Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When my neighbors asked me to do them a favor, I thought it would be something simple. Water their plants, maybe feed a pet. I didn’t expect eight skeletons to be waiting on my porch with bags and boxes and an assortment of expressions ranging from boredom to suspicion.

I opened the door anyway.

The first one through the door carried himself like he already belonged here. Warrant. Black suit hanging loose on his frame, tie crooked, eye lights warm. He towered above, barely able to fit the doorframe as I noticed the hole in his skull that spanned from his right socket, eye light completely gone in that area. He grinned at me like I’d been waiting years just for him. “Thanks for opening up, friend. You’ve got no idea how much this means.” He said it like we’d known each other since grade school.

Behind him, Torrent made a noise halfway between a scoff and a sigh. He was identical to Warrant, though his messed up eye socket was on the opposite side of his twins'. White suit, not a wrinkle out of place, another stark contrast to his lookalike. His hands adjusted the cuffs as if entering my living room was a ceremony he had to prepare for. His skeletal tail brushed the floor, sweeping in tandem with his brother’s, though the twins barely looked at each other. “She doesn’t know you. Stop talking like she does,” Torrent muttered, though his eyes never landed on me, only on Warrant’s lopsided tie. "And don't block the entrance way."

The third was shorter than both of them (but then again, the sheer height of the twins seemed impossible to be taller than), shoulders drawn back in a yellow military jacket so polished it looked like he’d ironed it minutes before. Thanatos. Gloves on his hands, buttoned high at the wrists. His eye lights flickered when he caught me staring. “This arrangement is temporary,” he said, voice low. “You don’t need to get used to us.” He stood straight-backed, but his fingers flexed tight inside those gloves.

Ajax came in with his head tilted to one side like he was listening to something only he could hear. His hoodie was ripped, stained tank top visible beneath, shorts hanging loose on his hips. He smelled faintly of ozone, though I wasn’t sure if that was real or imagined. One of the few things I knew for a fact was I wasn't imagining the gaping hole that consumed the back of his skull. “Numbers don’t end, you know. They loop. Like staircases. Down and down. Up and up. Which way are you standing?” His words curled out, not addressed to anyone in particular. I found myself staring at him too long, searching for meaning, until he looked back at me and I had to look away.

Then came Break. Red and black striped hoodie, gray hood shadowing his skull. Both his top fangs glinted gold when he smirked at me. His sweatpants hung low, casual in the way of someone who didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. Except maybe to Beats, who followed him in.

Beats’ hoodie was plain blue, the hood gray, sweats to match. His steps were heavy, deliberate. The second he saw Break in my entryway, his eye lights sharpened. Break’s smirk widened in answer. Neither spoke, but the air between them tightened, sharp as a wire pulled taut.

Then came Coffee. Black striped turtleneck, chinos sharp, apron folded over his arm like he had just walked over from a shift. His eye lights flicked around my house like he was finding flaws. “So this is it?” he said. “Smaller than I thought. Guess it’ll do, if you like living in a shoebox.” He grinned without warmth, already looking for the next jab. “Got an outlet near the kitchen? Don’t tell me you don’t own a grinder. People like you always buy pre-ground, huh?” His tone made it sound like a crime.

Philos drifted in last, barefoot, peplos in soft colors. His green eye lights glowed bright as lanterns, his smile brighter still. He clapped his bony hands together with a cheerful sound. “Oh, it’s perfect! So cozy! So warm! You must be the kindest human alive, letting us all in. I feel at home already!” He spun once, bare feet tapping on the wood like he might start dancing. The metal collar at his throat caught the light, cyber-looking in style, sleek and strange. I thought it was jewelry.

But when his eye lights fixed on me, too green, too bright, I had the fleeting thought of a knife hidden behind a bouquet. He was all joy, all cheer. Too much. I smiled back anyway.

Eight skeletons stood in my living room. Warrant beaming like we were best friends, Torrent inspecting dust, Thanatos standing too rigid, Ajax whispering riddles to the wall, Break lounging like he owned the couch, Beats glaring at him like he wanted him off it, Coffee needling me with questions, Philos glowing with delight.

I stood in the middle of my own living room, book still in hand, feeling like the furniture suddenly belonged more to them than to me. Their tails, their jackets, their voices.. each one edged into the space like they’d carved it already.

I cleared my throat once they’d all shuffled in. Eight skeletons in my living room. Suits and hoodies, tails and boots, all of them looking at me like this was normal. It wasn’t.

“I, uh.. before anyone starts unpacking, can we go over a few things?” My voice sounded small against the room. “House rules. Basic stuff.”

Warrant’s smile widened, warm as firelight. “Oh, good. Rules keep the peace. Go on, friend.” He leaned his elbows on the back of my armchair like it was his already.

Torrent crossed his arms, white suit crisp and spotless. “If there are rules, he’ll break them,” he muttered, nodding at his brother.

“I only break boring ones,” Warrant said, winking at me.

Thanatos straightened to attention, yellow jacket gleaming. His gloves creaked as he flexed his fingers. “Speak plainly,” he said, sharp as a blade. “Efficiency matters. Get on with it.”

I held up a hand. “Okay. First thing: no smoking inside. I don’t care what it is. Cigarettes, magic dust, catnip, whatever.”

Coffee barked a laugh. He was leaning against my kitchen doorway, apron slung over his shoulder, eyes bright with mischief. “Aw, you hear that? Gonna ruin someone's whole lifestyle. Guess we’ll just choke down our vices outside in the cold, huh?” He grinned, daring me to snap back.

Thanatos shot him a look sharp enough to cut stone. Coffee just grinned wider.

“Second,” I pressed on, “no fighting. I don’t care if you disagree, I don’t care if someone looks at you funny, I don’t care if one of you eats the last Pop-Tart. This isn’t an arena.”

Break chuckled from the couch, one leg tossed over the arm. His golden fangs glinted when he smirked. “Define fighting. If I wipe the floor with blue hoodie over there, is that fighting or just… art?”

Beats, blue hood pulled low, shifted in his seat. His magic thrummed faintly, a low beat under the skin of the room. “You wouldn’t last long enough to call it anything,” he said quietly, voice tight.

The tension between them was thick enough to taste.

I swallowed. “That counts as fighting. Don’t.”

Philos clapped his bony hands together, barefoot and beaming. “Oh, rules are fun! A game we all get to play! I’m very good at games.” His voice was sing-song, cheery enough to hurt. “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. Cross my heart.” His green eye lights sparkled, and the strange collar at his throat glinted in my lamp’s glow.

“Third,” I said carefully, “if you break something, you fix it. Or replace it. No exceptions.”

“Depends on the price,” Coffee muttered as if he knew it was inevitable with the group present before us.

“Fourth-” I glanced at Ajax. He was tracing invisible symbols on my wall with one finger, mumbling under his breath. “..uh, keep the cryptic wall art to a minimum?”

He didn’t look at me. “Walls remember everything. Every weight, every hand, every nail. They groan with it. You don’t hear it? You will.”

Thanatos pinched the bridge of his nose like he had a headache.

“Fifth,” I said louder, “my room is off-limits. No exceptions.”

Torrent nodded sharply. “Reasonable.”

Warrant raised both hands. “Fair, fair. But what if you’re lonely and want company?”

“Then I’ll let you know,” I said flatly.

He laughed, unoffended.

“Last thing,” I said. “I’m helping you out because my neighbors asked me to, but this is still my house. So, respect that. Please.”

For a moment, silence. Eight pairs of eye lights fixed on me, each one different.

Then Warrant stepped forward, grinning wide. He held out his hand like we’d sealed a pact. “Understood. You’ve got my word.”

Torrent rolled his eyes, muttered something sharp under his breath, but he gave me a short nod.

Thanatos adjusted his gloves, jaw tight. “Temporary,” he repeated, like a vow.

Ajax finally turned from the wall. His voice was soft, almost kind. “Temporary is just another word for fragile. Fragile things break. Broken things end.” He smiled faintly, like he’d just solved an equation no one else could see. "Like Warrant."

The friendly giant in question instantly turned to look at Ajax in shock and confusion, though a slight hint of fear lingered in his single visible eye light. "W-what? What does that mean? Guys? What is that supposed to mean??" Torrent just rolls his own light at his twin getting scared by whatever manic thing Ajax would sputter.

Break stretched and yawned. “Sure, sure. No fun, no smoke, no breaking things. Got it.” His tone said the opposite.

Beats’ magic pulsed low, dissonant. He didn’t speak, but his glare at Break said enough.

