Terzo groans, the world rolling around him, but Copia ignores him, instead grabbing a pair of shoes from Terzo’s wardrobe. Terzo squints his eyes down at them and has to bite his tongue because those shoes are his party shoes and not his everyday shoes and they have a hole in them. But he doesn’t have any effort left in him to argue when putting the shoes on is already hard enough when his fingers are clumsy and thick and his vision keeps swimming. Maybe his bathroom window would be a good escape route. He’s sure it won’t be that much of a drop, he’s only… 8 stories up.

“Where’s your suitcase?” Copia asks, distress now evident in his voice, but Terzo shrugs, uncaring, most of his concentration on trying to tie his shoes up.

“You didn’t pack?” Copia cries, his voice shrill and annoying, and Terzo has to resist throwing a pillow at him, flinching at the sound.

“Of course I did,” he snaps, straightening upwards, planting a firm hand on the crumpled bedspread. “I just… misplaced it.”

Which is not true. He stuffed it into the hallway airing cupboard because it kept looking at him when he was trying to eat his dinner. Which was a nice dinner, spicy rice with salmon, and he won’t be surprised if he sees another appearance of it with the way his stomach churns.

But he’s not going to make this easier for Copia and tell him where it is. What are big brothers for if not to be annoying.

Copia gives a growl of frustration before gripping his hands in Terzo’s shirt and pulling him onto his feet. Terzo yelps, swaying slightly, laces half undone, and he has to breathe deeply to not throw up all over his nice rug that he got from a vintage store in Milan.

He can feel Copia watching him, surveying him in that indiscreet way he does when he’s trying to work something out. Terzo has seen this look many times, and knows whatever Copia is going to say next is going to be something he doesn’t want to hear. He doesn’t meet Copia’s eyes, instead goes back to wiping at the spilt liquor on his shirt, fingers clumsy and unskilled.

“Why did you get drunk?” Copia asks, using his small height advantage to look down at him.

Terzo does not answer, instead putting his hands in the air and stretching lightly, feeling his back give a satisfying pop. Yeah, taking up a sport will definitely help. Maybe swimming, he can do plenty of that on holiday. It will give him an excuse to get moving.

“The plane?” Copia urges, cocking an eyebrow, and Terzo finally meets his eyes.

Terzo sighs, gives in, his arms falling to his sides. He feels inexpressively old, like all these years he’s been lying to himself about getting older. Only now, his back hurts from standing too long and he’s so lonely his brothers are going to kidnap him to a faraway resort to try and get him to stop lurking in his flat by himself at the ripe old age of fifty-six. He wants to tell Copia to leave him alone, that he doesn’t want to do this, but the look of worry on Copia’s face is enough for him to stay silent.

Copia, of course, reads his silence as defiance, and he huffs before glancing around the room. Terzo thinks he’s probably looking for something, but there’s nothing around here of interest. He flits his eyes to the side too, but his bed looks ill kept and the book on his bedside is dog-eared and slightly damp from the whiskey he must have sloshed onto it. Which, you know, is a shame. He was really enjoying that book (he has already read it four times, and knows that in the next chapter Beth dies, but who is he if not caring deeply about the classics, and besides, it’s a very sad death, but he digresses).

“Didn’t you speak to your doctor?” Copia says, pulling him out of his thoughts, forehead pinched as he puts his hand on Terzo’s arms to steady him. Terzo hadn’t even felt himself wobble. “I thought he gave you pills or something for things like this?”

Terzo presses his tongue into the top of his mouth and tries to suppress the wince that shoots through him, because of course, with his anxiety being so high, he’d been avoiding everything, and he’d forgotten the best possible solution for the plane ride had not been getting drunk, but rather taking his medication he’s been taking for years for every anxiety-inducing situation (excluding the surprise birthday Primo and Copia had flung on him when he’d turned fifty and had nearly passed out on the ice fountain. He’s no longer the spring chicken he once was, and is only good in social situations if he holds the control, ie. a social gathering he actually knows about).

“He did,” he says finally.

“And you didn’t take them?” Copia accuses, voice back to that shrill sound that makes Terzo want to crawl under his bed, or preferably, jump out the bathroom window.

“Y’know,” Terzo says, stepping backwards out of Copia’s grip before dropping down onto the bed behind him slowly. “Maybe it will be better if I went back to bed-“

“Absolutely not,” Copia says, grabbing under Terzo’s armpits before pulling him up like a rag doll. Terzo forgets that his legs work and instead he droops in Copia’s hold, making his younger brother scramble to keep him upright.

“Terzo.”

It’s said sternly, and Terzo hadn’t realised he’d closed his eyes, head lolling forwards onto Copia’s shoulder. He does not intend to move though. He wants to go to sleep.

He’s shaken sharply and he yelps, finding his feet underneath him, but it just causes the liquor that had been churning in his stomach to try and make a star appearance.

He lurches, gagging, goes to press his mouth to Copia’s shoulder.

“Oh jeez,” Copia murmurs, managing to turn Terzo away from his clean shirt, hands firm on his brother’s shoulders. “Go to the bathroom. I’ll get your stuff.”

Terzo can’t think of anything other than don’t throw up don’t throw up don’t fucking throw up and he hardly notices Copia lead him towards the bathroom until his saviour, the toilet, is in view.

He gags again and he’s pushed onto his knees just in time for vomit to spill from his mouth.

“Merda,” Copia says above him. “Would you try getting it in the bowl.”

Terzo sucks in a breath and flashes a deathly look at his brother.

“Vanfancullo.”

“Okie dokie,” Copia says, changing the subject abruptly, ignoring Terzo’s remark, his hands finally leaving his back. “I’ll leave you alone. Get it all out now before we get to the airport.”

Terzo wants to swear again but he’s cut off when his stomach twists and he throws up again, groaning into the porcelain as the door shuts.

He continues for a while, emptying his guts until he’s got nothing left. The poor fish he’d eaten earlier swims again in the toilet bowl and that alone makes him feel queasy.

He presses his sweaty cheek to the toilet seat and lets out a long breath. This is already becoming the holiday from hell and he’s not even left his apartment yet. He needs to pull himself together. He just needs to get his suitcase and get into the taxi that no doubt holds his very angry brothers. Primo always gets stressed if things don’t go to plan which in turn makes Secondo bitchy.

The idea of getting into the car with them when he’s like this is less than ideal. He blinks his bleary eyes open, lands his gaze on the bathroom window.

Maybe dropping from his window will be a better fate. But he’s kidding himself if he thinks he’s going to fit through that window. He may be small but he’s not very bendy. Unless his feet are over someone’s shoulders of course.

He is slightly surprised that Perpetua, his other younger brother, seems not to be coming. Terzo only knows this because it definitely would have been mentioned, and there is also a good chance Copia would not be coming if he was coming. Even as twins, they never saw eye to eye, and because of that Perpetua has become somewhat of an outcast. He lives in the states now, and none of them see him much. He has a whole other life, but sometimes Terzo wishes he would at least answer his calls.

There’s a knock after a moment, and then another, and Terzo has to bite back the anger that’s lying on his tongue. Copia is annoying anyway, he always has been, and everything he does makes Terzo want to chew him out. Knocking so loudly when he’s got such a bad headache is not helping.

“Are you done?” Copia calls, tentative, and Terzo grumbles, reaching up to flush the toilet before rocking back onto his haunches, breathing deeply.

The door opens a crack, and Copia pops his head round, his face crumpling in disgust.

“It stinks in here,” he says, flicking his eyes to Terzo. “You’re a mess.”

Terzo glowers, his sweaty hair hanging in his face. “Can you just help me up and then we’ll get going, sì?”

Copia looks like he’s contemplating it, but eventually steps in, hauling Terzo onto his feet.

“I’m surprised Secondo hasn’t come up here yet,” Copia murmurs, stepping back, leaving Terzo to wobble at the change of equilibrium. “He said if you weren’t ready then he’d leave without you.”

“Good riddance,” Terzo mumbles, delicately following Copia back into the bedroom. He finds his suitcase with his phone ready and waiting which means Copia’s been rummaging around in his cupboards. He tries not to be annoyed by that. “Hopefully they’ll have left by now.”

“Hey,” Copia says, frowning. “Just because you’re not happy about going on holiday doesn’t mean I am. I’ve been waiting for this for weeks.”

Terzo doesn’t know what to say to that. There’s no accusation in Copia’s voice, but there’s an edge to it that Terzo recognises as hurt. He doesn’t hear it too often, but Copia can be tender about things Terzo hasn’t thought twice of. His little brother has always been the sensitive one out of the five of them, even though he denies it.

Terzo knows he should apologise, but the sour taste on his tongue keeps him quiet, a coward.

Copia watches him for a moment before sighing deeply, a sound wrangled deep from his chest, and he turns away, nodding towards the suitcase.

“I’ve got your suitcase,” he says, “and you’re sharing a carry on with me, so I already prepared in case you were…” His hands gesture wildly, and Terzo grits his teeth.

“I didn’t plan this,” Terzo says, but Copia just shrugs, turning back to him.

“Well, I know you. And I know you’re a self-centered prick.” Terzo tries not to bristle at that. He knows he says things he doesn’t mean when he’s drunk so he keeps his mouth shut, and after throwing up, a little bit of awareness has crawled into him. But he knows Copia is only saying it because it’s true. And because he’s annoyed, most probably.

“I knew you were gonna ruin this for yourself somehow,” Copia continues. “I just wasn’t expecting- well, it doesn’t matter. My point was we’ve got to get going.”

“So why are we still standing here?” Terzo grumbles, sniffing, his tongue twisting around the bad taste in his mouth. Great. Now he’s just sulking.

Copia gives him a withered look.

“I didn’t know where you’d put your medication. I kinda think you need it.”

Terzo gives a sigh he knows is insufferable, then gestures clumsily towards his bed.

“They’re in my drawers,” he says.

“Which one?”

“Don’t remember.”

Copia looks at the drawers for a moment, then looks back at Terzo.

“Ah, eh, do I actually want to look in there?”

Terzo does not dignify that with an answer. He’s desperately trying not to crawl back into bed, and so simply shrugs at Copia.

“I swear fratello,” Copia grimaces, bending to look through the top drawer. “There better not be something in here I don’t want to see.”

He rummages for a moment before shutting the top drawer, instead opening the middle one. He sticks his hands in, and Terzo just watches in silence, swallowing down the urge to vomit again.

“Had people over?” Copia says after a minute, holding up a lacy pair of pants.

“Yes,” Terzo says, because he had. It was a delightful woman he’d picked up at a bar, and he’d had a lot of fun. “But that’s mine.”

“Nope,” Copia shrieks, the pants jerking out of his grip as he makes a gagging noise. “I did not see anything. I’m gonna pretend I did not see that,” he rambles, and Terzo laughs.

Eventually, Copia all but drags Terzo down the stairs and outside, and Terzo squints into the darkness, sees a taxi waiting on the pavement. He swallows, steeling himself before he has to go in there and face his brothers. Cazzo, sometimes he really does hate being the middle child (and he will fight Secondo to the death over that title).

The taxi is a big one, one of those big enough to fit eight people, and as he approaches, stumbling after Copia who’s rolling his suitcase down the street, the car door rolls opens.

“Finally,” Secondo says, popping his head around the door. “I tried telling Primo to leave without you but he wouldn’t listen.”

Terzo ignores him, still trailing behind as he watches Copia put his suitcase in the boot before rounding to the door.

“C’mon, Terzo,” he says, climbing into the back. “We’re gonna be late.”

Terzo sways a little, breathing through the nausea that’s starting to clog up his throat, then gingerly climbs in, sitting down next to Primo as Secondo shuts the door, and the taxi whirs to life.

Terzo sighs, leaning his head back, closing his eyes as the world tilts.

A hand comes to rest across his forehead, and he frowns, batting it away, blinking his eyes open to glare at his brother.

“Are you ill?” Primo says.

“No, he’s drunk,” Copia says before Terzo can reply.

“Oh that’s just fucking great,” Secondo says, crossing his arms. “I told you we should’ve left him behind.”

Oh, that’s nice. Terzo already knew they invited him because they were feeling sorry for him, but now he realises they didn’t even want him in the first place.

Copia’s leg shoots out, kicking Secondo in the ankle, and Secondo grunts, twisting to look at him sharply.

Terzo goes back to closing his eyes, the twisting of the car making his stomach churn, and he’s sure that even though there’s nothing left in his stomach, he’s going to throw up.

“Can you both act like grown ups for more than five minutes. You’re too old to be acting like this,” Primo says, yawning into his hand.

“Who you calling old?” Secondo says, and Terzo gags, holding a fist up to his mouth.

He can feel eyes on him, but he won’t look at them. He already feels humiliated.

“Did you drink the whole liquor store or what?” Secondo says after a moment, and Terzo squints his eyes open.

“Fuck you.”

“What was he drinking?” Primo asks, looking at Copia, and Terzo wants to say hey I’m right fucking here but that sentence seems too long and he fears if he opens his mouth around it he’ll spew all over the back of the taxi.

“When I found him? Whiskey. But that doesn’t seem to have been the only thing on the menu.”

Which is true, he did have a whole bottle of wine earlier. They go over a speed bump and he hiccups, moving to lean his forehead against the cool window. He realises, too late, that if he’d just not gotten drunk, things probably would’ve gone smoother, but he doesn’t think he could’ve faced the plane sober, even with his medication.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be alright to go, fratellino?” Primo asks, and Terzo huffs.

“Merda, will you leave me alone? I’m fine.”

Primo just sighs and they fall back into an uncomfortable silence. Terzo desperately wants to fall asleep, but he knows he’ll be grumpy when he wakes up and he’ll just make everything worse.

“Did you pack your toothbrush?” Secondo says, breaking the silence as he looks at Terzo. Terzo frowns.

“Of course.”

“Well, you might want to pack it in the carry on. I think you might need it.”

Terzo scoffs, then regrets it, instead shooting daggers at his brother, and says, strained through his teeth, “fuck you.”

Secondo laughs, and Terzo flicks his eyes over to Copia who is muffling his own chuckle into his fist, looking anywhere but at Terzo.

They pull up to the airport in relative silence, everyone mostly too tired to keep up any kind of conversation. Copia tried to hum a few times, Terzo managed to make out that part of it was I’m A Marionette, before Secondo told him to shut the fuck up. To make things worse, he couldn’t find his favourite sunglasses last night meaning he’s got nothing to shield his eyes as they step into the overly bright airport.

He drags his suitcase, wobbling over the tiles as Primo sorts out the boarding passes and the passports, and Terzo realises a little too late that he does not remember packing his passport. A strike of panic whips through him and he halts, stood dumbly in the middle of the airport as he watches his brothers head towards the check in desks. Maybe he should’ve stayed home after all. He swallows around the lump in his throat and debates whether to go back outside and catch another taxi home. But he realises Copia has his phone, had stored it away safely on their shared carry-on bag.

He stands there awkwardly, trying to find his words in his alcohol-muddled brain, and he’s so preoccupied with the dawning realisation that he’s going to have to admit that he’s a fool, that he doesn’t notice his hand slip from the handle of his suitcase until it’s clattering to the floor with a sharp clunk.

Primo stops his tirade towards the desk, turning around swiftly to see Terzo swaying aside his fallen suitcase, and Secondo and Copia nearly crash into him, both twisting to glance at Terzo.

“What’s wrong?” Primo asks

“I-” Terzo doesn’t know what to say. I’m sorry I’m already ruining the trip. Go without me. But the idea of them leaving him to bask in the sunny beaches of Spain whilst he wallows away at home does not have any appeal, and he finds he doesn’t know how to tell them that he doesn’t want to be alone.

