Dead Give Away (short story)

6 | Regret

"If you call me that one more time, I swear I'll kill you."

"Dylan..."

Dylan laughs at the ashen look on William's face. "Chill, dude. I'm just messing with you." He reaches into the wardrobe and tosses a sweater unto the mattress. "I just think it's stupid, you know? Dill, Will. Will, Dill. Makes us sounds like a comedy act on TV or something. Hey, aren't you folding anymore?"

Willam turns away.

Dylan chatters on, until he notices Williams' brooding silence. "Hey. Can't you take a joke anymore?"

He walks around the bed and swats William's impeccable blonde bob with a towel, ready to make a run for it. But William diverts his gaze, a sheen in his eyes.

"You're crying? No way. No. Way." He sits beside William, his grin fading into a look of concern. "Hey, what's up? What did I do? Ok, I promise you can call me Dill. Happy now? Look at me, mate." He grabs William's shoulders and turns him around.

Willam glares at him.

Dylan raises his eyebrows. "I said you can call me Dill. Now you look like you want to murder me."

"Are you going to keep acting like that?"

"What? Dumb? I'm going to pretend I'm not, that's for sure. You know how dad is."

William lurches to his feet. His eyes flash. "You've changed, Dylan. Where on earth have you been these days anyway?"

"The gym, like what you used to do. Where else?

William falls silent for a long moment. "You're not you anymore."

Dylan mimicks William, tosses his hands in the air. "You know what? You're right. Everybody is telling me to do this and that, to change. To get my life together. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

William had noticed. It was almost comforting to know it wasn't just his imagination. Telling him his temper had shortened, that he didn't cry anymore when watching the sad parts of a movie. That he felt irritated each passing second like someone was poking at him with a needle and wouldn't stop.

And that he felt nothing. Nothing at all.

Dylan whirls around and pins William with a glare. Before he can stop them, the forceful words tumble out. "And you can continue moping about and feeling sorry for your pathetic self because I have a plane to board. A vacation to go on. Haven't your ever thought of why Dad picked me instead of you?"

He steps closer, pulse thudding. By now, his wiry frame towers over William. His brother, the complete opposite and built of muscle, back away.

Dylan's mouth goes dry, and for a split second, he freezes. William stares with wide eyes. Looking at him, like one might stare at a monster.

And that makes him angry.

Again, the words fly out, as if someone had turned a switch. "Because I'm better than you. I'm intelligent, capable, and damn more ambitious than you are."

Each word of the memorized lie stabs at him. Mocks him. Sneers at him. The color drains out of William's face.

"Goodbye, William."

Dylan yanks his suitcase off the bed and storms out of the room. He flees before the tears

He said it.

He made his father proud, even if he didn't know that was the last time he'd see his brother's face.

For ten whole years.