There was a thread on familiarity in this one, something he should recognize that hovered just out of reach. Neil rolled over in bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking, trying to piece it together-- until it clicked.
"Oh, shit," he groaned. Louis. Of course. Their parents hadn't been terrible, hadn't been the sort that ended up reported to CPS and had their faces splashed across the evening news, but they hadn't exactly been warm and caring either. He'd disagreed with a lot of what they'd done, and it meant he and his siblings had been raised largely independent, with only each other, if anyone, to rely upon.
They should have told him the truth. Neil felt that very strongly, because this, this is a really shitty way to find out. What hurts, though, is that he no longer felt like part of the family. Neil didn't give a damn about blood. Louis was still his brother, genetics aside, and for the first time he wondered if he felt the same.