Coffee clicked his tongue, eyes bright. “Oh, this is gonna be great. Nothing like rules to test how fast we can break ‘em. Don’t worry, sweetheart-” he gestured at me with a sharp grin- “I’ll keep things interesting.”

Philos spun in a slow circle, arms wide, peplos swaying around his frame. “Oh, it’s already interesting! A full house, full hearts, full lives! What could be better?” He laughed, bright and hollow, and for a second I swore I saw his eye lights flicker darker green.

I folded my arms, unsure if I’d just made a huge mistake.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

They didn’t scatter so much as stake claims.

Warrant marched straight into the kitchen like he’d been living here his whole life. He tugged open cabinets, nodding in approval at the mismatched dishes. “Good bones,” he said with a grin. “We’ll make a family out of this place.”

Torrent trailed after him, adjusting the angle of a plate in the rack that Warrant tipped accidentally like it was life or death. “You call this organization?” He shut the cabinet with a sharp click. “Pathetic.”

“Don’t be so stiff,” Warrant said, pulling open the fridge. “We’ll keep the food stocked. Won’t we?” He gave me a wink like I’d already agreed.

I muttered something about writing a grocery list.

Thanatos didn’t even glance at the kitchen. He walked the perimeter of the living room, boots clicking on the floorboards, fingers brushing the walls. Testing. Measuring. He stopped at the window, eyes narrowing as if the view might be a tactical weakness. His gloves tightened into fists.

“You’ll keep these locked at night,” he said, not asking. “Curtains drawn.”

I nodded before I could argue.

Ajax hovered near him, tilting his skull as if listening to a frequency the rest of us couldn’t hear. “Curtains keep out the dark, but the dark still breathes. You can’t stop the air.” He pressed his hand against the glass like he was trying to feel its heartbeat.

Break kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the couch like he owned it. His golden fangs flashed as he stretched out, arms behind his skull. “Nice digs. Think I’ll claim this spot.”

Beats’ magic thudded in response, low and steady like the start of a drumline. He sat in the recliner across from Break, hoodie pulled low, fingers tapping against his leg. Tap-tap-tap. Break’s smirk widened with every beat, like it was a challenge.

Coffee slipped past both of them into the kitchen, brushing shoulders with Warrant on purpose. “This your fridge, huh?” He tugged it open again, peered inside, and snorted. “Empty. Figures. What’s this, half a bottle of ketchup and some sad lettuce? You trying to starve us?”

“I haven’t done shopping,” I said, bristling.

“You don’t say,” Coffee muttered, already rummaging. He pulled out the lettuce, held it up between two bony fingers like it was diseased. “If I fed this to a customer, I’d get shot.” His grin was sharp, eyes cutting sideways at me.

“Don’t,” I said.

“Don’t what?” His grin widened. “Don’t tell the truth?”

Philos breezed between us before I could answer, his bare feet light on the wood. “Food! Oh, what fun! We’ll feast, won’t we? I can cook- oh, yes, I’m very good in the kitchen. The smell of bread, the sound of boiling water.. it’s like a lullaby !Now where do I light the fire on this thing..?” He laughed, bright and hollow, clapping his hands together. His collar glinted, catching the kitchen light.

Coffee side-eyed him, muttering low, “Bet your lullabies taste like arsenic.”

Philos only smiled brighter.

Thanatos finally broke his pacing and sat stiff-backed on the far end of the couch, as far from Break as possible. His gloves flexed on his knees. “This won’t work,” he said flatly. “Too many variables. Too many risks. We need structure.”

“We need dinner,” Warrant said cheerfully from the fridge. “Food solves everything.”

Torrent snapped the fridge shut in his face. “Food doesn’t fix idiocy.”

“Neither does fasting,” Warrant shot back, but his smile never dimmed.

Ajax leaned against the wall, half-shadow, voice thin and strange. “Food fills holes, but the holes never close. They widen. They gape. Hands know the weight of emptiness.” His fingers twitched against the wall, scraping softly. Thanatos' sharp sight stayed firm on Ajax after his words, as if the nonsense wasn't complete nonsense and he understood the weight of his words.

The room went quiet.

Then Break snorted, golden fangs flashing. “Deep stuff, skull-crack. You write poetry, or just spout it?”

Beats’ tapping stopped dead. He leaned forward, voice low and sharp. “Shut up, Break.”

Break stretched, smug. “Make me.”

I held up both hands. “Enough. Nobody’s making anyone do anything. I said no fighting.”

Coffee chuckled into his hand, amused. “Oh, this is gonna last all of five minutes. I’ll start the betting pool.”

Philos clapped his hands again, too cheerful. “Oh, a pool! I love games! Count me in!”

Thanatos’ glare cut through the room, and for a moment the air felt heavy, thick with his anger. Then he looked away, jaw clenched.

I sighed before gesturing down a hallway and towards stairs as well. "Okay, well.. Make yourselves at home, first come first serve on the other rooms."

The living room slowly emptied, each skeleton staking their claim, dragging boxes and bags down the hallway like they owned every inch of space.

Warrant carried a stack of plates toward the kitchen, tail brushing the wall with a soft thwack each step. “Hmm, these’ll do nicely. Might even be able to host a dinner one day,” he said, spinning a plate in one hand.

Torrent appeared behind him, eyeing the crooked stack, tail flicking irritably. “You are a menace,” he said sharply. “Do you ever- ever- consider spatial integrity? That plate is three degrees off the proper horizontal plane.”

“I’m creative,” Warrant replied cheerfully, oblivious, tail wrapping around a chair leg and knocking it slightly askew.

Torrent groaned, straightening the chair. “You make chaos, then I fix it. Why else do I exist?”

Ajax had vanished down the hall, his soft humming following him into a corner room. He was unpacking in silence, muttering to himself about “fractal weights” and “loops in the ceiling.” Sometimes he paused mid-motion, staring at the wall like it had just whispered back.

Break had claimed the living room couch and a small pile of his things beside it. He leaned back, arms crossed behind his skull, golden fangs catching the lamp glow. Beats had stationed himself across the room in a recliner, tapping his fingers, muttering low beats to himself. Neither had spoken much since the silent staking of territory, but the air between them vibrated with rivalry. Every subtle movement seemed designed to provoke the other, though neither would make the first overt strike.

Thanatos disappeared down the hall and emerged a few minutes later hauling boxes toward the largest room in the house. Gloves flexing, he measured distances, lining bookshelves along the walls. By the time he was finished, he had carved the room into zones: a library corner with towering shelves of books, a work area with his desk and glowing instruments, and a small seating area for strategic contemplation. He muttered to himself as he worked, tightening screws, shifting chairs, sliding rugs into perfect alignment, his bed tucked away somewhere out of sight as if he never planned to sleep in the first place.

Coffee sauntered into the kitchen, unrolling a series of cables, hissing machines, and counter attachments like a general laying siege to territory. “This kitchen’s sad,” he muttered, muttering more to himself than anyone else. He assembled a gleaming espresso machine, a grinder, and an automatic milk frother, each piece clicking into place with precision. Then he paused, surveying his work, satisfied. “Finally, something worth using.”

Warrant had already managed to knock over a stack of books with his tail, sending Torrent into a flurry. “Your tail!” Torrent hissed, rearranging the toppled books with meticulous precision. “Do you ever consider the consequences?”

“They’re just books, brother!” Warrant said, waving him off, tail swishing innocently.

Torrent shot him a glare, but a flicker of exasperated fondness crossed his face as he straightened the books back. “Books contain ideas, Warrant. Ideas. If you'd stop to read one, maybe you'd be more aware.”

Meanwhile, Break had started pulling his boxes apart, tossing clothes and electronics in a haphazard pile, clearly caring little for anyone else. Beats sat in quiet judgment, magic humming low in irritation as he shifted slightly in his chair to remain as far from Break as possible.

Ajax had been quietly filling a smaller room, which may have actually been a closet, with scattered papers, diagrams, and scribbled numbers. He muttered equations aloud, occasionally tilting his skull to the ceiling like he expected answers to rain down. “If the weight is wrong, the air will collapse. If the sum is off, reality bends…”

Thanatos’ sharp gaze flicked down the hall to Ajax, gloves tightening around a pen as he scribbled notes at his desk. “Do not leave the common space disordered,” he said sternly, though Ajax either didn’t hear or didn’t respond.

