"Let me have a faithful account of all that concerns you; I would know everything, be it ever so unfortunate. Perhaps by mingling my sighs with yours I may make your sufferings less, for it is said that all sorrows divided are made lighter."
― Héloïse d'Argenteuil

Vendetta sits on the floor in the living room. He is staring down at a paper in his lap, chewing on the end of his pen as he reads. He wears the thickly knit mask that covers his eyes and the bridge of his nose. He has pulled it down to allow his blonde hair to spill out across his cloth-covered forehead. There are more papers around him, not even mentioning the office supplies like a stapler, a yellow notepad, sticky notes, and thumbtacks. His corkboard is presented in front of him, covered in papers and strings of colored yarn. He seems intently focused given how his body barely moves, only shifting slightly when his limbs notice they're not getting enough blood. He's silent, too, something he only is when he's preoccupied with research.

Wilbur stands at the doorframe of the apartment's mudroom, staring at Vendetta through the tinted fabric of his veil. The moment they came home from the meeting, Vendetta got to work immediately to update his corkboard and review the information he learned from his mission with Dyscardia. He has his communicator open on some website about copper golems. His communicator will vibrate ever so often, and he will always sigh heavily after looking at it while he's responding to whoever messaged him. Vendetta sets his communicator back down, getting back to the stacks of papers he's been shuffling through for at least an hour already.

"Vendetta," Wilbur calls, snapping the hero out of his concentration. Vendetta looks up sharply at the mention of his name. His lips are pressed together. He doesn't seem annoyed that Wilbur interrupted him so much that he doesn't look like he's feeling anything at all. He reminds Wilbur of a robot, reading through lines of codes to act on their instructions. Wilbur frowns at the remarkably accurate comparison. He decides not to continue down that train of thought. Vendetta is already sad enough without Wilbur needing to tack on useless collations.

Wilbur tilts his head to the side slightly. Vendetta has always been strange to him. He was an esper that appeared a few years back without any prior history. He was an F-rank like most beginners, but he was able to take down Minotaur. It wasn't without some bloody issues, Techno told Wilbur after his mission with Vendetta, but it was impressive. He boosted up in rank after that. He continued to climb the ranks. It wasn't long until he became a beep on the Syndicate's radar. The beeping grew more annoying when it was revealed that Vendetta's only mission was to take down Azrael and Inchling. Not even the entire Syndicate, only its leaders. Wilbur thought he understood why from the beginning. He was peeved to learn he had pegged Vendetta wrong. His guild title- 'Vendetta'- was accurate. He was hunting down the people who killed his family. It wasn't like Wilbur didn't understand that impulse. He would do anything for his own family, after all. There was only one person in Wilbur's family that had died, and Wilbur knew that he would go to the same lengths Vendetta was going to kill whoever took Tommy away from him.

Maybe it was that inherent mutual understanding that allowed Wilbur to forge some sort of relationship with Vendetta. He shouldn't have opened his heart to the hero, even for a moment, because it seems like the other esper had an unfortunate tendency to get himself into painful situations and possessed a past that Wilbur simply couldn't ignore. He would never consider himself a moral person, but he felt it was his duty to help Vendetta. More than that, he just wanted to, responsibility or not.

"What?" Vendetta asks, tapping his pen against his calf as he waits for Wilbur to continue speaking to him. Wilbur shakes his head. This is not the time to be analyzing his relationship with Vendetta. He could do that in private at another time, probably when Vendetta was asleep.

"There's a package here for you. It's from Argonaut," Wilbur explains, lifting the package in his arms higher. He grimaces as the weight shifts around inside the box, nearly throwing him off-balance. He curses. What the hell did Puffy pack in this box for the hero?

"Argonaut?" Vendetta whispers curiously. He rises to his feet, leaving the paper on top of his communicator. The pen slides down his leg, dropping to the floor with a muted sound. He takes the package from Wilbur's hands. Unlike their first encounter as temporary allies, Vendetta no longer seems wary of Wilbur. There's still a sense of distrust forged from hard battles throughout the years and their opposing positions, but Vendetta at least trusts that Wilbur isn't actively out to get him. It's step one in the assimilation process, honestly. Soon, Vendetta will see Wilbur as a genuine ally, not someone who's only keeping his tendencies at bay for the sake of an agreement between the esper and the Syndicate.

