Oh Brother (Completed)

Lost In It All

I woke up just before sunrise hanging halfway off Phoenix's bed.

            After our sentimental moment, he'd broke out all his art supplies and given me complete access to pencil's, pastels, markers, I hadn't even known existed. My drawing pencils had consisted of a few number two pencils and one fairly decent 2B I'd taken from my father's set before the divorce. I'd never had the money to afford pastels, though I'd used them in art class and had fallen in love with the vibrance and hues, my mother had always thought of them as a desire and not a necessity. As soon as I'd started sketching on the bed beside him, we'd just sat in a comfortable silence, but I'd found comfort in the warmth of him at my side. Not just in the heat his body was exerting, but in his entire being.

Everything about Phoenix was like a sunset; beautiful, warm, comforting. He was the flicker of light igniting in the cave of darkness I'd been wallowing in since my mother died. Yet, somehow, as I turned on to my side to stare at him, I wanted no more than to run in the other direction. We'd obviously fallen asleep in the middle of our mini art lesson, as his sketchbook was still open on his chest, one arm draped over it, then other stretched out beneath me, his fingertips grasping my forearm the only prevention from me completely falling from the bed and hitting the cold floor. His dark hair was a mess over his eyes, his even darker, long lashes a fan against his Sunkissed skin; a major complexion difference to my pale right arm brushing against his hip. His full lips, for the first time since I'd returned, were turned down in a grimace. But it was here, staring at him as the sun began to peak, that I finally concluded that I agreed with Cady's comment about him being a Greek God. He was perfection in every form of the word.

I carefully reached up and pried his fingers from my shoulder, quickly looking back to make sure it hadn't stirred him awake. Unfortunately as soon as his grip loosened, I rolled off the bed, only able to prevent a loud crashing by grasping the head board in a quick, last second reflex. Fearing it woke him up, my eyes found him again, but he did no more than swipe his arm across his bare stomach, knocking his sketchbook on to the bed beside him and rolled over. I straightened myself, grabbing the edge of the black comforter from the end of the bed and draped it over him, then walked out of the room. I decided to leave the door open a crack in fear if I shut it he'd wake up.

"Walk of shame?" Sam's voice startled me so much I banged my head into the doorframe. Rubbing it, I turned to find my brother yawning in front of his bedroom at the end of the hall. He was wearing a weary smile, and his eyes were half open, but he still managed to tease me. As soon as I opened my mouth to assure him absolutely nothing had happened, we both looked toward Damien's directly in front of me in disgust.

I had always wondered how a house worth more than my entire town back home could have floorboards so creaky, but they'd been like this since our first summer here. Sadly, for my brother and I now, they weren't being very forgiving for Damien. The sound of his bed creaking, in harmony with a chorus of moans, sounded through the eerily silent house.

"Couldn't have at least waited until everyone was up." Sam commented, shuddering in disgust. "Disgusting."

I stifled a laugh at the look on his face. He looked back to me at the sound and shot me a suggestive wink, "Don't play innocent. You were in Nix's room all night. Speaking of which, make sure that day stays open at all times whenever you're in there, we don't want to listen to that," he pointed toward Damien's bedroom, "when it involves our little sister."

With one last, quiet sigh, he nodded in my direction then ducked back into his room. I turned away, the smile still lingering as I looked down the stairs. The sun was starting to bleed through the small gaps in the drawn blinds, illuminating the living room in the beautiful morning glow. Just as I looked back to my room, I caught a glimpse of the large double doors around the corner of Damien's room wide open. The doors were one way, like the glass downstairs, and led out on to the balcony that overlooked the pool deck, and much of the beach. Deciding to power through it, I walked quickly passed Damien's room, fighting the urge to plug my ears, and crept out on to the balcony.