Cyrus watched him curiously from where he sat, the slightest of frowns creasing his brow. “You did miss it…” he pointed out quietly. “Where were you?”

Fiearius glanced back at him just as he pulled a candle out of the drawer and lit it with one of the many stray matches he had lying around on top of the dresser. “Doesn’t matter,” he told him matter-of-factly, placing the candle in a holder and sliding it onto Cyrus’ bedside table. His answer was predictable. Cyrus didn’t even bother to push it anymore. Instead he just used the flickering candlelight to look his brother up and down from head to toe. Unfortunately, there were very few clues. He looked much the same as he did at dinner the night before. Save for the neatly applied bandage on his upper left arm.

“What happened?” he asked, gesturing to it. Fiearius glanced down at the bandage and shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said shortly. Cyrus rolled his eyes. Of  course not. He didn’t bother arguing as Fiearius stalked back across the room and plopped down on Cyrus’ bed next to him, crossing his legs and settling in. “So…sorry, I didn’t get you a present or anything,” he muttered apologetically. “But I did bring you these.” He dug into his pocket and produced a handful of wrapped candies, the toffee ones with the filling that Cyrus had always liked so much. “A mini Concordia feast of our own,” he declared proudly, proffering his hand. “It’s not that far past midnight, is it? It still counts.”

Cyrus couldn’t help himself but to smirk at him. “I don’t think so,” he remarked, a touch bitterly, but still smiling regardless. “But fine. I guess it’ll do.” He certainly didn’t say no to the sweets as he reached over and claimed one. “I can’t believe you left me to deal with the real feast on my own. You know I can’t cook. Or understand anything grandma says.”

Fiearius snickered and shook his head, unwrapping one of the candies for himself. “I know, I know, I owe ya one,” he admitted.

“More than one,” Cyrus replied shortly. “Without you around, the only entertainment they had was giving me complicated math problems and timing how quickly I could solve them.”

Fiearius paused mid chew. “How is that entertainment?” he asked bluntly.

“Exactly,” Cyrus barked. “I don’t think it’s fun.”

“Shoulda just hit Eiran. That’s always fun,” Fiearius suggested casually.

“Not everyone enjoys violence,” Cyrus corrected him quickly.

Fiearius just shrugged however. “I dunno, in our family? Never had anyone complain before.” Cyrus frowned and opened his mouth to argue, but realized he didn’t actually have an argument. Victoriously, his brother’s finger pointed in his face. “Aha, can’t deny that, can you?” He shook his head and made a ‘tsk tsk’ sound with his tongue. “Don’t act all high and mighty either. You’re just the same as the rest of us.”

Cyrus rolled his eyes and snatched another sweet out of his brother’s hand. The two of them lapsed into silence for a moment as both of them struggled with wrappers and remembered there was still an elephant in the room to be addressed. Finally, Cyrus spoke up. “Do mum and dad know you’re here?” he asked, though the answer was already obvious. If they did, would he have climbed through the window? But perhaps the question would lead into how they were actually going to fix this mess.

“No, hell no,” Fiearius replied vehemently. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell them.” He cast him a sharp glare and Cyrus was all about ready to protest until the actual words sank in and his words were lost on his lips. Don’t tell them? But that would mean–Fiearius realized Cyrus’ epiphany just as he had it. Quietly and, Cyrus thought, almost apologetically, he went on, “I’m not staying, Cy…I just came back to see you and get some things. They can’t know I was here.”

Cyrus was stunned. So stunned he couldn’t even think of what to say. He wasn’t staying? But how? “Where are you gonna go?” he asked breathlessly, his eyes wide and fixed upon his elder sibling.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it all figured,” Fiearius assured him, though it didn’t bring any comfort. “I’ll be fine. And I’ll come back and visit you.” Visit? Cyrus thought. Really? Visit? As if that would make up for it? This was nonsense. Impossible nonsense. He couldn’t really be leaving for good. Over one stupid fight? No, it wasn’t possible.

“I don’t want you to visit,” Cyrus told him truthfully. “I want you to stay home. Stay here. You can’t just leave.” He reached over suddenly and seized his brother’s wrist. “You can’t. You can’t leave me here. You can’t leave us.”

For a moment, Cyrus actually believed he was winning him over. Fiearius’ stare softened and his stance weakened. But it was short-lived. “I can and I will,” he told him harshly. “They don’t want me here. You heard dad. I can’t just come back after that.”

“He didn’t mean it,” Cyrus snapped, frustrated that Fiearius would even believe such a thing.

“Yes he did!” Fiearius responded indignantly. “He told me to get out. I got out. What’s the problem? I don’t wanna live with that asshole anyway.”

