Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Buddha Lang did not just care about any degenerate that stumbled across his path. Looking at the people that surrounded him, you’d be hard pressed to agree with the statement.

His degenerates were a special kind of imbecile, highly skilled and entirely idiotic.

Take Yuno Sykk, for example.

He was known as The Cheatcode to Los Santos and for good reason, there was not a hack he could not complete. He was a nobody, called to be a backup backup hacker on a routine bank run, but he one-shotted the hack right away, getting them in to harvest their ill-gotten goods.

But he was an idiot too.

Like right now.

“I can’t just give up my job, Mr. Lang,” Yuno laughed but it was tight.

“Yes, you can. You haven’t run any jobs with us in forever. It’s always G6 this, G6 that,” Lang needled him.

Yuno didn’t say anything at first, and Lang nearly checked to see if the call had dropped.

“I have to go, Mr. Lang.”

Lang’s eyes narrowed. His tone had shifted into something colder, devoid of any of the warmth he was used to in the younger man’s voice.

“Alright, Yuno,” Lang responded evenly. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay, baby?”

Yuno hummed slightly before speaking again. “Alright, Mr. Lang.”

“Love you—”

The phone clicked, showing him the call had ended. Lang cursed and tossed the phone into the passenger seat.

Yuno didn’t come home that night to go to bed.

He often didn’t, there were many places he called home, and none of them could rely on him returning to them each night.

So, Lang slept soundly that night as he always did.

~

Yuno was cold.

He was so cold.

Instinctively, he curled in on himself, but his shivering didn’t stop.

His eyes fluttered open, only to be burned by the sunlight. It was as if someone had rinsed his eyeballs in salt. He blinked, and the burning sensation subsided, leaving his eyes to adjust to his surroundings.

“Rocks,” he said out loud, startled by his own voice. Was that a bad Batman interpretation or was it him?

There were rocks, lots of rocks. And a grocery bag plastered with seaweed snared on a jutting stone.

Seaweed. Sea—

There was snow everywhere. He watched as fat flakes drifted lazily toward their demise on the ocean waves below. It was beautiful.

Yuno shivered again. It wasn’t snowing anymore. But the water lapping against his prone figure felt as if it was in a perpetual winter.

Yuno groaned as he pushed himself to a sitting position. The rocks underneath revolted, biting into his palms as he braced himself.

He ignored the discomfort as he wrapped his arms around himself, desperately clawing at any chance of warmth.

“Where—?” he cleared his throat with a wince. “Where are we?”

As his eyes scanned his surroundings, the best answer to his own query was—

“A beach. Okay, we can work with a beach. That’s fine,” he exhaled, teeth chattering as he did.

He forced himself to his feet. To his bare feet. Why was he barefoot on the beach?

Well, being barefoot on the beach wasn’t that weird, actually.

But he imagined most people looking to enjoy the water and sand and whatever else that was appealing about beaches didn’t wear slacks, button ups, and a sweater.

That’s what Yuno was wearing.

Yuno stumbled away from the water and up the grassy slope toward the road. Or what he hoped was a road.

The grass was kinder to his feet than the rocks had been, and the sun began to lessen the shivers that wracked his body. It was actually quite peaceful, no sounds of traffic or firing guns and shouting voices. Just Yuno and the wilderness.

But Yuno was anything but calm.

His mind swam as he tried to remember what had happened to him.

He had been ocean dumped, that much he had surmised, and he knew that meant a foggy memory but there was something more to this.

It wasn’t snowing.

It wasn’t even cold, now that he was beginning to dry off.

And everything that Yuno could remember told him that the last time he was breathing the free air the world had been covered in snow.

Unless Los Santos had been hit by a freak heatwave midwinter right when Yuno went under, that meant he had been out of it for months.

Been missing for months.

Numbly, he wondered if anyone had been looking for him.

He shook the thought from his head.

“I prefer the springtime, anyways,” Yuno said to no one in particular.

No one responded.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

All he needed to do was hail a taxi or a friendly local and drive back into town and—

He frantically checked his pockets.

And find a payphone and call Mr. Lang, he added miserably.

No biggie.

~

Yuno stared at his reflection in the warped gas station mirror.

The front of his sweater was stained, darker than its usual hue. Clumps of mud flaked off of it whenever he picked at it, but it was still damp, soggy with ocean water. His pants and hair were nearly dry, but the thicker material was more stubborn.

He sighed, looking over the pathetic image. With the lines under his eyes, holes in the knees in his pants, and overall looking like he had been smooshed in a garbage truck compactor, it was no wonder no one had been willing to pick him up.

“I’ll have to lose the sweater,” he muttered dejectedly.

It was the only thing he could do to alter his appearance to make himself appear less like roadkill. Plus, wearing a sweater that had been thoroughly soaked in the ocean was not a fun experience for any of his senses. 

Yuno grabbed the edges of the sweater, struggling to pull the heavy material up and over his head and he practically fought with it to get it off his arms before finally dropping it to the bathroom floor with a plop.

He exhaled; the literal weight of sopping wool finally being relieved from his shoulders.  

The warped mirror told a different story.

Yuno cringed at the sight of deep brown covering the entire front of his button-up. His fingers sought out the darkest parts and found—oh. Yep, there’s the bullet holes.

“So, I was shot, dumped in the ocean, then showed up on shore… months later. No biggie,” Yuno shrugged. Yeah, that was no problem, definitely. People survived a lot in this city, but not usually being left in the ocean for months on end with near-fatal wounds. (…Not unless you were Dundee.)

There had to be someone who could explain this. Yuno was no genius, he knew that much, but he had always been lucky. Maybe he was luckier than he realized. But he would leave that to someone else to figure out.

“Hup—,” Yuno grunted as he dragged his sopping sweater off the ground and back over his head. “Mmf, back on—back on you go,” he managed the words out between the wool that seemed intent on pulling on over his mouth.

He couldn’t walk around flaunting old blood, after all.

He needed to get back home, back to Mr. Lang and the others.

But first, he needs to get some food. Honestly, he was so hungry, he was beginning to think he’d even eat gas station sushi, if that meant his stomach would stop growling.

Yuno pushed the bathroom door open (after minimal struggle to unlock it) and stepped into the gas station convenience store. A bored looking man is sitting behind the cash register, and despite the phone he’s currently scrolling on, his eyes aren’t on it. Instead, they’re trained on Yuno, tracking him as he moves through the shop.

“Uh— sorry for, uh, using the bathroom for so long…? I had to poop but don’t worry, I sprayed some freshener.” Yuno wasn’t sure what this guy’s problem was, but hopefully that would be enough to appease him.

The man continued glaring. “There’s no freshener in there.”

“Oh, yeah, no I just—carry it… with me?” Yuno offered weakly.

The man (named Sal, if Yuno was reading his nametag right) didn’t seem to like that answer any better. Really, was he not supposed to use his bathroom here? Maybe he should have said a different excuse….

“Are you going to buy anything?”

“Wh-what?”

“Are you going to buy anything?” Sal repeated, sitting up in his seat.

“Uh… well, I left my wallet at my gramma’s, she’s really sick, you see, so I went to help her but my car—”

“Yeah, yeah, if you don’t have money, get on out.” Sal waved at him, gesturing for him to leave.

Yuno slunk backwards, arms crossing behind his back as he stepped closer to a shelf filled with chips. “Oh, right, sorry, sir! I’ll just be going then….” His hands aren’t level with the shelf, so he just needs to reach a bit higher then—

Sal stands up, reaching under the counter and pulling a handgun. “Go on! Git out of here! I know trouble when I see it! Get out or I’ll shoot ya! I’ll call the cops!”

Yuno’s hands dart up. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot, I’m going, I’m going!” He scrambles away from the man, resisting the urge to tell him it wasn’t a great plan of attack to shoot someone then call the cops right after.

Especially someone as innocent as Yuno was. He hadn’t even stolen a bag of chips.

~

“He hasn’t called me back either,” Luciano huffs.

Lang grunts in response. Yuno had been a no-show for the Cypress meeting and after asking around, no one else had heard from him either. He bailed on a meeting and didn’t give a single excuse to any of them.

Gege had left to ask some of his G6 friends, even though he told her she didn’t need to. Yuno was like this; he always had been. Disappearing at random was just one of his… quirks.

Didn’t make it any less annoying, however.

“Why’re you all grumpy?” Marty chimes in from his spot lounging on an armchair. He’s scrolling through Twatter, occasionally chuckling and leaning over to show Luci a Twat, who furrows his brow and asks for context, to which Marty does nothing but laugh and lean back in his chair.

So far, he had been a great help.

“Shut up, Martin,” Lang growls.

Marty’s eyes flick up to look at him before looking back at his phone. “Seriously, we both know he’s just like this sometimes, what’s the big issue? It was a last-minute meeting anyways.”

