Cracks of a Mirror

"He misses you"

"I'm not going."

"You're being unreasonable, honey." Mrs. Dolan reasoned, pacing up and down the narrow hallway.

Ethan leaned against the front door, an undetectable expression resting upon his sharp features. "You never told me."

Mrs. Dolan sighed. "You never asked."

"I have to ask you to let me know my brother's getting married?"

"Ethan, sweetie, you haven't spoken to your brother in years! You don't come to our family gatherings, you don't visit me or your father or even Cameron. When could I have sat you down and told you?"

Ethan blinked away the hot tears gathering in his eyes. He clenched his jaw. "You could've called, Ma. A phone-call would've been enough."

Mrs. Dolan laid the envelope down on the counter. She inched towards the shoe closet, pulling out her long brown boots and peacoat. "Please come, Ethan. We all miss you."

Ethan didn't look up as she stepped out of his home. Before he could close the front door, she spoke one last time.

"He misses you."

Ethan watched her minivan drive away, off into the distance. He let the saltwater escape from his eyes as he closed the front door, just like he'd closed his heart seven years prior.

They had been sixteen at the time, living and laughing in the golden streets of L.A. At the top of their prime, living in expensive apartments, partying hard, millions of fangirls - and distinct fanboys - cheering them on with genuine sincerity - those were the times.

Everything had felt perfect. Too perfect.

There had been a distinct night, or was it early morning - Ethan didn't recall. Yet that day had changed his life forever.

They were drunk. Wasted, even. So drunk that Ethan found it peculiar that he remembered the night so well.

In the dark of their apartment, in the wee hours of the morning, in the heat of intoxication, Ethan's body had found Grayson's. Their clothes had almost discarded themselves, their limbs had found one another. And as wrong as it had felt, when they had become one that night, Ethan could finally say everything felt perfect.

Only, it had been the wrong kind of perfect. The kind of perfect that reeks of sin, of misdemeanor, of offense.

Morning had brought hangovers, soreness, and a clueless Grayson who seemed far too disgusted by their position in bed for Ethan to remain in his state of perfection.

The morning had brought the reality that had slipped Ethan's mind the night before and the confirmation that he was indeed a flaw to his brother's perfection, a freak of nature mirroring the beauty that Grayson was.

He was a crack in their mirror.