It Started With Hello

Chap. 7

Blake somehow managed to scrub away every sticky, saccharine trace of ice cream from the kitchen floor, the faint scent of chocolate and vanilla stubbornly lingering in the air. After that minor ordeal, he'd given a grumbling Alex a quick bath, the splashes and protests eventually fading into a tired quiet. Now, he just finished tucking his little brother into bed. In the soft, comforting glow of the nightlight, Blake could feel Alex's gaze fixed on him, a silent, weighty stare.

"What is it, Alex?" he whispered, settling onto the corner of the bed. It was annoying, this quiet scrutiny, a familiar habit of Alex's when something weighed on his mind. Alex picked at the edge of his blanket, hesitating, his small voice barely a murmur. "I really am sorry about the ice cream." Blake sighed, a weary sound. He shook his head and reached out, ruffling Alex's already rumpled hair. "Dude, it's fine. I got it all cleaned up pretty fast." It was a total lie; it had taken way too long, his back aching and his patience worn thin.

Alex carefully smoothed his hair back into place, a lingering pout on his lips. "Were you able to finish your homework?" Blake looked away, a fractional pause before he nodded. Alex might only be nine, but he wasn't dumb. He saw the slight shift in Blake's eyes, the way his shoulders remained tense. He knew it was a lie.

Blake stood from the bed, moving towards the door "Blake..." Alex's soft voice called his name, tinged with a fragile uncertainty. Blake quickly turned, a confused frown creasing his brow. "What?" Alex let out a shaky sigh, looking away slightly, his embarrassment clear. "Do you think I'm annoying?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I heard some girls at school say I was annoying. That's why Mom and Dad work so much... to have time away from me." He finally met Blake's eyes, wide and vulnerable, as Blake sank back down onto the corner of the bed beside him.

Wow, kids these days are nosy as fuck, Blake thought, a raw, protective anger coiling tightly in his gut. They need to mind their own damn business before I make them. "Of course you're not annoying, kid," he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. "And them working a lot has nothing to do with you, alright? Don't let those girls get to you."

Alex nodded slowly, rolling over to face away from him. Blake sighed, rubbing Alex's back softly, feeling the small, bony spine beneath his palm. "You want me to kick their ass?" Alex's laughter, a bright, clear sound, made him roll back over. "They're girls, and in fourth grade, Blake!" Blake shrugged, standing up and sliding his hands into his jean pockets. "I'm okay with going to jail for you." This made Alex laugh a little harder, a genuine, joyful sound that brought a rare, soft smile to Blake's face.

Alex let out a soft yawn, sleep finally claiming him. "Night, kid," Blake murmured. Alex smiled, eyes drifting shut as Blake made his way out of the room, cracking the door behind him just enough to let the nightlight glow filter out. It infuriated him to hear people were picking on his brother. Why would anyone bully Alex? He was adorable, sure, a little hyperactive, but inherently sweet and caring.

A quiet click from downstairs, followed by hushed footsteps, signaled their parents' arrival. Blake glared over at the clock: a little past midnight. His parents had decided to make an appearance. His mom walked in first, followed by his dad. Blake started to turn, planning to slink back upstairs to his bedroom and pretend he'd been asleep. But his dad saw him first, already sinking into the plush living room couch.

"Hello, son. How was your day?"
Blake stopped, rolling his eyes almost imperceptibly before turning to face both of them. He crossed his arms, walking closer, a familiar weariness settling over him. "Fine. Busy, but fine. So, you guys still want to talk to me about something?"

His mom smiled, a brittle, too-wide grin that always made him nervous. "Yes, sit down a moment." he sat beside his dad hesitantly, looking between them, a knot tightening in his stomach. His mom pulled a small, colorful piece of paper out of her jacket pocket. It was a brightly colored flyer, crumpled and then smoothed out, depicting smiling students dancing under a shimmering disco ball.