comment if you have siblings :)
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September Twenty-Third:
Cold.
Staring into the mirror at his disheveled state, all he feels is cold. Frozen in a state of helplessness, he hasn't shaved in over a week. His eye has faded to an off-color shade of yellow, but his toned abdomen is still an artistic mess of big purple bruises. The fight, which is nothing more than a blur in his memory, was over something foolish.
Wincing at his reflection, Nico covers his chest with a gray sweatshirt. His discolored eye would be hard to hide from his worrisome mother. Thankfully, he hadn't heard his father come in last night. Meaning that he most likely spent the night at his office in the city, Nico wouldn't have to listen to his belittling.
Pulling his hood up over his head, he walks up the stairs towards the kitchen. Hiding his face from view, he finds not his mother but a pink note affixed to the fridge. In his mother's handwriting, it reads:
Gone for the weekend. Business Trip. Love you.
His mother never bothers with frills. Her messages are always to the point, surprised she hadn't woken him up before she left. Nico doesn't bother reading into it. Opening up the fridge to find it empty, he sighs. A deep groan that's seeded in his chest and fills the large, barren kitchen with his anguish. The house, so immense in size, feels empty with only the singular presence to fill its space.
It wasn't always this way. The house, which his parents purchased days after his birth, had been full of laughter. His father had recently made partner at his law firm, while his mother was just starting to work her way up in the blossoming company. The house was a statement of their successes.
In their youth, he and his brother Ty would run through the matrix of rooms making up games as they went. At times they had been heroes, buccaneers, and even astronauts, climbing out the attic window onto the rooftop. That version hadn't lasted long, their mothers' fearsome voice hollering for them to get down.
They created games made up by the purity of siblinghood, growing up only a few years apart in age. Ty was the protective older brother, the straight and narrow of the two. Nico, the youngest, was a spark looking to set little fires.
As they grew older, their make-belief turned into chatter about sports. Their father had urged them into athletics; Nico chose basketball while his brother Ty became a rising star in football. Both captains of their respected sports, their parents had been proud allies. Their rooftop rendezvous turned into late-night scrimmages in the driveway, games that turned aggressive the longer night fell.
Like any siblings, they fought. But they grew to learn that anger was only temporary. They had an inseparable bond, the tale of two brothers.
Where had it gone so wrong?
---
He stares at the building, afraid to move from the car. His hands rooted on the steering wheel, gripping the leather, the skin of his knuckles turning white. His chest is labored as his staggered, uneven breaths fill the car. His chest aches as he tries to regain control of his composure.
Nico steps out of his car with a hesitant stride. With every step towards the hospital, the memories seize him one after another. His mother wailed his brother's name as he held the phone to his ear with trembling hands. The way the world had gone still, the blood draining from his face as he fell to his knees.
His older brother, his protector, was in an accident. Ty had been speeding to his destination, unseeing the semi barreling towards him as he flew through the intersection. One moment the road was there, wide open and safe. The next moment was consumed by a loud noise and acrid smell as the car flipped over itself and burst into flames. Trapped within the car, Ty suffered second-degree burns.
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