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Having a conversation about how my kinks are saving my sanity isn’t something anyone wants to do with their big brother. He went to prison when I was pretty young, before I had my bi awakening with Draven and Alastair.

My lips curl in derision as I shoot an alien on the screen and continue moving through the game. Alastair is at a meeting today, while Draven is talking to his agent. Nox took the opportunity to come over with a new game and a six pack of coke. I’m not drinking at the moment to see how I feel without alcohol.

It’s too easy to spiral, and there are a few people on the team who order a coke at the bar because they simply don’t enjoy drinking. I’m trying to make this my new normal. I don’t want to end up like my mother: a secret everyone tiptoes around.

“Ciaran.”

“Huh.” My fingers continue to move as I glance at Nox, but he’s wearing a frown that says he’s going to tell me something I don’t want to hear. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

“Let’s take a break.” His tone gives me the impression that he’s not going to let me sidestep whatever he sees.

I scared him while I was in college. He tried to play it cool because he’d been gone so long, but he caught me cutting, which led to my wondering why I deserved to live when Noor was dead. I took a handful of pain pills one of my frat brothers had for his busted shoulder and sprawled out in my closet to wait for it to kick in.

Noor told her therapist she liked to hide in her closet to cut and I took a page from her book. Nox had already told the guys I was struggling and they were on their way to the university. Alastair was playing for the Canyons at that point with Draven, and I felt even more out of place.

Instead of using my words, I let the darkness swallow me whole. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that I have to use my damn words to keep from going back to that dark corner of my mind.

I drop the controller onto the carpet and lean back to give him the full weight of my stare. Nox winces as he turns off the game console and turns to face me.

“What’s going on with you? You’re moving like you’re in pain but I don’t think it’s from hockey. Is this a sex thing?”

I smirk at his question, because my brother is very vanilla. He has to be if he has to whisper the words “sex thing.”

“Nox, I can either get stuffed with cock and cum or I can cut myself.”

“This is a pretty fucked up form of choose your own adventure,” Nox mutters. “Why is this happening? What’s the cause of it?”

“Repentance for killing two people,” I sigh, glad I’ve graduated and no longer live with twenty other guys. “I can’t stop punishing myself and I constantly dream about what she’d be doing if she was alive.”

“The entire house smells like vanilla. Have I mentioned how much I hate it?”

“Ask me how much I care about your opinion on this,” I drawl.

“Vanilla stinks. Look, I’ve spent years in prison with rapists and murderers. You’re not one of those people,” he scoffs. “You made some shitty decisions and now she’s dead. You didn’t push her or anything.”

“Then why do I keep thinking about her? A part of me wonders if she’s really dead. What if⁠—”

“That’s a really great way to get admitted to a mental institution,” Nox sighs, digging in his bag for a computer. He’s not allowed to own one unless it’s for work. His lawyer knew Nox would have a hard time staying away from an internet connection and trouble, and got the parole board to approve a job in ethical hacking with the government.

My brother has a gift, it would be a shame to not use it because he fucked up.

“You’re not allowed to have that,” I muse, pursing my lips at the laptop. It’s definitely not work issued.

“Are you going to tell on me or will you let me put your ghosts to rest. Noor is dead and I can prove it.”

“What are you talking about?” I sigh.

“I bought a bootleg computer and rebuilt it for when I need information. You know how difficult it is to not hack into places you shouldn’t be. It’s an itch you can’t scratch,” he says.

“I do, and I typically find out shit I shouldn’t.” I have all of Noor’s therapist appointments uploaded to a special drive. It’s sick. I shouldn’t listen to her rip into her most private secrets, but I can’t stop. When I work out, I put my earphones in and listen to it on repeat. I can recite the way her father killed her mother and himself word for word by this point.

I just want to hear her voice and imagine how it might sound now. Obsession, your name is the Devils. It’s not just me. Alastair will shove his nose into my throat to breathe her scent in, while Draven has a new art addiction.

My eyes glance up to see a painting of abstract colors that hides a monster within. I don’t know why, but I see Noor when I spend any length of time looking at these paintings. We have four of this painter’s canvases in our home, and all but one are dark and full of pain. The last one Draven bought is of a sunset with a woman floating on her back in the middle of the ocean. Sharks circle her while she lays blissfully unaware of the danger lurking, and I shiver the most when I look at it.

It shows that happiness is fleeting.

Draven says that while the name on the paintings is male, he doesn’t think the artist is a man. A part of me thinks he’s right, but why would someone lie about that?