Chapter Text
Panting, Vegas stumbled through his office, tripping over the debris. He could not even recall what had set him off this time. Perhaps it was the quiet. Perhaps it was the dark, setting in and making it that much harder for him to see.
“Venice!” Vegas screamed. “Turn the goddamn lights up!”
A chirp from the doorway was the reply he got as he was hit with the increased luminosity. It made his head hurt, but at least he could somewhat see.
Vegas did not thank it as Venice rolled closer. Why should he thank a mindless robot just obeying orders?
There was another melodic chirp as Vegas still managed to trip over some paperwork, almost sending himself sliding.
“No,” Vegas moaned, but Venice had already answered the call, little traitorous shit that it was. It wasn’t really Venice’s fault. It was programmed to always accept calls from Macau, no matter what. Vegas could still blame it, though.
“Hia, oh my god,” Macau gasped quietly. “What happened?”
Vegas’s jaw set as he rolled his eyes and made his way to the door, where Venice’s screen was lit up with his little brother’s blurred face.
“I don’t know,” Vegas said snarkily. “Must have been a tornado.”
He could hear Macau sigh again.
This scenario was so played out, Vegas had the script memorized.
“Hia, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Ah, that was what had set him off. Venice had reminded him of the date, and that Macau would be leaving to study abroad in the morning.
“Don’t,” Vegas snapped, his anger only turned inward. “You need to finish packing. And rest.”
“I’m already packed,” Macau countered. “And it won’t take me long to grab the last stuff. Besides, I’m too anxious to sleep. This will help wear me out.”
“Suit yourself,” Vegas muttered, pushing past Venice as it wheeled around to follow Vegas to his room. “Just make sure you-”
“I know, I know.”
The call ended and Vegas followed the familiar path to his bedroom. The house was large, certainly much larger than he needed, living alone. Regardless of the size, a prison was still a prison, even if his was partially self-imposed.
Korn had not presented it like a jail, years ago, but he might as well have. No, it was offered as a retreat, a safe space for the broken Theerapanyakul. Vegas knew they were waiting for him to really break, like his mother had, but Vegas was too bitter to give them the satisfaction.
Besides, there was still Macau.
Vegas undressed, staring weakly at his shape in the mirror.
“Venice, go be ready to welcome Macau in.”
A childlike, artificial voice said, “Yes, Boss.”
Vegas started the bath, inhaling the steam while he waited. When the water felt high enough, Vegas climbed in, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the porcelain, which was still cold enough to make him shiver.
Now that the anger–the fear over the lack of control–had worn off, Vegas was left with the resignation. Macau was leaving. No tantrum of his would, or should, persuade him to stay. And it was a good thing. Really.
Vegas did not want Macau easily within their uncle’s clutches. Their father had by no means protected them, but at least their father had tried to find use in them. And Vegas had been useful. He had tried to be twice as useful, to spare Macau. He had even managed to hide his symptoms until…
Vegas shook his head, gripping the edge of the tub as he pulled himself below the surface. He held his breath for as long as he could, while his knees grew cold. When his chest burned, Vegas shot up, splashing some water over the side of the tub in the process. Taking gulping breaths, Vegas swiped a hand over his face.
He curled in on himself, resting his chin on his knee as he wrapped his arms around his legs.
The speaker beside his bed alerted him from the next room that his front door had been opened. Macau had arrived.
So Vegas pulled the plug, listening to the tub drain as he toweled off and slipped his robe on. He did not go out to greet Macau. He never did. If he ever had other visitors, he did not greet them, either.
Vegas did not rush, either way. He knew it would take Macau several minutes to put on the hazmat suit.
The specialist his father had taken him to years ago had told Vegas that he was contagious, unlike how the condition usually presented, a bastardized mutation. Vegas was a danger, especially to Macau, who might also be carrying the gene. He would infect Macau, like their mother had infected him. Worse, Vegas’s twisted mind had also flipped it around. People were a threat to him. He had internalized that to the degree that he could not be around other humans without his breathing going shallow. If they got too close, he would break out into a rash, requiring medication that Venice kept near him at all times.
He was just meant to be alone until he died alone. Korn had agreed, helping Vegas with his goal of near-total isolation He had been put in that house and as his condition progressed, he was presented with Venice: his Virtual and Emotional Network Intelligence Caretaking Equipment. Macau had named him, wanting his name to be similar to Vegas’s, in the hopes that Vegas would like him more.