Vendetta puts the package on the couch. He reaches for the knife holstered to his thigh. He pulls it out, smoothly gliding it through the tape on the cardboard. As Wilbur watches, purely to see what Puffy sent Vendetta, a thought strikes him. He can clearly see the scars littering Vendetta's chin, jaw, and throat. Vendetta's shirt, with three-fourths sleeves, shows more scars around his forearm and wrist, supposedly gotten from fights and the chains he wore to keep himself from wandering in his sleep. And when he does wander, he always goes to dangerous places, a fact admitted by Vendetta himself. With all of these thoughts lingering at the edges of Wilbur's mind, he asks himself if Vendetta has ever harmed himself. More than a reckless decision, has Vendetta ever used the knife he's now sliding back into his sheath to slice his own skin?

The thought really shouldn't bother him. He's done worse, seen worse, too. He shouldn't even care this much about Vendetta. What does it matter if Vendetta has a self-harming habit? As long as it didn't affect Wilbur or the mission against the Red Army, it should be fine.

It should be, but it's not. Wilbur feels sick to his stomach at the thought of Vendetta doing that. He already gets hurt so much, so frequently, that he would need to be in a horrible mindset for him to give the fleeting thought any attention. Wilbur frowns. He's being delusional. He doesn't even know if Vendetta has ever done it. He doesn't even know if he's thought about it. His worries are unfounded, but Wilbur is a worrier. He has been since he was a child, even before he met Eret, even before Tommy was born. Wilbur was just born full of anxious energy that clung to the object of his attention like overgrown vines. Wilbur shears away the current vines, hoping to release Vendetta from his fabrications. He'll deal with Vendetta's self-harming habits, if he even has them, when the time comes.

"Huh," Vendetta mutters, lifting up something from the box. He tilts it around in his hands as if he doesn't know what a gaming controller is. Well, Wilbur amends, he's seen Vendetta's infatuation with his handheld console. This probably is his first time. At least, it might be the first time he's actually held one. Wilbur doesn't want to think about the implications of that.

He turns into the hallway leading to their bedrooms and extra rooms. He starts to pull his jacket off, folding it over his forearm. He's about to enter his room when he notices that Vendetta has left his bedroom ajar. He looks over his shoulder once. When he doesn't see Vendetta rushing down the hall, he nudges the door open with his foot. He steps into the room.

Vendetta's room is barren. His bed is made and his clothes are stored away in the closet. He doesn't have any personal items lying around. Wilbur assumes this is because Vendetta doesn't have any. He didn't bring a huge bag when he arrived at the Paradise Apartment, certainly not a bag big enough for clothes and knick knacks. Wilbur wonders what sort of things Vendetta might like. He doesn't seem like a person with many hobbies, but maybe that's because he's never tried to find one. They could get some books or sporting equipment. Maybe some theater stuff, he would probably like performing. Wilbur even wonders if Vendetta would like to play an instrument. Wilbur knew a great deal about music, and if Vendetta had an instrument he wanted to play that Wilbur didn't know, Phil could get him a tutor. Phil was good about indulging his children's interests, and for some reason, Phil already considered Vendetta his kid. Well, Wilbur knew why Phil thought like that. He was the type to adopt lost, abused children. Techno and Wilbur were prime examples of that.

Wilbur stops walking when his legs hit the side of the mattress. He looks down at the bed. He presses his hand down on the comforter. Does it matter what Wilbur gets for this room? Vendetta doesn't use it, anyway. He spends most of his time on missions. His free time is spent researching in the living room. If he does sleep, which is becoming more frequent thanks to Wilbur's pestering, he does it in Wilbur's room. He really doesn't use this room other than storage for his things. Or if he wants to cry. Wilbur heard him sobbing one night. He didn't disturb Vendetta nor mention it the next day. It didn't happen again, so Wilbur assumes it was a night of weakness.

Wilbur tugs the comforter, trying to give it a more lived-in look. This only reveals the dull red-brown stains discoloring the white sheets. Wilbur can even hear the clanging of metal falling, and he watches the chains hit the ground. The color across them makes Wilbur wince. Wilbur makes a mental note to wash the sheets. He wants to remove the chains, but he highly doubts Vendetta will let him do that. He can change where Vendetta sleeps, and he's slowly fixing his eating habits, but he doesn't think Vendetta will give up on the familiar discomfort of his chains.

Wilbur leaves the room. He doesn't want to be there any more. He closes the door behind him before entering the door on the other side of the hall. His bedroom is a lot livelier. There are clothes strewn across the floor. There is a colorful collection of pillows on the bed. There's an electronic device beside his bed that can set alarms, play music, or answer questions. His guitar rests in its case against the wall. Wilbur considers pulling out some sheet music and a stand to get some practice time in, but he decides against that as he starts picking up some of the clothes on the floor. He trades out his supervillain uniform as Serenade for a more casual outfit. He takes his veil off, hanging it on the head of a mannequin. He puts on his other mask, the one he used in the early days of his career as Serenade. He only used it that first time when Vendetta knocked on his door because it was easier to reach than his veil. After that, he continued to wear it while around the apartment because it clearly made Vendetta more at ease. Plus, Wilbur thought it was fair since Vendetta was wearing his casual mask.

