A/N to my Indonesian wattpad readers, I post my original story @suhaa_alhasnah it's all in Indonesian. Please read and follow me.

He was my brother
Nine years older than I
He was my brother
Twenty-three years old the day he died

Fang sat up, he fell asleep on his study again. He took the headset off his ears, he had been listening to random scat singing in hopes to get an idea for a melody for his new song. He looked at what was laid out in front of him, an empty piece of paper. He remembers now, he had wanted to write a song for his brother. His late brother.

Cold-hearted as he may seem, he isn't so. He knows he isn't so. Oh, how he wished he was so. If only he had been so, he wouldn't be dead now. He would still be laughing with him, enjoying the day as two brothers do. If only he had been so, the departure wouldn't be so bitter for him.

He wouldn't be shot that day.

Fang saw a weed joint and a lighter by the side of his study and contemplates to light one, his mouth had been sour before his stomach rumbling. He knew he must force himself up to eat before enjoying a cigarette, he hadn't cared much for himself since that day.

He forced himself to stand up and cook some scrambled eggs. His phone rang, making him check who is it. It had been a video call from his friend, BoBoiBoy. He answered it.

"Hey, Fang," BoBoiBoy, Yaya, Gopal, and Ying greeted him. "It's been three weeks since school started and we miss you."

"How are you doing?" Yaya asked. "You look so tired."

"Don't say that." Ying warned, making Fang chuckle at his oblivious friend.

"The school missed you, I can barely take more pictures of you now for the girls." Gopal laughed. BoBoiBoy smacked him.

"Shh!"

Fang turned the phone off. He puts the eggs in a plate and gave a bit of sweetened soy sauce before he retreats back to his room, eating the eggs as he played with the pen that had been on the paper, thinking to write anything but had nothing to write.

Fang pushed the empty plate away and drank before taking the weed joint and the lighter, burning the joint on. Fang closed his eyes, enjoying the taste of the lit-up fag in between his fingers. He stared at the picture of his brother in his study.

It had been a formal picture after his appointment as a captain, but it had been the only picture he has of him. He looked so stern. Kaizo hadn't exactly been the one who appreciated picture-taking. Yet again, Fang doesn't quite remember when exactly has he ever did anything to him sincerely.

At this age, he had been on his way to be a captain of a legendary group, notorious for its ruthlessness. What had he been at 14? A depressed motherfucker who kept smoking and drinking his problems away, that is.

Fang remembered the day when Kaizo was shot to death vividly with full detail. It had been a truly interesting day, the sun was on their side. He thought nothing will dampen that beautiful day, how wrong he was. He will always regret that day because that's the day the duo grew down to one.