It snowed overnight, which didn't come as a surprise since Zac had already been keeping his eyes on the weather. Ordinarily, he probably would have let Riker drive himself and Julian to school, but with all the ice on the roads, it just seemed like an unnecessary risk. Evan had been up early to make breakfast–real breakfast, not 'eat something quickly before you run out of the door' breakfast.

It was a good way to start the day.

Then, the boys were in the car before Zac was, so it was warm by the time he got out there.

Traffic was bad, because of course it was, but Zac expected a lot of stupid drivers. Like they didn't see snow every year. No accidents, though.

It was a perfectly domestic morning.

Afterwards, Zac had run a few errands. Christmas was just around the corner, so of course he had a little extra shopping to do. Mostly, he just wanted to make sure he got fresh steaks for tonight.

That was easy, too.

By the time he got back to the house, it was a bit before lunch. There were fewer cars in the driveway; everyone had their own schedule to keep. It wasn't snowing now but it was probably going to pick up again later this afternoon. He expected to have company again soon. He could wrap a few presents, get the steaks ready, and probably spend a few hours relaxing.

A good birthday.

With only four bags to bring in with him, Zac made a detour to the mailbox. It was no surprise that, in addition to the bills and advertisement, there would be a holiday card or two. Zac ignored the colorful envelope he pulled out, and the similarly wrapped parcel, too.

Didn't even look at them until he was inside again.

Maxim greeted him at the door and followed him to the kitchen while Zac set the bags on the counter. Diligent, and task oriented, he washed his hands and prepped the steaks. He and Maxim were home alone for now so it didn't feel like a rush to get things cleaned up and hidden. No one expected Santa to show up so as long as he didn't have people digging through bags, Christmas wasn't ruined.

Five minutes later, he had everything on the table, ready to start wrapping. There were already a few gifts under the tree, so when he returned to the mail, he completely expected the gift to be addressed to someone with more of an affinity for online shopping than him–except it was his name on the package.

Okay, fine.

No return address.

Okay.

He set it on the counter and went through the envelopes. Bill, bill, Evan, bill, Talia, bill.

Zac.

No last name. No return address.

It was a heavy envelope. For some reason, Zac expected coupons. He tore open paper to reach the–card?

Okay. Weird.

In tacky font and with colorful imagery: 'Happy Birthday'. He cracked it open, and the silence was suddenly replaced with an overzealous chiptune song. He skipped the generic text inside, honing in on the handwritten script at the bottom.

'Thank you for everything you do. Please have a Happy Birthday. I hope this next year is good to you.'

The handwriting was careful, precise in a way that made him suspect someone had spent a lot of time practicing to get it just right.

It wasn't his father's handwriting, but he knew it wouldn't have been. His parents were out of the country on extended vacation, first of all. Second of all, they didn't know where he lived.

Zac flipped the card over in his hand but there wasn't really any more information to glean. The card was silly–loud, and overzealous. He left it cracked so it would keep playing.

Maxim tilted his head every few seconds, ears flopping as he did so.

Zac scratched between his ears briefly but curiosity kept him moving.

The parcel had the same handwriting.

Neither it nor the card had a stamp.

But, his name was on both of them, and no one was around to tell him not to open anything.

The musical birthday card was fun, amusing in the way it had always been. His parents used to try to find the most obnoxious card to send. This one was a little tame, but it had the right spirit.

He tore open the wrapping on the parcel carefully, as if there might have been clues hiding somewhere in the creases.

Neatly folded, uniform tape. A lot of effort went into wrapping–

Warriors of Virtue.

He stared at the DVD for a few seconds before something clicked into place. Memories he’d tucked away, buried with the rest of a life he’d had to leave behind.

Zac laughed and flipped the case over, skimming the back.

A shitty ******** movie that he hadn't seen ********, it had had been years. A decade, easy. A stupid birthday ritual, carried out between him and Malcolm for years before Zac had too much testosterone and too much ego, and told Malcolm he didn't have time for baby movies. Or him.

It wasn't the start of their rift. It wasn’t even the most catastrophic point in it.

Zac's eyes skimmed the enthusiastic summary on the back of the case even as he pulled out his phone to call Malcolm. The phone rang twice before his brother picked up.

"Zac? ...Is everything okay?" Malcolm asked, voice soft and slurred like he'd just woken up.

Maybe he had. Zac recalled he'd mentioned staying up late to work on his next story, and Malcolm generally kept weird hours. They didn’t talk often enough for him to know any exacts.

"Yeah," Zac answered. He didn't put the disc down. Everything looked like s**t but he had a half-grin that refused to slip off his face. "Did you have something to do with this?"

"Do with what?"

"The movie."

Silence passed between them, and then suddenly Malcolm laughed, soft and tentative. "No. Did he find it?"

"Don't give me half-answers, why is this in my mailbox? I know you had something to do with it. You're the only person who would have known about this."

"That's not true. I know for a fact that you were talking about it earlier this week, and you couldn't remember the name of the movie we used to watch."

"Not talking about it to you. Since when are you and Julian talking? Is Talia involved too?"

"No," Malcolm said quickly, but he laughed again and sounded much more awake. "No, he texted me to ask."

"Julian did?"

"Yes, Julian. Or someone impersonating him."

Well. Yeah, Julian was the next logical choice. Zac would have reached that conclusion if he'd thought hard enough about it. He and Julian had just talked about this a few days ago. He couldn’t remember if it had ever come up before, with anyone else.

The evidence was all there. He’d have figured Julian even if Malcolm hadn’t picked up his phone.

No return address meant it didn't have anywhere else to go. In the mailbox, but not sent.

If Zac had to guess, it had probably gotten put there sometime between breakfast and when they’d gone out to get the car heated up.

