The house felt unbearably quiet, though the silence was heavy, not peaceful. Natsuo sat on the floor of his room, his legs crossed as he stared at the small pile of toys in front of him. He wasn’t playing. He hadn’t played in days. His eyes occasionally flicked toward the doorway, as if expecting someone to walk through, though he knew no one would. Not the way they used to, anyway.

His gaze settled on his twin sitting nearby, the two of them sharing the kind of quiet that only they seemed to understand. Natsuo didn’t say anything for a moment, just glanced toward the window where the snow was starting to fall. “Do you think Shoto’s okay?” he asked softly, but it didn’t seem like he was really looking for an answer. His voice wavered, uncertain, the words almost catching in his throat.

Natsuo shifted closer, pressing his shoulder lightly against theirs as though that small gesture might make everything feel a little less broken. The warmth of their presence was comforting, even as the chill of what had just happened in their family lingered like frost in the air. For now, it was enough to just sit there, together, pretending the world outside their room didn’t exist.