“Spit it out,” Secondo says, visibly annoyed, his sunglasses sliding slightly down his forehead, resting on his deep frown lines.

Don’t leave me, Terzo thinks, please don’t. He feels very stupid, as though he’s been unraveled and trampled on, and his tongue feels thick in his mouth as he says “I don’t have my passport.”

Secondo throws his hands up in the air, jabbing a finger in Terzo’s direction. “Did you even prepare for this trip or were you too busy sucking Alpha’s dick?”

Terzo’s eyes narrow. He never is very good at swallowing his words. “At least I can pack my own suitcase. How are you even going to survive without your little wife serving you hand and foot?”

Secondo takes a step forward. “Don’t talk about my wife like that.”

“What? The truth?” Terzo spits, his mouth loose as he wobbles forwards, rising his chin to stare at his brother. “I bet she’s already begging to be fu-”

“Stop it,” Copia shouts, standing between them. “None of this. We’re meant to be on holiday, not at each other’s throat.”

Secondo growls, still glaring at Terzo. “Well, it’s not my fault this stronzo-”

“I’ve got his passport,” Copia says, waggling it in the air.

“How the hell do you have that?” Terzo squawks, turning to look at Copia.

“Heh,” Copia says, glancing down meekly. “I went to your flat a few days ago whilst you were at work and took it.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I knew you would forget it.”

Terzo grinds his jaw but stays quiet, his eyes on the floor, shame already starting to burn the tips of his ears.

“Can we get going?” Primo says, “or do you need more time to talk about your feelings?”

Secondo shoves him roughly before stalking away, and Primo huffs a small laugh, turning to follow him.

Terzo stands there for a moment, the nausea back in full force, though he’s not sure if it’s from the alcohol or from the knowledge that he’s already upset his brother.

“Hey,” Copia says, knocking his shoulder lightly. “We better catch up with them if we want to get on that flight.”

“Please tell me I’m not sat next to him,” Terzo moans, looking at Copia, but Copia just smiles.

“Nope. None of us are sat together.”

Great. He’s going to be sitting next to a stranger. Copia looks at him for a long moment, before he pulls the rucksack off his shoulder and rummages around. He pulls out a small box, and Terzo nearly sighs with relief.

“Take these now,” Copia says, handing him his medication. “It should kick in by the time we get on the plane.”

Terzo dry swallows one and hopes Copia is right.

****

Terzo’s fifty-sixth birthday had been uneventful.

After the unfortunate incident at his fiftieth (almost passing out in front of everyone he knows and then proceeding to be so anxious, he’d gotten himself so drunk he’d spent the next day with his head down Secondo’s toilet), he’d put his foot down and told his brothers he didn’t want that to happen again. He can flirt and charm his way at any party that is not his own. Fifteen years ago, he would’ve relished in the attention, and would’ve finished the night with a good fuck or two. He knew he was good-looking and could hold the room’s gaze without batting an eye. At his best, everyone, human or ghoul, wanted a piece of him, and oh, how he adored it.

But he’s not like that anymore. Generally, other than to work or visit his brothers or, god forbid, his father, he does not go out. He no longer frequents museums or late night concerts. He doesn’t even sing in the shower lest it brings unwarranted attention.

Sometimes, if he’s feeling rather spontaneous, he’ll do the one thing he is very good at and has never let him down. He’ll pick up a girl or guy or whoever at a bar and take them home. Even if he doesn’t want anything for himself, he finds a lot of fun in making sure his partner has a good time. He is nothing but a gentleman.

But they always leave.

They don’t stay for a cuddle or a shower or even until the next morning. Once, a guy had left his number, but Terzo had found it weird to have a number lying about when he was sure it was only there for a booty call. But he didn’t have the heart to get rid of it. Someone had enjoyed themselves, enjoyed him enough to want him again, and he wasn’t sure he could just put that idea in the bin.

The only person who has stuck by his side all these years, besides his brothers but they do not count, is Alpha. He doesn’t remember how they met, but he would imagine it was at some club back in 1996, the year of the rat (which Copia had iterated to him every few weeks) and the Macarena, when he was in the throes of getting his PhD and basking in the ambient nightlife of southern Milan.

Though he does not remember how they met, he does remember the first summer they had spent together. It had been unbelievably hot, and they’d spent most of their time sunbathing and sharing margaritas on Terzo’s balcony before venturing down into the nightlife swarming the city. Sex-charged and sweaty, they’d make out in club toilets and grind against each other to the sweet sound of old school disco anthems. They were young, well, Terzo was young, and they had the time of their lives. But after that, after all that, Alpha had stayed, and he wasn’t just a fuck buddy. He comes over unannounced with beer and tells Terzo that he’s struggling with his job and what do you want to watch tonight? even though they never watch what Terzo picks.

Terzo is not sure how their friendship has lasted over two decades, unless it is due to the fact that he gives very good head, but Alpha is nice company. Terzo is Alpha’s only human friend, with majority of his pack being made up of ghouls. Terzo doesn’t mind, and he’s befriended Alpha’s pack like his own family. But sometimes, he still feels left out. They talk about hell and demons and do you remember that time in 1786? and Terzo has to just sit there and pretend the idea of being a millennia old doesn’t baffle him. None of them really talk to him individually, just on the group chat, but he guesses that’s his own fault for not making more of an effort. Out of all of them, he sees Cumulus the most because she lives with Alpha, and she’s always so sweet and kind to him.

Alpha does more than stay, more than what a friendship requires, on rare occasions. It’s like he can sniff out Terzo’s depression, and he’ll come overloaded with tequila, and he’ll just hold him. Sometimes they’ll do more, sometimes they’ll fuck or they’ll just kiss, but mostly Terzo doesn’t want more in those moments, he just wants to feel. No one has ever held him as tightly as Alpha does, and Terzo finds himself forever grateful for their friendship, even if it isn’t what people would call standard. He relishes in their contact, and knows that out of everyone in the world, Alpha is the one that knows him, really knows him. Copia says he knows him, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know about the painful nights when Alpha has to gather him up off the bathroom floor, he doesn’t know about the screaming matches he has that end up making him fall apart, he doesn’t know how many times he has pleaded for peace when his mind won’t shut up. But Alpha does, at least mostly. Terzo doesn’t think he could let anyone see his whole true self. He is too much as it is, he does not want to be a burden.

A text from Alpha is the last thing he sees before his mind goes blurry. He’s sat in the departures lounge, drumming his fingers into his thigh as he waits for his medication to kick in, when his phone pings from inside Copia’s bag. It’s sat between Copia’s legs as he plays Sudoku on his phone, and he looks up at the noise, frowning.

“Who’s texting you?” he says, and Terzo resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Just gimme it will you?”

Copia does, fishing his phone out before handing it to Terzo, who squints at the light emitting from the phone.

Alpha: have fun. don’t die

Terzo does not bother answering that. He makes a non-committal sound and hands the phone back over to Copia.

“Was it Alpha?” Copia says, stuffing the phone back in his bag.

“Your mom,” Terzo replies, and Copia huffs.

Terzo settles back down, leaning his head against the wall behind him as he closes his eyes. The world is slightly starting to fuzz around the edges, and eventually he loses track of time, feels his body float in an odd serenity he can’t pinpoint when he can’t feel his own feet.

Maybe he shouldn’t have taken his medication whilst he was drunk.

He’s shaken, big hands clamped over his shoulders, and he blearily opens his eyes, finds Primo standing over him. He says something, but Terzo can hardly hear him over the ringing in his ears. He’s pulled to his feet, though they are sloppy and uncoordinated, and he is led by a hand around his elbow out towards the plane.

He does not remember boarding, or finding his seat. He does not remember taking off either, which is a small win, until consciousness starts to trickle back in and the remnants of his nausea kicks back up. It comes up quicker than he thinks, and he gags, pushing his fist against his mouth. He looks around, trying desperately to get his bearings. He’s near the tail of the plane, and there is someone sitting next to him but he does not look to see who it is. He can’t see his brothers. He scrambles up from his chair and walks the aisle, bumping into people as he burps, the sour taste of whiskey reignited on his tongue, until finally he is in the bathroom.

He throws up, repeatedly, over and over until his stomach cramps. His head is pulsing dully, and he spits one last time into the toilet before falling back. He heaves for breath, wiping at his mouth with the back of his wrist. He feels ill and he wonders how he’s going to survive the rest of the trip. Luckily, he thinks he remembers Primo saying the flight is only two hours.

The plane, of course, chooses this exact moment to experience turbulence, and he’s shook around in the small cabin, bracing himself against the walls as he feels his stomach swoop like he’s on a roller coaster.

Have fun. Don’t die.

Terzo is not sure he appreciates that sentiment right now.

He rocks to the floor, fingers white-knuckling the sides of the cubicle and he lets out a bitten off yelp as he feels the plane tilt. He grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as panic finally takes over and he needs to get out get out get out-

He twists, reaches up to unlock the door and topples out into the aisle, heaving for breath, dark spots splattered in his eye line as he keeps a hand around his stomach, the other still holding onto the door with a death grip.

When the plane finally levels out, he sits there for a while, letting his breathing even out before he manages to gather himself up from the floor, and wobbles out into the aisle, his heart still thrumming at his temples. His vision is smeared and his depth perception is off but he manages to find his seat eventually, only, when he sits down, he lands straight in someone’s lap. He looks up to see a bald guy, three times the size of him with a bulging angry vein in his forehead, and Terzo springs upwards as though he sat on burning embers. He thinks he apologises but he’s not sure, too busy trying to get both far away and also find his seat.

At last, a quiet relief, he finds where he was sitting, an older ghoulette sat next to him, and he falls in his seat unceremoniously, nearly elbowing the lady in the face.

Everything gets confusing after that. He wishes he had not drank so much. He used to fly all the time when he was younger, he doesn’t know why he’s gotten so nervous about it as he’s gotten older. It doesn’t help that Secondo made him watch Final Destination a few weeks ago in a mock attempt at challenging Terzo’s bravado of ‘not being a pussy’ about getting on the plane.

He comes to a while later, but finds himself next to a window when he had been sat in the aisle. He’s got his head resting against the back of his seat, his neck aching from the angle, and his chin is suspiciously wet. He rubs at his eyes, groaning quietly before glancing next to him. Secondo is there, watching the little screen above them showing how far they’ve traveled.

“How did I get here?” Terzo asks, bewildered.

“The woman next to you was afraid you were going to fall on her, or choke on your own drool, so I swapped seats with her and moved you up one so that if you died, you wouldn’t fall in the aisle.”

Terzo frowns, quickly wiping away the stale drool from his chin.

“How long have we got left?”

“About half an hour,” Secondo says.

“Great,” Terzo mumbles, rubbing at his neck with a shaky hand, his eyes sliding closed.

“I don’t know why you’re so worked up over this flight,” Secondo says, glancing past him to look out of the window. “The chances of a plane crash are like 1 in 100,000.”

Terzo’s eyes shoot open and he scowls at his brother, who just gives a satisfied smirk. That must be payback from their earlier argument.

His hand hurts from where he’s gripping the arm rest, and he looks up to watch the screen in front of them. He decides he doesn’t think he can sit there for another half an hour having to make small talk with his brother, so he closes his eyes, resting his head against the wall of the plane, hoping that once they get to their destination he’ll feel a lot better.

Oh, if only it were that easy.

Chapter Text

He was at lunch when he was invited on the trip.

Primo had rang him that morning, had offered to meet him on his lunch break, and Terzo thought it was a bit strange for Primo to come all the way into the city just to see him. So after giving a lecture on The Hero’s Journey in Mythology and Fiction - one of Terzo's most famous subjects - Terzo had met Primo at a little restaurant just outside of the university, stomach grumbling after a missed breakfast and the perfect smell of pasta wafting through the air. 

“What’s wrong?” Terzo had said, but Primo just rolled his eyes, spreading the menu across the table.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said cryptically, and Terzo frowned.

“Well, I know you’ve not come all the way down here just to see me.” He knew it was blunt, but it gained a reaction, and he watched as Primo gave him a withered look.

“You say that like I never spend time with you.”

Terzo wanted to say you don’t but he didn’t want to get into an argument. He is close with his brothers, most of them anyway, but recently none of them had had the time to see each other, even when he and Copia had tried multiple times to get everyone to meet up. Copia had even suggested putting together a group chat but Secondo had said you’re just going to spam it with rat photos so that never happened. When Terzo didn’t answer, Primo sighed, sitting back in his chair.

“We’re going on holiday,” he said, watching Terzo’s face closely.

“And that involves me, how?” Terzo asked.

“We bought you a ticket,” Primo replied, and Terzo glanced down at his menu. He played with the edges of the laminated paper, picking at it between his fingers. He should have been happy that they thought of him, but the fact that they didn’t involve him until it was already booked or even asked him if he’d wanted to come left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“I’m busy,” he said, and Primo scoffed.

“You don’t even know when it is.”

“Well, I’m busy anyway. I’m very sought after, I can’t just leave to prance around on a beach or do the YMCA on a dance floor full of old couples.”

“I never said anything about prancing around or doing the YMCA, but if that’s what you’re gonna do then I don’t want you to come.”

Primo had a very wide grin on his face, and Terzo had scoffed looking down at his menu. He’d wanted something big when he had first sat down, but now his stomach was churning and he didn’t think he could eat more than a salad.

“C’mon,” Primo urged, tapping on the table to get Terzo to look up. “You need a break. You spend all your time either at work or in your flat. You hardly even answer our messages.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to talk to you,” Terzo said, holding his gaze.

“Look, we’ve already bought your ticket, you may as well come. Just have some time to enjoy yourself. You need to let loose.” Terzo wanted to bite back at that statement, but he knew he’d just be proving Primo's point.

And of course, he had eventually agreed, which is how he finds himself now, white-knuckling the chair as the plane lands. He’s got his eyes squeezed shut, but even then he can tell Secondo keeps glancing at him. He’s very thankful his brother has not said a word in a long while because he is not in the mood to be teased, and instead just focuses on his breathing as clarity springs back to him at the exact moment the plane dips down towards land.

“Will you breathe? You’re freaking me out.”

So much for Secondo staying quiet.

“You freak me out,” Terzo manages to bite out, though it’s half-hearted when he can feel his lungs soar into his throat, and he can’t take in a whole breath or swallow without the fear of throwing up, or you know, dying.

The plane takes an inexplicably long time to land, and by the time they hit the floor, Terzo is sure his face is a deep purple. He sucks in a shaky breath, fluttering his eyes open to see the plane roll against the runway out the window.

Finally.

At least he doesn’t have to go through that for another week. As soon as he’s allowed, he unclasps his seat belt and sighs, sliding down his seat a little as he watches people stand up, getting their bags from the overhead compartment. Secondo twists to look at him and there’s a slight amusement on his face that makes Terzo frown.

“What?” he says, but Secondo just shakes his head, instead glancing up the aisle to see Copia and Primo making their way towards them. The taste of vomit is still thick on Terzo’s tongue, but he tries to smile at them anyway, only as soon as his eyes meet Copia’s, his younger brother’s face morphs horrifyingly with a shocked gasp.

“Merda,” he says, and Primo follows his gaze, looking directly at Terzo.

“What?” Terzo asks, confused, wondering if maybe he’s got vomit dried to his chin. Secondo bursts out laughing and Primo whacks him on the arm.

“I hope that’s not permanent,” he says before digging into his bag and pulling out a pack of wipes. He throws them at Terzo, hitting him in the chest, and Terzo just looks at him, confused.

“Is there something on my face?” he asks, and Copia nods, Secondo’s laughs getting increasingly louder even when he muffles them into his fist.

“Look in your phone camera,” he says, passing Terzo his phone. Terzo opens the front camera and angles it towards his face, only to find a giant dick drawn onto his forehead. He flushes, scowling at his brother.