“I’m calling him again,” Lang snapped, pulling his phone up to his ear as he stepped out the front door.

Marty glances at Luciano, who shrugs before punching his arm lightly and bidding him goodnight.

Marty shoves his phone into his pocket and slides off the armchair before sauntering to the front window, looking out on Lang standing by the fence, phone pressed to his ear. He lowers the phone, cursing before tapping the screen aggressively.

Marty hums to himself, lips pursed. He swings the front door open, stepping into the summer air.

“Booda, why so sad? Why so sad, Booda?” he sticks his lip out for emphasis.

Lang rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Martin, not now.”

Marty’s expression mellows, dropping his irritating façade to match Lang’s serious one.

“Seriously, what is it?”

Lang doesn’t say anything as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it. “I’ve been pressuring him to quit G6,” he admits. He exhales a cloud of smoke, his gaze permanently glued across the street, whether lost in thought or avoiding Marty’s eyes, neither man was sure.

“Yap,” Marty bobs his head. “We knew this.”

Lang shifts his eyes to glare at Marty.

“Why am I even talking to you?” he grumbles.

“C’mon, it’s just me and you, we go way back, just talk to me, c’mon, Booda,” Marty pulls at Lang’s sleeve, who, in turn, yanks his arm away from him.

“What if he picked G6…? What if he—,” he shakes his head, inhaling more fumes from his cigarette as if it could wipe the thought from his mind. “What if he picked them over us?”

Marty grew quiet, his eyes searching Lang’s face.

“He wouldn’t,” Marty’s voice was barely above a whisper. “He wouldn’t choose someone over us, Lang, even if he stays with G6. You know that, right? He’s still our friend.”

“Right,” Lang flicks the cigarette onto the pavement, “night, Martin.”

“…g’night, Lang.”

~

Yuno wrapped his arms around his middle to muffle the sound of his stomach growling. He’d spent the entire day walking and unsuccessfully flagging down cars before finally finding a payphone.

Which turned out to be a dead end.

He called every number he could think of (which, admittedly, was only Mr. Lang’s and Ray’s, but seriously, who memorized phone numbers anymore??) and both times, the robotic lady voice said the number was disconnected.

So, Mr. Lang and Ray must have changed their numbers….

It wasn’t all bad, a good Samaritan finally pulled over and let him ride in the bed of his truck… with the chickens. Yuno had made a joke about Rooster’s when he saw his feathery companions, but the man didn’t seem to get it. It was a dumb joke, anyways.

At least the wind kept him from smelling too much chicken poop.

What he’d give to eat some chicken right now. Chicken tenders, barbeque chicken, oooh or Korean fried chicken….

Yuno shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. The only plus side of thinking about food (hmm… orange chicken…) was that his mouth was watering, which gave his dry throat a slight respite.

It had only been a day, but Yuno felt like it had been years since he last ate or drank anything. If that were true, he’d probably be a skeleton on the shoreline… right?

The truck hit a bump in the road rather fast, making Yuno yelp when the whole truck bed jumped, tossing him momentarily a few centimeters up before landing back down on his butt.

All in all, none of this was helping his headache.

The truck slowed to a crawl before stopping in the driveway. The driver rolls his window down and watches as Yuno clambers out the back.

“Hey! You gotta pay me back,” he called out as the young man brushes hay off his pants.

“Huh?? I don’t—I lost my wallet.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Who do I call?”

“What?”

“Who do I call?”

Yuno stared. Call for what…? For him?

“Uh… Mr. Lang…?”

The man nodded gruffly before rolling the window up and driving away, leaving a confused-looking Yuno in front of the gate.

~

“This is Lang speaking, who is this?”

“Spencer.”

“… Spencer who?”

“I drove your friend, he said to call you for the gas money.”

Lang’s brow furrowed. “What friend?”

“Y’know, Asian guy, no shoes? I didn’t ask his name… Oh, he asked me to drop him at the old Clean Manor… ring any bells?”

Lang’s exhaled, exasperated. “Right, I know the guy. How much do I owe you?”

“Where you goin’?” Tony asked, pulling into the driveway just as Lang was about to leave.

“Going to pick up Yuno,” Lang grunted as he reversed out of his parking spot.

“Oh, good, so he called you then, so you’ll finally cheer up,” Tony grinned as he stepped out of his car.

“Not exactly.”

Tony cocked his head. “Not exactly… he didn’t call or you’re not cheering up?”

Lang didn’t respond as he drove off.

~

Lang eased his car into the driveway, leaving it parked before climbing out to push past the gate. It was automatic back in the day, but not anymore.

“Yuno?” he called out, as he walked briskly down the remainder of the driveway. “Yuno?”

“Mr. Lang?” Yuno’s voice was weak—too weak.

Lang’s eyes darted to the prone figure on the front porch of the Clean Manor.

Without another thought, he was knelt by his side, tentative hands hovering over his friend’s body, unsure of his injuries.

“Yuno,” Lang’s voice softened, hushed as though he was speaking to a spooked foal, “what’s wrong, baby?”

Yuno slowly sat up, wincing as his hand fluttered to his head. He wasn’t—he wasn’t wearing his helmet. Why wasn’t he wearing his helmet?

“I’m okay,” he said brightly, albeit quieter than usual, “just a headache… and I was… ocean dumped…?” he grimaced as he added the last part.

“What?” Lang’s blood ran cold.

Yuno nodded, then winced again. “It’s fine, I just…,” he straightened up slightly, looking Lang in the eye briefly. “Why is no one at the Manor? I couldn’t unlock it so I was just going to wait but there aren’t any lights on, and I can’t see in the windows… what happened? Was I…?” he pauses, as if thinking. “Where’s the snow?”

Lang blinks. “Yuno, I think you have a concussion. You need to go to the hospital.” Confusion occurred with concussions, right?

Yuno acquiesces silently.

“C’mon, I’ll help you up.” Lang stands, brushing the dust off his pants before extending his hand.

Yuno blinks and in the sunlight, Lang could swear his brown eyes seemed green, just for a moment. He accepts his help, slowly rising to his feet as if drunk, although Lang had never seen the man that way.

Yuno lurches forward, stumbling as he slumps onto Lang, then in the next second, he has straightened again, mumbling an apology.

He’s righted and extricated himself from Lang’s arms and is dragging himself toward the car at the end of the driveway.

“I’m so—,” Yuno yawns, interrupting himself, “hungry,” he finishes off.

“Yeah?” Lang watches him warily, though he doesn’t seem like he will topple over any moment. “We’ll get some Snr. Buns after you get checked out.”

“Hm… Senior…? Okay….”

They’re feet away from the car when Yuno stops.

“Mr. Lang?”

Lang eases himself closer to his swaying friend. “Yeah, baby?”

“I think…,” he darts over to some bushes and onto his knees in an instant, “I’m gonna be sick.”

Lang doesn’t hesitate to kneel by him (but not close enough to any splash radius, mind you), feeling useless without a bottle of water or cool rag to offer him. He opts on fanning the back of his neck.

“I’m… sor-sorry,” he manages to choke out between heaving. That’s all he seems to be doing; it doesn't look like there’s anything for his body to actually expel.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, baby, I’ve seen worse at crummier spots,” he soothes.

That part was true. But what wasn’t true was Lang’s cool demeanor. If he were honest with himself, he was at a loss. All he knew was that he needed to get Yuno to a hospital, the quicker, the better.

His phone rings and he fishes it out of his pocket to silence it. Tony.

Yuno’s trembling as if he was dunked in ice water… in a way, he was. Lang’s vision clouds with rage as he’s reminded why they’re knelt on the sidewalk.

“I’m sorry,” Yuno repeats, panting. His stomach has seemed to have given up on trying to force him to puke. “I think I’m—I’m o-okay now.” He’s jittering still, despite the summer air.

“Alright, come on, we’ll take it slow, but let’s get to the hospital now, right?” Lang does his best to keep his worry from his voice, but he can hear himself, he wasn’t entirely successful.

~

Lang jolts awake. It had been hours since he had brought Yuno in and yet he was still sitting in the hospital lobby waiting for more updates. He had called Tony after the doctors had whisked Yuno away and updated him but asked him to keep it on the down low. He didn’t want to be swarmed with his crew mates all asking the same questions at different times. Not until he knew what was happening. Not until he had a plan.

A doctor steps out into the lobby, her eyes searching until they stop on Lang. He stands up immediately.

“Buddha Lang?” She asks.

It was hard to believe there was once a time when everyone knew his name in the city.

“Yes,” he answers shortly, “how is he?”

“He’s in ketosis… and—”

“Hold on, what’s that?” Lang cuts her off.

