Constellations

Ena

Agros sighed, looking at the door. He raised a hand to knock, then faltered, lowering it dejectedly.

This apartment complex was quaint- a few stories tall in the historical district of Brighton, England, a few blocks from the beach and a decent walk from the pier. The halls were a yellowed cream wallpaper with some sort of flowery stripes, with dark stained wood molding and minimal water damage. The lights were buzzing yellow fluorescents, turning the atmosphere a tad farther from cozy and more towards creepy.

This was floor 4, the very top. Around 8 doors were down this hallway. Agros needed 407.

He stood frozen in front of the worn, dark-stained door.

scared? scared- afraid of- of him? brother? the other half?

Quickly, without thinking he raised his hand and knocked rapidly, rapping the wood hard enough for his knuckles to ache as he stepped away. He turned and looked around anxiously, his foot tapping and his red eyes darting around, narrowed.

The sounds of locks quickly reached his ears, and he whipped around. It opened just as soon, and on the other side, a brown-haired, glasses-wearing goblin of a tall man swung it open. He wears a yellow sweater, jeans, and a dusty apron. His hair is cut shorter than Agros remembers. There appears to be a smear of dough on his cheek and in his hair. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, and his hands (which are normally stained dark and dusty with ash) are coated in a light layer of... flour?

Melpomene snorted out a cough, tucking some hair behind his ear and pushing up his glasses. He has flour on his shirt. And on his hands. Everywhere. It gets on his nose.

"How can I-"

Their eyes met. The voices in Agros' head crescendo, then fall dead silent.

Agros swallowed, looking away briefly before meeting his twin's eyes again. He raised a hand to wave as Melpomene's mouth gaped open.

"Hi Mel-"

"Shh! Shh, come- come inside," He said, grabbing Agros's wrists and yanking him inside the door. He slammed it shut behind him and locked several deadbolts, leaning his back against it, breathing.

Agros turned towards the apartment, taking in the worn blue couch, tattered brown carpet and television set, guitars in the corner, and yellow wallpapered walls covered floor to ceiling in framed photographs. There's an end table in the corner, with what Agros identifies solemnly as a statue of Zephyrus. And beside it, a spider lily. There's quite a bit of greenery and a blanket on about every surface. A book lays face down on the coffee table to save someone's page. The window behind the television set is covered well with lacy white curtains and draped in white Christmas lights. A mug sits on an end table beside a pair of rolled-up socks.

An archway leads to what Agros can see as a kitchen, coated in a vintage robin's egg blue, linoleum tile and all. A center island showcases a full wine rack and breakfast table. He can't make out much more than that.

A hallway leads straight through to the other side, leading to what Agros assumes are bedrooms and a bathroom. More yellow wallpaper, many, many more photos, a few more plants or two. It's homely, cozy, and Agros can understand for a moment why his brother would want to live here.

The voices are quiet around Melpomene, just like they always have been. Agros lets out a breath, raising a hand to smooth his pink hair as the tension leaves his body. His hackles lower, and he lets himself relax.

"Quiet again?" Melpomene asks, a gentle grin on his face. Of course, he would immediately recognize the expression Agros was making. The relief of the voices quieting was unlike any other.