Coffee emerged from the kitchen, brushing past Warrant, who had accidentally smacked yet another item with his tail again. “Careful, your appendages are catastrophic,” Coffee said dryly, leaning against the counter and sipping from a steaming mug of freshly brewed espresso.

Warrant beamed. “I create excitement!”

“You create disaster,” Torrent muttered, sighing as he bent to re-hook the fridge properly and straighten Warrant’s tail.

Hours passed. Boxes emptied, rugs shifted, shelves stocked. The house began to feel like a home. Not my home anymore, but their home within mine. I wandered the hallway, occasionally correcting small things or trying to keep the chaos from tipping into destruction.

By the time night fell, everyone had claimed their spaces.

Thanatos sat at his desk, gloves flexing, reviewing charts and notes, muttering about inefficiencies and risks in hushed tones. Break had stretched across the couch again, fangs gleaming in the soft lamp light. Beats’ fingers tapped lightly on the armrest, eyes flicking to the ceiling, trying to synchronize his low hums to the rhythm of the night. Coffee had installed an intricate coffee-making station on the counter, smirking at me as if daring me to interrupt.

Philos sat cross-legged on the floor in the corner of his room, smiling too wide, hands clasped in childish glee. Ajax lay sprawled across a rug, scribbling invisible equations in the air, whispering in loops and riddles. Warrant and Torrent remained side by side, tails brushing the floor in parallel arcs, occasionally bumping into one another with silent bickering.

I finally collapsed on my bed, listening to the faint hum of activity drifting down the hallway: the tapping of Beats, the low muttering of Thanatos, the quiet whir of Coffee’s machines.

And somewhere, Ajax whispered numbers.

The house was alive. Too alive. And I, somehow, was still its anchor.

Chapter Text

Despite the fact that you were already sleeping, the house was still alive in its own way.

Thanatos had instantly gone back to rearranging him room for efficiency, wanting to return to his usual work on ledgers and reports as soon as possible.

Beats was in his room, laying his magic throughout his personal space to reverb a peaceful, yet wary, melody that rang only in his room, slightly swaying his body in a lazy dance.

The twins, Warrant and Torrent, were both asleep in their own room, having long been attuned to disruptive noises and ready to react in an instant should anything happen.

Philos was.. not quite sleeping, not quite meditating. Sitting on the floor of his room, sockets empty as he seemed to disassociate, just willing the space to take him for whatever reason. And one could only assume what was going on with Ajax, the mumbling in his mind blending with the mumbled garble that left his teeth.

The balcony smelled of smoke before Coffee even opened the door. Cold night air dragged it inside, bitter and heavy, twined with the sharp tang of whiskey.

Coffee came out with a sigh as he propped against the railing, cigarette glowing like a coal between his teeth, a heavy mug in hand. He hadn’t bothered hiding the whiskey he’d drowned in the espresso- the smell alone proved it. His eye lights were dim, narrowed toward the street below, as if glaring at the asphalt would bend it straighter.

Break lounged in the balcony chair like he owned it, legs splayed wide, one boot hooked on the railing. A joint smoldered lazily in his hand, his flask balanced on his knee. Every drag curled smoke up toward the night sky, every grin flashing those two golden fangs like they were there just to mock the world.

The only sound for a while was the hiss of burning paper and the occasional clink of flask against metal railing.

Coffee broke first. He always did. “You smoke like you’re trying to set your lungs on fire.”

Break chuckled, flicking ash with a careless hand. “You drink like you’re trying to pickle what’s left of your brain. Guess we all got our hobbies.”

Coffee’s eye lights narrowed to sharp slits. “At least I have taste.”

“Yeah,” Break said, long and slow, “the taste of bitterness. It’s like you brewed it into your bones.”

Coffee sneered, taking a drag. “Better bitter than bland. You’d drown in sugar water and call it a meal.”

Break laughed, too loud for the quiet street below. He tipped his flask back, swallowing half a mouthful before answering. “Don’t be mad just because I know how to have fun. You sip like a priest doing communion.”

Coffee barked a humorless laugh. “You wouldn’t know reverence if it bit you in the ass.”

Break leaned forward, grin sharpening, smoke curling through his teeth. “And you wouldn’t know fun if it kissed you on the mouth.”

Coffee glances over to Break, exhausted annoyance evident on his expression, Break looking smug with his little smirk that ever seemed present on his face.

The air between them thickened, smoke and tension curling into something hot and mean, but before Coffee could let out another sharp remark-

“You’re both pretending,” a voice cut in from the shadows.

Coffee nearly dropped his mug. Break jolted upright so fast his flask clattered to the floor.

Ajax was there. Just there- one moment empty air, the next his gaunt frame half-folded against the corner of the balcony, hoodie hanging loose, eye lights faint as dying stars. His head tilted wrong, too far, like it had been caught on a broken hinge.

“You fill the holes with smoke and drink,” Ajax murmured, voice frayed and quiet. “But holes don’t close. They only widen. You can’t burn away the emptiness. You can’t drown it. It eats, and it waits.”

The cigarette slipped from Coffee’s fingers, embers scattering across the balcony tiles. Break swore under his breath, clutching his flask like a weapon, golden grin gone tight around the edges.

Ajax didn’t look at either of them. He just turned, head cocked like he was listening to something in the wall. “I can hear it getting hungrier.” He whispered it like a secret meant only for the dark.

Then, just as suddenly, he slipped back inside, his bare footsteps soundless on the hardwood.

The balcony was too quiet after. The smoke hung heavier than before.

Coffee swore softly, lighting another cigarette with hands that shook just once. Break tipped back his flask like the burn would settle the unease in his bones.

Neither of them spoke for a long while.

Smoke hung thick. The city below buzzed on like nothing had happened.

Coffee was the first to break. He snorted, shaking his head as he took a drag. “Every time he opens his mouth, I feel like I’m about to get cursed.”

Break barked out a short laugh, maybe too loud. “Right? Dude talks like a rejected horror narrator. ‘It eats. It waits.’” He hunched forward, pitching his voice low and theatrical. “‘Also don’t forget to floss, lest the void consume you.’”

Coffee smirked despite himself, flicking ash over the rail. “You’re not wrong. He’s one bad mood away from monologuing in a thunderstorm with a raven on his shoulder.”

Break grinned, warming up to it. “Nah, nah, he’s the kind of guy who shows up at 2 a.m. to warn you about some terrible prophecy.. then steals your leftovers from the fridge before disappearing again.”

Coffee chuckled, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. “And you’d let him, too, because arguing with him is just asking for another cryptic speech about ‘consumption’ or ‘entropy’ or whatever the hell he’s on about.”

Break slapped the arm of his chair, laughing now, the unease in his eye lights dimming. “Seriously, though.. what’s his deal? He just.. appears. Out of nowhere. Like some kind of half-broken screensaver with a death wish.”

Coffee took a long sip of his spiked espresso, then muttered, “At least he’s consistent.”

That earned another laugh from Break. Their mockery rolled between them like a shield, a way to patch over the raw edge Ajax had left in the air. And though neither admitted it, the jokes helped- because silence might’ve meant hearing those words echo back again.

Silence hung for a moment, thick with smoke and tension, before Coffee finally broke it. “You ever think about how stupid you are sometimes?” His eye lights narrowed, a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Break chuckled, flicking ash over the railing. “Stupid? Please. I’m brilliant. The kind of dangerous brilliance that looks like chaos, but every move’s deliberate. Controlled dumb. Premium-grade idiocy other people only wish they could pull off.”

Coffee gave him a look, one brow raised. “You talk like you’re about to make this a bet.”

Break’s grin widened, leaning forward through the smoke. “Oh, it’s a bet. And it’s stupid, reckless, pointless, borderline dangerous. Which makes it perfect.”

Coffee smirked despite himself. “Alright. I’m listening.”

Break tapped the balcony railing like he was weighing options. “Alright. Whoever can lean the farthest over the edge without falling wins. Loser.. has to chug the other’s entire flask. Straight. No breaks. And, oh- bonus humiliation points if anyone notices.”

Coffee snorted, cigarette smoke curling in his nostrils. “Are you insane?”

Break shrugged, golden grin spreading. “Insane, yes. But thrilling. And you love thrill, who wouldn’t? Admit it.”

Coffee narrowed his eyes, taking a slow drag. “I do. But I also hate losing. And I will win.”

The balcony was thick with smoke and the sharp tang of whiskey. Coffee had already planted himself near the railing, mug in one hand, cigarette dangling from his teeth. Break slid his way closer, shoulder-to-shoulder with Coffee, flask still in hand. Side by side, they leaned over the edge, testing gravity and their own egos.

