Little Problems

Chapter 9

Silas had always loved the ocean. The warm Greek waters that lapped happily up the shore, swallowing the land before drifting back into the abyss of the deep blue. Each wave lost to sea, never the exact same again.

North reminded him of the ocean. On calm days, days where the sun shone down and gulls called out a happy tune into the air, the ocean was warm and safe and fun. The deep dark depths always there, but not as daunting. On other days, when the sky was as dark and brooding as the waves, horror ensures, and the anger of Poseidon reigns over the world, capable of such unrestrained terror.

North was having a dark day.

Silas sat idly, unbothered at the loud clattering and shouts of anguish that reverberated throughout the small garage. He rested against a large toolbox, the lid closed and most of the contents scattered around the room, hazards when attempting to walk through. Occasionally he picked at his nails, or texted his brothers, sometimes he played a game with little squares that he couldn't move properly with his thick fingers. Wasting time, because he knew, like a storm at sea, the only way to get through one of North's tantrums was to wait it out. He really was a child.

North was a slave to his anger, and nobody knew that better than Silas. His silent demeanour and patient, unjudging eyes gave North a tether to hold onto when the waves in his ocean got too uncontrollable. He was the life shaft he needed when he was pulled under. It happened more often than he'd like to admit.

Recently, the anger liked to consume him more than it used to. Methods that the Doc had given him no longer working so well. He'd have smashed and yelled and hurt before he could count to ten. Lost all his breath before he could take any deep ones. It was spiralling before his eyes and he didn't know how to control it. The Ocean cannot be tamed.

North slammed the hood of his latest vehicle closed, the harsh banging of metal settling the anger he held inside. Deep breaths escaped through his nose, chest heaving from an hour of useless work on his car that probably set him back several weeks. This car was never going to get finished.

The glaring of eyes baring into the side of his face broke North from his stupor. "What?" He spat, turning his gaze onto that of his best friend.

Raising his hands in surrender, Silas didn't take his eyes off North's hulking form. He was more agitated than usual.

"What?" He taunted, backing away from the vehicle. "What the fuck do you want with me Silas?"

Slamming the tool in his hand onto the floor, he threw his hands behind his head dramatically before punching the wall. "Don't say you aren't pissed at Owen too. Because I know you are. At least you should be."

Silas didn't respond to his words. Admittedly, he was slightly hurt that his leader would keep something so detrimental in his life from the entire team; from what he could tell even the Doc didn't know. He was a little hurt, but not exactly surprised. And definitely not as pissed as North was. He knew he could be angry for the both of them.

"All of those fucking dweebs should be too, but Owen can't do any wrong in their eyes. Especially fucking Kota's. Fuck!" He banged against the wall again, the anger building in his chest again.

"What type of leader is he? What type of brothers allow that shit and make me out to be the angry one? The only one that has an issue because I'm the only one that's not too fucking scared to say anything to him. The fucker."

His breaths were coming out harshly, his fists grinding. "Nathan's even worse. The dick does the exact same thing as him. They all do. The little shits."