“What the fuck?” he shrieks, hitting Secondo with the pack of wipes. “That’s not funny.”

“Of course it is,” Secondo says, trying to block the onslaught of Terzo’s hits. “That’s what you get for insulting my wife.”

So that was payback. Terzo grumbles, grabbing a wipe before scrubbing at his forehead. Luckily, the pen starts to come off but not without leaving a red mark. That’s just great. And he doesn’t even have his sunglasses to hide behind. He guesses he’ll just have to pick some up from a shop when they get to the hotel.

He wipes the pen off his forehead then throws the used wipe at his brother before abruptly standing up, scooting past him before stalking down the aisle, hanging onto each seat as he goes. He feels a little steadier than he did the last time he was standing, but the joy of sobriety is shot down by the thunderous headache swarming him. It makes him itchy and frustrated, made worse when he steps out of the plane into 30 degree heat and he’s wearing a shirt and trousers. So he really should have thought this through. He sighs, grumbling to himself as he makes it down the steps, still with a slight wobble, until he is crossing the tarmac under the blazing sun.

His brothers find him sat on a bench in the middle of the airport. He’s got his head between his knees as he tries to breathe through the pain and the vertigo, his heartbeat thrumming in his temples, when he gets a tap on the shoulder, and he opens his eyes to see a pair of feet in front of him. He groans, arching his head up, sweat trickling down the side of his face as he looks up at Primo, who’s holding out a water bottle and some painkillers. He takes them gratefully, swallowing two pills before chugging the water bottle until it’s half gone.

“Are you ready to go?” Primo says, “The coach is waiting for us.”

Terzo really does think maybe it’s a good idea for them to go without him. He is not worth all the fuss, and they do not want to spend their time with someone so boring, someone who struggles to be away from home, someone who will complain about the food and complain about the heat and complain that he feels alone.

Someone who can’t live with himself.

But he does not know how to say this without it sounding like he wants pity, so instead he stays quiet and nods, getting to his feet, wincing at the creaking of his knees, thankful that he did not take a swan dive over the side of his balcony if his knees are already this achy. He follows the others to grab their bags before they board the coach. It's sweltering on board, and Terzo grimaces as he is pushed into a window seat before Copia sits next to him, Secondo and Primo on the other side of the aisle.

“How long are we on here?” Terzo asks, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“An hour and a half, I think,” Copia says, wiggling back into his seat. “So get comfy.”

“That’s great,” Terzo says.

“Will you stop complaining?” Secondo says, “I think I liked you better when you weren’t sober.”

“I think I like you better when you shut up,” Terzo replies, crossing his arms.

“You’ve really got a mood on you today, huh?” Secondo says, leaning across the aisle. Terzo frowns, meets his eyes.

“It’s not my fault you’ve kidnapped me and flown me across the world.”

“Hardly,” Primo says, pushing Secondo’s chest back. “You can be so dramatic. You agreed to this trip.”

Terzo pouts, turns to look out the window, thankful when the coach finally hums to life and they start to move. The sun is glaring at him, but the landscapes and houses they pass are beautiful to look at, so he tries to focus on them. Tries, being the key word, because no more than five minutes have gone by before there’s the sound of crinkling plastic and his nose is assaulted by the strong scent of oranges.

He swallows thickly and turns to see Copia with a zip lock bag open on his lap, peeling an orange.

“That stinks,” Terzo complains, but Copia just shrugs, peeling away the orange skin.

“It’s summery.”

“What?”

“When there is sun, oranges are fun.”

Terzo looks on bemused, and Copia presses a segment into his mouth.

“Did you just.. make that up?”

“It’s a summery snack,” Copia says around the food in his mouth. “That’s what you take to picnics.”

“We’re not at a picnic.”

“But if we were at a picnic,” Copia stresses, swallowing, “this is what I’d be eating.”

“Can someone swap seats with me?” Terzo cries, leaning past Copia to plead to his brothers.

“No thanks,” Secondo says. “I can smell that orange from here.”

“It’s a satsuma,” Copia says confidently, glaring slightly at Secondo.

“Now you’re being pedantic? You just called it an orange.”

“Well, it is.”

Terzo tunes out their bickering after that. The painkillers have hardly helped his head at all, and the smell of Copia’s food is causing his gag reflex to act in overdrive. He presses the back of his hand to his mouth to try and breathe through it, but soon enough he gags, bending over at the waist.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Copia says with his satsuma breath, pushing Terzo back up against his chair. “Just breathe through it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Terzo replies, straining through his teeth as he tries to keep what’s in his stomach, in his stomach.

“I don’t think there’s anything left in you to throw up,” Primo says, which doesn’t help because Terzo’s stomach does not seem to get that memo.

“Just talk to us about something,” Secondo says.

“Like what?”

“Anything.”

“How’s Alpha?”

Terzo side eyes Copia. Oh, he could kill him if he didn’t feel like his stomach was about to hurdle out of his throat. He doesn’t talk to his brothers much about Alpha, at least not to his older brothers. Copia knows more because he’s friends with Cumulus, and therefore also Alpha.

“I don’t know,” Terzo admits, which is true. He hasn’t spoken to Alpha in a few days, and when he did, Alpha spent the whole time reassuring him that yes its a good idea, and no you’re not gonna die in a plane crash and if you need me just call me and I’ll come get you. The last time he asked Alpha how he was, when he wasn’t having a complete meltdown over packing his suitcase, Alpha had been abnormally quiet, skating around Terzo’s questions, and Terzo should have pressed on it, but he had the impression that would be like stamping on a bruise. Alpha can be secretive sometimes, and Terzo knows better than to push. “I should probably call him.”

“Call him when we’re at the hotel,” Copia says, wiping orange juice from his lips with the back of his hand.

Terzo hums, turns to squint out the window, his eyes hurting under the fringe of sunbeams filtering through it. The nausea seems to mostly have passed now that he’s not focused on it, but his head still hurts like a motherfucker.

“I need to pick up some sunglasses when we get there,” he mumbles, sheltering his eyes with his hand.

“What?” Copia asks and Terzo huffs, twisting to look at him.

“I couldn’t find my sunglasses. So I need to buy some when we’re there.”

“With the gems?” Copia asks.

“What?”

“The sunglasses with the gems?”

“You’re making my head hurt,” Terzo moans, presses on his closed eyes with his fingers, trying to drain the ache out from behind them.

He hears Copia rustling about, and their bag whacks him in the thigh. He scowls but keeps rubbing at his eyes until there’s a tap on his knee. He opens his eyes to see his sunglasses in Copia’s hand. The jeweled ones he couldn’t find. He lifts a brow.

“You know, if you keep stealing my things, you’ll have to give me your key.”

Copia has the decency to look slightly ashamed. “I knew you would forget them.”

“I didn’t forget them,” Terzo says, grabbing them off of his brother. “I just couldn’t find them because someone stole them.”

“Look, you have them don’t you?” Copia says, frowning a little. “I just wanted this to go as smooth as possible, and you’re not exactly the poster child for remembering to pack everything.”

Terzo wants to bite back, but then he thinks of the many holidays he and Copia had in their youth and realises he has always been the one to mess things up. He can’t help it, he is organised in everything but leaving. He is a homebody and he likes his flat. Leaving it is an issue he’d rather not face. At work, he’s always on time (he lies, because usually he’s at least five minutes late) and he always knows what he’s doing. Having to leave his safe place is hard for him, especially now he’s older. He can’t just spend the holiday in the clubs getting wasted (he’s not sure the clubs would even let him in now or if he’ll get asked if he has a free bus pass).

They sink back into a languid silence, and Terzo can practically feel himself stew in the heat. The driver up front is playing a tune he does not recognise, and they are winding down roads that are jostling his stomach uncomfortably.

Copia makes a show of licking the tips of his fingers, and Terzo looks over to see the orange - satsuma- is gone. Finally, he thinks, watching Copia pile the leftover peels into a tissue before putting them in a zip lock bag. He can start to smell fresh air again.

With the sunglasses now blocking most of the sun’s harsh light, he can make out the sea above the houses, expanding over the planes with a rippling shimmer. He cannot wait to dip his toes in there, or to stretch out by the pool on a sun lounger. He finds, absentmindedly, that maybe he was looking forward to this trip more than he thought. He wonders if he’ll meet someone new, maybe he’ll find someone to spend the night with. He just hopes his room is not on the same floor as his brothers’.

The sound of a crinkling wrapper interrupts his thoughts, and aggravated, he sharply turns to look at Copia who has opened a share bag of chili Doritos. Terzo doesn’t even know where he got all this food, and wonders if Copia had visited the airport shop to stock up on the trip when he was dry heaving on the airport floor.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Copia looks up at him, eyes round, and it just stokes the anger simmering in Terzo’s gut.

“Will you leave me alone?” Copia cries.

“I think he’s just hangry,” Secondo says, leaning over to steal a crisp off of Copia.

“What?” Terzo spits, his glare softened by his dazzling sunglasses.

“Hungry and angry.”

“No, he’s hungover and angry,” Primo interjects.

“Will you stop pretending I’m not here?” Terzo exclaims.

“Then stop picking on your brother,” Secondo says, grabbing the whole pack of Doritos from Copia. “That’s my job.”

“Hey,” Copia shouts, but resigns himself to the fact he won’t be getting his crisps back anytime soon.

With Copia now silent, Terzo closes his eyes, leaning his temple against the window. They start to stop at different resorts and he watches as various groups of people get off, mostly older women and some couples, until finally they get to their hotel. Copia nudges him none too gently, and he hadn’t realised he’d closed his eyes.

“C’mon,” Copia says, getting out of his seat. “You can nap when we’re in the room.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” Terzo says, because he can swear he wasn’t. He stands up, groaning slightly as the world tilts, and he’s grabbed by the elbow and steered into the aisle.

“If you spend the whole time with your eyes closed, you’re not gonna enjoy this trip very much,” Primo says in his ear, ushering him off the bus.

“I wasn’t asleep,” Terzo reiterates as he steps onto the path outside, but he finds Primo isn’t listening.

“Jesus Christ,” Primo says before he reaches into his pocket and passes him a pack of mints.

Terzo looks at it for a moment before he glowers.

“Oh, thanks guys.”

Secondo snickers from beside him and Terzo snatches the mints from Primo before popping one in his mouth. It does get rid of the taste of vomit from his tongue so he guesses he can’t be too mad.

The hotel towers over them, pristine white walls flourished with wide balconies and a blue sign with the words Paradisus in calligraphy.

Terzo hardly pays attention as they check in until he watches the receptionist only hand over two room keys.

“What-” Terzo starts, looking at Copia who’s rocking on his heels, “why aren’t there four room keys?”

“Because it was quite expensive and we could only afford two rooms.”

“So I’m sharing?”

“With me!” Copia declares, grabbing their room key off of Primo.

Terzo huffs, stalking after them into the lift, squeezing between their luggage as they go up four floors.

“We’ll meet you at the pool in an hour,” Secondo says as he and Primo disappear into their room. Terzo’s not sure if he’s agreeing to that, he really does need a nap.

Copia unlocks the door to their room before opening it, and Terzo steps in gingerly, finally taking off his sunglasses. The room is nice and spacious, with two small double beds and a tv at the other end.

“This is nice,” he says, leaving his suitcase at the end of one of the beds. He walks out onto the balcony, looks down to see a large pool, blue water shimmering with sun beds lined around it. It is already busy with people but there is no shrill sound of kids screaming in the pool or running around, and he thanks god that his brothers booked an adult hotel so that he does not have to deal with kids splashing about in the pool when he is doing his laps.

“Are you going to call Alpha?” Copia says from behind him, and Terzo turns to see Copia already unpacking, putting his neatly folded clothes in the drawers by the TV.

“I suppose,” Terzo says, collecting his phone from the carry on bag Copia left on his bed. He sits on the end of his own bed, bouncing up and down a little to observe the comfiness of it.

“Face time him.”

Terzo looks up from the bed and frowns at his brother. “Now? I think he’s at work.”

“Well, then he’ll miss it and call us back later.”

Us? Terzo doesn’t remember agreeing to letting Copia sit in on the call, but when Copia looks over at him, eyes big, Terzo doesn’t have the heart to tell him to fuck off. Mostly.

“Okay,” he says, and Copia beams, sitting down next to him causing Terzo to bounce upwards. He opens his phone and finds Alpha’s name before pressing the Face time button. He does not expect Alpha to pick up when he starts work at 8am and it is currently 11. The calls rings out for a few moments before the screen opens up to a dark bedroom, and Terzo can just about make out Alpha’s red pointed ears peeking over the top of the duvet.

“‘llo?” Alpha’s voice is muffled under the blanket. Copia leans over Terzo a little to get in frame and says “hey!” but Terzo quickly interrupts him before Alpha can answer.

“Why aren’t you at work?”

There’s a gigantic sigh before Alpha finally pulls down the cover, revealing his sleepy face, his eyes half lidded.

“Hello to you too,” he says with a yawn before his eyes flick across the screen. “Oh, hey Copia.”

Terzo scowls, moving to shoo Copia away who begrudgingly leaves, locking himself in the bathroom.

“Well?” Terzo says, turning back to the screen.

“I just-,” Alpha pauses, sniffling dramatically, “it’s been really hard having to be here without you-”

“I haven’t died-”

“-I had to take the day off work because I’ve been so emotional.”

Terzo lifts a brow, and Alpha sighs, dramatically plopping his head down on his arm.

“Fine. I had a big night out.”

Terzo is not surprised by that, but he is surprised Alpha went out on a work night. He opens his mouth to scold him, only there’s movement on the screen and he watches as someone moves behind Alpha before hooking their chin over Alpha’s shoulder. Cumulus. That’s new. As far as he was aware they were just roommates.

“Hey Terzo,” she says, beaming at him over Alpha’s shoulder, her curly hair brushing her eyes.

“Hey,” Terzo says, frowning a little. “Are you two-”

“How are your brothers?” Alpha interrupts, “do you have your own room?”

“No, I’m sharing with Copia,” Terzo says, “and he’s already annoying the hell out of me.”

There’s a small hey from the bathroom, and Terzo laughs quietly.

“How long are you there for again?”

“A week. I’m kind of mad at myself for agreeing.”

“Ugh,” Alpha groans, “please don’t make this whole week into a pity party. Go and enjoy yourself.”

Terzo scowls, eyes sliding from Alpha to look at Cumulus, feeling a bit vulnerable with her there. He swallows thickly. “I would not do such a thing.”

“Well, I don’t want a phone call from one of your brothers telling me they’ve pulled you out a ditch on the side of the road because you’re too hammered to get back to your room.”

Terzo opens his mouth to argue but Alpha carries on, ignoring him.

“And don’t drunk dial me and start crying because I won’t come and get you.” Which Terzo knows isn’t true, because Alpha already told him before he’d left that he would. But he’s not happy that Alpha has to lay him so bare when they’re in company.

“Oh don’t be like that,” Alpha says, acknowledging the frown on his face. “We’re all friends here.”

Terzo supposes that’s true, and he does not suspect Cumulus is the type of girl to make fun of him behind his back.

“Sì, I know,” he sighs, watching Cumulus give him a big smile from over Alpha’s shoulder. “I can’t promise anything.”

“Just go and have fun. Have a swim and some cocktails and get laid. God knows you need it.”

Terzo huffs. “Bye Alpha.”

Alpha cackles. “Remember a condom!”

Terzo ends the call abruptly, throwing his phone back onto the bed before he scrubs at his face. Maybe Alpha’s right, he needs to just let loose and have fun. But his hands are trembling slightly. He doesn’t know if it’s left-over nerves from the plane or if he’s just overwhelmed, and he’s starting to hate the way his bangs are falling in his face.