“He was starving,” she says bluntly. “But that’s not—”

“Starving? How could he be starving? He would have gone missing just last night, and I got the call about his whereabouts just before noon, how could he be—”

“Mr. Lang, please,” the doctor interrupts. “He was in the early stages, and he should be fine by tomorrow. Really, we’re only keeping him overnight as a safety precaution. But that’s not what I wanted to tell you.” She shifts, glancing around the lobby. “He was ocean dumped, wasn’t he?”

Lang bristles. “Watch your step, doc.”

“Look, I don’t care what business the two of you are involved in, that’s not why I’m talking to you. He doesn’t… he doesn't have any fresh injuries that would be common with a case like his.”

Lang narrows his eyes. “What are you saying?”

The doctor lowers her voice. “I’m saying, he wasn’t shot. Not recently, anyways. But his clothing was covered in blood, and had what looked like bullet holes in it, but don’t ask me about it, I’m no forensic specialist.”

“Sooo, what? Someone covered his clothes in blood then dumped him in the ocean?” Lang scoffs.

The doctor puts her hands up defensively. “I’m not here to conjecture. Just telling you what I saw.” She sighs, irritated. “Anyways, there’s nothing more to say about his condition now, he’s sleeping and we’re keeping him fed regularly. You should go home.”

Lang grunts in response.

The doctor crosses her arms. “Seriously, go home. You can’t stay in the lobby the entire night.”

Lang glares but quickly changes his expression. She was the reason Yuno was okay right now, after all. “Alright. Call me if anything changes. And when he’s ready for pickup.”

The doctor bobs her head. “Of course. Now go, get out of here, you were drooling in your sleep.”

Lang rolled his eyes as he walked out. He knew for a fact he did not drool when he slept.

~

It’s just past 6 when Lang pulls into the driveway of the Cypress house.

He had grabbed a burger on the way home and the lonely smell of hamburger meat and burnt fries were all the company he had on his drive. Nothing the doctor had said made sense.

Nobody was at war with Cypress and other than running G6, there was no reason for anyone to try and kill Yuno, and even with his job, no one ocean dumped G6’ers.

Was it just random?

Why didn’t he have any injuries? If he was knocked out and dumped in the water, he would at least have a blunt force injury.

Why was he starving? He had been eating just a day ago, no shot his metabolism burned through food that quick, right? That just wasn’t possible.

A scuff of a shoe makes Lang turn.

Is that…?

Lang steps out of his car.

“Yuno?”

“Oh, hey, Mr. Lang,” he greets cheerfully. Then to his phone, “I’ll call you later.”

Lang’s brows furrow. “Did they let you out early? They said they’d call me….”

“Huh?? Let me out of where?” Yuno cocks his head to the side, a smile evident in his voice if not his face, blocked by his cat-eared helmet.

“…the hospital,” Lang deadpans.

“Huh??” Yuno repeats. “I wasn’t in the hospital today.”

He laughs, even as Lang stills, mind racing.

“Oh, Mr. Lang, you must have me confused for someone else!”

Chapter Text

“Oh, Mr. Lang, you must have me confused for someone else!”

Lang stares at him. His concussion must be worse than he realized. He was going to kill whatever doctor released him when he clearly had brain damage. But, right now, he had more pressing matters.

“Yuno, baby,” he steps toward the younger man like he’s a frightened deer, hands in a placating gesture. “You were at the hospital, you were ocean dumped and you’re confused, okay? Now, I just need to call—”

Yuno cocked his head. “No. Mr. Lang, you’re not listening to me. I wasn’t in the city last night or today. Whoever you saw wasn’t me. Maybe when they were ocean dumped, they forgot who they really were, I dunno. Maybe I have a copycat.”

Lang nods slowly. It wasn’t a bad theory… could he really have been fooled by a look-alike?

No.

There was no way.

…right?

Lang kneads his brow.  “I’ll call the hospital and figure this out,” he sighs. His eyes flick up, meeting Yuno’s (presumably). “Are you staying here tonight?”

Yuno hums slightly. “I, uh— …sure… yeah, I’ll stay.” He fidgets, moving from foot to foot, barely concealing his urge to run around to burn off his excess energy. “I just gotta call this guy back then….”

“Yeah, yeah, you do that, baby. Night, Yuno,” Lang waves as he walks inside the house.

“Good night, Mr. Lang!” he calls out cheerfully.

~

Lang’s teeth ground together as he listened to the holding music on the other side of his phone. If they kept him waiting for one more minute, he’d—

“Hello, this is—,” the familiar voice of the doctor from earlier came on over the speaker.

“Why didn’t you call?” Lang snaps, cutting her off.

“Excuse me?”

“You released Yuno, but you didn’t call me.” Lang’s nails dug into the palm of his hand as he clenched it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” her voice rose with her irritation. “I told you, we are keeping Yuno overnight to monitor him.”

“Is he still there, then?”

“What? Of course,” she sighs sharply. “I’ll get someone to check his room so you will let this go.”

That cursed waiting music came on and Lang had to physically restrain himself from throwing his phone across the room.

After a moment, the doctor’s voice came back, but this time, she sounded rushed.

“Yuno is not here. One of the nurses said they saw him leave and thought he was already released so they didn’t say anything until now, I am so sorry, I don’t know how this happened.”

Lang forces himself to take a deep breath. “I’m coming back and I’m bringing Yuno,” he replied shortly before hanging up, not allowing the woman another chance to speak.

Lang throws his phone onto his bed and stalks out of his room. A quick glance out of the front window shows that Yuno isn’t outside anymore. The house is dark, and anyone inside is either asleep or pretending to be.

The sound of water catches Lang’s ear and he follows it to the end of the hall to the bathroom. It’s a half-bath and hardly anyone uses it but, hunched over the sink is Yuno, brushing his teeth. His helmet, jacket, and shoes are off and Lang can’t help but watch him from the shadows of the hall.

Yuno’s shorter than he is, with fluffy dark hair that he was sure would be soft to the touch and sparkling brown eyes that he hardly ever got a glimpse of and—

“Mr. Lang?” Yuno’s wiping his hands off on the towel hanging there.

“What’s up, baby.”

“…were you… were you watching me?” Yuno asks tentatively, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

Lang pressed his lips into a thin line, pulling his thoughts together. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“What?? Why?” Yuno splutters. “Is someone hurt? Are—are you hurt?”

“No,” Lang explains shortly. “We’re going to clear up this whole copycat situation.”

Yuno’s concerned expression falls away, leaving a more relieved, if not exasperated, one in its place. “I was about to go to bed; can we do this in the morning?” He’s finished putting away his toothbrush and toothpaste and busies himself wiping up water on the countertop.

“No,” Lang grumbles, “I want to get this over with n—”

Yuno yawns and Lang stops midsentence, eyes intent on his face.

“Fine. We’re going in the morning, eight o’clock, alright?”

Yuno bobs his head sleepily. “Alright, Mr. Lang. Good night, again,” he smiles.

Lang grunts in response. “Don’t forget about tomorrow.”

~

Yuno does not forget about the morning, but that doesn't mean they aren’t late.

It’s 8:43 when they finally leave and 9:30 when they finally get to speak to the doctor from the night before.

“We’ll do a quick examination of Yuno and match him to the files we have on database. We’ll just do weight, height, eye color, and blood type. Does that sound okay with you, Yuno?” She asked pointedly, not looking at Lang.

Yuno glances at Lang. “Uh, yeah.”

“Is that a yes? I want to clarify; you are consenting to a blood test as well as the other things I listed?” The doctor repeats.

Yuno straightens up. “Oh, yeah, I mean, yes.”

“Alright, if you just follow Patricia, she will get you started,” the doctor smiles as she motions Yuno to follow an older nurse out of the room.

Yuno doesn’t look back as he follows the woman out of the room. The doctor steps forward, cutting off Lang’s line of sight of the younger man.

“Again, I am really sorry about last night, I—”

“I won’t sue, stop apologizing,” Lang snaps.

The doctor lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Right. Well, I—,” she stops as Lang pulls a cigarette from his pocket, “excuse me, sir, you can’t smoke in here.”

Lang scoffs. “What, will it kill any of these sops any faster?”

The doctor glares. “No smoking indoors, that’s our policy.”

“Fine. Let’s take this chat outside then,” Lang growls.

He doesn’t wait until he’s outside to light his cigarette, much to the doctor’s displeasure.

“You were saying…?” Lang leans against the wall, exhaling a plume of smoke.

The doctor looks exasperated as she taps her forehead, trying to trigger her train of thought.

“Oh, right. I asked around and the receptionist on duty last night said he saw a man wearing a bike helmet and a red jacket pick Yuno up.”

Lang’s brow furrowed. “Hm.”

The doctor stared. “Well, if that’s all, I’ve got work to do.”

“You said a red jacket and motorcycle helmet? Do you have footage of this?”