Wilbur leaves his room when he's finished. He walks back into the living room. Vendetta has cleared away his research materials, pushing the corkboard back into the corner Wilbur puts it in when he wants to watch the television. He pushed the coffee table out  of the way, between the balcony doors and the side of the couch. He's left the box half open on the cushions. He's holding a controller in one hand and his communicator in the other, glancing between the two screens. Vendetta looks up when he notices Wilbur. The esper wasn't expecting to be greeted with a blinding smile. Vendetta rushes toward Wilbur. He pushes the controller he was holding onto Wilbur's hand. "Come play with me! This is a two player game!"

Vendetta rushes back to the box to grab another controller. Wilbur raises an eyebrow as he looks at the screen. He stifles a laugh. Out of all the games he thought Vendetta would pick, a dancing game was not one of them. The game was designed around following the dancers on the screen. The controller picked up on how closely a person followed instructions to give points accordingly. It was a game that could be played trying to get a better personal high-score or beat another player. Wilbur played before. He's played once with Techno, but his brother didn't take too well to the game. He tried with his best friend, Niki, and she seemed to like it, but only as an activity to do in moderation. Wilbur would play with Puffy, but she gets competitive. Her nephew, Tubbo, is the same way. Wilbur doesn't bother with either of them. He eyes Vendetta, already knowing that he's going to be competitive.

"I don't want to play," Wilbur says, trying to hand the controller back. Vendetta looks up sharply. Wilbur hesitates. He can't see Vendetta's eyes, but he can very well tell when someone is staring at him with a heavy gaze.

"Come on, Serenade. Just a round or two, yeah?" Vendetta pleads. Wilbur wavers but remains firm in his conviction. Vendetta frowns, almost pouting which Wilbur did not find adorable and familiar, before he grins mischievously. "You could have just told me you were shit at the game. You're right, it wouldn't be fun for me to win so easily."

"Alright, gremlin, you're on," Wilbur grins back. Vendetta cheers even though he's been issued a challenge. Wilbur laughs as Vendetta drags them both into position in the center of the living room. Since Vendetta gave Wilbur the first controller he was using, Wilbur was player one. Vendetta grumbles loudly about that as Wilbur gets them started. Wilbur rolls his eyes. He was probably going to have to take control, anyway, since Vendetta wouldn't know what to do.

Wilbur picks the first song without taking Vendetta's requests into consideration. Vendetta grows silent when the song begins to pick up, though. He gets into position easily enough. His moves start off a little janky and rigid, but he quickly finds his groove. Wilbur refuses to be shown-up by a rookie. He doesn't entirely remember all the moves to this song, but he vaguely remembers enough of them that he has the edge over Vendetta. Not to mention, Wilbur has a better grip on his controller. Vendetta keeps letting go of his controller. Wilbur is thankful that Vendetta put on a binding cord so that the controller wasn't flung across the room.

Wilbur, obviously, beats Vendetta in the first round. Vendetta makes up some excuse as Wilbur laughs. Vendetta grabs Wilbur's arm, forcing his actions into picking the next song. Because Wilbur is trying to pull out of Vendetta's hold, they end up randomly picking some song that neither of them know. Wilbur wants to change it, but Vendetta calls him a 'pussy'. Wilbur's complaints fall silent as he starts following along with the instructor. Vendetta has a better grip on his controller, but he still loses by a whole star. Wilbur smirks triumphantly. Vendetta looks at him while squeezing his controller. "Put the next damn song on, bitch."

"When did losers talk to winners like that?" Wilbur asks, petting Vendetta's hair like the hero's a dog.

Ironically, Vendetta starts growling. "Next damn song."

Wilbur fulfills the command with another remark. He puts on a new song, and he gets into position. Although Wilbur does his best to keep his streak running, Vendetta manages to beat him by a few hundred points. Vendetta jumps up with a cheer, and Wilbur is once again glad for the soundproof walls. Perks of being a villain, he supposes. Vendetta points his controller at Wilbur threateningly. "I win, bitch!"

"Don't get a big head. It's still 2-1," Wilbur reminds Vendetta before he's dealing with a sore winner.