“You really think you can lean farther than me?” Coffee asked, eye lights narrowing.

Break grinned, smoke curling around him. “I don’t think. I know. You’re about to eat dirt, espresso boy.”

Coffee flicked ash over the railing. “Dream on. You’ll be the one kissing the ground first.”

Break leaned a fraction farther, toes brushing empty air, golden fangs flashing. “Oh, I wish you’d do that. Makes it more fun for me.”

The railing groaned under their combined weight. Each inch forward was a silent dare, a ridiculous test.

It only took a moment, but you had awaken from your sleep due to the noisy duo that you came to check on.. then, the inevitable happened right as you opened the balcony door.

A misjudged lean, a creak too loud, and both skeletons toppled over the railing- plummeting a full floor down into the bushes below with a chaotic crash and the sharp tang of splintered wood and scraped metal. Smoke swirled around the top balcony as your jaw dropped.

“..Oh my god.”

You bolted to the railing, heart hammering. “Are y’all okay?”

Below, Coffee groaned, one shoulder scraped, ribs bruised, mug dented. Break pushed himself upright in the bushes, flask bouncing uselessly off his knee, golden fangs flashing despite the aching and dirt. Both looked like a mess- but neither looked defeated.

“You fell first!” Coffee barked, voice hoarse.

“No! You definitely fell first!” Break yelled, brushing leaves and twigs from his hoodie.

Your hand smacked your own face, facepalming as a knee-jerk reaction. You leaned over the railing. “..You guys.. fell a whole floor down. And you’re arguing about who fell first?”

Coffee waved a hand dismissively. “Of course we are. You don’t get it- you always argue the moment someone loses.”

Break groaned, pushing himself onto one elbow, smirking despite the bush prickling him with every move. “Duh. Loser gets mocked. Pride matters. Bragging rights, espresso boy.”

You ran a hand through your hair, a mix of exasperation and amusement tugging at your lips. “…You two are incredible. Absolutely reckless. I wake up, and this is my life now?”

Coffee tilted his head, smirking smug despite having just fallen over the balcony and definitely not feeling the best. “Welcome to our house.”

Break gave a dramatic bow from the bushes. “It ain’t nothin’ but a thing.”

You shook your head, letting out a tired laugh. “..Entertaining. Absolutely exhausting, but entertaining.”

You peer back down to them, just listening to them bicker a bit before sighing. “Do y’all need help back up? We need to at least take a look at those injuries.”

The two skeletons were still half-buried in the bushes like discarded scarecrows. Break was already dragging himself upright, leaves stuck in his socket making him shudder as he took them out, one leg bent carefully as he tested his weight. He hissed through his teeth, favoring the ankle.

Coffee, on the other hand, wasn’t moving much at all. He sat hunched forward, one arm wrapped protectively over his side, grimacing every time he tried to shift.

“Don’t just stand there,” Break called to you, wincing as he leaned against the railing for balance. “Your roommates are dying in the shrubbery.”

“Not dying,” Coffee grumbled, voice tight. “Just.. can’t exactly breathe right now.”

You hurried down the steps, crouching beside him. “What hurts?”

“Ribs,” he admitted, reluctant. “Landed wrong. Think one’s cracked.”

Break snorted. “More like bruised. Don’t milk it.”

You shot Break a look and slipped an arm carefully under Coffee’s to help lever him up. He winced but managed, his breaths shallow and deliberate. Whatever the damage, he was upright.. and definitely not walking far without help.

“Great bet,” you muttered, brushing twigs off his jacket.

Coffee managed the faintest smirk through the pain. “Told you I don’t lose. Just.. hurts like hell to win.”

You hooked Coffee’s arm over your shoulder, half-carrying him up the steps while Break hobbled behind you with an uneven gait.

“I’m just saying,” Break piped up between pained hisses, “I’m the one who actually made it over the railing. That’s a win.”

“We both did, look at us,” Coffee shot back, voice tight as he braced against you. “Falling into the bushes doesn’t count as style points. I stayed on longer. That’s endurance.”

“You stayed on because you got stuck!” Break barked a laugh, nearly stumbling on the porch. “That’s not endurance, that’s gravity doing you a favor.”

Coffee winced but smirked anyway. “Says the guy limping like an old man after five seconds of showboating.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting Coffee’s weight so you could open the door. “Both of you, shut up. You’re making me regret helping.”

They didn’t. The argument followed you down the hall like a bad echo, Break leaning heavily on the wall, Coffee dragging his feet against yours.

“I won.” Break started.

“You didn’t.” Coffee cut in.

You stopped dead in front of the bathroom door and turned to glare at both of them. “Enough. Neither of you won. You’re both idiots, and now you’re both hurt. Congratulations! It’s a tie.”

They froze for a beat, then glanced at each other. Break snorted. Coffee chuckled, then groaned and clutched his ribs.

“Fine,” Break muttered, sulking as he leaned against the doorframe. “A tie.”

“Best two out of three,” Coffee wheezed, but you shoved him gently toward the bathroom before he could start again.

The bathroom light was too bright, making both of them look even more wrecked than you expected. Break with an ankle already pulsing with his crimson magic around the joint, Coffee holding his ribs like they might rattle loose if he breathed too hard.

You grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink and set it on the counter. “Sit,” you ordered. Break perched on the edge of the tub, Coffee on the closed toilet lid. They still managed to glare at each other like rival cats.

You knelt by Break first, gently probing his ankle. He hissed but didn’t pull away.
“Sprained, not broken,” you said. “You’re lucky.”

Break tilted his head, grinning even through the pain. “Lucky’s my middle name.”

“Pretty sure it’s ‘Dumb,’” Coffee muttered.

You switched over to Coffee, pulling out an elastic bandage. “Lift your shirt.”

He hesitated, then carefully raised the hem, revealing the mottled bruise already spreading across his ribs. You winced. “That’s… going to hurt for a while.”

“Told you one’s cracked,” Coffee said, wry but tight.

“Hairline fracture at worst,” you said as you wrapped his torso, firm but gentle. “No heavy lifting, no wrestling, no proving points off balconies.”

Break snorted, leaning back on his hands. “You hear that? Doctor’s orders. You’re officially fragile.”

Coffee rolled his eyes, but when you finished wrapping, he caught your hand briefly before letting go. “Thanks.” His voice was quiet, less defensive than earlier in the day.

You shrugged, trying not to make a big deal of it. “Someone’s gotta keep you two from killing yourselves.”

For a moment, the room softened. Break watched you with a crooked smile that didn’t need words, and Coffee straightened carefully, the edge in his posture easing.

Then Break ruined it. “Still think I won, though.”

Coffee groaned, you sighed, and just like that, the moment slipped back into bickering.

Chapter Text

Despite the chaos of the night before, the house was quiet when morning finally crawled in. The kind of quiet that comes after trouble- where everyone knows something stupid happened, but no one wants to be the first to bring it up.

You woke to the smell of something burning. Not catastrophically, but definitely worryingly. A faint acrid sting of scorched toast and bitter coffee hung in the air, mingling with the sound of low grumbling from the kitchen.

When you padded down the hall, you were greeted by the sight of Coffee hunched over the counter, ribs tightly bound in fresh gauze, trying (and failing) to pretend he wasn’t in pain as he poured another cup of black coffee. His expression was all grim focus, the faint tremor in his hands betraying just how little sleep he’d gotten.

Break sat at the table with his injured leg propped on a chair, flipping through a deck of cards one-handed and looking far too pleased with himself for someone who’d fallen off a balcony less than twelve hours ago.

“Morning, doc,” he greeted without looking up. “Sleep well after your heroic rescue?”

“Yeah,” you said dryly, heading straight for the burnt toaster. “I dreamed of calling an ambulance and billing you both for the emotional damage.”

Coffee snorted into his mug. “Do it. He deserves it more than I do.”

“Hey,” Break protested, dropping the cards and slouching back in his chair. “You’re the one who leaned first.”

Coffee’s eyes narrowed. “You suggested it.”

“You agreed!”

You sighed and turned off the toaster before it could start smoking again. “You two seriously have the energy to argue already?”

“Pain is temporary,” Break said with mock solemnity, “but victory-”

“Is imaginary,” Coffee interrupted flatly.

Break grinned. “You just can’t admit defeat.”

Before you could intervene, there was a low sound from down the hall. Something between a door creaking open and a growl. The entire house seemed to hold its breath.