Copia emerges from the bathroom, a questioning look on his face when he takes in the sight of Terzo looking disheveled.

“I’m gonna get ready for the pool,” he says, eyeing Terzo. “Do you want to take the bathroom or..?”

Terzo doesn’t reply, just snatches his things from his suitcase before stalking into the bathroom, locking the door behind him, throwing his shorts onto the empty toilet seat.

He glances at himself at the mirror, takes in the bloodshot eyes and the greasy bangs dropping over his forehead. His white eye is sharp but just highlights the dark circles under his eyes. He is a mess. He feels it too, with the headache still thundering through his skull to a metronome he was hoping would stop singing by now. He sniffs, places his wash bag down on the side before splashing his face with water, hoping to resurrect some life into himself.

He did not come here to wallow. He did not come here to annoy his brothers or complain about the heat or contemplate if eight floors is high enough to jump. He is going to make the most of his time here, soak up the sun and swim in the pool and drink as many cocktails as he can stomach. He is not going to linger on his usual brooding thoughts because he has nowhere to coddle those self-deprecating remarks when he does not have a room to himself. He tells himself this, tries to be strict and scold himself, because if his brothers even get a whiff that he is not doing good they’ll want to talk. And he’d much rather be taken out back and shot. He grips the sink as water drips down his nose and he watches himself, as though he has been split into two separate entities, and he’s not sure which version of Terzo will exit the bathroom if he doesn’t get himself under control.

Talking to Alpha did not help. It just made him long to be back at home, to be somewhere he is familiar with, somewhere he has people to talk to. He supposes he should post on the group chat that he got here safely and he misses everyone and blah blah blah but he does not think he can deal with their excitable, gushing jealousy that he got to go on holiday whilst they’re still stuck at their jobs.

He takes a deep breath and holds it in his chest for a few minutes, willing himself not to become panicked over nothing. He is on holiday. He is meant to be enjoying himself. He lets out a breath and thinks about the way his clothes are clinging to him, sticky with sweat under his arms and down his back.

He grabs his hairbrush from his bag and some gel, and combs his hair backwards, slicking it back to his liking. He has to at least look somewhat human if he is going to go back out into the world. He slowly unbuttons his shirt, revealing the dark hair brushing his chest, and he lets out a sigh of relief when the shirt falls away. Putting on his swim shorts, he straightens back up, glancing at himself in the mirror again. His body is still in good shape, even after all these years, but he frowns at the way his shorts hang a little loose on his hips.

He brushes his teeth to get rid of the leftover fermenting taste of vomit in his mouth then meets his own eyes.

I can do this, he thinks, go and have a good time.

When he enters back into the bedroom, he finds Copia sifting through his own suitcase, only now he’s dressed in a blue speedo, and Terzo shrieks, bubbling with laughter.

“What- what the fuck are you wearing?”

Copia frowns, looking up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you wearing those?”

“Cumulus picked them out for me,” Copia says with a smile, shrugging.

“For a family holiday?”

“You’re just jealous you don’t look this good.”

Terzo rolls his eyes, throwing his sweaty shirt at Copia who squawks.

They get changed quickly, putting on some decent clothes over their swimsuits, ready to emerge out into the hotel downstairs, and Terzo has to hold in a grin when he sees Copia’s hat. It’s bright red with the words ‘aw rats’ embroidered across the front. He guesses he can’t tease his brother about everything. They aren’t kids anymore, hell they haven’t been young for a while.

Once they’re done, they trudge next door to their brothers’ room, where Terzo knocks on it none too gently, too impatient to meet them downstairs. Primo lets them in without saying a word, but it becomes apparent straight away that neither of them are ready to go down to the pool. And worse, they have a better room, with bigger beds and an en suite with a bath.

“How come you get the better room?” Copia asks, but Primo just shrugs.

“We’re older.”

Terzo scowls, the beating in his head getting louder, and he unceremoniously drapes himself across the closest bed with a grunt.

“My head hurts,” he groans, rubbing at his temple, and Secondo tuts.

“You can’t complain when it’s your own fault. If you had just been sensible for once in your life-”

“Shut it,” Primo interjects before Terzo can even open his mouth to reply, instead throwing a water bottle at him, landing squarely on Terzo’s chest, and he lets out a quiet oof. He sits up a little and uncaps the bottle before taking a longing pull. The water is cold and it soothes his dry mouth, and he hopes it will quell his headache in time.

“How come you get this?” Copia says, pointing to a Bluetooth stereo underneath the TV. “We didn’t get that.” He pauses before turning to Primo, lifting a brow. “Do you even know how to use that?”

Terzo snickers and Primo crosses his arms, frowning. He doesn’t say anything, but Terzo knows that his answer is no.

Secondo stands from where he was rooting around in his suitcase before he abruptly takes his top off, complaining about the heat, and Terzo makes a noise of disgust.

“Your tits are saggy.”

So much for not picking on his brothers. Secondo glowers at him, and Terzo doesn’t have enough time to react before he finds himself in a headlock. He gasps, slapping at the thick arm around his neck but Secondo doesn’t let up and he can hear Copia laughing.

“Hey,” he yells, though its breathless when his air supply is being cut off. “Get off of me.”

“Then quit being a pain in the ass.”

Terzo wants to say something back but finds his head is getting increasingly fuzzier, so instead he gives in, falling limp in Secondo’s grip. Secondo abruptly lets go of him and he folds forwards, gasping for breath.

“Secondo, you’re too old for that,” Primo says, sighing dramatically at their behavior. “You’re not 30 anymore.”

“Yeah, your hairline got that memo thirty years ago,” Terzo says.

Secondo pushes him off the bed.

Terzo lands in a heap, slamming his hip against the floor with a thud, and pain immediately starts to flare up his side. He’s too old for this too, it seems.

“Seriously, if you keep carrying on, I’m gonna make you room together,” Primo threatens but Secondo just shrugs. Terzo is still trying to catch his breath, and he manages to get to his feet, wincing at the pain in his back.

“Can we just go down to the pool now,” Copia complains, looking between his brothers. “It’s too hot to be sat up here and I want to swim.”

Terzo rubs at his back and wonders if swimming will help. He hopes he hasn’t got a bruise.

By the time they make it down to the pool, all of the sunbeds are already taken, and Terzo huffs, looking for a place for them to sit. Copia finds a patch of grass big enough to house all four of them, and after setting down their towels, they strip off into swimwear and lounge back against the floor, squinting under the sun. Copia is the last to change, and as he reveals his awful speedos, Primo and Secondo immediately burst into laughter, and he pouts, squinting his eyes at them as Terzo muffles his own laughter in the back of his hand.

“You guys are so mean to me,” Copia mutters, turning swiftly away from them. “I’m going in the pool.” And then he disappears, heading towards the water.

“What’s with those speedos?” Secondo asks with a smug smile.

“Cumulus helped him pick them,” Terzo says with a shrug, lying back on his elbows. The sun is now at its peak, and Terzo can feel the heat blaze down on him in waves, causing sweat to already bead across his brow. He wipes it away hastily and turns his attention back to his brothers. Secondo has a cigar in his mouth, a lighter in his hand, and Terzo guffaws, pointing to the sign next to them that reads no smoking.

“They don’t mean that,” Secondo says, lighting his cigar up, “we’re outside and there’s plenty of ventilation.”

Terzo guesses that makes sense. The smell of tobacco hits him immediately, and he goes back to longing for a cigarette. He’s been so good though, three whole years without a single puff, but he’s had a very hard day. What will one drag do?

“Let me have a go,” he says, and Secondo frowns, blowing the smoke out of his mouth in thick plumes.

“I thought you quit.”

“I have.”

“Then no.”

“I’ve had a very long day,” Terzo stresses, tries to make his eyes round in hopes Secondo will give in. It seems to work because Secondo sighs and he hands the cigar to Terzo who accepts it gratefully.

Terzo sits back, fits the cigar in his mouth and takes a deep drag. It doesn’t taste like a cigarette but it’s close enough, and he holds the smoke in his lungs for a moment, closing his eyes as he relishes in the burn at the back of his throat.

The sound of a woman clearing their throat makes him jump, and he opens his eyes and looks up to see a lifeguard, her hands on her hips as she gives him a deep frown. She points at the sign.

“This is a no smoking area. Please put that out.”

Secondo barks a laugh and Terzo apologises profusely, smoke pluming from his mouth as he puts the cigar out on the brick next to them, the tips of his ears burning white hot not for the first time today. So much for having a good time. Not only has he broken his sobriety, but he also got humiliated in the process. He grumbles to himself, ignoring his brother’s sifting laughter. He lies back, trying to cool his embarrassed cheeks with the backs of his hands, though they are sweaty and of not much use.

Copia gets out of the pool at some point, shaking his hair like a dog, and he plops down next to Terzo, rambling about the pool and how it’s cool and deep enough to swim in properly. Terzo remembers quickly to put sun cream on, and covers himself before he can burn, watching Secondo jump in the pool.

Copia is talking to him but he’s not listening, instead focused on a woman getting up from her sunbed. It seems she is leaving, and as soon as she goes and her towel is swept from the lounger, Primo springs upwards. Terzo doesn’t think he’s ever seen Primo move so fast in his life, but he manages to snag the sunbed before anyone else, and promptly lies down with a sigh loud enough Terzo can hear.

The grass is imprinting against Terzo’s elbows from where he is lying on them. He squints under the sun, thanking that Copia brought his sunglasses. There’s a nudge to his thigh, and he frowns, looking down to see Copia staring at him. He holds up a bottle of suncream. “Will you do my back?”

“No,” Terzo says, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

“Please?”

“No.”

Terzo can feel the heat stick to his collarbones, the hair on his chest slightly damp. He doesn’t think he’ll stay out here for too long because he’s still got a headache and he doesn’t think staying out in the sun will help it.

There’s another nudge to his thigh. “I said no, Copia.”

“The lifeguard is staring at you.”

Terzo tries to be nonchalant about it, but his eyes immediately snap to the lifeguard tower. There sits a ghoul, his white hair tied up in a bun, dark eyes covered by a thin pair of sunglasses. He’s gorgeous, and Terzo watches the way his thick biceps flex as he shows some women which direction the toilets are, his white fangs sticking over his lip in a smile, and Terzo almost feels himself swoon at the sight of such a handsome man being only a few feet away from him. The lifeguard lifts up his glasses after a moment, pushing back the loose strands of hair, and his eyes light up as he realises Terzo is staring straight back at him. Terzo’s cheeks heat up, but he can’t look away, glad for the sunglasses sheltering most of his face so he does not look like he is gawking. He smiles slightly, and the ghoul smiles back, bright and wide. Terzo thinks maybe he should go over there, when his vision is suddenly blocked by a hand waving in his face.

“Earth to Terzo.”

Terzo scowls and turns to see Copia grinning at him.

“Why don’t you say hello?” Copia says, lifting an eyebrow, but Terzo scoffs, leaning back and tilting his head to the sky.

“What?” Copia says. “It’s only a suggestion.”

“I came here to relax, Copia,” Terzo says. “Not to get in someone’s pants.”

“You always have to make it about sex,” Copia replies, and Terzo can almost hear the way he rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you start thinking with your heart instead of your dick for once.”

Terzo chooses to ignore that, and he lets his eyes wander back to the lifeguard. The ghoul is no longer looking at him, busy watching a few girls splash about in the pool, but Terzo feels the need to talk to him. To get to know him. He wants to know his name, and suddenly his usual allure is overwhelmed by a deep anxiety he is usually only privy to behind closed doors. He’s a natural charmer, he always has been, even if he is a walking pit of depression. He is good at batting people away nice enough that they are happy to leave; he is good at sucking people in just slightly before eventually letting them go. He can never let anyone become swamped in his black hole, but for a moment, watching the handsome lifeguard, he wonders: what if?

What if this could be more than a fling? What if he went over there and thought with his mind for once, and not his dick like Copia says? He’s probably getting ahead of himself, but he lets himself daydream. Lets the anxiety shudder through him in this newfound thought to be known. To be loved. He watches the ghoul and pretends for a few long moments that maybe he has a chance. That he was being more than friendly when he was giving that smile.

Before the lifeguard can look up and meet his eyes again, Terzo selfishly looks away. He wants to marinate in these thoughts. He wants to watch the guy from a distance, just for a while. His feelings feel jumbled, tied in a knot deep in his bonehouse, and he is unsure how to uncurl it when it is crudely too tight. Copia is talking to him again but he is hardly listening, staring into the cloudless sky, feeling the sun beat on his skin. His headache is still there, pulsing behind his eyes, but he finds he can mostly ignore it now.

“And I keep telling them they don’t need rats; we don’t test on animals in my lab. But they simply won’t listen.”

Terzo turns to his brother with a frown. Copia seems to be talking about his work, which Terzo mostly does not understand other than that he works as a biomedical scientist. He is a nerd, an even bigger nerd than Terzo, and he’s a lecturer.

Terzo sighs. “Are you gonna get laid at all this holiday?”

Copia flashes a grin and leans back on his elbows. “I came here to relax Terzo.”

Chapter Text

Terzo is the last one to wake the next morning.

After a fitful sleep, he awakes to the sun blaring through the now spread curtains, the heat making him stick to the thin sheets he’s swaddled in. The sky has turned a icy blue that usually accommodates a cloudless day with unbearable heat. He can feel the way his toes are crimped into the bed, the sweat clinging to his leg where it is swung over the edge, the awful dead feeling of linen-pressed cheeks pushed into the pillow. His hair hangs in his view, swaying in a breeze he cannot feel, and he wants nothing more than to crawl off the end of the bed and lie against the cold tiles, or better yet, go back to sleep. But somewhere in the room a faint hum is making him whir to life like an overheated engine, and he squints upwards. It is Copia, he can tell by the nasal sound of the notes, but he cannot understand what song it is.

And it is too early.

He grumbles, turns over to find the other bed empty, the sheets neatly made and pyjamas nicely folded on top like Copia is expecting room inspections. Well, there is no Imperator here to ridicule them in that way though he can almost here her voice telling him he’s a waste of space. Even though she is not his mother, she never failed to try and wrangle the pristine holy version of a mother from his chubby hands and trample on it. He had never known his mother; his father had slept with so many women he could not remember who was who when it got down to the family tree, and Terzo had accepted that long ago. But sometimes it stings, especially around his younger brothers. Imperator has always doted on those two, especially Copia, as she had constantly held the older three at arm’s length. She could never be pleased, and even as an adult Terzo is ashamed to admit that she can sometimes stir a primal fear in him that is hard to digest. And definitely, the thoughts are too early to swallow this early in the morning. But it’s sad to see Copia’s rigidity, and knowing it is her that has made him that way. He is eager to please, too naive, and too easy to manipulate. Terzo hates that Imperator can ask him to do whatever she wants, and she will cloak it in a feigned gratitude she does not dole out often, or to anyone else other than the twins.

The tip of his ear grazes against the pillow and he hisses under his breath at the unexpected pain, wiping at his eyes as he groggily sits up, splaying his hands into the bedding. Copia is stood in the bathroom; Terzo can see his reflection in the shower door from the open doorway, and he can hear the sound of his electric toothbrush whirring. He’s still humming around the foam in his mouth, the volume flitting between a whisper and too loud.

Terzo wipes a hand down his face, feels as if he has not slept at all, and with one sweeping glance towards the clock he finds he’s slept half of the morning away. He does not usually get up early anyway, but when he is on holiday he at least likes to make the effort to enjoy every minute he is there.

But it is ten o’clock and he is still sweaty and sticky in his pyjamas with a headache that does not seem to want to seize. He grabs the glass of water he left out for himself the night before and downs it quickly, looking up to see Copia step out of the bathroom.