"Shut the fuck up. I will beat you, asshole," Vendetta proclaims. Wilbur eyes him. Vendetta lowers his shoulder when he realizes he's being stared at. "What? I will. Try me, bitch."

"Let's make this 3-1," Wilbur mutters to himself, ducking down to avoid the hit Vendetta tries to hit on him. He picks the next song. The instructor appears on the screen, smiling brightly without realizing two espers are competing right in front of them. The beginning notes of the song start to play, echoing out from the speakers. Wilbur and Vendetta get into position, and they start swinging through the motions. They almost look like mirrors of each other with how hard they're working at following the instructor. Their scores keep increasing, climbing the rankings to get more stars. Eventually, Vendetta throws his arms out wider than they need to be. He hits Wilbur in the nose. It startles Wilbur even if it doesn't actually hurt. He turns to glare at Vendetta, but the hero is dancing with a smirk on his face. Wilbur gets back into the rhythm, and when he has an opportunity, he slides into Vendetta's personal space. The hero backs up, losing the beat and flailing his arm the wrong way. Wilbur smiles humorously until he's shoved back into place, thereby losing his spot. Wilbur strikes his leg out, aiming to trip Vendetta. He's successful, but as the esper starts to go down, he grabs the back of Wilbur's shirt. Wilbur attempts to keep his balance, but he falls right alongside Vendetta. They both land on their butts on the ground, shoulder to shoulder, backs to the couch. Wilbur groans as pain richots across his tailbone. He watches as the screen berates him and Vendetta for not following the instructor.

"You bitch," Vendetta seethes. The next thing Wilbur knows, something hits the back of his head. He jerks forward. He looks at Vendetta to see the hero armed with a pillow. Vendetta raises the pillow up to swing it down on Wilbur. The villain slides out of the way. As Vendetta pushes the pillow into the ground where Wilbur once was, Wilbur grabs another pillow from the couch to slam it into the side of Vendetta's head. The hero shuffles to the side as the hit lands. He stands up, placing his controller on the arm of the couch. He takes another pillow from the couch, holding them both up defensively. Wilbur reaches his hand back, fingers brushing against a blanket. He throws it at Vendetta to disorient the hero. The blanket catches on the pillows, and there is suddenly a curtain between the two pillow fighters. The curtain drops low, and Wilbur realizes after he's swung his pillow that Vendetta has ducked down. Wilbur only fully notices when he's being tackled to the ground. The blankets wrap around his legs, and Vendetta transitions one pillow behind Wilbur's head before he completely drops. Vendetta leaves the pillow there as he uses the one to keep Wilbur's chest against the ground. Vendetta has his knees on either side of Wilbur, holding down his upper arms. Wilbur tries to escape, but he finds himself getting even more tangled. He deflates, tapping his fingers against the ground, accepting defeat.

Vendetta smiles at Wilbur. He begins to laugh, throwing his head back. Wilbur suddenly feels like he can't breathe, and it has little to do with how Vendetta is practically sitting on his chest. It's only that Vendetta once again reminds him of Tommy, his little brother... his dead brother. He didn't see it, at first, but it became clear when Vendetta slept with him. Vendetta slept on his chest just like Tommy did when they were younger, their heartbeats even with one another. It was something so startling familiar that Wilbur began to pick up on other similarities. His blonde hair, his laughter, his pouting expression and his smile, his boisterous personality, his ability to get along with almost anyone, his stubbornness. All of these facts should mean nothing, but perhaps to a man who will always grieve what he's lost, it makes Wilbur see Tommy in Vendetta.

But Tommy is dead. Every informant in the city has told Wilbur the same thing no matter how many times he compels them with his power to tell the truth. Even if they all somehow found a way to avoid his power, Wilbur was given the body. His brother ran away the night of the explosion, and he was starved to death in the streets. It was a horrible way to go, and Wilbur has never truly forgiven himself for not finding Tommy in time. He failed his brother, something he swore never to do.

Unlike Tommy, Wilbur found himself a good life. He stumbled away from the explosion, barely conscious and bleeding profusely. His esper ability awakened, a response to intense trauma. He was able to coerce store owners to give him what he needed to survive. His early days were about healing and searching for his family, but he instead stumbled upon Techno. Because of his many inherited powers and hybrid instincts, he was lost in aggression and bloodshed. Only Wilbur's voice could snap him out of it, and this formed an attachment between them. It was unhealthy, in some ways, since Techno was using Wilbur to stay sane while Wilbur was using Techno to fill his loneliness. Regardless, Phil found them soon enough, and they were suddenly adopted. Wilbur suddenly had a legal family...

