The first time I’d seen his room, I’d assumed it was a guest room because it was so empty. But there were signs it was lived in; his bed was unmade and the laundry basket in the corner was overflowing. The dresser was old, covered in scratches and stains, but there were a few items on top that caught my attention.

There was a small wooden figure that looked as if it had been whittled by hand, a candle scented like chamomile and lavender, a deck of cards, and even an old GameBoy. I picked up the wooden figure, turning it over in my palm. It looked like a cat — I could see little whiskers on its face and claws on its tiny feet. The deck of cards appeared well-used, and the GameBoy had a Pokemon Red cartridge inside it.

Shoved toward the back of the dresser was a boombox, its plastic exterior cracked and scuffed. It was clearly old, equipped with a cassette player and AM/FM radio, but nothing else, not even a CD drive.

The front slot was open and a cassette was inside. I pulled out the tape, curiously reading the handwritten label on the front. Best Mixtape Ever! was scrawled with a red pen in messy, child-like letters.

The floor creaked softly as Lucas came up behind me. I turned, holding up the tape. “Did you make this?”

Something painful flickered over his expression. He took the tape, turning it over in his hands.

“My brother made it,” he said. “But I named it. It’s old, the audio is fucked up in some spots…”

He put it back into the boombox and pressed play. The volume was low, but after a moment, I recognized the tune of “Heaven’s On Fire” by KISS.

“What’s your brother’s name?” I said.

He stopped the tape. The softness of his expression was still guarded as he picked up the wooden cat and rubbed his thumb over the rough wood.

“Benji,” he said, keeping his eyes down. “He’s five years older than me.”

An older brother. It was difficult to imagine Lucas as anything other than he was now: hard as stone and just as immovable. But as he spoke, I was able to picture him differently. As someone far more innocent and gentle, a child that the world hadn’t yet broken.

“I thought he was the coolest guy in the world,” he said. “I followed him everywhere when I was a kid. Probably drove him fucking crazy. He’d sneak out with his friends and end up with his kid brother tagging along, but he was always nice about it. He’d keep me with him and make sure I was safe.”

He cleared his throat and set the cat down on the deck of cards. His face was unreadable now, wiped clean of whatever emotion I’d seen there before.