Turk was in the attic. He was trying to clean out his brother’s stuff and get it packed away for the moving van because God knew Virgil wasn’t about to do it.

Virgil just got back from his honeymoon and he and the missus were still making kissy-faces at each other. And the guy barely remembered to tie his freaking shoes in the mornings, so why would today be any different?

Turk pulled out boxes at random. The first one, covered in dust, was full of toys. Most of the toys were broken, a long time ago. Turk never figured out why their parents decided to keep this shit – but they kept everything, important or not. Old shoes, Tonka trucks, diplomas, Hot Wheels, newspaper clippings. Huh. And photo albums. Lots of them.

“Hey.”

Turk turned, and saw Virgil’s head peeking up from the trapdoor that led to the attic.

“What are you doing?” said Virgil.

“What do you think I’m doing, numbnuts? I’m getting your crap out of here. You’re moving out today, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. But why are you doing it?”

“It seems like I have to do everything for you. I used to hold your dick so you could piss when you were little, you know that?” Turk tossed a stray photo album into a box.

“No, you didn’t, so shut up, asshole.” Virgil paused. He climbed the rest of the way up and knelt beside Turk. He picked up a toy truck that had been smashed in half. Fiddled with it, not meeting Turk’s gaze. “Are… you okay?”

Turk, taken aback, didn’t know how to answer that kind of question. So he went for the next best thing. A lie. “Yeah, I’m. I’m fine.”

“What are you looking at?” Virgil said curiously.

Fuck. “Nothing,” and Turk attempted to throw it away, into the mess of toys and dust and memories.

But Virgil saw it, and rummaged it out of the box it had flown into.

It was a picture of them. One of the few pictures they had taken together. Their parents had forced them to. At the last minute, as soon as their mom said “cheese,” Turk had pulled down Virgil’s pants. So there they were, in their Sunday best. Only Virgil’s pants were around his ankles, shock on his face.

“I didn’t know you were such a softie,” said Virgil. He was grinning, more at Turk than at the picture.

“Shut up, dickwad, and help me pack your stupid boxes.” Turk ripped the picture out of Virgil’s hands. Stuck it in his back pocket when Virgil wasn’t looking.