The doctor shrugged. “We have cameras, but I haven’t seen them and before you ask, neither are you. You’d have to have a warrant for that and last I checked you’re no cop.”

“Thank heavens for that,” Lang muttered. “Thanks anyways, doc, you’ve been great.”

The doctor smiles slightly before disappearing back inside the building.

Yuno, or better called the copycat (unless the man Lang drove here today was the copycat…), left the hospital last night with a man in a helmet and red jacket. And his Yuno had been out of the city, returning sometime late yesterday, and with no knowledge of a hospital or an ocean-dumping.

Was there really another Yuno running around? Was it planned, or did he just get confused after his memory loss? Or was his Yuno so brain damaged, he had forgotten his trip to the hospital entirely?

Why had he been starving?

Worst of all, had he really been fooled by a copycat? He had known Yuno for years, could he actually mix him up with someone else?

No, there was no shot.

So, what? Yuno had crippling memory loss? That wasn’t exactly a comforting thought.

Lang exhales, flicking his cigarette onto the concrete before stepping on it.

None of this made sense. His only hope was that the test results would make some kind of sense….

“Mr. Lang!” Yuno was startled as he stepped out of the automatic doors. He puts a hand on his chest in a calming move. “I didn’t see you there.”

Lang can’t help but smile, sue him.

“What’d they say?”

“Well, I’m me,” he confirms cheekily. “I matched up with their files but that guy you picked up that other night didn’t.”

“He didn’t?” Lang doesn’t know why he’s shocked. What, did he want one of his best friends to have brain damage? He should be relieved.

“Nope,” Yuno shrugs, “Dunno who you picked up last night, I hope they pay you back sometime.”

“Yeah… I hope so….”

Yuno regards him for a moment. “Oh, and the doctor is emailing you the results or something so you can look at them if you want. Anyways, I gotta run.”

Lang snaps out of his brain fog. “You got someone picking you up?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Lottie is.”

Lang narrows his eyes and Yuno fidgets, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Alright. See you later, Yuno.”

Yuno bobs his head before running off. “See ya, Mr. Lang!” he calls over his shoulder.

~

Lang doesn’t know where he’s driving to as he speeds down the interstate.

Yuno was fine. He was healthy and happy and running around the city right now with Lottie and whoever else was around to jump on the chaotic bandwagon he led. He was probably off on some dock right now, threatening to push Eli into the sea with a smile on his face.

That’s how it should be.

But something lingered in the back of his mind.

And that something was the sight of his dearest friend, hunched on the front porch of the old manor, with a trembling voice that told him he had been ocean dumped.

But that wasn’t Yuno.

It couldn’t be, not according to the hospital records.

But there was the scraping feeling of his heart against his ribs that traitorously whispered otherwise.

His hand was around his phone before he had even thought about dialing.

“Hey, what’s up, Lang?” Ray’s voice cut into Lang’s thoughts, steadying him on the now.

“Have you talked to Yuno lately?”

“Mm, no, no I haven’t. Why? Is something wrong?”

“No, just wondering,” Lang replied nonchalantly. “He’s been acting weird about this whole G6 thing and I just wanted to know if you’ve heard him talk about it.”

That wasn’t entirely a lie, at least.

“Oh no, I haven’t. Haven’t seen him in a while actually.”

Lang sighs. It was a long shot anyways. Even if Ray had seen Yuno, how would he know whether it was the copycat or not?

“Perez has though, apparently. He’s all freaked out, wearing a bomb suit, guess Yuno is terrifying to him, for some reason.”

“Perez saw him? What was he doing?” Lang ignores the cars blaring their horns behind him as he cuts them off to exit.

“Uhh, something about blowing a car up? And stealing people’s IDs or something. Typical civ Yuno things, you know. He was with some other guy too, Perez was scared of them both, it seems.”

“What did this guy look like?”

“Perez said he had a helmet on or something…? And he was wearing red, maybe. I don’t really remember. You know him, or something?”

“No, no. I don’t know him,” Lang’s voice lowered. “Where did Perez see Yuno last?”

“I’d have to call him, I can text you what he says. Are you sure everything’s okay—?”

“Bye, Ray,” Lang replied shortly before hanging up.

He had to get to the bottom of this. If there really was a copycat running around, why did he claim to be ocean dumped just to go around terrorizing random citizens with pranks? What was the point of this all? Just to make Yuno look bad? Everyone who knew him knew he could be dangerous when bored, blowing up cars and stealing IDs was not out of his wheelhouse on a slow Tuesday.

And how did he mimic Yuno so well?

For an idiot like Perez to not distinguish them made sense but for Lang…?

He should know better.

How could he not recognize the man who he claimed was one of his best friends?

His phone buzzed, mercifully interrupting his thoughts.

It was Ray, reporting back with the copycat’s last known location.

“Please don’t be a wild goose chase,” Lang muttered as he veered into the other lane to turn.

~

It was a wild goose chase.

Between people who had seen the real Yuno and the ones who had differing accounts of the copycat and which way he had gone, Lang spent most of the day driving in every which direction.

He was going to quit, go to bed, and forget about this entire day, forget about that copycat’s face.

Lang didn’t even realize where he was driving until he saw the crashed car at the front gate.

He was out of the car in seconds, flying toward the unfamiliar vehicle. There was no one in the front seat, and the passenger door was hanging open, likely since the driver’s side was crushed.

Whoever had wrecked their car had been fine enough to climb out then. The crash didn’t look particularly fatal, unless the driver wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.

Lang’s eyes drifted up to the familiar sight beyond the gates.

Clean Manor.

Here again.

He had a feeling he knew who the driver had been.

~

Yuno’s head was pounding. The ground kept shifting underneath him, his glowing shoes a blur as he watched them stumble forward.

His helmet was constricting and hot, why was it so hot?

His fingers fumbled with it, it was so tight, why couldn’t he—?

“Yuno!”

The warm feeling in Yuno’s chest grew at the sound of his voice. Or maybe that was just the drinks. They did burn the whole way down…

“Hi, Mr. Lang,” Yuno turned to face him, swaying as he turned too quick.

“Woah, careful there.”

Something pressed against Yuno’s arm and the middle of his back. Oh. It was Mr. Lang. He hiccupped.

“Are you drunk?”

Yuno smiled, a wobbly kind of smile like he was going to burst out laughing. “Is this what being drunk feels like, Mr. Lang?”

He was being moved in some direction, and his feet were slower than the arms moving him. Hm, that was annoying. Why did people get drunk?

“Watch your head,” Lang said, his voice faraway even though his hands were right there.

“Watch your he— oof, ow,” Yuno’s forehead throbbed slightly from the bump as Lang positioned him in the passenger seat of his car.

Lang huffed affectionately before shutting the door and walking around to the other side.

His breath was all gross smelling, like beer and pineapple cocktails and his helmet was trapping it—

-Uff-

He hoisted it off, hair stringy with sweat sticking up in every which direction.

He blinked. This wasn’t Mr. Lang’s car.

“Yes, it is. I didn’t steal it, unlike the one stuck in the front gate,” Lang chided.

Did he say that out loud? Wait, was he saying this out loud too?

Yuno’s eyes eased over to Lang as he pulled into the street to drive. He wasn’t looking at him and hadn’t said anything, so he must have kept it inside.

Lang smirked.

Yuno’s face burned and he looked away quickly.

Lang watched the young man from the corner of his eye. It was… unsettling how much he looked like Yuno. His face, though he often didn’t get the chance to see it, was exactly like his friend’s and his mannerisms, while slewed by his drunkenness (had he ever seen Yuno drunk before?), were just like his as well.

Yuno’s head rested on the window, arms loosely wrapped around his middle, a queasy expression on his face.

“Not going to puke again, are you?” Lang asked gruffly as he eased into a right turn.

“Mm-mm,” Yuno (not Yuno) shook his head slightly.

Lang grunted in reply. “You better not, this is a new car.”

Yuno chuckled weakly and muttered something in return.

“Say that again, I didn’t hear ya.”

(Not) Yuno shifted to look at him. “Smells like a new car.”

~

By the time they reached the Cypress house, the copycat had started to sober up. He definitely still needed water and probably a sandwich, but he didn’t stumble as much when they climbed out of the car and into the house.

That was how the two ended up sitting across the table in the kitchen, Yuno (the copycat, of course) eating a ham sandwich and guzzling down a water bottle under Lang’s watchful eye.

“So,” Lang shattered the comfortable silence, “who are you, really?”

Yuno’s brows furrowed, “what? I’m… Yuno…? Heh, what do you mean, Mr. Lang?”

Lang kneaded his forehead. “Look, unless there are two of you running around, there can’t—”

Yuno set his water bottle down with a soft thump. “Oh, there is!”

Now it was Lang’s turn to be confused.

“…What?”