Thanatos appeared first- immaculate, somehow already dressed and put together, but with a dangerous look in his hollow sockets that suggested he’d been up since dawn hearing every single word.

“Would anyone like to explain,” he said, voice deceptively calm, “why there is a dent in the courtyard bushes and a broken railing on the balcony?”

Coffee froze mid-sip. Break’s grin faltered.

You didn’t move, didn’t blink. You just pointed silently at both of them. You'd think with how irritated Thanatos was that this was his house that he allowed everyone to reluctantly move into.

Thanatos exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nasal ridge. “Of course.”

Behind him, a sleepy Beats drifted out of his room, rubbing at his sockets and mumbling, “Man, I thought that crash last night was a dream..”

“Wasn’t,” Break muttered. “Was a tie.”

Thanatos’s glare could’ve cut steel. “A tie,” he repeated, voice like frost. “Do I even want to know?”

Coffee set down his mug with a quiet thunk. “No.”

“Absolutely not,” you added quickly.

Thanatos stared at the three of you, then sighed in that long, weary way of someone realizing there was no point in demanding logic from this house. “Fine,” he said. “But one of you is fixing that railing before dinner.”

Break opened his mouth- then shut it when Coffee’s elbow dug discreetly into his side.

You hid your grin behind your hand. It was too early for this nonsense, but at least no one was dead. Yet.

Thanatos turned and left the room with the quiet, lethal calm of someone plotting the day’s retribution. His footsteps faded down the hall, and as soon as they did, Break leaned back in his chair, smirking.

“Could’ve gone worse,” he said, tossing his cards onto the table.

Coffee gave him a side-eye. “You mean he didn’t threaten to bury us in the backyard this time. I’d call that an improvement.”

“Progress,” Break said with mock pride.

You poured yourself coffee- black, because there wasn’t enough patience in the world to deal with milk or sugar at the moment- and leaned against the counter. “You both realize he meant it about fixing the railing, right?”

Break grinned. “I was gonna delegate that to Coffee.”

Coffee arched a brow. “I can’t even walk straight.”

“Details,” Break waved it off. “You’re the responsible one.”

You snorted into your mug. “That’s debatable.”

Before Coffee could fire back, the faint hum of low music drifted down the hall- a soothing, wavering melody that slipped under the sound of their bickering. Beats had retreated into his room again, letting the resonance roll through the air like a blanket. It wasn’t loud, but it steadied everything, even Coffee’s tensed shoulders.

A door creaked somewhere upstairs, followed by the uneven rhythm of two sets of footsteps in sync- Warrant and Torrent, the twins, emerging like soldiers at roll call. They looked about as well-rested as anyone else: one with his jacket half-zipped, the other still rubbing tiredly at his sockets.

Torrent gave a long stretch and a low grunt. “..Who broke the railing?”

“Guess,” Coffee muttered.

Both twins turned their heads toward Break immediately.

“What?” Break protested. “Why’s it always me?”

Warrant blinked slowly. “Because it’s always you.”

That earned him a grin. “Fair.”

The twins exchanged a look- one that said, we’re not dealing with this yet- before grabbing cereal and sitting at the far end of the table, as if distance could protect them from stupidity.

You had just started to think the morning might pass without further incident when the temperature in the room dipped, subtle but sudden. A shadow slid across the floor, darker than it should’ve been in daylight.

Coffee’s hand froze around his mug. Break stopped smirking.

Ajax emerged from the hallway, half-hooded, moving like he’d never actually stopped moving since last night. His sockets were dim, his steps too quiet for someone solid. He didn’t look at anyone directly; instead, his gaze traced the window, the walls, the faint morning light leaking through the curtains.

No one spoke. Even the twins paused mid-bite.

Ajax stopped near the doorway, head tilting slightly like he was listening to something none of you could hear. When he finally spoke, it was low, rasped.

“The air’s wrong,” he said, almost to himself. “Something shifted.”

Break blinked. “Dude, it’s nine in the morning.”

Ajax didn’t react. His gaze lingered on Coffee, then slid past him to the window again. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

Coffee set down his mug carefully. “Feel what?”

Ajax’s grin was small, brittle. “The quiet before it happens again.”

You stepped forward a little, tone careful. “..Before what happens?”

He tilted his head the other way, eyes distant. “The house doesn’t rest. It remembers.”

The words hung there, eerie in the morning sunlight. Then Ajax just turned, walked to the sink, poured himself a glass of water like nothing had happened, and sat down between the twins.

The tension in the room cracked slightly.

Break blinked, looking at you. “..Okay. Is it just me, or is that guy one nightmare away from being a walking warning label?”

Coffee exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. “Don’t start. He’ll hear you.”

Ajax took a slow sip of water, not looking up. “I always do.”

Break’s grin faltered.

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “This is going to be a long day.”

By mid-afternoon, the house had settled into its usual rhythm of semi-functional chaos.
Or at least, what passed for “normal” here.

Thanatos had spent the morning in the courtyard, clipboard in hand, overseeing the damage to the balcony like an architect mourning his design’s betrayal. The railing, twisted and half-detached, leaned out at an accusing angle. Break and Coffee stood nearby, tools in hand, both looking far too pleased for two skeletons on probation.

“Just tighten the bolts,” Thanatos said evenly, “and don’t fall off again.”

“No promises,” Break said with a grin.

Thanatos didn’t even blink. “Then I’ll bury you next to the hydrangeas. Efficiently.”

Coffee smirked, nudging Break’s shoulder. “Told you.”

You stood by the sliding door, arms crossed, watching them fumble through repairs. Coffee was taking it seriously enough, focused and precise, while Break kept turning it into some kind of competition about who could fix more panels. Predictably, it ended with a dropped wrench, a string of curses, and Thanatos walking away before he said something regrettable.

Inside, the others had drifted into their own routines- Beats composing something low and melodic in his room, the twins practicing sparring forms out back, their movements sharp and synchronized. Ajax.. had vanished again.

That wasn’t unusual.
What was unusual was the silence that came with it.

The house had a way of feeling alive- humming faintly, breathing through the walls, the magic of its inhabitants keeping it in motion. But sometime after sunset, that hum began to dim. The lights flickered once, brief enough that you almost dismissed it. Then again.

“Power surge?” Coffee muttered, tightening one last bolt on the new railing.

“Maybe,” you said, though the hairs on your arms prickled. “Feels weird.”

Break leaned against the fixed section, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Weird how? It’s a house. It does house things.”

You gave him a look. “Since when does this house act normal?”

Before he could answer, a sound echoed from upstairs.
A door creaked open- slow, deliberate.

Coffee frowned. “No one else should be up there.”

The three of you exchanged a glance, instincts sharpening at once. You followed Coffee back inside, the air colder than it should’ve been, the hallway lit only by the faint glow of the sconces.

From the far end, Ajax’s door stood ajar. Light spilled faintly across the floor in long, uneven stripes- like something was moving inside, casting shadows that didn’t match the angle of the lamp.

“Ajax?” you called softly. No answer.

Break leaned close, voice low. “If he jumps out and says some creepy poem again, I swear-”

“Shh.” Coffee raised a hand.

You stepped closer, the faint smell of damp earth and ozone creeping through the doorway. Inside, Ajax’s room was empty. At least it looked empty. The bed untouched, his hoodie draped over the chair. But the air felt.. wrong.
Like the space was hollowing itself out.

There was a sound- a faint, rhythmic scrape from the window. Coffee moved first, pulling the curtain aside.

Outside, something black was clinging to the glass. Not quite shadow, not quite smoke- just a shifting smear that curled against the pane, pulsing faintly as though breathing. When the light hit it, it recoiled, pulling back into itself before slipping upward and vanishing against the ceiling.

Break took a step back, color draining from his eye lights. “..That wasn’t normal house stuff.”

“No,” Coffee said quietly, staring at the faint handprint it left behind- too thin, too long-fingered to be any of theirs.

You swallowed hard. “Do you think that’s what Ajax meant?”

Neither of them answered.

Because from somewhere down the hall, faint but unmistakable, came the sound of Ajax’s voice- soft, distant, and wrong in a way that made the walls seem to breathe:

“It remembers.”

And then the lights went out.

The lights blinked back to life a moment later. A brief, buzzing flicker, and then everything was too normal again- warm yellow glow, quiet hum of the fridge downstairs, the faint ticking of the hall clock.

None of you moved for a long few seconds.

