His eyes opened slowly. Sunlight filtered through the blinds on the window, creating horizontal bars of alternating light and shadow on the floor and furniture. It was, what, 9 am? The sky looked so crisp today, with only but a few fat white clouds. And the sun, big and bright. Bro lifted his arm and covered his eyes.

He was almost considering going back to sleep when he heard the front door close. In less than a second, he jumped up. His heart beat fast and he leapt out of bed. Turning the latch to unlock the door, he looked left and right. He looked down the hall, moved to the stairwell and looked down that as well.

His mouth opened to call out but no words left his mouth. No, rather, his shoulders slumped and he glanced out the hallway window. He squinted in the sun, watching a seagull or two glide by.

When he returned inside, he locked the deadbolt and that's when the thought struck him: he heard the door close, but he didn't hear the lock after it. He stood there in the small hall leading into his flat, thinking and wondering…

Breakfast rolled by: he cut out a circle from the centre of a slice of bread and threw that on a skillet. Cracking an egg, he threw that into the hole in the slice of bread. He sipped some tart apple juice while he waited for it to finish frying, flipping it after some minutes.

Time passed, time slipped away, and Bro found himself sitting at the peninsula countertop, staring down at a plate of egg sandwich, orange slices, and a glass of apple juice. He didn't feel hungry anymore, but he ate regardless - couldn't miss another breakfast.

Why has he skipped out on eating in the morning recently, any ways? He normally ate as part of his routine, sometimes he felt hunger, but mostly it was habit, or obligation. Maybe he just missed…no, he tried to stop thinking about it - it was always hard for him to stop thinking.

The cleared plate and the empty glass sat in the sink as he headed out. It was high noon when he stumbled over the small front step - he quickly looked around and no one was around to see, thankfully. He adjusted himself and kept walking. Heading out had become another one of his habits, though it was more sporadic. He would march down the stairs, zip out the door, and walk to seemingly nowhere. He lifted his hat to adjust his hair as he waited for the crosswalk sign to change. He had light, feathery hair - it was as golden as the sun, which was dimmed behind his gaudy shades. Many people would look at him, and rarely did anyone meet his gaze when he would look back.

He found himself passing by a school. This one school, the same school, just a different day and direction of walking. He tried not to look at the students meandering about the grounds. He would stare at the ground as usual. Every so often though, a voice would call out and Bro looked fast.

But it wasn't him. It wasn't his little man.

Bro returned home sometime after 2. He came in and sat down, letting out a long breath. That's what he thought of it; he didn't want to think of it as a sigh. Was it a sigh? Well, if you want to get technical, it could be seen as one. Maybe to the outside observer, but…he stopped himself again. He stopped himself from rambling to himself so the apartment would seem less empty.

He didn't even feel sorry for himself, he just thought it was dumb of him. Tonight he would go out, he decided, and he hopped up again.

.

.

The bass was hard and he could feel it whenever his feet were on the ground. The people around him were but flashes in the dark and cigarette smoke lingering in the flicking lights, as inconstant as the patrons dancing. He too, was dancing. Heck, he wasn't even half bad! He thought so, any ways. Sure his moves were a little stiff, but he was here to have a good time like everyone else, right?

He slowed as a lady came up to him. She was at least five years younger than him, but she didn't seem to care. And the music just kept on. Her hips moved with his, her back against his chest, her arms around his neck. He was a tall fellow, so he hunched forward a little around her. And he danced.

He found himself moved to the bathroom - a mural of spraypaint, knife carving, sharpie ink, and dents. It was a fantastic mess of grime and dirt. Bro gasped as the girl's hands squeezed him here, there, and below. His head was swimming and the music was muffled in this cement room. She popped a clasp on her top and her chest came out. She guided his hand to one of her breasts but whatever he felt was dulled by inebriation and his leather gloves.

He couldn't, though. In the end, all she got was a stall door slammed in her face. Or ass, rather. Sitting at the bar, he swallowed a straight shot of Absolut. When he saw her wander out, looking confused and angry, he lowered his head and raised the collar of his leather jacket. And then for added measure, he left.

1 am was when he got home. He was drunk but not drunk enough to crash, so he sauntered to the kitchen and lit the iron range. This needed some music! Bro turned flicked his phone onto the dock and began to tap his foot to the subsequent beat. He cleared his throat, opened a packet of bacon, and the moment they slapped onto the pan, he burst into rap.

He held the spatula as though it were a mic, moving his other hand, pretending to be on a stage, spitting at the other rappers. He brought out some hash potatoes from yesterday's uneaten breakie and began to warm those up next to the bacon.

Mac Miller came on next, and he missed a beat. His little man sure had a hipster taste in rap and yet Bro couldn't help but keep it on his phone. It was a fond sentiment to him. Bro stood there for a bit with a faint smirk, thinking it funny that a good evening could be stopped so suddenly.

Alas, deciding it was ready, he took his phone off and threw it onto the counter top next to his plate. He scooped the leftovers and the bacon on next and sat down.

It was tasty! He ate, tasting pepper and onions on the potatoes and the delicious, fatty grease on the bacon. Then he heard the vibrating. He froze. His phone had ceased whirring by the time he looked at it.

The angle, the alcohol, and his god damned shades made seeing difficult, so he threw his glasses aside and squinted hard. It…wasn't moving now. It didn't make a sound.

It stopped. When he realised that, he lunged at it, doing a full flip over the counter and landing on his feet on the other side of said counter. He turned his phone on and scrolled through to recent calls. There weren't any. He blinked hard - he just saw lights going off on it! Didn't he? He just dropped it where he stood and wandered to his futon. Bro fell onto it, drifting into a cold, hard sleep before his eyes could even consider watering up.

He awoke around 7 am this time. He shifted and stretched. He threw his jacket aside - must've taken it off and used it as a blanket sometime while asleep - and went to shower. He looked down, feeling the grime from last night wash away. He noticed the barest hint of a belly appearing, though it was more of a softening of his abs. But regression was regression and he resolved to add 5 reps to all exercises in his routine.

Amidst the steam and water, his hand moved lower and lower as he closed his eyes…

.

.

It was early this time when he headed out. He didn't resist it in his mildly hung over stupor, walking straight to a certain school. It was the nearest secondary school and his apartment fell into its district. It was stupid, hopeful reasoning in retrospect, but it was something.

He saw that the students were only just arriving. Makes sense, considering how early it was this morning. It was strange, to him, since he found he always woke up early after being intoxicated no matter how late he went to sleep.

He was on the sidewalk opposite the gated premises, glancing here and there at the young kids dressed in uniform; green and blue skirts and ties abound. He lifted his shades to rub at his eyes when he noticed something near the grand front doors of the school.

It was a lean kid, pale blond. His hair was light and feathery. Bro's stomach sank at the sight. A weird reaction, no? It was incredulous and Bro was mentally stumbling over himself. Could this be what the day? The day he found who was missing from him?

"Turn around," He muttered. The kid stayed talking to his buds.

"Turn around." He willed. The kid waved at a girl who joined their group.

"Just turn around!" Bro growled, and that one kid did just that. Bro could feel his hands and feet tingling. The boy looked to the side only briefly, but it was him. Red eyes, soft lips, round jaw, nice eyebrows…

"Dave."