Julian had mailed a few letters before. Sometimes to his friends. Sometimes somewhere else. Zac didn't ask. Julian sent mail much more often than he received it, but he always seemed excited when something was addressed to him.

He must have known Zac would have checked the mail at some point throughout the day. Probably even banked on Zac doing it while he was still at school.

Julian hadn't put his name on anything. His handwriting was usually a bit sloppier–not unkempt, just hurried. He must have spent a lot of time practicing to make this one perfect.

And he texted Malcolm?

Julian hardly texted anyone. He'd watched the boy anguish for ten minutes about how to word 'Can you please pick up some bell peppers for dinner' when Talia was at the grocery store. Literally not even an inconvenience, just an amendment to the shopping list.

Zac wondered how long it had taken Julian to compose something for Malcolm before sending it. He wondered where he got the number to begin with.

Wondered why this had been important enough to do any of this.

Pressing his back against the counter while he leaned on it, Zac cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder. "What did he say?"

"That you mentioned a movie but couldn't remember the name. He asked if I remembered. And I did."

Zac didn't know which emotion to sort through first. Mostly, he just wanted to laugh. "You let him spend money on this s**t? You know this movie is trash."

"What?" Malcolm half-gasped but he wasn't really arguing. "I thought he was looking for it because you wanted to watch it tonight!"

"No! I even told him what a bad movie this was!"

"I thought you liked watching bad movies with them?"

Zac snorted. "No, we watch good movies. It’s educational, they’d have no media literacy without me."

"Well! This one was a good movie," Malcolm protested, but it really wasn't a cinematic masterpiece and this was not a hill he was willing to die on. "I always looked forward to it."

"You don't like this movie at all," Zac protested. Maybe Malcolm liked talking animals but he'd never been big on action or adventure or martial arts or–well, whatever else this movie was about. It came in bits and pieces, scenes buried in his mind and mixed up with a dozen other subpar movies that had all blended together.

"I mean, it's not a good movie," Malcolm agreed, "But I liked watching it. I mean, with you. Don't make fun of me," he said, before Zac could–predictably–make fun of him. "I liked that we got to spend a part of our birthdays together. Wait, it sounds so stupid when I say it like that. Please don't make fun of me, Zac. Really."

In a tone that wasn't playful banter. It sounded more like gentle pleading. Like some freshly unburied insecurity that Malcolm hadn't yet found a way to defend but was important enough to try.

Zac's expression relaxed somewhat; his smile softened but didn’t fade. He hadn't taken his eyes off the case. "Yeah? So you'd sit through a bad movie just to hang out with me?"

"I was young," Malcolm protested. "You were my big brother. Anything you liked was cool. I mean, I know you grew out of thinking it was cool, I'm not saying–"

"Well, I guess we have to watch it. I mean, it was a gift. It would be rude not to. After Julian went through all of this work to talk to you and to get it for me."

Malcolm paused. Zac heard him draw in a breath. "...Really?"

"Yeah, tonight. After dinner. Like we used to. I mean. We kind of have to. Don't we?"

"Well–yeah, no. That makes sense," Malcolm agreed. Quickly, excitedly. Before either of them could think for long enough to poke holes in that logic. Zac didn't call him out on it because that would have meant acknowledging that he felt a little excited, too.

Zac clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "We have to get snacks, though. I hadn’t been planning for a movie night tonight."

"I can go shopping before I come over," Malcolm offered.

"No, don't. It's going to snow. Were you going to ride your bike over? Don’t, I'll come pick you up. We can stop at the store on the way back."

Malcolm paused. When he answered, he sounded both softer and closer, like he might have been cradling the phone to his face. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Why, are you going to feel bad about making me drive you home afterwards? You can just spend the night."

"Are you–really? You're not worried about that looking kind of..."

"What, I'm not allowed to let my brother sleep on the couch? I mean, you can ride your bike home after dinner if you want. But Talia's going to get mad at me if you get lost and freeze to death."

"I wouldn't," Malcolm protested, but if given the option to bike home or travel with hot air, the choice was simple. "I'll pack pajamas. Can I bring my computer? You know, just in case."

"Yeah, I know. Bring whatever you want, I'll drive you home tomorrow."

"Okay," Malcolm said. He was moving already; Zac could hear the rustle of blankets. As if he needed to get ready right now.

"I gotta pick the kids up from school later. I'll come get you afterwards. That work?"

"Yeah, that sounds great," Malcolm answered, in an uncharacteristically eager voice.

Zac was used to Malcolm sounding cagey, or jumpy, or hesitant around him. He didn't blame him, of course. Zac was responsible for a lot of problems. He'd given Malcolm a lot to deal with. He hadn't always been a good brother. Or even a good person.

"Text me if you think of anything I should pack. And drive safe, okay?"

Still so eager. Like he was really, honestly, looking forward to coming over for a stupid movie.

In his heart, Zac knew that's not what this was. It was an old tradition, something they'd let slip away as the years went on. It was a closeness they'd discarded as they grew up and grew apart.

It was a relic from their childhood, back when things were easier.

This wasn't about a movie. It was about a memory.

An old one. A new one.

Something heavy hidden behind something easy.

He didn't remember the last time he'd wanted to spend time with his brother.

He didn't remember the last time his brother wanted to spend time with him.

Any time they were in the same proximity, it was always because there was some purpose, some need. Some awkward effort to bridge something so broken they hardly knew where to lay the scaffolding to try again.

Neither of them wanted to look too far in the past. They both knew what lay there already.

But, there was a time before all that. Before things got bad.

Malcolm cleared his throat. "...Zac?"

"Yeah, I'm here." Zac picked up the birthday card and stuck it to the fridge with an oversized magnet. It looked ridiculous. He put it right in the center of the fridge–the centerpiece of all their miscellany.

He smiled again.

"That sounds good."