Venice was his main link to the outside world, which namely consisted of his brother.
Vegas was sitting on the edge of his bed, lost in thought, when Macau knocked on his door. His voice was a little muffled in the suit as he said, “Venice said you were in the bath. You didn’t drown, right?”
He knew Macau was only teasing, trying to break the tension permeating every room of the house, but the joke put a sour taste in Vegas’s mouth.
“No. But I’ll drown that thing if it keeps tattling on me.”
Macau sounded teasingly defensive as he said, “Hey, be nicer to him!”
“It, Macau. It’s a thing. Stop personifying it.”
“Stop ignoring his gender expression.”
Vegas rolled his eyes, wanting to (affectionately) strangle his brother. He knew Macau wanted him to bond with the hunk of metal, but the thing was a fancified tablet on treads. Vegas refused to get attached. It was much better for everyone, but especially himself, if he released all hope of any bond of any kind, no matter how much he yearned for genuine connection.
Besides, Venice could never be the type of connection Vegas ached for when he lay awake in bed at night. He would never press his hands into the flesh of another, leaving a bruise, a mark that he was there, that he existed. He would never steal the breath from another, only to have it stolen right back as he panted and moaned, but that would have to be fine. Vegas would survive.
He heard Macau muttering something to Venice, who was chirping excitedly in response.
“Hey,” Macau said, loud enough for Vegas to hear. “Don’t forget that Porsche is coming this weekend.”
Falling back onto his mattress, Vegas groaned loud enough to be heard through the door.
“Stop reminding me.”
“We had a deal, Hia.”
They did. Before Macau could again threaten to cancel his flight, Vegas snapped, “Fine, fine. I’ll honor the deal. But I don’t have to be happy about it.”
“You should be! Arm and I built someone pretty fucking cool for you. And you know I won’t be able to focus on my studies unless I know someone is looking after you.”
“Something,” Vegas muttered under his breath. He knew it was pointless to try and correct Macau.
If nothing else, at least this whole situation helped Macau find what he was interested in studying from hanging around the family business. Their uncle still controlled most of it, but he had allowed Kinn to take over the branch of science and innovation. They had started to delve into A.I., but their focus had been on robotics, mainly.
Arm was young but already eccentric, but Kinn had found him at some lecture and snatched him up to work on a secret project.
A project that Kinn intended on testing on Vegas.
“I’ll be fine,” Vegas insisted. “Just focus on your classes. And make sure you eat well. I know you get distracted when you get involved in some project.”
“Speaking of which, I already let Je Yok know you’ll be ordering more soon.”
Venice helped Vegas organize grocery deliveries, but he did like to order from Yok’s noodle bar. He didn’t trust most other places, and Porsche used to work there before he became Kinn’s arm candy. He had brought food over often, in his effort to win Vegas’s friendship. Vegas hadn’t been interested, but the noodles had been quite addicting.
He didn’t see Porsche in person often, but Porsche called him enough to make up for it. Vegas wouldn’t call them friends; he didn’t have friends and Porsche was a nuisance. Macau had a crush on Porsche’s little brother, though, so Vegas doubted the man would get out of his life anytime soon, and especially not if Kinn married him. He wasn’t even entirely sure how they had met, but Porsche had taken Vegas on as a sort of project.
“I’ll go straighten up the study, Hia,” Macau announced. “I’ll be right back. But, Hia, can you try not to smash anything else? At least wait until your new caretaker is here. Better yet, wait until I get home on break.”
Vegas sighed, rolling onto his side. “No promises.”
Macau made a frustrated noise, but Vegas heard his footsteps retreat from his door. A moment later, his automatic door slid open as Venice rolled in with a low whir.
Narrowing his eyes, Vegas said, “I know you messaged Cau, you little snitch.”
Venice trilled, his screen lighting up with an exaggerated, pixelated expression.
“Boss was breaking things!”
Leaning closer, Vegas hissed, “If you had a neck, I’d strangle it.”
It was bad enough that he was a grown man still throwing tantrums, but then to be ratted out by his supposed helper…
Exhaling, Vegas got up, slipping on some underwear and tightening his robe.
He needed to keep his distance, but he felt guilty about making Macau clean up his mess alone. Besides, he did not know when he would see his little brother again. His break was surely months away.