“Yeah, I’ve got like an evil twin, or something…? He didn’t seem that evil, but he looks and sounds just like me, his name is Noyu though.”

“Noyu?”

“Yeah, Noyu Sukk.”

“…”

“…Right….”

“Anyways,” Yuno continued, “Noyu picked me up from the hospital, so we’ve been hanging out ever since.”

Lang couldn’t handle this. Not while sober, at least.

He leaned back, lighting a cigarette. “So, you and your… twin—”

“Noyu.”

“You and Noyu have been running around terrorizing people—”

“Pranking, yeah.”

“But you don’t know how Noyu is… related to you?”

Yuno looked like the idea hadn’t dawned on him. “I mean… he said he was my twin…?”

Lang exhaled a long-suffering sigh along with a puff of smoke.

“Okay, whatever, that doesn’t matter,” he waved dismissively. “You can’t be Yuno, because I saw Yuno and you’re not him.”

“I am Yuno though, I know you, Mr. Lang, and Tony and Ray, I remember everything… well, nearly.”

“You can’t be my Yuno, man, you don’t match his hospital records,” Lang snapped.

Fake Yuno leaned back, eyes shifting to the ground. “O-oh. I’m sorry, Mr. Lang,” he mumbled.

Lang exhaled. Whoever this was, he truly believed he was Yuno. Then there was this “evil twin” business. If there really were duplicates of Yuno running around, there was a chance this Noyu character knew more than the man sitting in front of him.

“Just get some sleep. You’ll have a nasty hangover in the morning and if you’re anything like my Yu—,” Lang cleared his throat, “if you have never had one, you’ll want someone to help you out.”

Yuno bobbed his head then shuffled down the hall, stopping when he realized he didn’t know where to go.

With a groan, Lang directed him from his spot in the kitchen.

“And brush your teeth!” Lang called after him.

“Yes, Mr. Lang!”

“Don’t use any of ours, just grab an extra from the cabinet.”

“O-okay!”

~

Yuno swerved around the sparse traffic as he zoomed toward the house. He had heard from Kitty that there was some look-alike running around, but he hadn’t met him yet. With nearly half of the city having seen him, it was starting to feel like the copycat was avoiding him. He wouldn’t do that on purpose, now would he?

Then there was Ray’s text. “Just checking in,” he had said, nonchalant as ever. But then he told Yuno how Lang had been fishing for information about him, of all people.

Ray didn’t know anything about what was going on between Yuno and Lang (was there something going on?) so he hadn’t needed to lie when he didn’t tell him anything. But Yuno knew he would, if he needed to. Ray and Lang were better than they had been, but they weren’t… like how they had been….

Yuno wasn’t sure what Lang was looking for. But if it had anything to do with this copycat business, he knew he would have to put it to rest quickly. It seemed like fate wanted any excuse to punish Yuno for someone else’s drama.

Yuno wasn’t angry when he turned onto their street. He wasn’t even mad when he slowed to a stop and parked in front of the Cypress house.

But as soon as he stepped foot onto the driveway, the fury began to set in.

How dare this copycat drive a wedge between him and Mr. Lang? Nothing ever went in Yuno’s favor, and for once, things were comparatively not bad and now there was some guy running around with his name, messing with his friends, just to make problems for him.

He didn’t lock the door behind him.

The copycat was here. He was in this house. In his house. He knew he had to be.

Yuno was drawn to him, a magnet skittering across the carpet toward its counterpart, or like an original toward his duplicate.

~

Yuno couldn’t sleep, no matter Mr. Lang’s request. This house wasn’t like the Manor. It wasn’t even like Tony’s closet nestled between cans of spaghetti.  Its sounds were different. He could hear cars driving by better than he could in the Manor, and there were no crickets and tree frogs to lull him to sleep like there had been in his bedroom. Mr. Lang had asked him so many questions but left him no room to ask his own.

Why weren’t they in the Manor still? Where was Tony and Ray… and Mickey? X often left the city to hide from the cops and Marty was often juggling his own gang duties, but there was the main crew and the nerds and Harry and Nino and—

Yuno rolled over.

It couldn’t be that he disappeared after being ocean dumped and the fam—gang fell apart, could it?

There were entire months missing from his memory, but Mr. Lang seemed more concerned with Noyu. It wasn’t like he did any real harm, except to the Manor’s gate… but it wasn’t like they were using it anymore.

The bedroom door creaked open.

Yuno blinked, the hall light momentarily blinding him.

“Mr. Lang?”

In the dark, something small and silver glinted dimly.

~

Lang wasn’t even trying to sleep when he heard the scream, but it scared him out of his stupor, nonetheless.

He was off his bed in a bat of an eye and down the hall until he reached—

“Yuno!”

Yuno, his Yuno, stood in his bedroom, arm around Other Yuno like he was a hostage, a knife pressed to his throat.

“M-mr. Lang, h-hey,” Yuno swallowed nervously.

“Hi, Mr. Lang!” Yuno greeted cheerfully.

Lang blinked, fumbling as he switched on the light.

There, standing in the middle of the bedroom of his house, plain as day, were two Yunos.

His Yuno, wearing his trademark white jacket and cat-eared helmet was unmoving as he held his karambit to the duplicate’s throat, who was dressed in deep green and charcoal.

Yuno’s helmet visor was up, likely so he could see without the hinderance of the tinted polycarbonate. A shiver went down Lang’s spine at the steely, unblinkingly gaze of his cold, brown eyes.

Now that they were next to each other, Lang could see a few differences. For one, cat-eared helmet Yuno was shorter than Other Yuno.

But that was not important right now.

“Mind telling me what’s going on, Yuno?” Lang directed at his best friend.

“I was just sleeping, I don’t—don’t kn-know—”

Helmet Yuno jerked him, signaling him to be quiet. “He’s a fake, Mr. Lang,” he declared bluntly. “He isn’t me. I don’t want you to—,” he stopped, and not for the first time, Lang wished he wasn’t wearing his helmet so he could see his expression. “I’m taking care of him.”

“Taking care of him?” Lang echoed. “Yuno, baby, you don’t kill.”

Neither Yuno said a word.

Lang’s eyes flicked back between the two of them.

Fine then.

Lang’s entire demeanor shifted.

“Yuno. You aren’t killing him. Not here, not anywhere. If anyone is going to slit his throat, I’ll do it myself, or better yet, I’ll get one of the boys to do it.”

Yuno’s grip on the knife loosened.

“Just let me handle this, Yuno. You trust me, don’t you?” his eyebrow raised slightly, as if to signal how hurt he’d be if he didn’t answer correctly.

Yuno met his gaze. His brown eyes softened, slipping back to something Lang was more familiar with. “Of course, I trust you, Mr. Lang,” he responded, his voice light.

He dropped his hand, pocketing the knife and stepping back. Other Yuno stumbled away from him, fingers rubbing the superficial cuts on his neck. Lang forced his gaze to remain on Helmet Yuno.

“Now get out of here, Yuno.”

“What?” Both Yunos echoed.

“Not you,” Lang grumbled before motioning to Helmet Yuno, “you, you go sleep somewhere else, I know you have other places to stay.”

“Oh.”

Helmet Yuno flips his visor back down. “Okay, Mr. Lang.”

He walks past the pair and to the door, then pauses. “Be safe… Mr. Lang.”

Then he was gone.

Other Yuno lets out a shaky exhale.

“Y-yeah,” he stammers. “I don’t think I am going to get any sleep tonight.”

Lang pries his gaze from the doorway back to his friend. “Honestly, man, me nei—,” he stops mid-word, mouth hanging agape as he stares at Yuno.

Yuno fidgets under his stare. “Wh-what?”

Lang snaps his mouth shut. “Uh… Yuno, baby, your eyes are... green…?”

“What.”

Yuno darts out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom, throwing on the lights and leaning toward the mirror and—

Staring back at him were a pair of green eyes, as alien as someone else’s smile.

Chapter Text

Yuno’s Itali roared as he sped down the road, away from home, away from Mr. Lang. Away from that copycat that stole his place. Everything in him felt raw and torn and wrong and he wanted to kill the copycat and he wanted to see Lang and he wanted to run and—

A local swerved into his lane suddenly, jerking him off course, spiraling into a fire hydrant and into the side of a building.

Smoke rose steadily from the crushed hood and Yuno exhaled sharply before climbing out and slamming the door. He fumbled with the phone in his pocket, watching water spray from the hydrant onto the sidewalk.

“Hey, Ray. I need a pickup.”

~

Yuno stared at the green eyes in the mirror’s reflection. Just another thing to add to the list.

“Okay, okay, that’s okay, I look cool,” Yuno blinked, watching as the green slowly faded to his familiar brown.

Lang’s arms were crossed, an indiscernible expression on his face. “Yuno…,” he began slowly, as if searching for words, “this doesn’t just happen to someone—.” He stops suddenly, arms uncrossing as his eyes fixate on Yuno.