“Finally,” Copia says, “I’ve been so bored. I was just going to leave you up here.”

He’s standing in the doorway, and he looks too wide awake for this early in the morning; his cheeks rosy and his wrinkled mouth spread in a wide grin. Even as children, Copia had always been an early riser, and Terzo has a distinct memory of being poked awake in his teenage years by an eight-year-old Copia. It makes him grimace, even now, and he narrows his eyes at the joyous, unburdened look of someone with no worries on his brother’s face.

“Well, why didn’t you wake me?” It comes out bitter, sharp around the edges, feeling akin to slicing your finger open on a letter you’ve been waiting for. It is ironic and a tad cruel because Copia has not done anything wrong other than be too happy for Terzo’s liking.

“I thought you would need the sleep,” Copia says with a shrug, unflinching at Terzo’s tone as he grabs his phone from the dresser. “We had a long day yesterday.”

Copia is right but Terzo does not give him the satisfaction of knowing it. He grumbles something under his breath, sniffing as he climbs out of bed, flinching slightly at the twinge in his back from falling off the bed yesterday. His hand flies down to his side, and he grits his teeth, feeling too old.

“Go and have a shower and I’ll meet you downstairs,” Copia says, his eyebrows soft as he watches Terzo glare at him. “We only have an hour until breakfast closes so I’ll get you a plate.”

That is at least a bright side Terzo can see. “Grazie,” he says, rubbing at his nose. It hurts a bit. He wonders how long he can stay in the sun before he turns bright red. He dreads to think about spending the day on the ground again. He needs a good stretch, a sun lounger, and a margarita. “Do you think we’ll get sunbeds today?”

“Of course,” Copia says, too perky. “I already went down and put our towels on some.”

“On your own?”

“No,” Copia says like he’s talking to a child, “I made Secondo come with me. He put their towels down. So, we are all sat together.”

“Oh,” is all Terzo says, and Copia rolls his eyes, grabbing his hat from the table under the tv.

“You act like I’ve never been on holiday before. You do realise I am the only one who has their shit together, right?”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Terzo mumbles, but Copia ignores him, securing his cap on his head. His cheekbones are slightly burnt and the redness of his face makes his moustache look blonde. Terzo holds back any comments, smothering them with a yawn.

“Don’t be too long. They stop you coming in after 11,” Copia says before he leaves.

“Do not worry,” Terzo says, ushering Copia away with his hand. “When have I ever been late?”

***

After showering and analysing his face in the mirror, finding that he’s only burnt most of his face and his ears, he manages to get down to the dining hall with two minutes to spare. He can already feel Copia’s glare before he even rounds the corner but he glides as though he is unconcerned by the stares thrown at him for appearing so late to a nearly empty dining hall.

“Leaving it a bit late, aren’t you?” Primo says as he sits down next to Secondo. As promised, there’s a plate of food waiting for him: pancakes and croissants and a small pot of berries and yoghurt. He thanks god that his fellow vegetarian brother made his plate because if it was Secondo there would surely be bacon or a sausage.

Terzo chooses to ignore Primo and takes a spoon, stirring the yoghurt.

“How was all your mornings?” he asks, his voice a little hoarse.

He’d rather not think about himself right now. There is a lady a few tables away that keeps pointedly staring at him, and its taking everything in him not to slink back to his room and hide. With a job like his own, you would think he would be used to be the centre of attention, but he knows his students do not care about him, they only care about his knowledge, and so standing in front of a lecture hall is a lot easier when he knows none of those people are thinking of him as Terzo. They are not seeing someone who feels vulnerable, someone who takes alternating routes home every day in case he is followed, someone who picks themselves apart in the mirror and drinks most nights to try and quell the unending ache in his chest. He is their professor; a mirage; an oasis people only seek out when they need something, when they think he will be useful. His mind comes with an avid amount of locked doors that sections himself, his true self, off from everyone else, like the remnants of a murder scene. Behind the mask of self-assurance and swagger, he is bloodied and bruised by his own hand, sharp and unyielding. He can be everything someone ever wants him to be for a while. He can charm and flirt and be brave for a while then he ultimately crumbles. But around his brothers, he knows they see through his bullshit. That does not mean he doesn’t try it, but they at least have the decency to not point it out. If he was with Alpha, the ghoul would already be pulling him towards a club to try and party away the depression.

He looks down at his yoghurt and suddenly he is not hungry.

“Someone got me up at six o’clock to put some fucking towels on those fucking sun loungers,” Secondo spits, and there’s a venom to his voice that makes Terzo smile.

“But wasn’t it nice to see the sun come up?” Copia says.

“Was that the first time you have ever seen the sun come up?” Terzo digs, dropping his spoon, a hand coming up to rub at his temple.

“Fuck you guys,” Secondo says, narrowing his eyes, kicking Copia under the table who yelps. “And then by the time I got back Primo was awake doing his morning yoga.”

Terzo scrunches his nose up. That is not a mental image he ever wanted. “Ew.”

“You do yoga?” Copia asks.

“It’s good for the spine,” Primo says, hoarse, before he turns to his brother. “And thanks, Secondo, I was having a good morning until you barged in.”

Secondo shrugs, slumping back in his chair. The sun is shining off his bald head through the glass panes that look out onto the pool. It's like a solar panel and Terzo wonders absent-mindedly if he could charge his phone off of it. He picks his spoon back up, taking a few mouthfuls, and watches, a little annoyed as they all stand to leave.

“There’s a coach that leaves in half an hour that takes us to the next town. Do any of you wish to join me?” Primo says, looking between the three of them. As nice as that sounds, Terzo doesn’t think he can bothered to walk around a town all day, and besides, he wants to go out to the pool to not look at the incredibly hot lifeguard.

The three of them shake their heads with a variety of dismissals before Primo just rolls his eyes and heads upstairs to get changed.

— —

The lifeguard is at the pool again.

Terzo is putting on his sun cream when he spots him. The handsome ghoul comes into view, a little ways away from the pool, an old lady on his arm as he shows her where the bar is. His hair is wet, silver locks dripping in his face, and his face is soft, an amicable charm to the way his lips quirk up around a smile, the shine of his tusks glinting off the sun. Terzo has to stop himself from gawking, and instead turns his attention back to the lotion he’d dolloped on his arm.

Copia is talking next to him, and from his tone Terzo can only conclude that he’s talking about Perpetua, so instead he drowns him out, slathering the cream over his chest.

“He just never listens to me,” Copia is saying when Terzo finally glances at him from under his sunglasses.

“Hm?”

Copia shoots him a dirty look. “Have you even been listening to me?”

“When you whine like a baby I tend not to,” Terzo replies, relaxing back into the sun lounger.

“It’s not my fault,” Copia complains, crossing his arms.

“What the hell did he do this time?” Secondo says from where he’s settling on his chair after a quick dip in the pool. He shakes his head and Terzo grimaces at the water splashing onto him.

“He texted me,” Copia replies.

“God forbid your brother talks to you,” Secondo says, wiping his face with his towel.

“What did he say?” Terzo asks, squinting slightly under the bright light of the sun. It’s getting hotter by the minute, and the gel in his hair is starting to fail, his bangs slipping down his face annoyingly.

“He said, have you spoken to dad?” Copia says, putting on a mock attempt of Perpetua’s accent that sounds more like Copia than his twin.

Terzo does not know what the hell Perpetua means by that, but Copia would be mad at him no matter what he had said. Terzo would find their feud comical if it wasn’t so fucking annoying. He doesn’t remember the last time they were in the same room and were civil; at least not Copia. He’s the most irritating person Terzo knows but he has a childish charm that helps surpass the need to throttle him. He’s positive and laid back in a way none of the other brothers are, which is probably why Terzo is the closest with him. They have been on many adventures together through the years, and Terzo knows that if he needed help with something, Copia would always be there. Unless it is to hide a body of course, because Copia would rat him out straight away. Secondo is the much better option in those circumstances. Then again, Terzo is not sure he is the kind of person to be murdering someone. Except for maybe Copia.

“Well, have you?” Secondo says, and Copia pouts, narrowing his eyes.

“No, but why should I? If he’s got something to say then he should tell me himself.”

“Maybe because you bite his head off before he can say anything?” Terzo says.

“Yeah, well, he annoys me,” Copia replies, grabbing his juice carton, pulling his hat lower over his eyes..

“You annoy me but I don’t start an argument with you every time we meet,” Secondo says, putting his sunglasses on. “And believe me, that’s pretty fucking hard.”

Copia doesn’t have an answer to that, and he turns away, sulking. Terzo swallows down a laugh and instead lets his eyes wander back out over the shimmering pool.

The lifeguard is in there, pulling some girls apart from where they were pretending to drown, and he’s close enough that Terzo can finally read the name tag pinned to his yellow polo shirt.

Omega.

The name is definitely fitting, and Terzo lets the name roll around in his mouth, tongue curling as he watches the way the water drips off of the ghoul’s bicep. Terzo watches him for a moment, and wishes he knew more about him. He wants to know where he’s from, what he likes to do, what he likes to eat. He wants to know his favorite tv show, and how to make him laugh. And most of all, he wants to hear the sound of his voice; whether it’s deep and gravelly or smooth and sweet. He imagines his voice as a mixture of the two, something eloquent and beautiful that will make Terzo swoon even more than he already has. Omega turns his way, and Terzo has to fight himself not to look away. He wants Omega to know that he’s watching. What he wants to come of that, he is not sure. But he reddens at the way Omega meets his gaze, holding it for a few moments before one of the girls splashes him, drawing his attention away.

“You should just talk to him.”

Copia’s voice is way too loud and Terzo scowls, forcing down the need to shush him. He glances Omega’s way, but thankfully the lifeguard does not seem to have heard. Secondo gives a loud snore from beside them, and Terzo wonders how he fell asleep so fast.

Terzo shoots a glare at Copia but does not answer, turning his attention back to the cloudless sky.

“Nothing stops you from making a move at home,” Copia continues, and Terzo huffs, looking at him over his sunglasses.

“Yeah, well we’re not at home,” he says, but Copia doesn’t seem to be listening.

“In fact, I remember when we went to Ibiza in ‘89, and I didn’t see you for four days-”

“-because you left me in the middle of nowhere!”

“-to find out you’d been shacking up with the hostess,” Copia finishes before frowning, turning his head to look at Terzo. “No, you’re thinking of when we went to Magaluf.”

“We went to Magaluf?” Terzo asks. The holidays he took over twenty years ago are all a blur to him now. He does not understand how Copia can tell the difference.

Copia stares at him for a moment like he can’t believe what Terzo’s saying. “You know,” he says, “with the bar in the pool?”

Terzo look at him blankly.

“And the nightclub with all the fake palm trees?”

Terzo still has no idea what Copia is on about, and Copia lets out a breath, rubbing at his forehead. “You spent the rest of the week ogling at Gloria the lifeguard?”

“Ah, Gloria,” Terzo says with a dreamy sigh.

“So you remember?”

“No.”

Copia makes a noise of frustration, pulling down on the brim of his hat. “Are you gonna talk to him or not?”

“No,” Terzo replies, letting his gaze fall back on Omega. “I’ll just… I don’t know. I’m gonna do it some other way.”

Copia gives him a wilted look, sipping loudly on his juice box. “You’re not going to try and drown to get his attention, are you?”

“What? No,” Terzo splutters, grabbing his coffee that’s probably cold by now. “I’ll just find him when he’s not on duty or something.”

“Okay, whatever you say,” Copia says, and there’s a skeptical tone in his voice that makes Terzo frown.

He can’t help it when he gets slightly defensive, and he turns in his chair, working his jaw. “Don’t even start with me. You’re the one who can’t even ask if you’re own brother is okay.”

“He’s your brother too,” Copia shoots back, “I’m sure if it was something important he would’ve just messaged one of you.”

“And you don’t think that maybe he wants to work on your relationship?”

Copia huffs, rolling his eyes. “He’s not like that and you know it.”

“No, you’re not like that. Why are you still holding something against him that happened fucking twenty years ago?”

It seems to strike a nerve, and Terzo knew that as soon as he opened his mouth, but Copia looks away nonetheless, upset and frustrated. Terzo knows he should say something, but he also knows he’s right. No one holds a grudge like Copia.

“Will you two shut the fuck up?” Secondo grumbles, lifting his chin to look at them. “If you’re gonna bicker you can go home. I don’t need this shit. I already have enough arguing at home.”

Terzo isn’t sure what he means by that, but gauges that his brother’s wife is not happy with him right now. It does not surprise him; Secondo isn’t the easiest to live with. Even when they were young, his older brother made it his mission to make Terzo’s life miserable whenever he could.

Secondo had met his wife all the way back in 2002, and they’ve been married for twenty years. She’s ten years younger and way out of his league, but they always seemed to make each other happy. Terzo remembered how sappy his brother had been at their wedding, and it was the first time he’d seen him show an emotion that wasn’t annoyance or anger. Terzo hopes their rift is only temporary, he’s not sure he wants to know what will happen to Secondo if they split. He already has enough to deal with with the rest of the family.

***

Copia doesn’t speak to him for a few hours. But Terzo doesn’t mind. He relishes in the peace and quiet, grabbing a few books from upstairs before lying about on the sun-lounger with a margarita he charged to his brothers’ room. He is acutely aware he should be making amends; he was the one who brought up such a sensitive topic, but he is stubborn and also too tired to get into another fight. Instead, he keeps flitting his attention to the lifeguard in the tower, finding he’s not reading much of his book at all.

Omega is sat forwards, twizzling his whistle between his fingers where it is hung around his neck. He looks to be concentrating, but the pool is hardly full, so Terzo guesses he must be thinking. He wonders what it’s like inside his head, and wonders if the ghoul is thinking of him. As soon as he thinks that, he casts the thought aside foolishly, because he knows he is not the centre of the universe, and no, on second thoughts, the ghoul doesn’t look thoughtful, he looks worried.

Terzo peers around over his book, but the area has lulled into a placid state induced by a healthy amount of cocktails and lemonade and the wafting smell of churros coming from the small snack shack.

The sound of the whistle makes him jump, nearly sending his margarita flying. Omega is in the pool now, waist-deep in the water, and then he shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Dew.” His voice is low, lower than what Terzo was expecting, but it is smooth and beautiful, and Terzo has to press his lips together to suppress a smile. He must be calling someone’s name for another ghoul appears, popping out from behind a few sun-loungers, a speaker in hand. The ghoul, Dew, looks very pleased with himself as he struts towards the pool before placing the speaker down a few paces away.

“Aerobics,” he shouts before bending down and pressing play, then the hotel is filled with the sound of It’s A Sin.

Copia sits up at that. He’d been petulantly pretending to sleep so that he didn’t have to talk to anyone, but now he is very much wide awake, and very eager to join in with the athletics in the pool.

Terzo lifts an eyebrow but says nothing, and Copia pays him no mind anyway, dumping his hat on his chair before climbing in the pool.

It seems Omega is the one to lead the aerobics whilst Dew sits in the tower, and Terzo uses the time wisely to watch the lifeguard closely. He moves effortlessly, his big, strong muscles flexing as he holds his arms out, bobbing them to the beat, counting loudly for those that are struggling to keep time.

Terzo thinks maybe he should join in, but watching the embarrassment he calls his brother, he realises that he would just make himself look like an idiot because he really is not very agile, and besides, his back, now very much bruised, still hurts. So he resigns himself to just laying back and watching as Omega twists in the water, calling out instructions, and not laughing at Copia who is struggling to keep up.

Then Omega turns slightly, and his eyes land on Terzo.