Break was the first to exhale, slow and shaky. “..Okay,” he said, nodding too fast. “Cool. Great. Love that for us.”

Coffee shot him a look. “You saw that too, right?”

“Absolutely not,” Break said instantly. “Saw nothing. Window’s clean. Ten out of ten, spotless.”

You pressed your fingers to your temple. “Break-”

“Don’t ‘Break’ me,” he interrupted. “We all agreed that after a certain hour, weird house stuff doesn’t count. It’s in the roommate code.”

Coffee snorted, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s not a real rule.”

“Just made it one,” Break replied, tone flat.

You glanced toward Ajax’s empty doorway. The faint chill hadn’t left the air. “So we’re just.. pretending that didn’t happen?”

Break nodded. “Exactly. Denial’s healthy. Builds character.”

“Denial gets you haunted,” Coffee muttered.

“Haunted’s a strong word,” Break countered. “I prefer ‘lightly cursed.’”

Coffee gave him a dry look, then sighed and pushed away from the wall. “I’m going to work. Maybe caffeine will make this make sense.” He grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, grimacing as his ribs protested.

“Should you even be working right now?” you asked.

He waved a hand. “It’s fine. If I sit here all day, I’ll start imagining things crawling in the drywall.”

Break’s grin returned faintly. “Oh, don’t worry, they’re probably real.”

Coffee didn’t dignify that with a response- just muttered something about “idiots and insurance liability” and headed downstairs.

Thanatos appeared in the hallway doorway just long enough to shoot a glare toward the balcony through the stairwell window. “That railing will be repaired by the time I get back. Or I will have words.”

“Loud ones?” Break asked innocently.

“Sharp ones.” Thanatos didn’t wait for a reply; he was gone in seconds, coat flaring behind him as he left for work.

A moment later, the twins emerged- Torrent in his work jacket, Warrant with his backpack slung low. They paused briefly, taking in the awkward tension still clinging to the hall.

“Did something happen?” Torrent asked.

“Nope,” you, Coffee, and Break all said in unison.

Torrent raised a brow. “Right. Sure.”

“Have fun pretending everything’s fine,” Warrant muttered on his way down the stairs.

The door shut behind them, and silence took its place.

For the first time since the night before, the house felt.. big. Too many empty rooms, too much quiet. The kind of stillness that made you listen for things you didn’t want to hear.

Break blew out a slow breath, scratching the back of his skull. “Well. Guess that leaves the elite team of productive citizens: me, the eldritch cryptid, the philosopher, and the bard.”

“Freeloaders and liabilities,” you muttered.

He grinned. “Same thing.”

Somewhere upstairs, a faint hum began to drift through the walls again- Beats’ music, soft and cautious, threading into the air like it was trying to fill a silence it didn’t trust.

Philos’ door opened down the hall. He stepped out wordlessly, eye sockets half-lidded, his posture calm in that way that never really comforted anyone. He glanced at the three of you- Break by the railing, you still standing near Ajax’s empty door, and Ajax himself, who had somehow reappeared in the hall without making a sound.

Philos tilted his head, quiet for a moment before saying, “I felt it.”

Break groaned. “Please don’t say that.”

“I didn’t mean it’s here,” Philos said evenly. “Only that the air shifted. Briefly.”

Ajax’s gaze drifted to the ceiling again, voice low and distant. “It remembers.”

Break sighed and dropped into the nearest chair. “Cool. Love that. Totally normal sentence for breakfast.”

You rubbed your face. “Can we just.. maybe not talk about it? Just for today?”

No one disagreed.

For a while, the house returned to its usual rhythm- Beats’ quiet melody pulsing from his room, Philos sitting cross-legged in the hall’s patch of sunlight, Ajax somewhere unseen but near enough to be felt. Break was already plotting how to “supervise” the balcony repair from the comfort of a chair.

The day went on like that- quiet, almost peaceful, except for the faint creaks in the walls and the feeling that the house was still listening.

The house had settled into its version of quiet- which wasn’t truly quiet at all. Pipes breathed. The floor groaned. Beats’ music leaked faintly from his room upstairs, a deep bass pulse that felt almost like a heartbeat buried too deep to name.

Break lay upside-down on the couch, his skull hanging halfway off the edge. “I’m just saying,” he muttered, “if I see one more freaky reflection in this place, I’m burning it down.”

“You’d set yourself on fire before you got the lighter lit,” you said, not looking up from your phone.

“Worth it.”

Ajax stood by the balcony again, staring at the sunlight as if trying to remember how it worked. He hadn’t said a word all morning.

Philos sat near the door, legs crossed, notebook open but blank. Watching.

Finally, Ajax spoke- quiet, but steady. “He looks clearer now.”

That made everyone stop.

Break craned his neck. “..He who?”

Ajax’s eyes stayed on the glass. “The one outside. He used to flicker. Now he’s.. sharper.”

Philos’ gaze lifted slightly. “You’ve seen him before.”

Ajax nodded, absently touching the uneven ridge on the side of his skull- the place where old bone hadn’t quite healed right. “He follows when I remember. Fades when I don’t.”

Break sat up, frowning. “Okay, you say that like that’s normal.”

Ajax blinked at him, slow and detached. “It is. For me.”

Philos tilted his head. “Does this presence have a name?”

“He had one.” Ajax’s tone softened. “Before the collapse.”

Break looked between them. “Collapse?”

Ajax paused, as if searching for the right words. “The uprising. The one that ended my world. The monsters turned on their queen before the gates opened. They were starving. Desperate. The sky broke first, then the cities. The noise-” He stopped, touching the hollow spot in his skull again. “After that, everything got.. tangled. I woke up here.”

That silenced even Break.

You shifted, unsure if you should ask the question forming in your throat. But Philos beat you to it.

“You woke up in a different world,” he said quietly. “Not your own.”

Ajax’s head tilted, the faintest smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Seems so. The air smells different here. The gravity’s softer. Time runs sideways.”

Break squinted. “That’s.. not reassuring.”

Philos closed his notebook slowly. “If each of us is from a different branch, your injury might have done more than damage your memory. It may have torn your anchor to your own timeline.”

Ajax’s voice was barely above a whisper. “That would explain why he still finds me.”

“Your brother,” you said.

Ajax nodded once. “He didn’t make it past the first night of the Uprise. I think.. when the realities split, he stayed behind. But sometimes, he reaches through. He’s not supposed to. But he doesn’t remember dying, and I don’t remember living without him.”

The quiet that followed was a living thing.

Break finally muttered, “So you’re telling me your dead brother’s crossing the multiversal border through your head trauma?”

“Not through it,” Philos corrected. “Because of it. The fracture in Ajax’s skull mirrors a fracture in spacetime. Neural dissonance and temporal bleed can create a conduit for memory echoes- and in this case, something more aware.”

Break blinked. “You’re just making up words now.”

“They’re accurate words,” Philos replied.

Ajax didn’t seem to hear any of it. He had pressed his palm flat against the balcony glass. “He used to hum when it got bad,” he murmured. “When the world started shaking. He’d do it so I wouldn’t be afraid.”

The hum began again- low, resonant, alive- vibrating through the walls.

Beats’ track upstairs faltered, as if it recognized the pitch and pulled back.

You felt your chest tighten. “..Please tell me someone’s phone is on vibrate.”

Philos didn’t blink. “No.”

Ajax’s voice was barely a whisper. “He remembers the sound of home.”

The hum faded.

Break exhaled like he’d been holding it for minutes. “You’re telling me we have cross-dimensional ghost problems now. That’s new even for us.”

Philos scribbled something in his notebook. “Every reality carries its dead differently. Some bury them. Some forget them. Some.. hold them too tightly to let go.”

Ajax turned from the window, eyes distant. “He’s only lost because I am.”

Break muttered, “Great. So if you ever lose your memories for good, does he go poof?”

Ajax thought for a long moment, then said softly, “I think that’s the kindest thing that could happen to either of us.”

None of you answered that.

But for the rest of the afternoon, every time someone passed by the balcony, the reflection seemed to watch- lagging just behind, like it was trying to step through.

Beats wandered through the kitchen humming, laying faint magic through the tiles to keep the house’s rhythm from dipping too low. It was calming- at least, until the cold spot drifted through.

“Uh, heh.” Break’s voice came from the living room. “Is anyone else seeing that?”

You leaned in from the hallway just as Ajax’s “reflection” appeared in the TV screen- only it wasn’t Ajax. Taller. Leaner. The bones sharper, face stretched into something that might’ve been a grin if it weren’t so crooked. The figure seemed to tilt its head in greeting, as though recognizing everyone at once.

