Alphonse’s heart was racing. His head was pounding. His eyes were crossed. He put his hands on the counter of his sink, staring down the drain of his metal sink. The rat waited for his stomach to empty out, but it refused, the sickness in his stomach taunting him. All he wanted to do was let it out, then maybe he’d feel better. He could put it down the drain, follow it, and never have to walk back out into the living room.

All the while, one word echoed in his mind: blanker.

Rumors had been swirling for years that his brother was gay, but Alfie had always managed to avoid the topic whenever it came up. He’d bury his head in the sand, change the subject, laugh it off and tell his mates that Terry was just as much a Biter as anyone.

Of course, the rumors had always been butting up against the wallops of girls who claimed they’d bedded the cute Bastard drummer. Alfie knew his brother, and he knew they were full of it plus half, but that never seemed to stop them from spreading their stories. Ironically, since none of them actually had, it made it easier for each one to claim that their story was true, because there was no one who could actually speak from experience and prove the story false.

Once, while the band was setting up for a show, Alfie and a few friends overheard a pair of girls arguing about the elusive rat’s sexual prowess, each one insisting that the other was lying.

“Y’ not even ‘is type, y’ filthy tart!” one spat.

One of the rats near Alfie snickered. “Yeh, she ain’t got a willy,” he jabbed, in a silly voice.

It was one of the few times Alfie had to be thrown out of the bar, and one of the not-few times he sliced his knuckles up on another rat’s broken teeth.

Deep down, Alfie knew it was true. You don’t live and grow up with someone for twenty years and not know something like that about them, but he was never sure enough, or told face to face, and that meant he could defend Terry to the teeth when it came to it. After all, the Alley wasn’t the most accommodating to… those kind, to say nothing of their family. Liam’s had to move several times thanks to bottles and rocks thrown through their windows.

Besides… he was a blanker. A bender. A faggot.

But what could he do now? Alfie clenched his eyes closed, his fingers digging into the ceramic counter. If he went out and laid into Terry, it would shatter him. It couldn’t stay between them. He’d go back to the Alley a wreck, the family would ask, and he’d spill it to them. The family… would they throw him out? What would happen to them? Would the band break up? Of course they would, and Terry would be the rat that broke up the Bastards. He’d be lucky not to be killed.

Then again, what if Terry didn’t go home? What if he ran away? What would Alfie tell the family? He couldn’t tell them what happened. That their son and brother ran off to live with some buzzer in wherever the fuck he lived? What was his name again?

Antonio…

There was only one choice. Alfie had to put on a smile, say it was no big deal, and just move on. He had to be Terry’s big brother. He had to do what was best for him, for the family. Maybe it really wasn’t such a big deal, was it? Was anything different now than yesterday? Than last week? When they were little pups? They were still Norwiches, Terry was still a Bastard, they were still Biters, he just knew more than he did before.

The big rat’s ears focused back on the other room. Nothing. Terrence was sitting in silence out there. The poor kid had to be terrified, waiting for Alfie to come back in. He’d seen Terry flinch when he threw the beer. Terry was shrinking back into the couch when he made the admission, like he was waiting for Alfie to hit him.

“Fuck me,” Alfie thought. “Does he think of me like that?”

By that point he’d been waiting far too long. Alphonse took a deep breath and grabbed a beer from the fridge to replace the one he’d “spilled” earlier. He just prayed he could stay calm as he walked back into the living room.

Alphonse and Terry’s night out was as good as could be expected, the big Brit supposed. They went to the bar, laughed at the Yanks for their shit taste in music and piss poor beer, but the whole time Alfie found himself scrutinizing his younger sibling. Every flicker of Terrence’s eyes, every comment he made, he picked it apart, listening for hints, for giveaways. It was impossible to focus on the drinks or the conversation. The forest was obscured by the trees.

Alfie imagined Terry going home and betraying his secret. Letting slip some comment about another bloke’s ass, or saying the wrong thing about a girl he’d supposedly slept with, and the whole story would be up. Then they’d come after him. There was no way they’d believe he was in the dark all the while. After all, if they’d caught him, sure Alfie had to have known. Once again, Alfie wouldn’t be able to show his face in the Alley.

