Twin Fate: Sun and Moon

Chapter 1 - Old Shadows and New Beginnings

"Jordan, we're landing soon," Alex's voice pulled me from the depths of sleep. The serene meadow I had been sitting in, alongside an unfamiliar figure, dissolved as the plane began its descent. The reality of our surroundings seeped in as Alex's voice was followed by the pilot's over the intercom, "Good morning, passengers. We've arrived at our destination, Gruthølm. Please remain seated until we've come to a complete stop."

I yawned, stretching as I tried to shake off the remnants of sleep. "How far is it from here to Sjøfoss?" I asked, noticing Alex's eyes fixed on the control tower outside the window. He seemed distant, almost as if he hadn't heard me, but then he replied, "About an hour or so." His voice carried a trace of unease, a feeling we both shared.

A quiet tension lingered between us as the plane finally halted. I was still fighting the urge to yawn when Alex broke the silence. "I wonder what the people here are like," he murmured, more to himself than to me.

"I guess we'll find out soon enough," I replied, my voice steady despite the unease settling in my chest. We were late, arriving a week later than planned. Instead of having time to adjust, we had barely a day before our first day of college. The thought weighed heavily on me as I fumbled through my bag, searching for my phone to let our parents know we'd landed.

My parents were also Alex's guardians, ever since the accident that took his own. We were the same age, and naturally, we spent most of our time together. My two other brothers, one older by three years and the other younger by four, only engaged with Alex when necessary. I tried to bridge that gap, to make him feel more at home, but I knew deep down that the loss of his parents had left scars that wouldn't heal easily.

As usual, I waited for the other passengers to disembark before gathering my things, savoring the quiet moment of solitude. I was always the last to leave, ensuring I hadn't left anything behind-a habit that Alex often had to help me with. "Your earbuds," he reminded me, his hand reaching between the seats to retrieve the small case.

With my bag slung over one shoulder and my suitcase in hand, we made our way to the parking lot where our parents had arranged for a car to be delivered. As we walked side by side through the chilly airport terminal, I couldn't help but notice the contrast between Alex's discomfort and my own enjoyment of the cold.

Alex's curly, tousled hair framed his face, his blue eyes flickering with discomfort as they darted around, never settling for long. His pale skin stood out against the cold, and despite the warmth of his tightly wrapped coat, he shivered, as if the chill had seeped deep into his bones. There was a fragility to him, a subtle sense of vulnerability that made him seem even smaller and more withdrawn in the crisp, biting air. He really didn't like the cold it seems.

The chill in the air was a sharp contrast to the warmth of Texas, a cold that bit through my jacket. But it was a change I welcomed-there was something about the cold that I had always found comforting.

Alex usually let his hair grow just long enough to cover the scar he'd received in the fire that took his parents fifteen years ago. He tried to hide it, but every time I looked at him, I could see the spot where his hair thinned, a constant reminder. It always brought back memories of how he had never been a burden to our parents-always polite, even as a child, though relentlessly self-critical whenever something didn't go perfectly. Praise never sat well with him; he'd deflect any compliment, insisting he could've done better. Straight A's in science? He'd brush it off as if it were nothing, saying it wasn't good enough. In some ways, our parents had more trouble with their own kids than with the one they'd adopted.

"I call shotgun," I announced, tossing the car keys to Alex. He stood there for a second, hesitating. "I'll probably mess something up. Better if you drive," he finally replied.

I almost burst out laughing. Alex was twice the driver I was, but as usual, he refused to accept that he was good at anything. "I barely slept yesterday. I had to resort to sleeping on a plane, and I doubt I can even get the car going, let alone drive it," I exclaimed, tossing the keys back to him.

Alex stared at the keys for a moment, then, with a slight frown, slid into the driver's seat. I loaded our luggage into the trunk, settled into the passenger seat, and fastened my seatbelt. The engine came to life with the softest of purrs-a testament to the new Mercedes' nearly silent operation.

After navigating the roundabout and taking the correct exit, we found ourselves on the highway leading directly to Sjøfoss. Despite the car's capability of reaching speeds up to 250 km/h, the speedometer hovered at a modest 100. The speed limit was 130, but Alex's lack of self-confidence held him back.

Sometimes, his hesitance almost frustrated me. But then again, the town wasn't far out. We'd get there eventually. I leaned back in my seat, staring out the window at the greyish scenery and the tall, green forests that stretched endlessly on either side of the road.