Terzo is not sure what to do at first, feeling very much like he’s got his hand caught in the cookie jar, and he knows that he can’t just flick his attention back down to his book because then it would become very obvious that, yes, he was indeed shamelessly gawking at him. He feels his cheeks flush and becomes very aware that his swept away bangs are now falling back in his face again, but Omega simply smiles at him, keeping his eyes locked on Terzo. Terzo wants to do something, wants to introduce himself and tell the ghoul how good he looks in the water, wants to actually speak to him and not just eyefuck him from afar, but he knows right now isn’t the right time when Omega is still leading the class.

But mostly, it doesn’t matter.

Terzo is a coward, he always has been for the things he truly wants. It’s the whole reason why he has never been in a proper relationship. He loves spending time with people and taking them to bed, but it’s because it makes him feel better. To be wanted and needed sometimes, even when it’s superficial, is nice, but Terzo doesn’t want sex in the same way he wants Omega. Sex, for him, is mostly for that momentary enjoyment, but he’s more than happy to kick people out of bed after because he knows they will not stay anyway. The only relationship he’s ever had was with Alpha but he wouldn’t really call that a relationship either. But Omega intrigues him. He finds he does not want to simply drag him to bed, he wants to sit down next to him and feel his hand in his own. He wants to know about his worst fears, and wants to find a quietude between them where Terzo will find himself wanting more, but not just sex. He knows he is just dreaming, but eventually he wrenches his eyes away from Omega’s, turning back to his book he can hardly read under the harsh sunlight.

Eventually, the music turns off, and Terzo looks up in time to see Copia fall back onto his sun-lounger, out of breath and sweating.

“Oh my god. That’s so much more work than riding a tricycle.”

Terzo smiles, grabbing his cocktail as he watches Copia wipe the excess water from his arms. “You’re like 50 going on 10”

Copia scowls. “I’m 48.”

“Still too old to ride a tricycle.”

Terzo hopes their earlier disagreement has blown over, and it seems that exercising has brightened Copia up a little, for he grabs a new juice box and gives him a look in mock anger.

“I don’t think you’re one to talk,” he replies, taking a sip of his juice obnoxiously loud.

Terzo lifts an eyebrow, lips twisting upwards. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Copia doesn’t answer him, instead grabbing his headphones and slipping them on, drowning out anything more Terzo was going to say.

Terzo chuckles to himself, turning to his older brother who’s sprawled out on his front, snoring maybe a bit too loudly. The skin of his back is a light shade of pink, and Terzo throws a towel over him to shelter him from any further sunburn. He knows Secondo is going to be complaining about that. In fact, he can feel his own cheeks burning slightly.

He turns back to his book, flitting his eyes up now and again to see what the lifeguard is doing. Omega seems to have gone back to his tower, and the other ghoul is nowhere to be found. Terzo thinks, briefly, maybe this is a good time to go and speak to him. It seems to be quiet, most of the guests already filtering inside to get ready for dinner, which means Omega won’t have to stay so on guard.

He ponders over it for a moment but realises he needs a boost. This is usually something he is very good at, and he knows if he gets up now he could saunter his way over there and probably talk Omega off of that tower. But an obscure silence wraps around his throat, presses its fingers into his windpipe, and he knows he needs a little reassurance for this. This is not his usual affair; he is not normally this infatuated with someone. He never hangs around long enough to catch these types of feelings, so he turns to his brother, nudging Copia in the thigh.

“Copia,” he says quietly, poking at his thigh again, but either Copia is ignoring him or is asleep already. Terzo lets out a quiet huff, pressing Copia’s phone to stop the music, only to realise his brother is listening to the West Side Story soundtrack and he’s got it so low that he would be able to hear Terzo if he was listening. Which evidently he is not, and most probably it is because he has fallen asleep already.

“Hi.”

Terzo pauses, his hands ready to shake Copia awake, and instead his head whips up to find the dreamy lifeguard stood at the end of his lounger. Omega’s smile is small, unsure, his tusks poking out, and now that he is so close, Terzo can make out the small purple horns poking out of his white hair.

Terzo pulls his hands away from his brother, shifting slightly to face Omega.

“Hey,” he replies, his voice wavering slightly, and he curses his nervousness, the awful way in which his chest twists with mild panic.

“I’m not supposed to be doing this,” Omega says, glancing around, “but I was wondering if you wanted to get a drink with me sometime?”

Terzo can’t quite understand what he’s hearing. This lifeguard, this hunky, beautiful, wet dream of a ghoul, wants to go out with him? Terzo swallows, his mouth suddenly dry, and he watches the way Omega’s damp hair curves across his face. All of his suave attitude seems to have sunk like it has jumped off of the diving board, and he finds himself lost for words, feeling utterly ashamed that he feels so caught off guard. Because he was meant to make the first move. He was meant to walk over to the lifeguard tower, trip over the wet tiles and land in Omega’s arms, just like he had been dreaming about all afternoon. If things went south, Omega could have simply pushed him into the pool and he would have willingly drowned, or things could have gone right and Terzo could have whisked the ghoul upstairs for a night he wouldn’t forget any time soon.

But now the ball is in his court, not Omega’s.

“I’m sorry,” Omega says, flustered now, “I shouldn’t have said that. Please ignore me. I’m not very good at-”

“No,” Terzo interrupts, pulls his lips up into what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “I’d like that.”

Omega stops rambling, a small blush to his cheeks appearing when he absorbs Terzo’s words, and he ducks his head adorably.

“I’m Terzo,” Terzo says, rounding his name with more firmness than his earlier words had held. He still can feel the burning embarrassment over his meek greeting, and hopes Omega does not think of him as some lovesick, nervous fool who has been inconspicuously staring at him for two days. He would usually give his hand to shake, but finds the gesture too awkward, so he keeps his hands limply in his lap.

“Omega,” the ghoul replies, smiling widely. He opens his mouth to say something more when there is a dull thud from behind them, and the lifeguard whips around to see someone on their back, having obviously slipped on the tiles. Omega does not give Terzo a second glance before he quickly hurries towards the young woman, kneeling down next to her as he checks her for injuries.

It’s just Terzo’s luck that right when things are going his way, someone else has to make it all about them. He stares daggers at the young woman, watching as she sits up, her hands all over Omega’s arms.

“Did you just get hit on?”

Terzo glances over his shoulder with a dull glance. “I thought you were supposed to be asleep.”

“No, I was just ignoring you,” Copia says, stretching before getting to his feet. “I can’t believe you didn’t make the first move. Are you feeling okay?”

“Fuck off,” Terzo grumbles, “I was getting there.”

“Did you forget how to talk to a guy or what?”

“I’ll throttle you,” Terzo hisses, and Copia, infuriatingly, laughs.

“Terzo, don’t kill your brother,” Secondo mumbles from beside them, finally getting up. “And Copia, shut the fuck up.”

***

He looks out for Omega at dinner.

He sits facing the buffet, absent-mindedly picking at his food as he looks for the lifeguard. He wants to see him, wants to take him to the bar, wants to hear him talk for hours. But he sits there for a good hour and there is no sign of the ghoul. He supposes the staff must eat separately, but it makes his heart ache that he could be spending time with the lifeguard right now if it wasn’t for that hussy falling over so that she could stick her hands all over him. Sure, you can say he’s bitter, but where’s the fun in being nice?

He pushes the mash around on his plate for half an hour before Primo finally turns up, his nose sunburnt and a bag over his shoulder, straight off the bus.

“Well, you all look to be in a good mood,” he says as he sits down, frowning at the three of them.

Terzo glances over at his two other brothers, finds them deep in thought too. He guesses Copia must still be upset over Perpetua, as he always is when his twin is involved, but Terzo doesn’t know why Secondo looks upset. He thinks it’s probably to do with his wife after the comment he made earlier.

“Did you have fun?” Copia asks, though he’s not as jovial as he normally is.

"Sì,” Primo says, “there was a lovely market on, and I was going to get you all something but I knew you wouldn’t appreciate it.” He pulls his bag onto his lap. “But I did take some photos.”

“Can I see?” Copia asks, perking up a bit now, but Primo shakes his head.

“I took them on a disposable camera.”

“Where did you get that? The ark?” Secondo balks, and Primo shoots a glare at him.

“Sei un coglione. Just because I like old things does not mean I am old. I just like being able to print them when we get home.”

“Whatever,” Secondo says, standing up abruptly. “I’m going upstairs.”

He storms off, leaving his dirty plate on the table, and the brothers watch him go, confused.

“What’s up with him?” Primo asks, but Terzo just shrugs, looking back down at his plate.

“And, what’s up with you?” Primo says, turning to him now.

And what is up with him? He had a handsome lifeguard ask him out, and here he is wallowing in the dining hall. He thinks maybe it is because he has been lonely for so long that he forgot what it’s like to be wanted, to be courted.

He has forgotten how to live.

He has spent the last few years drifting between work, Alpha, and alcohol that he had not realised he is so alone. Up to this point, these past few days, he has not stood back from his life long enough to push past the dark thoughts and instead find the want that sits underneath, heartbroken and bleeding. He knows he is more than this, this pitiable thing that drags its feet through life. And he wants Omega to see that, someone he doesn’t even know.

And that scares him. An uneasy feeling flies through him, makes him feel stupid and anxious, and he finds he does not feel okay. Maybe he should not have come on this holiday.

But he can’t possibly say this to Primo, so instead he sighs, slumping back in his chair. “I’m a spinster.”

“I think you mean bachelor,” Copia mumbles from beside him.

Primo just gives a small smile, head tilting slightly. “Met someone?”

Terzo decides not to answer that, and instead he grabs Secondo’s plate and his own before going about putting them away. He does not look back at his brother’s until they are back in their rooms, and Terzo promptly shuts himself in the bathroom, a mirror of himself from yesterday.

He heaves in a deep breath, tries to quell the panic gutting him. He can’t let this get to him. He does not understand. He had a good day. There’s a very nice man wanting to take him out for a drink, and he had basked in the sun with a good book and a cocktail.

But then he thinks back to reality, back home, and wants to strangle that part of himself until it falls away and dies. He wants to jump into the now, be someone new, where he can speak and charm and fuck and drink and do everything he knows he would usually do but without a chunk missing from his ego. He wants to be someone else, someone likeable and not exhausting; and that hurts more than anything else, to know he would wish his life away if he could. But he wants to enjoy it. He knows this. He wants and wants and wants.

He rubs a hand on his face, depositing himself on the closed toilet lid, head hanging between his legs lest he makes a fool of himself and passes out. There is no lifeguard up here to fall into their arms.

He feels his jaw judder and his nose hurts and his head still aches from the awful hangover from hell he had yesterday. He wants to sleep and pretend everything is okay. He is okay. Isn’t he?

He brushes the wetness from his cheeks and pushes back his stray bangs, punching out a breath deep from his lungs. He needs to get a grip. He knows this, but his leg is bouncing slightly and he finds he cannot suit himself in enough armour to pretend he is not bleeding. But he can pretend, at least for the rest of the holiday. At least for his brothers. He does not want them having to tow around a lost cause because he has drowned himself at the hotel bar. No, he will not give them a reason to pity him; at least any more than they usually do.

He thinks of Omega, of the cute smile he had given when Terzo had agreed to meet him. Terzo hopes that agreement is still on. That makes him smile, and he sniffs, sitting back against the toilet.

When he finally emerges from the bathroom, he can hear the tv, and he finds Copia and Primo sitting on each bed, intently watching whatever is playing.

“Nice of you to join us,” Primo says, and he shuffles up Terzo’s bed slightly, making room for him. Terzo has to swallow away his feelings, instead thankful that Primo seems to have sensed he does not want to sit alone, and who best to sit with than your big brother?

Primo, being fifteen years older, has always looked after them, even when they were small, but especially Terzo and Secondo. They had no mother, and even when Imperator came into the picture she made it clear she did not like them, and Nihil was not exactly the father of the year, mostly being absent and not caring when he was there. But Primo fathered them; played with them when they were small, went to their school performances, broke up arguments, stopped them from playing awful pranks on Imperator (most of the time), and helped them get on with their youngest brothers when Terzo was not sure he ever would.

Primo has seen him at some of the worst moments of his life. There are times that Terzo will not mention to anybody, and Primo had picked him up time after time and put him back together.

He gets on the bed, sitting back next to Primo, turning to see what they are watching. It’s Titanic. Terzo rolls his eyes.

“Really?” he says, ignoring the quiver to his voice. “Where’s Secondo?”

“He’s occupying the room,” Primo says, eyes glued to the tv.

“He’s sleeping with someone?”

“No,” Primo replies, glancing at him, “I’m pretty sure he’s on Facetime.

”“That’s disgusting.”

“Not like that, stronzo,” Primo says, “I think he’s having an argument.”

So whatever was bugging Secondo was more than likely to do with his wife.

“Will you two be quiet?” Copia huffs, “I’m trying to watch the film.”

Terzo still can’t believe they’re watching the Titanic. He loves romantic books, but he does not like chick flicks.

“What are we? Teenagers?” he grumbles, knowing that he is spoiling the fun, but he is in a pissy mood. “What do you want to do next? A pillow fight?”

“No, you used to always use that as an excuse to smother me,” Copia shoots back.

“Well, you’re annoying.”

“Well, at least I don’t wear women’s underwear.”

Terzo gasps, offended. “They were men’s,” he replies with a glare, ignoring the sideways glance from Primo. “Women’s do not have enough fabric, and it gets a bit fiddly to fit-”

“La la la la,” Copia cries, hands over his ears, and Terzo laughs, really laughs.

Primo throws a pillow at Copia to shut him up. “Will you two be quiet? It’s getting to the best part.”

Terzo glances at the screen. “Yes, because it is so fun watching thousands of people die.”

Copia throws the pillow at him now, and he laughs, resting back against the headboard.

He’ll be okay. As long as his brothers are around, he is not alone, not really. Even when he feels like it.

He watches the film and pretends he does not feel so dull.

Chapter Text

He awakes to the sound of his phone buzzing.

The world comes to him in a smattering of dazed lights as he blinks his eyes open, his cheek pushed tightly into his pillow. The sound of snoring reverberates through the room, and Terzo tilts his chin to see his brother still fast asleep, the covers pulled up so high Terzo can hardly see his face.

He yawns, wonders if maybe he should fall back to sleep, but his mouth feels dry and his body is still buzzing with anxiety. He had hardly slept. As soon as Primo had left, he had gotten straight into bed and tried to ignore the light from Copia’s phone as he had tried to fall asleep. And he had, eventually, but it was fitful and he remembers waking up multiple times to the sweat dripping in his eyes and his heart beating so hard he can feel it in his wrists. He sighs, reluctantly sitting up as he grabs his phone off the side table.

It is seven thirty, and he has three missed calls and four messages from his father. He doesn’t even bother answering; he doesn’t even look at the messages because he knows it won’t be anything important. Instead, he gets out of bed, quiet not to wake Copia, and locks himself in the bathroom.

Letting out a deep breath, he deposits himself down on the toilet seat, pulling up his call list. He needs to hear a familiar voice. He needs to be told to get ahold of himself before the anxiety crawls further up his throat and decides he will be spending the day curled around the toilet.

He dials the first number he has that isn’t his brothers, and fits his nail between his teeth whilst he waits for him to pick up. It is too early, he supposes, so he can’t exactly expect Alpha to pick up, but he also knows Alpha is always up this early because he goes to work at half eight.

“Hello?”

Terzo suppresses a smile and holds the phone closer to his ear. “Hey, sorry it’s so early.”

“What’s wrong?” comes Alpha’s immediate reply, and Terzo tries not to be too annoyed by that.

“Why do you always assume something’s wrong?” he says, sitting back against the toilet. “You have no faith in me.”