“Oh,” Macau said, glancing up as Venice rolled into the office with Vegas following in his wake. “I didn’t think you would come out.”
“It’s my mess,” Vegas huffed. “And since I don’t need help, I don’t need that thing after all.”
Macau shook his head. “It’s a state of the art android, Hia. One of a kind.”
“And I’m just a guinea pig for Kinn so he can perfect it and sell a million.”
Vegas did not point out that the family business was what kept him in such a nice house with whatever he needed or wanted, and Macau did not point out that it was also sending him to the best robotics program in the world. Their uncle had said that their father had squandered away his money. He had made some bad investments after losing his wife, then had left his sons to clean up his mess.
Vegas knew he was supposed to feel grateful to his uncle, and by extension his cousin, but he only resented them. He did not want their pity.
“You pick up the papers,” Macau said. “I’ll get the rest.”
Vegas nodded, making sure to keep his distance from his brother as he began gathering the records and notes. He would take his time sorting them later.
“I’ll call you once I get settled in. And I’ll call as often as I can. But make sure you call me when the android is here. I really want to see him in action.”
Vegas had purposely not bothered to learn more about the thing. He had not wanted to see it or really hear anything. He would not accept a human in his space for so much time, so he understood why they all thought he would settle for another robot like Venice. Vegas did not trust people, other than Macau, but he did not want to show his weaknesses to his little brother. He was already putting him at enough risk.
“Cau, have you seen a doctor recently?”
Macau froze, sighing as he turned to face Vegas.
He was sweating inside his polymer suit, Vegas was sure, but Macau did not complain. He never would. About anything. It made Vegas worry about him even more.
“I had a full checkup just last week.”
“And?”
Vegas held his breath. He had been younger than Macau when his symptoms started, but he knew that had been unusually early. Their mother had already been in her twenties when she started showing signs.
“20/20,” Macau said. “Everything looked good.”
Vegas nodded, exhaling slowly. Once he knew Macau was fine, he went back to reaching around the floor, hating how light the carpet was. It made the paper blend in more.
“I think I got them all,” Macau said easily. “And I’m just about done, too. You didn’t throw as much this time. I’d say that’s a win.”
Standing, Vegas placed the stack he had in his hands on the desk.
Vegas could see the curve of Macau’s smile through the plastic visor and huffed, rolling his eyes.
“At least Venice won’t call you every time this happens anymore. That stupid robot can handle it.”
“Yes,” Macau laughed. “That incredible piece of technology–your Personalized Enrichment Tech 3–can clean up after you while I’m gone. But seriously, Hia, please give him a chance. He’s meant to be a proper companion. No offense, Venice.”
Venice chirped in a way that Vegas assumed meant that none was taken.
“I don’t need a companion.”
“Well, if you won’t accept one, at least let Venice have a friend.”
The office righted once again, Vegas walked Macau to the door from a comfortable distance. There was an entryway he would have to go in to take off the suit, but before he did, he awkwardly asked Vegas for a hug.
They only hugged on special occasions, namely birthdays, but Vegas knew this was an exception.
He wrapped around his little brother, who had gotten so big somehow, and sighed.
“I love you, Hia.”
“Same, you brat. Be careful. And just do your best.”
They stayed close as they pulled apart, so Vegas looked as closely as he could, hating that his brother’s face was still hazy around the edges. He knew, though, that it would likely be worse the next time he saw him, so he drank in every detail he could.
“Get some rest,” Vegas said, patting Macau’s shoulder as he stepped back.
“I’ll let you know when my plane takes off and lands.”
“Good.”
“Why don’t you order Yok’s tomorrow, to celebrate me leaving the nest?”
“Go home,” Vegas grumbled, nodding.
With another wave and a smile, Macau left. A few minutes later, Vegas heard the front door shut.
“Let’s go to bed, Venice,” he muttered.
Vegas was a little curious about the android, he could not lie. He told himself it was just Macau’s excitement rubbing off on him. Perhaps it would be something he could talk to Macau about on his frequent calls. Vegas would take any topic over himself and how he was(n’t) coping.
As he crawled into bed, he had Venice turn all the lights off. With a soft chirp, Venice’s screen glowed softly as he backed into his charging station.
“Well,” Vegas said, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess at least you will have a friend.”
Venice buzzed, and Vegas rolled away onto his side.
Already, he missed his brother.