Beats froze mid-step, headphones sliding down his neck. “..is that-?”

Then the TV fizzled. Static. Gone.

Break blinked, slow. “Okay. That was new.”

Ajax, from his seat on the couch, looked unsurprised. “He’s trying to understand where he fits now.”

“Tryin’ to give me a heart attack, more like,” Break muttered, gripping his hoodie collar like it’d help.

Philos stood in the doorway, as still as ever. “Temporal interference can manifest through mirrored surfaces. It seems his brother’s awareness is more.. interactive than previously thought.”

“‘Interactive,’” Break repeated. “Yeah, I’d say popping up in the flatscreen qualifies.”

Beats exhaled a low whistle. “Man, he even feels off-tempo. Like the air skips a beat when he shows up.”

They didn’t have long to wonder what that meant- because the next time, it happened in the hallway mirror.

You caught sight of it first: Ajax’s brother, again, leaning halfway out of the glass. He held what looked like a broom. His sockets flicked toward the floor where someone had spilled coffee earlier, and-awkwardly- he began to sweep.

The broom passed straight through the puddle.

He tried again. Still nothing.

Everyone stared.

Break blinked. “Is he.. cleaning?”

Beats snorted. “He’s helpin’ the only way he can, bro.”

Ajax tilted his head faintly, voice unreadable. “He always hated messes.”

The broom handle clattered harmlessly through the floor once more before the figure dissipated into dust and static, leaving the broom to drop and clatter against the tile.

Break leaned down to pick it up. “You know, if he sticks around, we could really use a ghost janitor.”

Philos gave him a flat look. “Or you could clean your own spills.”

Break shrugged. “Don’t ruin the magic, man.”

The next appearance came when Beats tried to heat up leftovers. The microwave light flickered, and suddenly, the reflection in the door wasn’t Beats’- it was the brother again, peering in curiously at the rotating plate of food. He cocked his head one way, then the other, like he couldn’t quite grasp what sorcery he was witnessing. Then the door popped open by itself, and the figure blinked out.

Beats stared. “..has he never seen a burrito before?”

Ajax smiled faintly at that, the first genuine curve to his mouth all morning.

Philos made a note on the margin of his ledger. “His pattern suggests benign intent, though his energy signature is irregular. Each manifestation draws power from reflective fields- likely residual from Ajax’s fractured link.”

“Plain English?” You asked.

“He’s trying to help,” Philos said, “but the dimensional tether can’t hold for long. His physical echo destabilizes whenever he exerts effort. The comedic timing is a byproduct of that instability.”

Break blinked. “You’re tellin’ me the universe made him clumsy on purpose?”

“Essentially.”

Ajax’s expression softened, distant but warmer. “He was always like that. Kind. Awkward. Tried too hard.”

For a while, they let it be. Every so often, his brother would flicker into existence- handing Ajax a book only for it to fall through his spectral fingers, trying to wave hello before dissolving mid-motion, or once, tripping through a wall while apparently trying to hang a picture straight.

It was unsettling, sure- the figure’s gaunt height, crooked teeth, those beady sockets glowing faintly- but there was something almost endearing in his effort.

Even Break eventually stopped flinching and started offering sarcastic commentary.

“Ten outta ten on the haunting, bro,” he’d say. “Lose points for execution, though.”

Philos would sigh. “Pun unintended, I hope.”

Ajax just sat quietly, his gaze following every failed attempt with a mix of fondness and grief that didn’t need words.

And each time the figure faded, the air would pulse once, low and soft- like a heartbeat echoing from somewhere too far away to name.

By late afternoon, Break finally ran out of excuses.

The balcony had been glaring at him all day- or maybe that was his own guilt. Either way, the shattered railing wasn’t going to fix itself (though in this house, that possibility wasn’t completely off the table).

He had the toolbox out, one leg braced against the crooked post, muttering under his breath as he tried to fit a replacement screw. “Stupid bet. Stupid fall. Stupid-” clang “-stupid gravity.”

From inside, Beats’ music thudded faintly, and Philos’ low voice carried from somewhere down the hall. Ajax sat on the couch in the living room, watching quietly- as he often did now, gaze tilted toward the balcony door like he was half-listening to something nobody else could hear.

Break grunted, tightening another screw. “You know,” he called over his shoulder, “if your ghost bro wants to do something useful, now’s his chance.”

Ajax blinked. “He doesn’t listen to me.”

“Yeah, clearly. He’s got your charm.”

Break went back to work, the rhythmic metallic clicks filling the space. The afternoon light hit just right, throwing long shadows across the boards. For a while, it was almost peaceful- until the temperature dipped.

A faint chill rolled over the balcony like someone had opened a freezer door.

Break paused mid-turn of the wrench. “..Oh, no. No, no, no-”

The reflection in the railing’s metal surface shifted.

Instead of Break’s smirking skull, there was a tall, lanky figure staring back- sockets small and sunken, teeth crooked into what might’ve been a grin, head tilted far too much to one side.

Break made a noise that was definitely not a scream (but close). He scrambled back, wrench flying from his hand and clattering across the balcony. “WHAT THE-”

The ghost tilted its head the other way, as if confused.

Ajax’s voice carried softly from the couch. “He’s not dangerous.”

“Define ‘not dangerous,’” Break snapped, eyes locked on the reflection. “Because he looks like a cursed coat rack!”

The reflection didn’t move for a moment- then, to Break’s complete horror, the figure raised one long, bony hand and waved.

Break’s sockets flared wide. “Oh HELL no- don’t you wave at me!”

But the ghost only tilted his head again.. then reached toward the half-broken railing. The metal bolts began to shift on their own, aligning perfectly. The board creaked as it settled neatly back into place.

Break froze. “..Did he just-”

Ajax nodded faintly from inside. “He was a builder. Before the Uprise. He likes fixing things.”

The ghost seemed to nod, as if confirming the statement, then bent down in a jerky, overlong motion to grab the fallen wrench. His hand passed through it once, twice- then caught on the third try, somehow. The wrench floated up, twisted the last bolt tight with impossible precision, and clattered down again.

Break stood stock-still, fur bristled, sockets still blown wide. “..Okay. You’re creepy as hell, but I respect the craftsmanship.”

The ghost’s grin widened- unintentionally sinister, but oddly proud.

Then the metal railing groaned.

The bolt he’d just tightened snapped clean off.

Break yelped and leapt backward as the entire corner of the railing sagged again. The ghost froze mid-motion, as if startled by his own failure, and then started fussing over it- grabbing at the loose pieces only for his hands to pass through them uselessly. He looked almost apologetic.

Ajax rose and walked slowly to the door, voice calm. “He’s trying. He doesn’t know his limits.”

“Yeah, well, neither do I when I’m panicking!” Break barked, still half-crouched with a hammer in hand like it might defend him.

The ghost tilted his head, then raised both hands in what looked suspiciously like a sheepish ‘my bad’ gesture. A moment later, he dissolved into soft static, leaving the balcony creaking in his absence.

Break stood in silence for a long beat, then turned to Ajax. “You, uh, mind tellin’ him next time that spectral home improvement ain’t necessary?”

Ajax blinked, faint amusement in his tone. “He doesn’t always listen. But.. I think he likes you.”

Break groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Of course he does. Because why not haunt me after all that?”

From inside, Beats’ voice drifted lazily: “Can you maybe tell your ghost brother to calm down, he’s messin’ with the bass line again.”

Philos didn’t even look up from his notebook. “Perhaps if the ghost finishes the railing, it’ll stabilize the ambient energy field. Encourage him.”

Break turned on him, incredulous. “Encourage him?! He’s one screw away from dismantling the whole balcony!”

Philos’ tone didn’t waver. “Progress often looks like failure, initially.”

Ajax, barely smiling, returned to his seat. “He’s learning. Slowly.”

Break stared at the half-fixed railing, at the wrench still vibrating faintly where it had been dropped, then sighed. “..If he’s gonna keep showing up, he better start paying rent.”

The air hummed softly- almost like laughter.

Break scowled at the sound. “Yeah, yeah, real funny,” he muttered, tossing the wrench back into the toolbox. “Glad my near heart attack was entertainment for the afterlife.”

From the couch, Ajax only tilted his head. “He means well.”

“Sure,” Break grumbled. “Next time he can mean well somewhere else.”

