Dear Brother

2. Introducing Haydrian's Routine

"Iyden?" 

I stood over my brother’s bed, holding my breath. Finally, he twitched. "Oi, I know you're awake, so get up lazy!" I chided, drawing back the curtains to reveal a sunny day, bright rays of sunshine pouring into the room.

My brother groaned faintly and turned over to face me. He looked his prevalent self: dark purple bags under his eyes, that were the same shade as mine- typical Hecks eyes, intensely green with hints of gold. He was deathly pale, and when I pulled the covers off him, I could se his painfully thin body clad in checked red and purple pyjamas.

God knows how many times I'd asked him to eat, Iyden was frustratingly stubborn. I had to force breakfast into him at seven in the morning, followed up by checking on him at twelve thirty in the lunch hall at school, handing him a lunch of whatever we had in the fridge. Dinner time was even worse: our neighbour, Julie, sometimes cooked us a meal and bought it over, so I wouldn’t have to cook. This would be when I force Iyden to eat it, as not to offend kind Julie. She never really knew what had happened with Iyden, and I'd made sure that she didn't have the opportunity to find out. 

We'd have to live with it, so I don't want to share our pain with our neighbour.

My name is Haydrian Hecks, I am seventeen years old, and am the older brother of Iyden Hecks, fifteen. We both have Hecks family features- wide green eyes and pale skin, even the same noses, though mine is bigger. We differ in height considerably- I am nearly six foot, while Iyden reaches a mere five foot five, so I tower over his small frame.

I watched as my brother pulled himself out of bed and wandered aimlessly out of the room. 

"How was your night?" I called after him. 

"Fine." Iyden replied quietly, and by his tone, and use of the word 'fine', I get the hint to leave the subject of sleep.

As soon as the descending footsteps came to a stop, meaning he was out of earshot, I cursed under my breath, realising what came next, as my routine never changes: 

I approach Iydens bed cautiously, holding my breath, and rip back the covers to reveal piss soaked bedding- my favourite. 

Piss.

I bundled the sheets up, opened a window, and hurried down the stairs. I dumped the dirty linen into the washing machine, and glanced at my brother, who was sitting on one of the mismatched wooden chairs that were clustered around the small table.

"Nutella?" I asked slowly, looking at him with my kindest non-pissed-off smile, and running my hands through my dark hair. I needed a haircut.

Iyden nodded simply, and I handed him a bread role and the jar of Nutella. I rummaged into the draws for a plastic knife, handed it to him, and began making my own breakfast.

**

"HAYDRIAN! HAYDRIAAAN!"

My heart hammered in my chest, and I dropped my phone onto the top of the piano, got up, and ran.

Stumbling up the stairs, I reached Iyden's room, paused at the door momentarily, before bursting in. My brother was leaning over his small porcelain sink by the window: gasping in-between bouts of vomit escaping his mouth. He gagged, and I watched his muscles flex as he half collapsed onto the floor.

"Buddy?" I asked calmly, rushing over to him and gently putting my arms around his torso and lifting him up so he could lean on the white sink. The smell intoxicated my senses and I fought back the urge to vomit myself as I saw the chunks of bread floating in watery acid.

My brother threw up again, his arms shaking, and I held him close to my body as I felt his body relax slightly.

"Feel a bit better?" I asked quietly, nudging him, and Iyden nodded slowly, swallowing and then shuddering acutely. I pulled him onto his bed, stepping back a minute to asses him.

"Want me to get Dr Oldron?"

"O-Oldron? W-w-what can that b-bastard do?"

"Iyden, language." I murmured tiredly, slumping against the wall. I checked my watch. If I called Oldron now, he'd be over within half an hour, but Iyden hated the man. He was there for 'mental support', you know...he could phone him and there would be someone he could take advice from, almost like therapy.... and he was a professional, but somehow, Iyden had managed to make Oldron hate him. It was his job to look after people like Iyden after all: how could he hate one of his patients?

"W-what, that's w-what he is. I h-hate him."

"Hush, buddy, wipe your mouth and maybe sleep a bit?"

The boy got up on shaky legs and washed his face in the sink. He clambered over to me, hugging me tightly, so much that I thought I wouldn't be able to breathe, and then he flopped onto his single bed, sighing.

 "Can you leave for a bit?" Iyden asked, so quietly that I could barely hear it over the rushing in my ears. I nodded, and tried to smile as sweetly as I could before leaving the room.

**

I cleaned up our breakfast stuff slowly, making every move deliberate so it took longer.

I sniffed coldly and shut the window so it stopped the draught, and I sat down heavily on one of the chairs.

One day, one day he'll get over it. I thought, swallowing. He can't stay like this forever.

Because bloody hell, forever is a long time.