“Wha— what?” Yuno fidgets under the older man’s focus and quickly turns to look away from him again.

“Your throat… you got cut by the knife… I’m sure you did….”

Yuno leans closer to the mirror, fingers rubbing his throat where the blade had stung.

“Heh, I guess I’m a quick healer…?”

Lang rubs his face and mutters a curse under his breath.

“So, to recap, you are Yuno but there’s also another Yuno and an evil twin, and you were ocean-dumped and you have superpowers now and other Yuno wants to kill you. Am I missing anything?”

~

Rae’s muscles burned as she pulled the unconscious man away from the wreckage.

The night was deep, and she was alone among the creeping wilderness, alone except for the silent stranger she dragged along.

Just a little farther and they’d be away. Just a little farther and she’d be free.

~

“I’m really okay, Ray, I just want to get some sleep.”

The Russian man watched his friend from the corner of his eye as he pulled his car into park.

“Alright,” he replied evenly. If Yuno wanted to talk, he would.

Yuno climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him.

Evidently, he didn’t.

He knew Benji would pester him in the morning, and pester Yuno just as well, but for now at least, it was quiet as Ray unlocked the door and let Yuno inside. Yuno didn’t need any directions as he found his way to an open room.

Ray watched him go, his best friend toeing off his shoes and tossing his jacket onto the floor, now sporting an all-black outfit with the white, cat-eared helmet.

The man paused, turning slowly to face Ray.

“Hey, Ray, you wouldn’t happen to have a gun I could have, would you?”

Ray hummed, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah, I could get you one. Why?”

Yuno shrugged. “Good to be prepared. What if someone crazy comes at me?’

~

Dundee couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on the back of his head as he pulled up to the petrol station. It had been with him all afternoon, following him as he stopped to buy joints, then to Snr. Buns, and now here.

But he couldn’t tip his hand. He couldn’t reveal that he knew he was being followed.

So, he whistles as he fills his car up, purposely not turning around, even as his skin crawls and the hair on the back of his neck rose.

Whether it was cop or criminal, he hadn’t an idea. But the figure hadn’t revealed themselves, leaving Dundee waiting, waiting, with his mind drifting to the boot of the car where his shotgun lay.

~

“You kicked Yuno out of the house?” Ray’s voice is incredulous, brimming with self-righteous anger.

Yuno, or the copycat, or whatever he was (Lang was beginning to think he needed to come up with a nickname for him) was inside Digital Den, currently deciding on what phone to buy with the advice from the overly-caffeinated employee inside.

“That’s over-simplifying, and you know that, Ray,” Lang growled, the smoke drifting from his cigarette the only thing keeping him from shouting at the man.

Ray’s voice came on over the phone speaker, short and snappy. “No, Lang, I don’t know. All I know is that Yuno went to the Cypress house last night and found his clone there and you forced him to go instead of the clone.”

Lang stills.

Clone…?

“Yuno was gone for five years,” Lang’s voice lowers, glancing behind him to see Yuno fidgeting as the employee goes through an unnecessary tutorial of how to use the cellphone. “CleanBois fell apart, and Yuno disappeared from the city. Everything I— everything we went through for five years, he wasn’t here. We don’t know what happened to him in all that time, maybe… maybe you’re right, maybe he has a clone. But how do we know which is which?”

Ray is quiet for a long time.

“You’ve lost it, man.”

Lang rolls his eyes and puts the cigarette out. “Alright, Ray.”

He doesn’t wait to hang up.

“All set up, Mr. Lang,” Yuno announces cheerfully as he steps out of the store and onto the sidewalk where Lang stood idling.

Lang didn’t look at him. He didn’t have a helmet to hide his expressions like the younger man had. Well… he usually had. This Yuno still didn’t have one.

“Thanks again for buying it, Mr. Lang, I’ll pay you back… one day, definitely.”

Lang smiles in spite of himself.

“Yeah, yeah. Now hand me your phone.” Lang holds out his hand, beckoning impatiently.

Yuno hands it over immediately, peering over to watch Lang type in his name and number.

Yuno hums slightly. “Why did you change it? Did you get raided or something?”

Lang’s brow furrows. “Not recently, no.”

He passes the phone back and the two walk back to his car, Yuno tugging on the door handle until Lang gets it unlocked.

“You keep saying things like that.”

Yuno cocks his head. “Things like what?”

Lang throws the car into reverse, barely glancing behind before he does.

“Like not remembering we weren’t in the Manor anymore.”

“…”

“We— we aren’t?” Yuno’s voice is barely above a squeak.

Lang eyes him in his peripheral. His friend has practically shrunk in his seat, cowering as if he could avoid the idea of not being a CleanBoi anymore, his face contorted with a soft pout and furrowed brow. Then, as if realizing he is being watched, the expression drops, replaced by a lighter one.

Lang’s hand thumped on the steering wheel as he turned. “What do you remember last?”

A flash of panic passes over his face. “I don’t remember being ocean dumped,” he answers hastily.

Lang’s eyes flick over to the passenger seat once more, but he keeps his expression even, his posture relaxed. “Not that. Just in general, what do you remember?”

Yuno straightens up slightly. “Oh, uh, I remember doing heists with you, Tony, and Ray. And… and X,” he adds the last part quieter. “We lived in the Manor, and I had a job at Rooster’s and the Casino and—”

“Yuno, that was years ago.”

“What?” Yuno splutters. “Year—years?! No, it’s just been a couple of months, right? Right? I mean years is just an exaggeration….” Yuno trails off, fidgeting with his hands.

Lang forces his eyes to the road. “Just look at the date on your phone.”

Yuno frowns but complies, opening his phone and scrolling to the calendar app.

“But that… that doesn’t make any sense…?” Yuno cranes his neck to look at Lang, desperation for an answer tracing his features.

Lang pulls into the Snr. Buns drive through, fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he waits behind a souped-up truck.

“I don’t know. Nothing makes sense. You believe you’re Yuno and you have some of Yuno’s memories but not all. If you were an actor, why would you only learn some but not all? And why—”

“Do you—do you not believe me, Mr. Lang?” Yuno’s voice wavers.

Lang presses his lips together.

The truth was, he did believe him.

But he believed both of them.

And they both couldn’t be Yuno.

“I….” Lang exhales then starts again. “Look, it’s complicated, alright?”

Yuno doesn’t say anything as he shifts to look out the window.

The truck pulls ahead and the speaker crackles to life as Lang drives up.

“Hungry?” Lang turns away from the menu to look back at his old friend.

“Mm.”

Lang frowns.

They end up stopping at a park to eat their burgers. It’s entirely Lang’s idea, since Yuno hasn’t said a word since Snr. Buns. He hands him the wrapped bundle dripping with grease and his fries, all the while Yuno sips his soda and watches cars drive past.

“It’s no Burger Shot, but maybe you’ll like it all the same,” Lang’s voice interrupts the uneasy silence.

Yuno smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

He waddles away, finding a bench to sit on while he eats, but if Lang knows anything about him, he won’t be sitting there for long.

Lang’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

Unknown number.

Hm.

“Hello, who is this?” He snaps.

~

His idling car purrs in a neighborhood a block from the petrol station. The headlights are on, and they flood onto the cracked curb and patchy grass, gliding over the fire hydrant and stopping just short of the street sign.

The driver’s door is open, but barely more than a crack. The boot is open.

“Hey, bud, I can see ya, just step on out, alright? No sudden movements.”

The figure braces a hand on the side of the house as he walks closer.

“Wow, you almost sound like a cop, Dundee!” A familiar voice calls out brightly.

Dundee squints. “Yuno?” He lowers the shotgun, shaking his head. “Bloody— you scared me, mate, I thought you were some loony!”

Yuno steps closer, a nearby flickering lamppost dimly illuminating him. He wore an all-black ensemble, right up to his motorcycle helmet.

“Long time no see, huh?”

~

“’ello? Who’s this?”

Lang rolls his eyes. “What do you mean? You called me?”

“Blimey, mate, did I really?” The drunken Australian on the other side laughs. “You know, while yer here, can we jus’ talk about these petrol prices lately?”

Lang grips the phone tightly. “I’m hanging up now,” he warns.

“Wait, wait, you know—”

Lang pulls the phone back to his ear. “What about Yuno?”

“What—?” The man’s voice almost seems sober for a moment. “No, no, just you know,” he emphasizes.

“Yuno what?”

“You—”

A muffled pop like a firecracker and a yelp followed by a thud stops Lang’s heart for half a beat. His hand drops and he thinks he’s hung up, but it doesn't matter. He can’t see Yuno and a car races past, speeding away from the park and he knows he should get the license plate, but he can’t see Yuno and—

“Mr. Lang—”

Yuno’s voice is choked, and Lang skids to a stop before dropping to his knees beside him.

