Eaton

3. A New Addition

Tobias p.o.v.

There's a specific spot in the upstairs hallway marked with a notch of red crayon courtesy of ten year old me, marking just how close you can eavesdrop before being seen. I stand there now, back to the wall, barely breathing, listening to the quiet murmurs coming from the kitchen.

My father says something I can't really make out- but it elicits a plea from my uncle so I'm guessing it was an "Absolutely not, William, you irresponsible, leeching, vagabond"

Even though, over the course of my life I made sure that I never actually hope or ask for anything- because God knows I've been disappointed one too many times for that, I can't help the childish optimism I feel now as I pray to anything that my father caves for once.

Come on, please come on.

"Seriously?! Thank you, Marc, thank you, thank you so much, I love you so much thank you"

My breath hitches. Did he say yes?! He said yes!

Happiness, relief, excitement flood through me all at once, a grin spreading on my face - I want to run downstairs and hug Will, congratulate him on having finally gotten some form of mercy out of my father, celebrate – Stop. Idiot.

William is, at the end of the day, Marcus' brother. Which means he was raised with the same beliefs as him- the same beliefs that caused the welts on your back. And, plus, he's older than you, and stronger than you, what makes you so sure this is a good thing?

It's Will. Will wouldn't hurt me. But even as I say that, I'm not entirely certain and now doubt makes my stomach queasy because, what if Will, on a daily basis, is actually like Marcus- what if he gets easily irritated and I've just never been able to tell because I've only spent hours at a time with him. What if he's just as violent?

No. No Will isn't like this. He's not. I know that- that was the first thing I noticed about him when we first met, two years ago in Michigan. He's a pacifist, he- I remember how he backed out of every argument he had with my father just so Marcus wouldn't yell. And how many times he apologized and ignored my father's jabs at his work, his attire, his behaviour.

Will's not like that, he's not violent. Dear God I hope he's not.

~

William p.o.v.

My brother is one of the richest men in Chicago.

Yep, just let that sink in Will.

Marcus, with cigarette burned jackets, who would lie about the price of beer just so he could keep the change and save up to get us haircuts now wears a –no joke- diamond studded watch and has a wallet filled with credit cards from about five or six different banks.

When did he get so rich? When did he get so snobby? When did he change?

All great questions- the last one could stir up an entire debate that even the most astute brains might not even conclude. The why of it all is an even more infinite sea which I purposely avoid even now in the 5.43 a.m. kitchen light. I stumbled into the counter trying to get myself out of my limbo between consciousness and sleep. It's terrible, never being able to sleep completely and never being fully awake. Never having enough energy to completely be yourself- I can't remember the last time I slept for a whole night without any interruptions.

I can't hear Marcus around the house so I assume he's still asleep. Good, I can make a good first impression on him after so long by preparing breakfast for him and Tobias. I take out three mugs from the cupboard- wait, does Tobias like tea or coffee? It hasn't come up yet, and I can't really guess. To be fair though, from what I've seen about him, I don't think he has many preferences or opinions. The first time we met, which is actually the last time we saw each other, he didn't really speak much. Marcus did almost all the talking and when Tobias did talk it was in one word answers or interrupted by Marcus himself. But it's far too early in the morning to dwell on that, even though I know what's going and it's the entire reason that I even came here I- it's too early.

So. Anyway. Back to breakfast. I decide to make everyone coffee and just apologize for the mistake, at least this way I'll get to learn what the kid likes. I walk over to Marcus coffee machine which looks like it's going to transform any minute now and laser mocha across my ass. All the instructions and options are in German. So at 5.57 a.m. I pull up a stool to my brother's kitchen counter and try to figure out what schwarzer Kaffee means. After about five minutes of contemplation I give up and just start pressing buttons randomly making the machine spew all sorts of things into the cup I thoughtfully placed under the spout, producing a sickish yellow frothy mixture- okay yeah, that failed.

"You didn't um, you didn't turn it on right, sir" I hear a small voice coming from the door and turn around to see Tobias watching me warily. He looks at the ground for a moment before meeting my gaze and repeating himself a little louder.

"Oh. Do you mind showing me how then?" He nods and moves to the coffee machine, walking around me like I'm some feral mutt.

"What kind of coffee do you want?"

"Preferably normal."

He nods and gets to work, nimble fingers jumping across the panel, tapping out a ten button code for coffee beans, water, sugar and milk. Tobias makes sure the coffee is being prepared correctly before stepping away and putting two pieces of bread in the toaster for himself.

"Do you want one for yourself?" I ask, already reaching to grab another mug. He shakes his head.

"No thanks. I um... I don't like it from here." He turns around and keeps his gaze fixed on the toaster.

Marcus would have said the exact same thing a decade ago. I can't count how many mugs, dishes, cups, John broke because Marcus drank coffee from home, goddamn no good, selfish piece of shit. We weren't allowed that sort of luxury. Milk and toast. And maybe on a good day some oatmeal. John on the other hand, he had a king's meal next to ours; bacon, eggs, toast, coffee... all the while we tried to keep from staring hungrily, because naturally that would merit a smack across the head or even the meagre meal taken from us.

It's kinda the same way Tobias tries not to stare at my coffee now.

"So um, hey kid, does Marcus usually wake up really late?"

He shrugs, ease becoming a little more apparent in his posture as he leans on the counter. "No um, he's probably already at work. Mid-elections are coming up so he's been really busy. And there'll probably be a dinner party soon so they've got to organise that too..."

"Dinner party? As in like, Cinderella glass shoe kinda thing?"

He smiles a bit more and shakes his head, "No just a bunch of assholes bragging about their lakehouses and who has the biggest yacht. Then at the end of the night they'll take a vote to decide if they should paint the benches outside city hall pine or juniper green."

That has me lowering my mug laughing, this kid has a little edge to him. His smile, though small, is still present which means that at least I've succeeded in making him happy for at least ten minutes- which is probably the biggest success I've had in a long time. Well, that and not popping Tylenol pills like tic-tacs.

Which reminds me, "Hey um, kid, did you hurt your leg?"

"No. Why?"

He shifts uncomfortably and for a second I consider dropping the subject, "Oh nothing, it's just I couldn't help but notice you've had a small limp lately."

Definitely should've just dropped the subject, god damn it he's closing up again. He lowers the bread and purses his lips, averting his eyes. Maybe it's not too late, maybe I could still save the situation.

"Cos hey I'd be more than willing to give you some Tylenol if you don't have any"

He looks down for a moment considering it, let me help you kid. Please, please let me help you, let me fulfil my purpose, please let me do what I came here to d-

"No, sir."

A/N

Hey everyone, so THANK GOD my exams have passed. It's been way too long since I've written anything that wasn't about shakespeare or mitochondria so I'm back :) I'll be updating chapter by chapter, hopefully improving. I hope you like it :)