“Oi, Alfie!!” Terrence shouted over the noise of the bar, snapping the older Norwich back into the present.

“Yeh, Terr? What, eh?”

Terrence chuckled awkwardly. “I was just askin’, y’know… about all ‘is…”

“What about it?” Alfie asked back, crossing his arms, then uncrossing them, his muscled limbs not sure what to do with themselves.

Terrence shrugged. “Like… should I tell th’ nest?”

Alphonse’s whole body tensed up. “No!” he barked out, causing a few around him to turn their heads. The rat swallowed and forced a chuckle, leaning in with a shake of his head. “I mean… I don’t think th’ fam needs t’ know all ‘at jus’ yet, eh?”

Terry nodded. “Yeh. Yeh… y’ right, mate. Least not without you there too, eh?”

“…Me there?”

“Yeh, y’know… f’ some backup? Mebbe if I got y’ there with me… an’ y’ all grinny with it… th’ Alley’ll be okay?”

Alphonse’s eyes went distant. For the briefest moment, he was furious at Terry. He’d done more than just told him, he’d used him to be his shield back home. Now that he knew, and that he hadn’t hung Terry by his tail, he couldn’t turn his back on his brother now. He was in deep with Terrence. They were in it together now. They’d go down together. Or, maybe, he actually could stand up…

“Er, course, Terr. Like any of ‘em’s gon’ give y’ a snap with me ‘ere,” Alfie said with a laugh, holding his glass up before taking all of it down in a go.

It was a rare event, but Alphonse Norwich IV did not want to drink. Or, to be more accurate, he didn’t want to get drunk with his brother. He was afraid of what he’d say, what he’d do, if there was enough alcohol in his bloodstream to dull his senses. He was afraid that if he got too many in him, he’d pop. Someone would say the wrong thing and set him off, and it might be Terry.

What mattered most was that he laughed, kept that big, cocky grin on his face, and just did his best to keep his brother at ease. Maybe if he kept Terry’s mood up, he could hold it together long enough for Alfie to come up with what to do next.

The next morning, Alfie called up a cab for his brother and saw him to the door of it, helping toss the few bags Terry had brought into it. The brothers hugged once, with Alfie’s arms tight around Terrence like before. He squeezed, almost harder than might have been comfortable.

“Now ‘en, ‘ave a safe trip ‘ome, eh?”

Terrence nodded. “I’ll tell th’ fam y’ said ‘ello.”

Alphonse grinned. “Keep th’ nest tight, Terry. Nick wants it t’ be ‘im, but ‘e ain’t there yet.”

“Y’ don’t gotta tell me twice, Alfie.”

The two parted ways, Terry’s cab driving off toward the airport and Alfie turning back to his front door. He walked slowly, feet heavy, the tread of his boots nearly dragging along the pavement. The door was still open and he walked through it without even using his hand to push it out of the way.

Slumping down on his couch, in the exact same spot he’d been when the news was dropped on his lap earlier, Alphonse picked up his cell phone from the table beside him. He looked at it a few moments, pressing its edge against the side of his muzzle. There weren’t too many contacts in it, and fewer still that he would actually ever want to call.

Fighting with the fiddly touch screen as he always did, the Alley rat managed to find his way to his contacts list and pressed the picture of someone he felt like he could talk to.

The phone rang.

It rang again.

A voice answered. “Yes, Alphonse?” It sounded impatient.

Alfie stayed quiet a moment, before blurting out, “Eh, sorry Muri, hit it by mistake!” and hanging up again.

The rat took a breath and pressed the end call button. One more name…

The phone rang.

“Yo, Arfie!” came the voice on the other end. “Sup, dude?”

“Erh, y’ got a tick, mate? C’n we talk about summin’?”

Zack paused. It wasn’t like Alfie to call at all, let alone sound so serious. “Uh, sure dude, what’s goin’ on?”

Alfie took a big breath, he didn’t even have a clue where to start.