... with villains, technically. Phil became his father and Sneeg was his uncle, but that didn't stop the two of them from being bad people. They were villains long before Phil decided he wanted to be a father. Wilbur didn't care, though. He didn't want to be abandoned, so he forgave anything his family did. When Techno started using villainly as an outlet, Wilbur went with him because he refused to let anyone he cared about die. The four of them became the Syndicate.

Techno and Phil kidnapped a vigilante once, and while she was being treated, Wilbur found someone he thought he had lost. When Niki woke up, she recognized Wilbur. The two of them caught up with one another, remaining together until Wilbur's separation anxiety eased away. It only flared back up when Niki's vigilante partner showed up to rescue her, introducing Wilbur to Jack. The three of them found Tubbo, currently the adopted son of Jordan Sparklez and the nephew of the villain Argonaut. When Tubbo showed loyalty to them, Argonaut became the Syndicate's healer while Sparklez agreed to be a spy on the inside of the Hero's Guildhouse.

Fundy was the next one they met. He was the Ace of Clubs at that point, so he didn't want to leave his post. He acknowledged his connection with the three of them, but he was so young that he didn't feel as close with them as they felt with him. They let him live his life, and he rewarded them by introducing them to Eret. They refused to tell anyone what their new job was, but they assured everyone they were safe. Wilbur had hope. He had so much hope that Tommy would be alive, too, that he was just out of reach.

Then, the body came, and Wilbur knew that he finally found everyone.

Vendetta wasn't his brother. Vendetta isn't even his friend. But damn it, if he doesn't remind Wilbur of what he misses even to this day.

Vendetta's laughter slows down, growing softer. He looks back down at Wilbur. His smile slowly grew reminiscent. Wilbur tilts his head curiously. Sometimes, Vendetta will wear this expression. It makes Wilbur's heart hurt, and he doesn't even know what this face means. Is it grief? Is it longing? Is it remembrance? Wilbur doesn't know. It might be a blend of the three, or it might be an emotion entirely reserved for someone who's gone through as much as Vendetta has.

Vendetta raises his hand slowly, hesitantly, even. He places it on Wilbur's mask, right beside his eyes. Wilbur's breath stills in his chest, but he doesn't flinch away. He instinctively knows that Vendetta isn't going to hurt him even if he doesn't know what Vendetta is doing. It feels a little like Vendetta is studying Wilbur's eyes. It doesn't feel like he's trying to figure out who Wilbur is underneath the mask so much as he's found something that he can't quite understand. His lips part slightly, and he speaks in a slow, even tone. "You know, you remind me of my brother... one of them, anyway. His name is- I mean, was-"

There's a pecking on the window. Vendetta's lips press shut once more. He looks away from Wilbur to the window. Wilbur wants to ask Vendetta to finish, desperately wanting to know the name Vendetta was going to say. It's a hopeless wish, a despairing plea, but he feels like he's going to find salvation in whatever Vendetta has to say. He wants to know that he isn't the only crazy one seeing a dead man in a living soul.

Alas, Vendetta stands up to greet the dumb bird. Wilbur snarls at the creature. The bird dutifully delivers a letter to Vendetta, probably sent by Techno. Vendetta smiles at the paper. He starts to unfold it, reading even before he has the whole thing open. Wilbur is amused even if he despises the bird that took the letter to Vendetta. He wonders what Techno has sent Vendetta this time. The hero seems to enjoy the letters, a lot more than Techno initially thought he would. He hardly believed Wilbur when he told him that Vendetta loved the letters.

Vendetta slides the balcony doors closed. He sits on the railing, and Wilbur can see him talking to the bird. Wilbur turns away. He starts to pick up the pillows and blankets off the floor. He places them all back on the couch. He folds the blanket up, setting it in the corner. By the time he's done, Vendetta is entering the apartment again. He presses the letter to his chest, walking over to his writing supplies to make a reply. Before he heads back out again, Vendetta hesitates, looking over his shoulder. "Hey... do you think you can watch over me tonight? I have that important mission with Dyscardia and Ravager tomorrow, you know."

"Of course I will," Wilbur tells Vendetta, avoiding eye contact by resetting the game. He was always willing to help Vendetta fix his sleeping schedule, and he was a little proud that Vendetta came to him to ask when he wanted it instead of waiting for Wilbur to drag him to bed. It was a step in the right direction, at least.

That right direction felt even further away when Vendetta was sitting on the balcony, speaking to the bird. Wilbur watches, wondering what it would take to understand Vendetta. He hopes that if understands, he might know why he cares so much about this boy.