close calls

3 - natural nostalgia

Cooking in the Lynch household is usually a small affair, or that's what Mrs. Lynch tries to make it be. However, some days she just doesn't have the time, and her husband just cannot take her place. So, the responsibility falls on the eldest son - grinning as he steps into the kitchen, holding a spatula like it's a scepter.

Declan's cooking is a mix of carefully read recipes and freely made observations, the latter a speck in his memory when he recalls it, accompanied by a raven man and the stack of utensils the man held as close as his own life.

Or maybe not. He'd forgotten to take them when he left. Surely he cared for his life more.

Declan's used to the bouts of memories that come every now and then, that trigger a wave of nostalgia. He knows better than to resist it, and with every flash of recollection, he learns how to deal better - how to let it seep into his bones and wash away as effortlessly as it had come, how to not let the past bring up depressing what ifs in the present.

"Have I ever told you how much I like your cooking?"

Delilah joins him when he's halfway through covering the steaming pot, and takes a seat on the counter, eyes heavy from the nap she had taken.

"No," He replies, a swift hand passing her a glass of water.

"Then why are you cooking?"

Declan gives her a blank stare, one he would recognize as belonging to another's face if someone put a mirror in front of him right there and then. He takes a spoon to lift some of the soup he'd made, blowing on it before passing the spoon to his sister. She takes it with a skeptical frown, still not fully awake, and pops it into her mouth.

"Why is it actually good?" She demands to know, and Declan only laughs, ruffling her head.

"Maybe because everyone knows how to make soup?"

"I don't," She grumbles, and Declan feels slightly bad for his sleep-deprived sister. Middle school has finally hit her in full swing, and it'll be a while before she learns to balance everything for the years to come. All he can do is help, which is harder than it should be with Delilah's insistence to be independent and self-sufficient. She reminds him of someone in that case, of a girl with a smile the world couldn't dampen.

"That's because you never cared to learn," He turns off the stove, "Mom and Dad will be home late, by the way. You wanna go and find who the jacket belongs to before dinner?"

"Are you coming with?"

They don't even know where they're supposed to go, since the man was a stranger to Delilah, but the supermarket is a small one, and the customers there are mostly people the owners know.

"I'll drop you off and pick you up. I have to go to the shop for a new string set anyway."

Delilah nods, and walks off to change. The jacket is secure in a cloth bag when she walks out, hanging off her arm. She waits as Declan grabs his keys and leads them out of the house.

"Don't crash us."

"Why not?" And there's that prick of memory again. The question isn't why, it's why not.

________

"You're telling me you don't know who that man was, Delilah?"

The supermarket owner's son questions for the third time, eyes full of disbelief. Delilah shakes her head again, more aggressively than the last time.

"Why? Should I be knowing him?"

"I thought every teenager knew him, god knows half of them spend a considerable amount of time calling him daddy."

The guy is Declan's age, and Delilah would almost call him a second brother if it wasn't for Declan's jealousy over holding the role singularly (he calls it concern, Delilah calls it bullshit).

"What the- I definitely don't do that, Harvey."

"Your brother would know him too. They went to school together."

It takes a moment for Delilah's confusion to turn to genuine interest. She knows her brother went to school in the same town, but he never seemed inclined to talk much about it. She knew Harvey had gone at the same time, but with the way Declan brushed off the other's attempts to make conversation, she assumed they weren't friends.

Delilah had seen pictures, though. There was one with a brown-haired girl, wearing a baseball cap as she smiled, her face next to her brother's who held a bag of chips. There was another of the same girl, but this time she sat on a couch with her brother on the end, a tall body between them - stretching his legs on the girl and depositing a mop of blonde hair in Declan's lap. The last one she'd seen was of the same two people, sitting next to each other. Declan's legs were in the frame, along with another set of legs she couldn't recognize. Whenever she would ask him who these people were, it was the same mundane repetition of "just friends from school. They all moved for college."

She still tried to pry though - Especially on Christmases, when Declan got a gift from a 'Your favorite Wallace' and a 'Naomi', that he eagerly opened, and another from a 'B.F' that he never failed to throw away. (She had joked about it standing for boyfriend, Declan had given her the most humorless laugh she ever heard)

"He wasn't there that night."

"I know, I'm just saying he might not appreciate me telling you the man's name. You give me the jacket and I promise I'll hand it over."

Delilah narrowed her eyes. "How do I know you won't keep it with you?"

"Even if I do, it won't cost a dent in the guy's pocket," He sighs on seeing the look on her face, "I promise I won't."

"I want to know his name."

"Too bad, I'm not telling you."

"I'll tell your mother you gave out chocolates to that Cameron guy for free because he forgot his wallet."

Harvey frowns at her, but she doesn't yield, crossing her arms in front to further ground her stance.

"Okay, I'll tell you, but you promise not to tell your brother, okay?"

"Do I look like a snitch?"

"Yes, actually."

"Chocolates. Free. Came-,"

"Yes, okay, Lynch. You've made your point. The guy was Bennett."

Delilah tries to remember if she'd heard the name, but her mind draws a blank. Sensing her confusion, Harvey continues, "He used to be best friends with your brother, and then he vanished. His family owns the Frazier corporations."

"Frazier corporations? The ones who own a whole township as their office centers? My brother was friends with their heir?" Harvey nods.

Delilah feels something in her bubbling up, threatening to break out in a series of laughs, but the serious look on Harvey's face stops her. "Wait, you're not joking?"

"Why would I?"

"Maybe because why would my brother be friends with a billionaire?"

"Trillionaire, actually. And hell if I know."

Delilah considers it for a moment, the knobs in her mind turning at a hasty speed, before drawing the jacket back on the counter.

When in doubt about your brother's life, go to your brother.

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hello its me I was wondering if after all these days how do you be?
as you can see my lameness is catching up but let me know your thoughts, votes and comments are always appreciated!

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