A long silence stretches between them, and a bout of anger, or maybe frustration, has his mouth moving before he can clamp his tongue. “You know, if you’re going to say you don’t trust me, or that I’m hopeless, just say it.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Alpha replies. Then, “I was thinking you're an idiot.”

Terzo huffs a laugh, rubbing at his forehead. The sudden need to snap falls away, and he is left feeling dumb and very aware of his bare feet against the cold tiles. He should apologise for getting testy, but he knows Alpha knows him too well.

“I’m fine,” Terzo says, though he’s not sure who he’s reassuring. “I just- oh god this is going to sound stupid,” he says, pinching at his nose, “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay,” Alpha says, and Terzo can almost see him nodding his head. “I’m already ready for work so I can talk.”

Terzo nods, his breath stuttering slightly, thankful for his best friend, and he says “It’s hard, out here. I miss my own bed.”

“I’m sure those beds must be better than your own,” Alpha replies.

“They are not,” Terzo says firmly, “you know how comfortable my bed is.”

“It is a very comfy bed,” Alpha agrees, “In fact it probably misses me.”

Terzo scoffs. “You wish,” he says with a small laugh. “Anways, I’ve been asked on a date.”

“Oh?”

“A very nice lifeguard,” he says, maybe a bit too dreamily. “He wants to have a drink with me.”

“How come you didn’t ask him first?”

“You know, you’re not the first to say that. I was thinking about it.” He sighs, picks at his nails, feeling the fizziness in his chest start to settle. “I don’t know. This one feels different.”

“How so?”

“I have no idea,” he lies, because he does very much have a good idea, but that would mean talking about his feelings, and he really does not want to do that; at least not so early and when he’s in a completely different country to his best friend.

“Well, I have news,” Alpha says, a nice distraction.

“What?”

“I’ve been promoted.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah. They’ve made me site manager.”

“That’s great. We should celebrate when I get back.” He knows how much this must mean to Alpha. He’s been in the same carpentry job for the past ten years, and he has proved time and time again that he is more than capable of doing everyone’s jobs for them, they just kept pushing back a promotion for god knows why. Terzo is happy for him.

“I’d like that,” Alpha replies, a grin to his voice. “Just please take care of yourself.”

Terzo tries not to bristle at that. He spends a moment counting his fingers, crimping his toes into the floor, then he says, “I should go.”

Alpha is quiet for a long moment before there is a long drawn out sigh. “You frustrate me sometimes.”

“I’m fine, okay?” Terzo says, exasperated. “My brothers are here. It’s warm and sunny. There’s enough booze to keep me going for a week and more.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“Oh, don’t start with me,” Terzo hisses. “You cannot reprimand me when you are not even here. I don’t need it.”

“Just call me, okay? Let me know how you’re getting on,” Alpha replies, strained. “And take your medication.”

That is actually a good idea but Terzo is too annoyed to tell him as such. He hates to think that not even his best friend trusts him to look after himself. He is a grown man. Hell, he’s nearly sixty.

His phone buzzes against his ear and he sighs. “My dad keeps texting me.”

“What for?”

“I’m avoiding him.”

“I don’t blame you,” Alpha says. “Just get one of your brothers to talk to him. He probably wants something stupid.”

“Yeah,” Terzo says, rubbing at his sore nose. “I hate rooming with Copia.”

“Well, he probably hates rooming with you,” Alpha replies. Then, “Though he’ll probably take you over Perpetua any day. "

“Oh, don’t get me started,” Terzo huffs, exasperated. He cannot deal with any more twin drama.

Alpha cackles, and Terzo can’t help but laugh too. Alpha had not been there the night of the party, the night Copia and Perpetua had decided to speak to each other as little as possible, but he sure as hell knows everything about it after hearing it both from Terzo and Copia countless times.

“I’m gonna go,” Terzo says after a moment. “I know how sacred your time before work is.”

“I can stay,” Alpha says, though Terzo knows he does not mean it.

“No, it’s fine. I should probably start getting ready for breakfast anyway.”

“Okay,” Alpha says. “Keep in touch.”

After exchanging goodbyes, Terzo finally hangs up. He feels a little bit lighter than he did before he got up, but he knows the only way he is going to get through the day is by taking his medication.

He quietly unlocks the door, finds Copia sat up in bed, frowning down at his phone.

“Morning,” Terzo says around a yawn, but Copia doesn’t look up at him.

“Dad’s been texting me,” Copia says after a moment.

“Me too,” Terzo says, dropping down onto his bed. “What’s he want?”

Copia gives him a small look of disapproval before looking back down at his phone. “He’s wondering where we are.”

“Did no one tell him?”

“Well, I told mother,” Copia says, and Terzo has to try and not roll his eyes at the formality Copia holds for his own mother. Imperator really is a bitch, even to the children she likes.

“So you didn’t tell dad?”

“Well, I kind of presumed one of you would,” Copia replies, looking up at Terzo. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Don’t tell me they’re fighting again.” It had always been a common occurrence growing up that their dad and Imperator would fall out, living separately for a while. Imperator never gave up her flat when she moved in with them so she always had somewhere to go when she had enough of Nihil. Terzo can’t say he blames her for that because his dad is an idiot, but he still can’t believe she keeps going back to him.

“No, I don’t think so,” Copia says, a flash of pain casting over his face. “When I went home last time he was out playing bridge.”

“Isn’t that an old lady game?”

“He’s like ninety,” Copia says, “any game he plays is an old lady game.”

“Are you gonna answer him?”

“Well, I know none of you are going to,” Copia sighs, tapping at his phone.

“Are you going to ask about whatever Perpetua was on about?” Terzo asks, holding in a smile when Copia gives him a small glare.

“He doesn’t get to tell me what to do.”

“He’s not,” Terzo says, wary he’s walking into no man’s land. “He’s probably got some news and told dad first.”

“Why are you taking his side?”

“I think you need to get over yourself,” Terzo says, yawning into the back of his hand, ignoring the way Copia snapped at him. “It’s been, what? Twenty five years? Everything worked out in the end.”

“Speak for yourself,” Copia grumbles, his typing now a bit more aggressive. “If everything worked out then he would’ve apologised a long time ago.”

Terzo doesn’t have an answer for that. He guesses Perpetua has never apologised because he was hurt too, whether that was Copia’s fault or not is debatable, but Terzo cannot understand how they are both now grown adults and still can’t have a civil conversation. He could never imagine falling out with his brothers like that. Even though they annoy him, and he’s not always got on with them, he could never just cut them out of his life like that. It seems insane to him, but he remembers Copia’s face at the party all those years ago and wonders if that sense of betrayal still lingers to this day. It must do, for Copia to be so bitter.

“How many times has dad called you?” Terzo says, changing the subject.

Copia’s still frowning when he looks up. “He hasn’t called me.”

“He called me three times,” Terzo says, frowning back at him.

“He probably thinks you’ve been arrested again.”

Terzo blanches, appalled, and shoots his brother a glare, not believing he gave such a low blow. “I’m ten years sober from being arrested.”

Copia lets out a bark of laughter. “I don’t think that’s something to be proud of.”

Terzo is, in fact, proud, because every fight he’s gotten into he’s won, except for one and he’d rather not think about it because it hurts his ego. And he is still a gentleman; he never threw the first punch, he just has a habit of pissing people off. No one ever pressed charges luckily and it’s not like he really hurt anyone, he just cannot deal with people who are rude when he is drunk. Sober him can make them regret it with a few choice words, but he can be a handful when he’s drunk, truly drunk. Especially when he’s with Alpha. Or he can, of course, become a complete mess which has become more of a common occurrence as he’s gotten older, hence nearly sobbing in the middle of the airport.

“Of course it is,” Terzo says with a shrug. “It means I’ve got more life experience than you.”

“Well I could probably live my whole life without punching someone,” Copia says. Then, “except Perpetua.”

That finally pulls a laugh from Terzo and he moves to grab his clothes for the day and, listening to Alpha’s advice, his medication from the carry-on bag.

***

He doesn’t go to breakfast. He leaves Copia in the room to finish getting ready and instead heads straight out to the pool with two towels, luckily finding two loungers together. He debates for a moment on whether to just get the one chair for himself and tell his brothers to fuck off and find their own, but he also knows Copia is in a mood and probably could do with his older brother looking out for him.

So he puts the spare towel on the other chair before settling himself back on his own, pulling a book out of his pool bag as he observes the pool and the lifeguard tower.

The lifeguard tower that is empty.

Terzo curiously looks out over the pool but finds no yellow polo shirt, and for a moment he wonders if maybe Omega doesn’t work this early. But he knows the pool is open so there must be someone on duty. He pulls the bookmark from his book and drops his gaze down, leaning back against the chair as he starts a new chapter.

He itches for a smoke. Breaking his sober streak by taking a puff of Secondo’s cigar is now finally biting him in the arse, because now he feels the uncomfortable need to feel smoke in his lungs and he also feels guilty for putting all his hard work to waste. He knows Alpha is going to be mad when he finds out. He was the one that stuck by Terzo when he had first quit, and to say he was annoying would be an understatement. He lets out a deep breath, trying to take his mind of the craving, and instead turns his attentions back upwards.

There’s someone in the tower but it is not Omega. It is the ghoul from yesterday, Terzo thinks his name is Dew. He’s slouched to one side, legs swinging in tandem as he watches the water, even though there is only one person in the pool. Terzo feels disappointment seep through his body, and then he feels stupid for getting upset that Omega isn’t there. He wonders where he is, if maybe he works a later shift, if maybe he works somewhere else too. They have hardly even spoken, so Terzo shouldn’t feel so possessive at the thought that this hotel isn’t the only one he works at, that maybe he spends time with other people. It is an ugly thought but Terzo can’t help it. Sometimes its hard when things don’t live up to his imagination.

He decides to occupy himself instead of dwelling on it, and bookmarks his book again before putting some sun cream on, wiping it up his arms and over his chest.

“Do you need some help with that?”

Terzo pauses, glancing around until he sees a woman a few loungers away, smiling at him sweetly. She’s beautiful, her dark black hair sweeping over her shoulders, her frame curved gorgeously in a swimsuit that plunges down the middle. When he doesn’t answer, she leans a little forwards, elbows on her knees.

“I can do your back?”

She seems a little too forward but usually that’s his kind of woman. He loves it when they get straight to the point, he loves it when they cannot hide their infatuation. Maybe that’s why he likes Omega too; he wasted no time asking him out. But he’s not in the mood. Even if it does sound nice to have his back rubbed by a pretty lady, he just feels like he wouldn’t be into it when he knows he wants nothing more to come of it.

She bats her eyelashes at him, and he gives a small smile, a half laugh tumbling from his mouth.

“Thank you for the offer,” he says kindly. “It’s not every day I have a pretty woman begging to get her hands on me.”

She cackles, her head falling back slightly. His hands shake.

He looks down at the sun cream on his arm and finishes rubbing it in, only when he looks up, the woman is now stood over him, wiping the hair from her face delicately.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” she says.

“No,” Terzo replies, swallowing thickly. He does not want to lead this woman on but she’s making it awfully hard for him to shoo her away and say he’s not interested.

“Would you like to go to the dining hall with me?” she asks, tilting her head.

He gives a smile he hopes she thinks is genuine and says “I’m sorry. I’m still recovering from the plane. I couldn’t stomach a thing.”

Her smile drops though she waits for a minute as if expecting him to tell her he’s kidding.

“Maybe some other time then, hm?” she says, though she sounds rather indignant now, obviously put out over being rejected. And he cannot blame her.

She leaves, stalking inside, and he leans back in his chair in an even fouler mood than he was before. His medication has not kicked in yet, evidently so by the rabbiting of his heart in his ears. He sighs to himself, sliding his sunglasses over his face, and closes his eyes.

“Are you purposely ignoring dad or should I tell him you’re too busy watching the pretty women?”

Terzo startles out of his half-asleep daze, scowling at his older brother who’s appeared in front of him.

“I was asleep,” he says, snappy, and Primo laughs, sitting down on the lounger next to him. “And that lounger was for Copia.”

“Oh, so you have a favourite brother now?”

“No, I just wanted to try and get him out of the funk he’s been in since Perpetua texted him.”

“Hm,” Primo says, leaning forwards, facing Terzo. “So why are you sulking?”

Terzo glares at him. “I am not sulking.”

“No, I know you well enough to know you’re sulking,” Primo says. “Don’t lie to me, fratellino.”

“This holiday was for relaxing, wasn’t it? Stop nagging me, old man,” Terzo complains, rubbing at his forehead.

“Whoa, what did we just walk into?”

Terzo looks up to see Copia and Secondo stood at the end of the loungers, their expressions confused.

“This stronzo here seems to be having a pity party and I want to find out why,” Primo says, and Terzo rolls his eyes.

Copia frowns before abruptly turning towards the Omega-less lifeguard tower in the most obvious way possible, evidently seeing there is no Omega, then he turns back again, opening his mouth to tell everyone and their mother’s that Terzo has a crush on the hunky lifeguard and that he is, in fact, sulking because said hunky lifeguard isn’t there.

Terzo sends him a pleading look, something he is not very proud of, but he could really use not being teased about this. It’s already bad enough that Copia knows. Copia must take pity on him, for he closes his mouth and stays silent.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be coddled by an old man,” Secondo grunts as he looks around. Then, “where’s my lounger?”

“Terzo doesn’t care about us two,” Primo says, standing up with a creak of his knees. “He only got two for himself and Copia.”

“Well, at least I know one brother cares about me,” Copia grumbles, pushing past Primo to sit on the lounger.

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Primo sighs. “If I knew you all were going to spend the holiday in a bad mood I would’ve come by myself.”

Copia just sticks his tongue out at him and Terzo can only laugh as Primo narrows his eyes at the youngest.

“Me and Primo are going to sit somewhere with a better view of the ladies anyway,” Secondo says, glancing around.

Copia draws in a breath, aghast. “You have a wife,” he accuses.

“Yeah, and she’s not here,” Secondo shoots back. That does not surprise Terzo. As far as he is aware his brother has only had one affair and that was years ago, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t look around. He does not deserve his wife, but if Terzo brings it up he’ll just have his head bitten off.

“Whatever,” Terzo says, swinging his legs over the side. “I’m getting a drink.”

“It’s eleven o’clock,” Primo replies.

“Did I say it was gonna be alcohol?” he says, annoyed, before standing, putting his abandoned book on the chair.

“Oh, get me a juice box,” Copia asks, or rather demands, and Terzo lets out a breath through his nose, wincing at the bruise on his back as he goes to walk away.

He does get a cocktail because he could care less what his brother’s think, and then he gets Copia an apple juice before trudging back to his chair. He feels a bit more relaxed now, thanks to his medication, and he hopes that he can put all his anxiety behind him. He wants to be able to enjoy this holiday properly.

The day goes by quickly, but there is no sign of Omega, even when Terzo purposely looks out for him. It seems the ghoul is not working today, much to Terzo’s disappointment, but if Copia notices he doesn’t say anything. His dad doesn’t message him again, and he hopes whatever Copia said to him means he will leave him alone.

He goes for a dip in the pool when the sun is at its highest, swimming wide laps, the feeling of the water on his hot skin almost too good, though he abandons his efforts after a while when more people get in and he can do nothing more than paddle in the same spot.

Even though Omega does not appear, Terzo seems to be in pretty good spirits. He stretches his sore back out on the lounger and drinks a few cocktails. Copia must be in a better mood too because he starts to yap Terzo’s ear off again about a new tv show he is watching and that he is thinking about getting another rat and oh he hopes Cumulus is checking on the rats like he asked and that he doesn’t want to open his emails because he knows his work will be begging for his input on something and he does not want to work on holiday.

