Symphony of Lilacs

45. Of a Gospel

Sunlight falls into the study, staining the carpets like moths. Clockwork ticks and shuffles around the brothers. I lean against a shelf in Henry's study, while my brother keeps rearranging his books. Picking up a book from his desk, I slide it into a hollow gap.

Henry glances at me, starting,
"So..."

My brow rises.
"So."
The section we're rearranging happens to be P.

Nothing... absolutely nothing...

I pick up another book placed lazily on the wooden floor, shaking my head. Henry's nails bite into the book in his hands.
When my head tilts, Henry looks another way. He sighs,
"When you skipped supper that night and breakfast the other day, Father told us it was a misunderstanding. That you being out that night..."

"Is that a surprise? I spent most of my life with medical books." And proving Father wrong.
"Believe me, I don't plan on giving you and Belle a nephew or niece anytime soon."

"Of course, that's the solution to our problems! A child running and screeching through Edenfield's corridors." Henry rolls his eyes, going back to his books.

Taking a few steps away from the shelf, I turn back to my brother's desk. Everything, as always, is aligned-- as if taken out of a gospel.

Nothing... you did nothing...

I busy myself by taking a piece of parchment from the said gospel, as if burning it might take my mind to another path.
"You really don't like children, don't you?"

Henry regards this question and my gesture,
"I don't hate them; I just don't like their wailing and clinging to one's leg."

I raise a brow.
"They're children brother, not cats."

"If only they were like cats." Henry exaggerates a frown, crossing the distance between us.
A slight quiver of a smile cracks through my face, but only monetarily.
Henry takes the parchment from my hand and puts it back in the stack. I raise my hands in defence, Henry silently going back to his rearranging.
His steady movements become jagged each time he travels across the room, searching for all and any book alone.
"I always tell Belle and Timothy to never misplace my books..."
He frets across the study, as if trekking upon a laborious hill.

He seems quite... anxious...

I say, "Let me help--"

"No, no, no! I have do it myself! Only I know the proper order here. It may seem trivial, but it isn't for me.. Everything has to be in proper balance!" his words sound like a slice through the air, jarred and cutting. They make the air around us thick like fog, each sound resonating against the walls. Clockwork blazes in between us, taunting with its ticks.

Both brothers step back, blinking.

I blurt out, "I'm sorry, I hadn't realised what it meant to you..."

Henry leans back against the shelf, running a hand through his hair. I catch a glimpse of a few red scratches on his palms, before he hides them with a wave.
"No, I'm sorry. I've just been slightly... agitated because of the entrance exam, that's all." My mouth opens, but he says, "And I've been taking my medicines, if that's what you were going to say."

Taking a breath, I don't negate nor confirm what I was going to say.
I only stand next to him and put a hand on his shoulder, something that used to calm him as a boy.

Henry looks at the gesture, trying to smile. None resurfacing, even with time. At last he gives up, before saying,
"But where were you that night? Were you all right?"