Red blossoms from his chest, spreading across his torso and pooling just above his collarbone, tremoring with each trembling breath.

“Just hold on, baby, it’ll be okay, alright?”

With one scrambling hand, he grabs his phone which had fallen to the grass, and he dials 911, tossing it back to the grass on speakerphone.

He tears his shirt up and off his head. “I’m sorry, Yuno, just hold on, I’m sorry,” he repeats.

Yuno’s eyes widen and his head lolls to the side for a moment, blood spilling from his parted lips. He’s trying to say something, but Lang can’t wait any longer.

He presses his balled-up shirt onto the gunshot wound and Yuno screams—

Lang bites his tongue ‘til it burns. He had never heard a sound like it.

Yuno’s body jerks like he’s trying to curl in on himself then drops back still, heaving breaths cut off by pained gasps.

Distantly, Lang can feel himself dictating to the dispatcher over the phone. He can’t imagine his voice is calm, but he can feel the words tumbling out.

“—shot—”

“—holding pressure—”

“—hurry—”

The dispatcher tells him an ambulance is on the way. She tells him officers are coming too. He wants to tell her it’s too late, the perpetrator got away, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he tears his gaze away from the blood gushing between his fingers, soaking through his shirt. Instead, he looks at Yuno’s eyes.

Yuno’s green eyes.

…

Yuno’s. Green. Eyes.

His breath quickens.

“Yuno, baby, you’re going to heal, it’s going to be alright, okay? Just like with the other Yuno, you’re—”

Just like with the other Yuno.

One of Yuno’s hands finds Lang’s arm and his grip is almost nonexistent, but he hangs on.

“I’m here, it’s okay, I’m here.”

A paramedic jogs up before settling beside Lang, while another kneels beside Yuno on his other side. They’re talking to each other and the one beside him looks at him, mouth moving, before he pulls Lang’s arms away from Yuno and pushes him away. Numbly, Lang rises to his feet, stumbling away as the paramedics tear open kits and shout to one another.

Yuno’s hand hangs in the air for a moment, fingers twitching as he reaches for Lang, reaches for the man he can no longer see.

Then it drops to the grass and Lang’s heart is in his throat.

The paramedics bustle past, loading Yuno into the ambulance and the lights burn his eyes. He thinks one of the paramedics is checking him for injuries and he shakes his head, and she disappears, jogging to get into the ambulance before it leaves.

The sun is warm, and the breeze is cool, and the blood turns sticky on Lang’s hands.

Some officers mill about, taking pictures of the blood on the grass and tracking the distance from the street.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Lang’s focus pulls sharply over the officer speaking to him.

“Buddha Lang,” he answers her, voice still even as his hands shook.

The officer nods and types on her tablet.

“Could you tell me what happened here?”

Lang blinks.

“I had my back turned; I was on my phone. I heard a gunshot, sounded like a muffler was on, then when I turned around, Yuno was on the ground and—,” Lang’s throat suddenly goes dry. “That’s it. I called 911 and everything else the dispatcher can tell you.”

“You didn’t see anyone?”

In his mind’s eye, he can see a blue car racing down the street, away from Yuno.

“No.”

~

Lang stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His hair lays flat over his shoulders, the edges sticking to the sweat building on his skin. The hospital’s AC had gone out and what had been a relatively warm day and warmer lobby turned into a sauna petri dish of anxious friends and family and hypochondriac asthmatics.

The water gurgling from the faucet spits suddenly, coughing up an air bubble as if to draw Lang’s attention back to the task at hand.

Lang moves stiffly, dipping his hands under the constant stream of lukewarm water. The water runs red. Muscle memory takes over, jerking as he squirts some soap into his palm then scrubs his skin, digging out furrows of blood that had soaked into the creases of his fingers and palms.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he barely registers it.

The sink is red, overwhelmed by the darkened water and cheap pipes, it pools for a moment, swirling around the overworked drain before disappearing, only leaving flecks of diluted blood on the edges of the basin and the countertop.

“Lang.”

Lang’s eyes drag upwards to the mirror. Tony stands behind him, a shirt slung over his arm.

Lang turns around and wordlessly takes the shirt, thankful he no longer has to sit in the lobby with twice-divorced passers-by ogling him.

“Yuno, is he—?”

“He’s fine,” Lang answers shortly. He hadn’t seen the man since the ambulance had brought him in over half an hour ago, and he knew he wouldn’t for several hours. But he knew he was okay. Knew he was going to be okay.

“Who did this? I mean, who’s stupid enough to shoot Yuno, of all people? As soon as the word gets out, half the gangs in the city will be hunting for this guy.”

“I don’t know,” he lies.

His eyes narrow.

“But I have an idea who might have been the driver.”

He yanks his phone out of his pocket, eyes briefly flicking over the text from Tony from moments ago telling him he had arrived.

“I got a call right before Yuno was shot. It wasn’t a payphone, but I don’t know the number.”

He turns the screen around for Tony to see, who shakes his head.

“I don’t recognize it either.”

Lang screenshots it and sends it to Marty. He’d have the younger man check to see who it was, but he had more than an inkling of who the drunk stranger had been.

“I want someone staying here at all times, we can take turns, but I don’t want anyone getting to Yuno and I want to know the second he wakes up.”

Tony nods swiftly and pulls out his phone. “I’ll text Gege about it.”

“Keep it on the downlow, just have people closest to Yuno be the ones to watch, this news will get out eventually, but I want to keep it as private as we can for as long as we can.”

“Got it.”

Tony steps away for a moment, typing on his phone rapidly and the bathroom door swings open, only for the balding man who stepped in to see one look from Tony then Lang and turn back around.

“I’m calling it,” Lang announces, voice low.

Tony glances up from his phone. “The number?”

Lang nods, thumb hovering over it.

Tony’s eyes dart over his oldest friend’s face, flicking over every crease, every line of worry.

“Alright.” His phone rings in his hand and pulls his attention back to it. “One sec, Gege’s calling.”

Lang watches his friend pull the phone to his ear and in hurried, hushed tones fill her in.

He presses the unknown number and listens to it ring.

And ring.

And ring.

And Lang’s soul burns with rage.

~

Ray doesn’t pick up when Lang calls him an hour later. He’s sitting in his car, at a gas station not far from the hospital. He doesn’t answer his texts either.

So, he goes to option two.

“Hey, Lang, what’s going on, man?”

“Benji. Where’s Yuno right now?”

Benji laughs, though Lang can tell it’s forced.

“Which one are you talking about? The copycat or the real one?” His voice is light, but Lang can hear the threat behind it.

Lang grits his teeth. “I mean your Yuno, cat Yuno,” he cursed, rubbing his eyes. “We need nicknames for them,” he mutters.

“My Yuno?” Benji’s silent for a moment and Lang doesn’t fill the quiet.

“Yeah, I don’t know.”

Lang grips the steering wheel even though the car isn’t on.

“Alright. How about Dundee? Seen him lately?”

“Dundee?” Benji sounds genuinely confused. “I didn’t know he was still around.” He pauses, as if thinking. “What, did he get a clone too?”

Lang ignores the comment. “Do you have his number?”

“I have a number, but I doubt it’s a recent one.”

“Does it end in—,” Lang pulls the phone away from his ear for a moment, “5096?”

Benji must do the same because there’s a slight shuffle on the other side of the phone, then, “No.”

“Right.”

A text from Marty pops up.

“Nice talking to you, Benji, as always.”

“Yeah, yeah, now get this all sorted out. This is Yuno we’re talking about, get your head out—”

Lang hangs up and clicks on Marty’s text.

“Number comes back to Irwin Dundee. Tracked his phone. Last ping was here.”

Followed by a location.

Lang opens the glovebox and sets his handgun on the passenger seat.  Exhaling, he puts the location into his GPS and sticks his key back into ignition.

~

The air is wet and smells like soil and coal. There’s metal digging into his back and the flickering lights blur overhead. The whole mine is silent, only the occasional creaking of metal and water dripping from somewhere.

And there, in the familiar dark, Dundee bleeds to death.

The entrance seems so far away, and he had long dropped to the ground, unable to walk any longer. Then after blacking out, he awoke again and began to crawl.

It felt like days had passed. He couldn’t see the sky, didn’t have his phone, couldn't recognize the tunnel from the one he had been shot in from the one he currently lay in. There was no way to tell how long he had been here. No way to tell how long he had been bleeding on the unforgiving dirt and rail.

All he knew was he was alone.

He was alone.

No Yuno. No Barry. No BBMC. No one in this forsaken city who even knew he was dying out here.

He could barely see. Barely feel the hole in his torso. His vision was fading, shadows growing and making it impossible to tell if his eyes were open or shut and he felt as though he was weighed down, tired, tired of—

Tired of being betrayed.

