“—Who ever thought you'd turn into this?”<br/><br/>Mica blinked, the cheesy goodness turning to ash on his tongue. “Thomas?” He found himself saying, dropping the food with a splat on the plate. He turned around wildly, brown eyes scanning the dark for his brother. There was a second delay, and then he remembered.<br/><br/>Thomas was dead.<br/><br/>Mica swallowed hard, trying to bite back a sudden wave of sharp emotions. Thomas was long dead. Six years dead. So dead, it’d been weeks since Mica had last thought of him. Yet Mica had just heard his voice, clear as day in his head; a voice he had practically forgotten. “What the fuck,” Mica whispered, clearing his throat to remove the wobble from his tone.<br/><br/>He rubbed the back of his neck, shaking off the weirdness and trying to force himself to forget, again, his long dead brother. He wasn’t getting enough sleep. Maybe it was true, you know, not getting enough sleep made you hear things. Yeah, that’s what that was. He reached for the first hot pocket and shoved the whole steaming mass into his mouth, trying not to linger on the harsh words his mind had created.<br/><br/>Who ever thought you'd turn into this? Not his brother, certainly. Thomas had been the only one out there that had believed in him. Thomas had been a star quarterback in high school. He didn’t even really like it, but he was good at it, and it could have gotten him scholarships. Mica had gone to every one of his games. Thomas had attended every one of Mica’s art shows, no matter how embarrassing Mica found them.<br/><br/>Now look at them both.<br/><br/>Mica licked his fingers clean of grease and booted up his interface. Some WoW play sounded nice. Yeah.