They never talk about Joshua, and to be honest Will doesn't remember much about his brother, just that after he was gone Mom cried a lot and Dad was home a lot more than he used to be and there'd be yelling sometimes, and that, six months later, when they moved into their new home, they didn't have a park right across the street. He doesn't exactly forget about Joshua, because of course Mom lights incense for him and she always stops and prays and builds a little pile of stones any time they see a Jizo statue, but it's not like he spends a lot of time thinking about the fact that, from age four to five, he had a little brother, and then from age five to eight he didn't – at least, not until it's been six months since anybody's heard anything from Keith, and he finds his Mom – his Mom, who's the strongest person he knows – standing in the kitchen and making dinner and crying hot, silent tears into the stew.
"Mom?" he says softly and she wipes his eyes and tries to smile at him and it does nothing to stop the quiet, controlled panic going on in his stomach.
"I'm fine, sweetie," she says and wipes her eyes again. "It's just the onions."
Will nods but doesn't say anything, because he's five years old again and his brother is gone and he doesn't know what to do.