Gonzales

22

The clock in the living room struck midnight with a soft chime. In the quiet of the house, every creak of the old wooden floors seemed amplified in the stillness. The air was cool, and a soft hum of a distant car could be heard through the window. The house, though still, carried the imprint of its lively inhabitants—the laughter, the chaos, and the love. Tonight, though, everything was unusually peaceful.

Marco pushed the front door open quietly, the familiar smell of his mom's lavender-scented candles. He was finally home from hanging out with friends at a party, exhausted but content, and ready to crash into his bed. The house was dark, everyone already tucked away for the night.

He walked up the staircase slowly, carefully avoiding the creaky steps he had long memorized. His eyes adjusted to the dimness, and for a moment, he felt a sense of nostalgia, remembering the days when his parents would tuck him in with a kiss on the forehead and a few gentle words of encouragement. Marco smiled softly at the thought, still not fully used to the transition of becoming an adult himself.

As he reached the top of the stairs, the hallway before him stretched out like a quiet, sleepy tunnel. His room was at the far end, just past Luca and Leo's rooms. He glanced briefly at their door, half-expecting one of them to jump out, but it was eerily quiet. The house was still—almost too still.

Marco was just about to step forward when something made him freeze in place. He blinked, his heartbeat speeding up as he realized he wasn't alone. Right in front of him, barely a foot away, stood a small figure.

"Aurelio!" Marco let out a startled gasp, stepping back in surprise. The little boy stood there, looking up at him with wide, sleepy eyes.

Aurelio was barely awake, his tousled brown hair sticking up in all directions, his small pajama-clad frame just barely visible in the dim hallway light. Marco's heart nearly skipped a beat, the shock of the sudden appearance still rattling his nerves.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" Marco whispered, trying to calm his racing heart.

Aurelio blinked slowly, still half-dazed from the sleep he'd been ripped from. "I woke up," he mumbled, his voice thick with the weight of sleep. "I don't know why, bubba." He reached his arms up as if looking for something, or someone, to hold onto. "Can I sleep with you?"

Marco exhaled, trying to regain his composure as he squatted down to the boy's level. The night was quiet, and Marco's mind was still catching up to the sudden rush of adrenaline. "Aurelio, it's really late. You should be in bed."

Aurelio yawned, his small mouth opening wide, and rubbed his eyes with tiny, chubby hands. His voice was almost a whisper, "But I... I couldn't sleep, bubba. Can I please sleep with you? I don't like being alone."

The words tugged at Marco's heart. Aurelio wasn't much of a night owl; he'd always been the type to pass out the moment his head hit the pillow. But now, standing before him, with sleep still clinging to his face, he seemed so fragile, like a small bird needing to nestle under the protection of its older sibling.

Marco's heart softened as he studied the little boy's face—those wide, innocent eyes filled with uncertainty. It was moments like these that Marco felt a deep, almost protective bond with his younger brother. Aurelio might have been the youngest, but his energy, curiosity, and relentless need for attention had a way of wrapping everyone around his little finger. It wasn't uncommon for him to dart around the house at a thousand miles per hour, always asking questions, exploring new things. But tonight, it seemed the whirlwind had momentarily quieted, replaced with a sense of vulnerability.

Sighing, Marco straightened up and took Aurelio's hand gently. "Alright, come on. Let's go to my room." He reached down, lifting the little boy easily, despite the way Aurelio wiggled in his arms as he adjusted.