Terzo listens along, glad for the distraction, and he thinks about how this holiday is the first time in years he has spent time with all of his brothers (bar one) and no one has, so far, caused any arguments. In fact, being such a recluse, Terzo doesn’t see much of his brothers at all. He still calls them and texts them but they all lead separate lives, and anyway why would they want to hang with him? He is the least interesting of the siblings; he does not resent any of them for not wanting to spend time with him. He hates spending time with himself so he can hardly blame anyone else for feeling the same. As his thoughts darken, he grabs his margarita and thinks about calling Alpha again. But Alpha is at work until six. And he doesn’t need Terzo badgering him when they’re in two different countries.

“I’m thinking about doing another PHD,” Copia says, sipping loudly on his juice box. “Maybe this time I’ll get into Bologna like I was supposed to.”

Terzo chokes on his drink, spluttering like an idiot. “You could have gotten in last time. You should’ve just reapplied.”

“After what he did to me?” Copia replies, obviously referencing his twin.

Terzo decides to ignore that. “Isn’t one PHD enough? I don’t think I’ve ever worked harder than when I got mine.”

“I have a different research aim,” Copia explains. “You wouldn’t understand. I wish one of you had taken a STEM subject so I could talk to you about it.”

“You know, you can be so snobby,” Terzo says, leaning back in his chair, crossing his ankles. “Next thing you’re going to tell me that psychology isn’t a real science.”

“It isn’t.”

“I think psychologists would beg to differ,” Terzo replies. Then, “So you’re getting another rat?”

“Sì, another rescue.”

“How many will that be?”

“Six.”

“And you think you’ll be able to take care of six rats and do a PHD?”

“They’re rats, not children,” Copia says, frowning. “Stop trying to talk me out of it.”

“I’m not,” Terzo replies, looking around to see his other brothers. Secondo is in the pool, chatting to a lady, and Primo is snoring so loud Terzo can hear it from here. “I just think it’s a big decision. You already were pretty young when you got your first one. Aren’t you just happy that you have a job you’ve always wanted?”

“Of course I am,” Copia says, “but I have another thesis planned. I spoke to Enzo about it. And it won’t be until next year anyway.”

Terzo had only met Enzo briefly a few years ago, and all he knows is that he’s Copia’s co-worker and he has been for the last five years. As far as he knows, they get on well together.

Terzo sips at his margarita again and says, “I’m thinking about getting a dog.”

“A dog?” Copia questions. “I thought you liked cats more.”

That was mostly true. Growing up, Primo had a little grey and white cat called Belial that Terzo nicknamed Bee, and it used to come to his room and sleep with him at night, much to Primo’s dismay. But eventually Primo had moved out, and taken the cat with him, and Terzo always said to himself that he would get his own cat one day. He had never known anyone with dogs, and couldn’t care less about them, until a few weeks ago. Another professor had brought in their dog, a little collie named Pickles, and he had fallen in love with him the moment they met.

“I don’t know. I think it will be nice. I’ll get to go out on nice walks and it will give me something to focus on.”

“They’re a lot of work,” Copia says, “you’ve got to put in the training or they’ll piss all over your carpet.”

“You really know how to spoil things, huh?”

“I’m just saying,” Copia stresses, “it’s a big responsibility.”

“Like taking on another rat?”

“They need me, Terzo. They’re the sweetest creatures and get treated like shit.”

Terzo finishes his drink, feels eyes on him. He wants to turn around but fears that would be too obvious.

“I know,” he says, “You make a good rat dad.”

Copia beams.

***

It’s only when they go to the dining hall for dinner that he realises who has been staring at him.

It is the woman from this morning, dressed now in a long turquoise gown that seems a little too elegant for this kind of resort. She keeps glancing over at him every now and then, but he decides to ignore it. She must want him to go over there and talk to her, but he doesn’t want to, and doesn’t want to feel obligated to speak to her either. At home, he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to entertain her, but here he does not feel himself.

The four brothers find a table, luckily quite far from the woman, and Terzo hopes to finally eat something nice after skipping lunch and breakfast and only eating a few churros Secondo and Primo had gotten him when they went to the snack bar.

“It smells like pizza,” Copia says, and Secondo scoffs.

“It always smells like pizza in here,” he says. “It’s like school all over again.”

“Oh, stop complaining,” Primo says, before gesturing to Terzo and Copia. “You two go and get your food and we’ll wait at the table.”

“Okie dokie,” Copia says before getting up, eagerly moving towards the buffet. Terzo stands, hoping he does not run into the woman who’s been trying to get his attention, and quickly follows Copia, grabbing a tray from the side.

The food looks good, and his stomach is grumbling as he observes the buffet. There is pizza, as Copia suggested, and thankfully with no meat on. He grabs a few slices before following Copia as he takes more food. A commotion to his left has him turning slightly, tray still in hand, and sees a few yellow polo shirts. It seems a few of the staff know someone because they are hugging a couple, and just as Terzo turns away again to get more food, he sees exactly who he has been missing all day.

Omega.

The ghoul towers over the others, his mouth spread in a big grin as he shakes the hand of one of the guys. Terzo keeps his eyes on him, walking forwards so he doesn’t hold up the line, and Omega catches his eye after a minute, giving a small smile and a wave.

Terzo goes to wave back, but he does not stop moving down the line, and mistakenly, his strides are too big and with a thwack, he walks straight into Copia. His tray goes flying, his food falling everywhere, and he lands back on his butt with a dull thud.

Slightly dazed, and then embarrassed, he looks up to see Copia’s horrified face looking down at him. A strike of pain fizzles up his spine, and his cheeks burn as he realises the whole room has gone quiet. Well, he always knows how to make a fool of himself. Several hands reach down to help him up but he bats them away, managing to get to his feet himself, even though the pain in his back is immense. He swears under his breath, mortified, and glances at his brothers across the room to see them stifling giggles into the back of their hands.

“Terzo-”

Terzo doesn’t stick around to hear what Copia says.

He flees, as quick as his old legs will take him, heading straight for the lift. He knows people are staring at him, he knows they are looking looking look at him

He jams the button of the elevator over and over again before it finally dings open, his breathing coming in fast, so fast he can't keep up with it. He hiccups as he steps into the empty lift, pressing the button to his floor before he falls back against the wall, trying not to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror as his ears ring. His hand white knuckles the railing, and he knows logically what he should do in this situation, he has been here many times, but still, his mind fails him, and he becomes swamped in panic and he can still see everyone’s faces, can hear their laughter, their whisperings. They’re mocking him, he can hear them, talking about him as if he hasn’t realised that he looked like an idiot.

He gasps for breath, tries to get his feet under him when his legs shake, and wishes he was home. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to be safe, somewhere no one can see him. He puts a hand to his chest, his vision going fuzzy, and then finally, the doors open.

He stumbles out onto the floor, fumbling for his key card in his back pocket as he slams his hand against the wall, trying to keep himself upright and also find his room. He wheezes, nausea curdling up his throat and he shoves the key card into the lock as soon as he finds his room number, falling into the room before slamming the door behind him.

He bends over, hands on his knees, willing himself not to pass out. He feels stupid, weak, pathetic. He’s got bits of pizza staining his nice pink shirt, and his back hurts like a motherfucker.

He sucks in a deep breath, holding it for a moment before blowing it out shakily. He will not pass out and he will not throw up. He continues that, trying to breathe in and out, enough for him to finally gather his thoughts and realise he feels very overwhelmed and yet still very hungry but also very embarrassed.

He wipes at his eyes, sniffling.

“Get a hold of yourself,” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. He doesn’t know how he’s going to face his brothers now. Especially because he didn’t just laugh it off like he should’ve. He doesn’t bother getting changed, just crawls into bed and tries to ease his away his anxiety.

“What are you doing up here?”

Terzo opens his eyes, tilts his head up to see Copia standing at the end of the bed.

“Nursing my bruised ego,” Terzo mumbles, pulling the covers up higher. He does not want to speak to Copia.

“I brought you food,” Copia says, hopeful.

Terzo guesses he should take the olive branch. There’s no use sulking. He gingerly sits up, hissing as his back twinges.

“Do you think he saw?” he says quietly, watching Copia pick up a plate of food from beside the tv.

“Who? The lifeguard?” Copia asks, handing Terzo a small plate of food. “Yeah, I think everyone saw.”

Terzo sighs, grabbing the plastic fork from Copia.

“Are you okay?” Copia asks after a moment. “It looked like a pretty nasty fall. I heard its bad when old people have falls.”

Terzo gives him a stern look. “I’m not old.”

“Did you hurt your back?”

“Copia-”

“Do you want me to have a look?”

“Cazzo, Copia. No. I’m fine. Stop pestering me.”

Copia gives him a long glance. “If you say so.”

Terzo sighs, choosing his words carefully. “I want to go home,” he says, truthfully.

Copia’s eyebrow pinch and his mouth morphs into a thin line, but he does not reply.

Terzo continues eating in silence, and Copia settles down on his own bed, turning on the tv. Once he’s finished, he puts the empty plate on the side, and swings his legs over the end of the bed.

He needs to walk this off. He knows if he just stays in bed he won’t be able to get out of it in the morning.

“Where are you going?” Copia asks when Terzo stands up, grabbing his shoes. He doesn’t care that there’s pizza sauce down his shirt because he knows it will be quite painful to stand and change it.

“I’m going for a walk,” he says when he’s goes his shoes on. “I won’t be long.”

Copia hums an acknowledgment before Terzo shuts the door and he continues on, a slight limp to his gait, because every time he puts pressure on his left leg, pain shoots up his hip and into his back. He hopes he’s not done any serious damage. He was already hurting before the fall and it only served to make his bruising worse.

He gets the lift down then begins walking through the hotel, trying to stretch his legs as much as he can. If anyone looks at him, he just disregards it. After such a big panic attack earlier, he feels so drained he doesn’t think he could get back into a state unless someone approached him.

He soon finds himself outside, drinking in the fresh air, sucking in breaths like he has been starved of it. He feels a lot more alive than he did earlier. He tries to distract himself, thinks of what he’ll do when he gets home. He’ll probably go and see Alpha first. Then he’ll go to bed and stay there as long as possible.

He sighs, stopping in front of the pool. He supposes a swim would probably help his aching joints. Its so late, there is hardly anyone around, and he wonders if he could just take a quick dip without anyone noticing. He’s still in his swim shorts after all.

After glancing around and deeming it safe, he strips off his shirt and his shoes, and climbs into the water.

It’s blissfully cold, and he sighs, letting his muscles relax as he takes a slow swim. It’s nice and the pain dissipates slightly. He closes his eyes, paddling softly, the water lapping at his skin. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this, be he has always been a rule breaker. And there is no one else around anyway.

He turns onto his back, letting his hair get wet as he swims. He wishes he could swim like this in the day but the pool is always full. Maybe he needs to get up earlier.

He swims for a while before deciding he wants one last dunk. He pulls himself up onto the side before moving to stand by the deep end. This will probably not help his back, but when will he get a chance to do what he wants again.

He takes a deep breath then steps off the ledge, plunging into the cool water. The rush is satisfactory, and quickly he swims to the surface, taking in a deep breath.

Only, his lower half feels a little too cold. He blinks his eyes open only to see his shorts floating on the water’s surface, and to make things worse, he hears a bout of laughter from above him, and looks up to see Secondo and Primo stood on their balcony watching him.

He grumbles under his breath, grabbing his shorts and slipping them on before sitting on the edge of the pool.

That is how he is found later by the only person he wishes it wasn’t.

“Taking a midnight swim?”

Omega is stood over him, towel in hand, and Terzo can hardly look at him.

“I slipped,” he says, keeping his eyes on the water, his bangs dripping in his face.

“With no top on?”

Terzo’s cheeks burn and he says nothing. Suddenly, a towel is placed over his shoulders, and he hears as the ghoul sits next to him.

“This is not how I planned on meeting you again.”

Terzo huffs a laugh. “Me neither. I’m guessing you saw what happened in the dining hall?”

“What, you falling arse over tit in the food queue? No, I didn’t see a thing.”

Terzo covers his face with his hands.

“Hey, don’t get embarrassed,” Omega says, “It happens all the time.”

“Why do I get the impression you’re lying?” Terzo replies, scrubbing a hand over his forehead.

Omega chuckles, a beautiful sound that makes Terzo smile.

“Fine. You got me. But I promise I didn’t laugh.”

Terzo meets his eyes, and Omega smiles wide. He is so beautiful this close, Terzo is in complete awe of him.

“Where have you come from?” Omega asks, tucking the towel tighter around Terzo’s frame when he notices the smaller man dithering. Terzo had hardly noticed he was cold.

“Florence,” Terzo replies, shrugging slightly.

“Oh, I live in Pelago. So, not too far away from you,” Omega replies, tilting his head. “That’s crazy.”

“You don’t live here?”

“No, this is just a summer job. I quit my last job and needed something to do whilst I looked for another one.”

“Hmm,” Terzo says, wiping his wet hair from his face. “Well, you make a very good lifeguard.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Omega replies, his fangs gleaming under the moonlight. “I take my job very seriously, y’know.”

“Oh, and you didn’t just take the job to stare at all the handsome men?”

“Well, I only have eyes for one man,” Omega replies, and Terzo blushes, looking down into his lap.

“I have tomorrow evening off, if you wanted to get that drink?” Omega asks, a slight wariness in his voice like he is expecting Terzo to say no.

Terzo smiles. “I’d like that.”

Omega nods, his grin wide before he gets to his feet, holding his hand out. Terzo takes it gratefully, wincing at the pain in his back.

Omega frowns. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“It’s nothing,” Terzo says quickly, hoping Omega can’t see what he expects to be a giant bruise on his back.

“I can heal it, if you want.”

“You have healing power?”

“Of course,” Omega says like its obvious. “I’m a quintessence ghoul. But I can only heal minor injuries on humans. If you had a broken leg, I would be of no help.”

“No, that’s okay,” Terzo replies, flattered by the offer. “Thank you, though.”

“Do you want me to walk you back to your room?”

As much as that sounds like a good idea, Terzo doesn’t want to be a nuisance. He has already made himself look like a fool too many times today.

“No, that’s okay,” he says, “my brother is probably waiting up for me.”

Omega nods, though he steps forwards, pulling the towel tighter around Terzo’s shoulder. Terzo tries not to wobble when his legs feel weak.

“Tomorrow night, at the bar?”

“Sounds good,” Terzo replies, tries not to look too overly excited.

They look at each other for a long moment before Terzo decides he should leave. His spine and hips hurts and he feels like he could sleep for a week. He ducks his head, a blush rising over his cheek bones. It’s like he’s a teenager all over again, his feeling unkempt and annoyingly dramatic, and it feels strange because he doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this. The last time being in someone’s presence had left him awestruck had been, well… he can’t remember. But he can’t seem to take his eyes off Omega, and he wants so badly to be able to kiss him. But he wants the timing to be perfect. A part of him hopes Omega is not just using him to get off, but he finds the ghoul doesn’t give him that vibe. He is sweet and endearing and obviously is infatuated enough to pursue Terzo more than once. It makes Terzo’s heart sing.

“I should be going,” he says, and Omega nods, stepping away to let Terzo past.

Just as Terzo gets to the doors, he hears Omega shout from behind him.

“Wait! You forgot this.”

Terzo turns to see Omega holding out his discarded shirt. For a moment, he had forgotten all about his pool shenanigans, and now he is faced again with the fact that he is, of course, an idiot.

“Err, you can just bin that,” Terzo says, ignoring Omega’s confused, scrunched up face before he quickly runs inside, cheeks pink.

So maybe this holiday isn’t going to plan. But fuck it.

He’s got a date tomorrow night.