In The Sight of These Hills (Dolan Twins)

I Heard the Small Kingdoms

Chapter 35: I Heard the Small Kingdoms

"I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,
nothing between me and the white fire of the stars
but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths
among the branches of the perfect trees.
All night I heard the small kingdoms
breathing around me-"

-Mary Oliver, "Sleeping In The Forest"

Grayson wouldn't stop whining and looking at Ethan as though he was a kicked puppy. Ethan moved through the woods with him practically pressed up against his side as though they had been conjoined at birth inside of forming as two separate people. He didn't think it was to annoy him, though. He was thinking that this Grayson probably thought he was somehow keeping him safe that way being there at his side like that, so close, as though he didn't know that the concept of "personal space" seemed to exist. He felt him whine, and growl, and breathe next to him and he wanted to slap him.

It wasn't because he was angry. He wanted him to be normal again with normal fingernails, and eyes, and teeth. He wanted him to snap out of it. 

Ethan pulled his black beanie tighter over his head and squinted his eyes in the grayness around him as they headed home. He tried to ignore the rabbit's blood slicked on his coat and the chill that rested like a reoccurring flame in his bones.

"Don't look at me like that," he mumbled under his breath as he glanced up at the stars above their heads, at the moon nearly full, thinking about what he needed to do when they got home, what laid on the floor. The soreness in his body flared up and he swallowed the cold air. He glanced at Grayson again and he cocked his head to the side, uncomprehending eyes looking into his.

Before he knew it, they were already walking across the dry dead grass of the backyard, Ethan's feet hitting the ground with a determined precision as Grayson stiffed.

His bandaged hand went to his pocket, pulling out the door key, the metal cold against his fingers as he walked up the steps.

He could feel Gray staring at him, pressing up against his side in the low wind that struck the back porch gently. He shivered, and Gray nudged him, his head against his throat, and Ethan slowly, carefully turned the lock, silently praying Sean wasn't up.

"Okay," he whispered, watching as his twin eyed the door and then at him again as though to say, You want to go in there? Was my den not good enough for you?

He slowly pushed it open and grabbed Gray's hand, making sure he didn't touch his claws, and pulled him inside. Gray looked down at his hand and then at him again squeezing it and then releasing the pressure, then he did it again. When they were in the warmth of the house, the smell of cinnamon drifting through the small space like security, he pushed the wood of it so that it made a small click. He let go of him.

Gray was wrapping his arms around him from behind as he closed the door, face buried into the back of his neck.

"Stop," he whispered and turned the lock quickly, grabbing at his arms and pulling them away from him as he turned around. Grayson watched him as he looked past his form quickly. All was silent. All was dark. Sean was asleep, and he was pulling Grayson towards the hallway, not caring that he had his dirty coat on or that Grayson literally looked as though he had rolled on the ground three days straight.

"You aren't going to hurt Dad, okay?" He whispered slowly at him even though he knew it was absolutely pointless.

He blinked. Once, twice, and then sniffed.