He just—

Wanted—

~

Lang was apprehensive as he pulled up to the abandoned mines. He checked the location Marty had sent. Sure enough, Dundee’s last cell tower ping had been outside this area.

Lang’s stomach roiled. It didn’t take a genius to look at the yawning mouth of the mines to feel as though danger lurked inside. He would walk inside, with a tunnel just large enough for him, barely able to see, barely able to turn around, with a branching network of tunnels that went who knows where.

Nonetheless, he knew he was going inside.

Worst case scenario, it wouldn’t take long for his boys to figure out where he had gone.

He held the handgun loosely in his hand and walked into the cavern.

His footsteps crunched on the loose soil and echoed on the mine cart rail.

There are lights running along the tunnel ceiling, dim and flickering with each groan of the yawning abyss. The air smelled of wet dirt and rust. Lang tipped the handgun up slightly as he ventured forward, the safety clicking off.

And there, in the darkness, Lang saw blood for the second time that day.

He cursed, handgun raised fully, eyes flashing to his surroundings as his steps hurried to the unmoving figure on the ground.

He knelt beside Dundee, free hand already yanking the phone out of his pocket. Part of him hoped it wouldn’t be the same responders he had seen earlier.

The red seeping closer to his shoes looked just like Yuno’s had.

“Just hold on, idiot,” Lang hissed, glaring at the unconscious man, “You have a lot to answer for before I kill you,” he growled.

~

It was the same EMTs Lang had seen earlier. And just like true Los Santos citizens, they hurried past him, unperturbed by the idea that the same man happened upon two gunshot victims on the same day. Or maybe it was just professionalism. Lang couldn’t bring himself to care.

Even with Los Santos’ cutting edge medical tech, Dundee wouldn’t be awake anytime soon. If he survived, that was. As Lang stashed the gun back safely into his glovebox, he could feel his irritation growing.

He knew it had to be Yuno… the other Yuno… cat helmet Yuno… Cat had to be the one that had shot Yuno in the park. Cat was more violent than he had been when he was younger, Lang had seen it for himself. He hadn’t ever gone after someone he knew, someone he could potentially call friend, but he had shown that he felt no compassion for Yuno.

Yuno’s wide eyes framed by the silence of Cat, with a knife pressed to his throat still lingered in his mind.

The ambulance lights tore through his windshield, lighting up his dashboard before driving away, wailing as it tore off toward the main road.

There had been another that Yuno had mentioned as well. An evil twin or something like that. The man in the red jacket that had picked him up from the hospital. Could he be another clone? Or was he just Cat?

Lang’s lip curled as he pulled his car out of park. Honestly, one Yuno was enough.

~

“I’m starving,” Rae groaned from her spot on the curb.

Uno barely looked at her. “You’re not starving,” he replied unhelpfully.

Rae rolled her eyes. “What are you looking for anyways?”

Uno had been standing at the corner, watching traffic whip down the road for some time, listening to their horns blare and the crosswalk sign beep. His head had stopped bleeding finally, and she had helped him wipe away the dried blood. His bangs now supplied themselves as a curtain over the dried gash.

“Someone I recognize.”

Rae narrowed her eyes. She didn’t have any memories from before the explosion. She only knew her name because it was engraved on the outside of her tank. But she hadn’t seen Uno’s tank when she dragged him out of the building before it fell on top of them. She had no way of knowing his ridiculous name. But he remembered it. And when they stumbled across a junkyard, he recognized it. And though it took hours, he found his way back to the city.

A city which Rae had never seen before.

Uno had his memory, if not all of it, most of it. In comparison to the blank slate renting out Rae’s brain, he had the upper hand. They may be trauma buddies, running from an explosion, from people neither of them knew, but that didn’t mean she trusted him.

But he was the only one she knew.

~

Yuno was burning.

He could feel the sweat coating his skin, the weight in his chest dragging him down.

Why was he so hot?

A needle pierced his skin, blurred by green.

That’s right.

Guy Jones.

A doctor’s face swam in front of his vision.

Not Guy Jones’ face.

He floated outside of his body, watching surgeons move like ants around his body.

His brain was full of cotton.

The lights buzzed overhead.

…

He hoped Mr. Lang was okay.

~

Lang’s phone started ringing after he left the abandoned mines. It hadn’t been long since he had started driving aimlessly, hoping to catch sight of a familiar car or face, but had found neither as he sped down the lonely roads.

“What?” Lang answered.

Marty’s voice came on the other side. “Yuno’s awake.”

The light flashed red, and Lang slammed on the brakes for once.

“What?” he repeated.

“They just came out and told me. He’s awake, Buddha.”

Lang gripped the wheel.

“Be right there.”

~

There were a lot of near-death experiences in Yuno’s life. Most of them were half-brained plans concocted from boredom and late nights with Mickey, but the rest—

Of course, there was the occasional spot of bad driving or slippery roof, but he would hardly call those “near death.”

No, it was the moments he looked someone he knew in the eyes and watched them pull the trigger anyways. That was when he felt death for the first time.

Yuno blinked up at the white lights.

It hadn’t been the end of a gun or a set of betraying eyes he had seen with his latest brush with death this time. It had been Mr. Lang. He had been frantic, calling his name and kneeling by him and tearing his shirt off just to stop the blood. He couldn’t help but wonder why he cared so much.

“Yuno!”

Yuno turned his head, barely registering the sharp ache at the movement.

Mr. Lang was here.

And this time, Yuno couldn’t cover his smile.

~

Yuno lay on his belly on the bed, tapping mutely on the cheap phone game. Mr. Lang hadn’t called.

He hadn’t said a word to him since kicking him out of the Cypress house.

So, he was probably busy.

He was an important man, after all.

He glanced away from the screen and at the handgun on the nightstand. Ray had given it to him that morning over a bowl of cereal. He didn’t even know why he wanted it. All he knew was he felt like he needed it that night after seeing the copycat.

He wasn’t going to kill him or anything… the fake just needed a little push, a little accident, then Mr. Lang would be back to being his best friend again.

The corners of his mouth twitched into a frown.

“Hey, Yuno,” Ray called from the doorway of the bedroom. He was holding his phone in his hand, brows furrowed. “Did you hear about the other Yuno?”

Yuno’s eyes flicked over to his discarded helmet on the carpet.

“No.”

Ray’s expression is full of an emotion Yuno can’t read.

“He’s in the hospital, apparently.”

Yuno blinks.

Something cold shifts in his chest, settling until it sank past his diaphragm.

“Huh.”

Ray’s eyes follow him as he reaches for his helmet and dons it.

“Anyone know who did it?”

~

“How are you awake right now?” Lang stared at his best friend, still uncommonly pale against the hospital bed sheets.

Yuno glances around conspiratorially before leaning in, well attempting to.

“Aliens.”

Lang raises an eyebrow.

“No, no, I mean it.” Yuno squirms.

“You’re not high off painkillers, are you?”

Yuno shakes his head softly, so as to not jostle his recently healed wounds.

“The doctors were all freaked out, y’know?” He giggles, then his expression drops into something thoughtful. “Huh… maybe I am on the zaza….”

Lang fixes him with a look. “What.”

“The zaza,” Yuno repeats, then he pantomimes drinking.

“…Right….”

“Anyways,” Yuno waves his hand before continuing, “I got injected with like alien DNA or something, back when I thought I was washed up. Guy Jones gave it to me to make me a better hacker.”

Lang stares.

“I didn’t think it worked, but I guess I glow green now and can’t die!” he finishes cheerily.

“Yeah, let’s not test that, alright?”

Yuno does a weak half shrug.

Lang hadn’t heard the name ‘Guy Jones’ since over eight years ago. But that seemed to be where all of Yuno’s memories came from. If the painkillers weren’t making him completely lose grip on reality, it would explain the green eyes and quick healing. And it wasn’t like aliens didn’t exist.

But the idea of Guy Jones cornering Yuno in some dingy facility with a syringe full of alien gunk that he has no clue how to use makes Lang’s vision cloud over with rage.

Then again, Yuno was alive because of that harebrained scheme.

Yuno’s face was turned away from him and he was half-heartedly humming some tune Lang didn’t recognize. His eyelids drooped and his fidgeting fingers playing with the top of his sheet slowed and Lang’s mouth quirked.

“You should rest, Yuno.”

 “I just—,” Yuno yawned, “slept so much though.”

Lang scoffs. “You were being operated on, that’s not exactly the kind of rest I mean. Just get some sleep.”

Yuno’s eyes were already shut but he hummed quietly in response, nonetheless.

Lang didn’t move right away.

He sat beside Yuno’s bed, eyes tracing the younger man’s exhausted features.

Watching his chest rise and fall as it was supposed to.