After his brother died, he cleaned up his act. He even traded in his car for something that made him look like less of a douche.
He was still working for the bad guys, but he wasn’t one of them anymore. All his life, he’d blamed his brother for turning his life to shit, and now all of his bitter hatred was turned from his brother to his father.
He emulated his brother in those first few months. Even thought of calling up the girl at the bar that he spent his last day with, just to see if she could see in him what she saw in his brother.
He invited her to the funeral. Hurt as she was about not being able to save his life, she agreed.
His father hated that. And to be honest, they were both tried to piss him off.
In the end, pissing him off was all she was after, and he returned to his little life, returned to who he really was. He may be cleaned up, but he wasn’t his brother. He could only be him.