Truly Madly Ghostly

Chapter Thirty-six: A Brother's Love

The morning of Alex's discharge arrived with overcast skies and a faint chill in the air. Ace stood in the hospital lobby, arms crossed, watching the elevator numbers descend. His jaw was tight, but his eyes—those rarely betrayed anything—held a flicker of something soft. Relief, maybe. Worry, definitely.

Alex emerged in a wheelchair pushed by a nurse, pale and thinner than Ace remembered. The shadows under his eyes hadn't faded since waking up, and he moved like someone still trying to remember how to live in his own skin. Ace stepped forward immediately.

"You ready?" he asked, voice even but not cold.

Alex gave a small nod. "I guess."

Ace helped him into the car, careful not to show how anxious he was. As the door clicked shut, Ace circled to the driver's side and got in. The silence in the car was thick for the first few minutes of the drive.

"So..." Alex finally broke it. "You really think it's a good idea? Me going back there?"

Ace didn't look away from the road. "It's not about ideas. It's about what's best for you right now. You need a safe space to recover. Mom and Dad can give you that."

Alex scoffed lightly. "Since when have they been good at giving space?"

Ace let out a slow breath. "Look, I know things were... bad. But they never stopped caring about you. Even when you left after that fight, they never shut up about you."

"They didn't exactly support me either," Alex muttered, his voice strained. "They wanted a CEO, not a musician."

"They were scared," Ace said quietly. "Scared you'd waste your life. Scared they couldn't protect you. You were always the dreamer. I get it now. I didn't then."

Alex turned his head to the window, watching trees blur past. "And you? Whose side were you on?"

Ace's grip on the steering wheel tightened, then eased. "I was on their side. At first. I thought you were being reckless. But after the accident..." He paused. "When I saw you like that, barely hanging on... none of it mattered anymore. Not music, not business. Just you."

Alex looked at him, startled.

"You're my little brother, Alex," Ace added, his voice thick. "I can't lose you. Not like that."

Silence returned, but this time it was different. Not cold. Not awkward. Just full of words that didn't need saying.

When they pulled into the long driveway of the family estate, Alex swallowed hard. The house was the same—immense, polished, distant. But something in Ace's steady presence beside him made it feel less intimidating.

Ace parked and turned off the engine. "They're nervous. They do love you; you are their son. Just... give them a chance. For me."

Alex hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. For you."

Ace gave a rare, brief smile. "Good. Because if you try to run off, I'm chaining you to the piano bench."

Alex huffed a laugh. 

Ace opened the car door and stepped out, ready to walk his brother back into a house that might not yet feel like home—but would be, one step at a time.

--

Ace stood near the wide glass window of his study, fingers loosely wrapped around a tumbler of untouched whiskey. Below, in the dim glow of the courtyard lights, Alex's laughter echoed faintly from the garden where he was chatting with the gardeners. It was a good sound. Alive. Solid. Something Ace hadn't heard in far too long.