Alternate Realities

Brothers Calore

The hallway was constructed to disguise the doors as part of the decor. The molding looped up and around with splashes of color to highlight some contours and hide others. One picturesque, symmetrically-staged entry way passed on his left then his right and another and another down the wide hallway. He ticked off each one under his breath:. "Mom's. Dad's. Sitting room. Music room. Mine."

Six months and also a lifetime separated himself from his room. When he left it, he was a boy. He had been soft and scared but also excited and ready to prove himself, to finally make his father proud. Behind the door was his old self, his old life, his old things. Things that belonged to his childhood, not to him, not anymore.

Music started down the hall. Not from the music room but from Cal's. Of course, his brother's door was cracked open. A lamp clicked on and the light poured out across the carpet. Maven's mother would have rolled her eyes at the break in the pattern of the hallway. He, on the other hand, needed to bath himself in that light, in the music, in something that wasn't the contrast between himself and the boy he had been.

Cal rocked from foot sole to foot sole in soft cotton pants and no shirt. His hair was shaggy, in need of a cut to keep with the standards of the military. But for the palace, for a prince, it suited him; especially in the candid freedom on display is he relaxed after his day. From the bruises on his back, Maven knew Cal continued to train hard. But from the smile creeping over Cal's face, he also knew his brother was never so happy as when he picked up his pencil set and leaned over his books.

"What machinations have your attention tonight?" Maven's voice cut harshly across the threshold and Cal shot to his feet.

"Mavey! You're home? When did you get home?" Cal charged him.

Maven resisted his instinct to step back, only leaning a little away. Cal's hand closed on his upper arm first and then his muscular build jerked him forward. Up next to his brother, pressed face to collarbone, Maven realized how he'd grown more than Cal, for once. He was catching up by maybe an inch. But the glee at his gains paled to the comfort of the embrace. At the same time, a different embrace complete with different smells, fabrics, intensity flashed through him. And then he couldn't stand the touch of his brother.

"Yeah, yeah. Let me breath," Maven shrugged him off, and Cal let him step an arm's length away.

"No one announced you. No one said–"

"Yeah, I didn't want to parade around just because I came back."

"Well, how was it? You survived! Did you get to command by the end?"

"Yeah, sort of. I guess," his voice fell to something soft. Survived, yes. How was it? What a horrible question to say with a smile.

Cal's smile dropped and Maven knew he'd come to the right door. He stopped fighting the shake in his body and let it rake up his spine at the same time that his eyes welled.

"Come on, take a seat," Cal ushered him in and shut the door.

Maven took big breaths and metered his sobs. His brother rubbed his back and pursed his lips. Instead of judgement or pity or condemnation, Cal accepted what was happening and allowed Maven the space to exist.

Cal separated himself to visit the tea station by his door. He returned with a cup and put it in front of Maven. Maven sniffed it, and jerked back. There was nothing herbal in the cup. The fumes burnt his eyes.

"What is this?"

"Rocket fuel," Cal said, a smirk across his face.

Maven let a smile clip up the left side of his face and took a sip. He gagged and coughed.

"So... you've been to the choke."

"Yeah, it was horrible, Cal. Horrible."

Cal flinched from Maven's desperate expression and then nodded.

"How do you? How can you come back from that?"

Cal pulled his lips between his teeth and let his tongue play across his bottom lip. "You can't expect to come back all at once. I take a couple weeks to sort of acclimate. I don't know if you noticed, but I'm not usually all that social when I first get back."

"You stayed in the barracks a while last time. Did that help?"

"Yeah. It did. The reds don't really like it–silver officers loitering around–but it's easier to transition when it all sort of moves on the same schedule. And then I limit what I do for a bit, focus on training. It's different for everyone."

"Different?"

"Yeah, everyone goes through different things. Even the same thing effects people differently. Somethings you never get over."

"The water?"

"Yeah, the water." Cal rubbed his upper arms with his hands as if suddenly chilled.

Maven took another sip and coughed less. Cal tapped his thumbs together, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Can I ask you something?" Maven asked, setting the cup down on the table.

"Yeah, of course." Cal shrugged but didn't look up.

"Have you ever lost a friend?"

"Soldiers die. It's sad, but that's what war is."

"No, not soldiers. A friend?" Maven's face melted and the sobs flooded back in.

"Mavey..." Cal collected Maven's collapsing frame in his arms and rubbed his back again.

Maven mouthed words but his sobs prevented Cal from catching much of the story. The ending was clear enough, "He burned, Cal! He burned!"

"I'm sorry, Maven. I'm so sorry," Cal took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. He finished the cup of fumes.