Philos shut his notebook with a decisive snap. “I think he’s rather charming,” he said, rising from his chair. “An ethereal handyman bound by sentimental instinct. That’s a research paper waiting to happen.”

Break threw up his hands. “Of course you’d say that. You probably got a section for ‘paranormal ergonomics’ already planned out.”

Philos only smirked, gliding past him toward the balcony. “Not yet. But the day’s young.”

He stopped just short of the broken railing, eyes glinting with interest as he scanned the space. Ajax followed quietly, hands tucked into the sleeves of his jacket.

“The spirit seems tethered to the environment,” Philos mused aloud. “Or perhaps it’s you, Ajax.”

Ajax’s gaze lingered on the faint shimmer left behind- that barely visible distortion in the air where his brother had disappeared. His voice was soft, as if testing the edges of memory. “This place.. resonates. Things overlap here. Boundaries.. get tired.”

Philos’ sockets flicked toward him. “Boundaries get tired?”

Ajax nodded slowly. “When people push too hard to forget, the walls between what was and what is.. start to sag. He slips through the cracks. He always did.”

There was something deliberate in the way he spoke- a cadence that felt like half-poetry, half-tragedy. Philos was silent for a moment, the corners of his mouth quirking in thought rather than amusement.

“You speak like a riddle,” he said finally. “But unlike most riddles, yours invite understanding rather than confusion.”

Ajax gave a faint shrug. “It’s the hole in my head. The thoughts spill out, but never quite in the right order.”

Philos arched a brow. “And yet, somehow, they fall where they make the most sense.”

Break groaned from behind them. “You two sound like a college philosophy course taught by ghosts.”

Philos didn’t look back. “Some of us find meaning in discourse, Break. You find it in falling off balconies.”

Break opened his mouth for a retort, thought better of it, and trudged back inside. “Yeah, well, at least I’m alive to argue about it.”

Philos chuckled under his breath, watching him go before returning his gaze to Ajax. “You said your brother slips through cracks. Do you mean that literally?”

Ajax’s eyes stayed on the horizon. “He was always good at finding his way back. Even when there wasn’t a way left. He doesn’t haunt- he lingers.”

“That’s.. quite the distinction.”

Ajax’s expression softened. “He doesn’t remember dying. I don’t remember living through it. Between us, maybe that’s balance.”

Philos studied him for a long moment, head tilted, a faint gleam of fascination behind his usual composure. “Balance through shared amnesia. That’s poetic.”

Ajax’s faint smile didn’t quite reach his sockets. “No. That’s survival.”

Philos hummed, thoughtful. “Still- your survival is remarkably eloquent. You’re aware that most skeletons would not romanticize a haunting born from the ashes of rebellion.”

Ajax turned his gaze on him, the dim light catching faint cracks along his skull- reminders of the fracture that took part of him and left something else in its place. “Most skeletons weren’t born in that fire. You learn to speak carefully when the wrong words used to kill.”

Philos’ teasing smirk faltered for once, replaced by quiet understanding. “You and I may be more alike than I thought.”

Ajax’s voice softened further. “We all are, if we stop pretending not to be.”

A breeze swept through the balcony- faint, cold, and almost carrying a sound like distant laughter. Both skeletons looked up.

Philos exhaled, that curious half-smile returning. “It appears your brother agrees.”

Ajax chuckled lowly. “He always did have timing.”

From inside, a loud crash echoed- followed by Beats yelling, “WHO TOUCHED MY SPEAKERS?!”

Break’s voice: “It wasn’t me, I swear-”

A second crash.

Ajax sighed. “Or maybe.. he just wants to help again.”

Philos laughed quietly, tucking his hands behind his back. “Then I’d say we’re in the presence of a very proactive ghost.”

Ajax tilted his head toward him, that eerie yet serene calm still resting in his tone. “No. Just brothers who refuse to let go- and maybe a world too thin to tell them they should.”

Philos’ sockets gleamed with something warm- curiosity, admiration, or both. “Fascinating.”

Ajax looked back toward the shimmering air. “Isn’t it always?”

___________________________________________________________________________________

It was early evening by the time the front door opened again- the kind of weary quiet that followed long hours and longer commutes.

Warrant was the first one through, tossing his satchel onto the couch with a grunt. Torrent followed, rolling the tension from his shoulders, his tie already halfway undone. Thanatos trailed behind, polished as always but visibly running on fumes, his expression tight the second his gaze drifted toward the balcony.

The railing was still bent. Half-heartedly repaired- new bolts mismatched, the paint chipped, a clear hazard to anyone with balance issues or bad luck.

Thanatos froze mid-step. His sockets flared faintly. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Torrent sighed, already sensing the storm. “Please don’t. Not tonight.”

“Don’t what?” Thanatos snapped, setting his bag down a little too hard. “Don’t point out the gaping safety violation hanging off our second-story balcony?”

Warrant lifted his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m just here to eat and pretend none of you exist.”

“Smart,” Torrent muttered.

But Thanatos was already heading down the hall, his irritation practically radiating through the floorboards. You caught the tail end of Break’s muttered conversation with Ajax before Thanatos’s voice cut clean through it.

“Break!”

Break jumped, nearly dropping his wrench. “-what? What now?”

“What now,” Thanatos repeated, voice sharp, “is that the balcony looks exactly as broken as it did when I left this morning.”

Break blinked. “That’s- well- it’s sorta fixed?”

“Sorta fixed,” Thanatos echoed. “Excellent. So if it collapses under someone’s weight, we can say we sorta cared.”

You tried not to smile. Thanatos in full lecture mode was something between a lawyer and a disappointed dad.

Break set the wrench down, defensive. “I was gonna get around to it! Had a whole plan. But then, uh, complications.”

“Complications?” Thanatos crossed his arms. “You mean procrastination?”

Ajax quietly looked away, clearly trying not to draw attention. You caught his flicker of a guilty look toward the balcony, as if he knew something had already tampered with it.

“Not procrastination,” Break insisted. “Just.. unforeseen circumstances.”

“Such as?”

“Uh.” He hesitated, rubbing at the back of his skull. “Let’s just say my assistant wasn’t exactly cooperative.”

Philos piped up from the kitchen doorway, unhelpfully chipper. “He means the ghost.”

Break turned on him instantly. “Shut up!”

Thanatos froze. “The what.”

“The- uh- draft!” Break stammered. “The gust! From the open window earlier. You know how wind can be.”

“Break.” Thanatos’s tone dropped, clipped and low. “You’re telling me the wind sabotaged the railing repair.”

Break’s mouth opened. Closed. “..Yes?”

There was a long, pained pause. Thanatos inhaled slowly through his nonexistent nose hole, pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge, and said, “Coffee’s not home, is he.”

You shook your head. “Left a few hours ago to open the café. Said he’d be back late.”

“Wonderful,” Thanatos said, every syllable dipped in sarcasm. “Then I suppose that leaves me to supervise the house of the undeadly incompetent.”

“Hey, I take offense to that,” Philos said, raising a hand. “I’m plenty competent- just selectively uninvolved.”

“Then stay uninvolved,” Thanatos growled, “and let Break fix what he broke before one of us ends up on the news.”

He turned back toward Break, finger pointed like a court order. “You have until I’m out of this suit to make that balcony safe enough to lean on. And if you so much as look like you’re ignoring me, I’ll personally install safety rails in your room.”

Break muttered under his breath, “You say that like it’s a punishment.”

“Try me,” Thanatos said flatly, and stalked off toward the stairs.

For a few seconds, the house was silent except for the faint hum of the fridge. Then Warrant’s voice drifted in, calm and amused from the couch.

“You know,” he said, “for a bunch of magical skeletons, you’d think we’d be less concerned about falling off balconies.”

Torrent sighed, loosening his tie fully. “Yeah, but have you ever seen Thanatos fill out an accident report? I have. I’d rather die twice.”

You couldn’t help laughing quietly as Break groaned and dragged himself toward the balcony, wrench in hand, Ajax hovering uncertainly behind him.

Ajax murmured, “He could still help, you know.”

“Who?” you asked softly.

“The remainder,” Ajax said. “He doesn’t like seeing things broken.”

Break groaned again. “If that creepy brother of yours shows up again, tell him not to tighten anything unless it’s a bolt. I don’t need phantom supervision.”

From the reflection on the glass, a faint outline flickered. A long, crooked grin- then gone again as Break cursed under his breath.

And upstairs, Thanatos’s muffled voice echoed down the hall:
“Break, I swear if I hear another clatter-”

Clatter.

“..I hate this house.”