“He didn’t mean it,” Cyrus said again, impatiently. “And he’s not an asshole. Okay, he kind of overreacted, but only because you were being a jerk.”

“No I wasn’t,” Fiearius snapped back, shoving his little brother in the shoulder.

Ignoring the physical assault, Cyrus replied, “You totally were. You promised you’d help mum and then disappeared and she had to do it all alone.”

Fiearius faltered slightly. But only slightly. “So?” he spat.

“And then you were a total prick about it,” Cyrus went on, unrelenting. “And got unnecessarily upset when dad asked why you didn’t help her.”

He faltered even more. “No I didn’t…”

But Cyrus didn’t stop. “And then you just had to go and bring up Uncle Oron. His dead brother! And you really wonder why he got upset and yelled at you? Gods, Fiear, I know you don’t mean to be, but you’re a total jerk sometimes. You were asking for it. No, dad shouldn’t have yelled at you like that and he shouldn’t have kicked you out, but I don’t blame him. You deserved it.”

Fiearius was no longer meeting his eyes. He had looked away and now glared angrily, defeatedly, at the place where the bed met the wall. Cyrus’ vehemence faded away as he watched him. It especially disappeared when his brother muttered, “Fine. Even more of a reason to leave then.”

Well, Cyrus thought, as much as he’d wanted to get that off his chest, now he was regretting it. Gods his brother was frustrating. He was frustrating even to the one person he actually kind of talked to. He couldn’t fathom how frustrating he was to their parents whom he refused to even make eye contact with on most occasions.

“I didn’t mean it like that…” he ventured carefully.

“No, you didn’t, but it’s true,” Fiearius growled under his breath, still locking eyes with that dark crease of wall. “Dad doesn’t want me here and all I do is cause problems, just like he says. Might as well just make all your lives better and go. I’m just the mistake.”

Cyrus fell silent, unsure of what to say. Finally, he muttered, “I thought I was the mistake.”

Despite the serious tone this conversation had taken, even Fiearius couldn’t stop himself from snickering lightly at that. “No, you were the unexpected gift,” he corrected, a little bitterly.

Cyrus shrugged and attempted a tentative smile up at his brother. “Fiear,” he said quietly. “You can’t leave.” His brother looked away from the wall at last and met his eyes cautiously. “You’re part of this family. Even if you do cause problems.” He smiled teasingly. “Even if you are a mistake. You’re our mistake. And you belong here. With us. Don’t listen to what dad says when he’s mad. When you’re gone, things aren’t right. You’re part of this family just as much as the rest of us. Please stay. For me?”

For a long moment, the two Soliveré brothers sat on Cyrus’ bed and stared at one another in silence. Cyrus with the slightest hint of pleading written into his features and Fiearius lost in consideration of his brother’s words. Even as angry as he’d been, Cyrus was pretty certain he had won. But just to ensure that. “Also, you owe me a Concordia present.”

Instantly, Fiearius broke from his thoughtful silence and frowned at him as though betrayed. “What?”

“You didn’t get me one,” Cyrus pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yours is sitting downstairs. I even wrapped it myself. But you didn’t get me one so you owe me a favor and that favor is that you stay.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair,” Fiearius muttered skeptically.

“Plus you owe me for the math problem thing,” Cyrus went on, raising his fingers to keep the list. “And for having to listen to all of grandpa’s story about the Archetian girl. And for looking after Ytra after dinner. And–”

“Okay!” Fiearius cut him off suddenly, tossing a candy that hit him in the forehead and silenced him. “Fine.” He frowned down at his little brother and rolled his eyes. “Fine I’ll…I’ll sleep on it.”

Cyrus couldn’t stop himself from grinning widely. Even with such a reluctant answer, he was positive that everything would be alright. Enthusiastically, he leapt forward and threw his arms around his brother’s shoulders. “Thank you,” he exclaimed cheerfully.

Fiearius recoiled instantly, but didn’t exactly pull away. “Alright alright,” he muttered. “Keep it down. You’ll wake someone up.”

Rolling his eyes, Cyrus released him and sat back down upon the bed. “So where were you really?” he asked again, shamelessly.

“Ha ha,” Fiearius said dully, leaning back against the wall. “Wouldn’t you like to know. Tell me about the family. Catch me up. And please tell me that someone called Tiata a liar because that’s always my favorite part of dinner.”

Cyrus could not recall, the next day, how late they had stayed up nor what it was they talked about in those early morning hours of night. All he knew was that eventually the candle Fiear had lit was nothing but a pool of wax. The candy he’d brought them had depleted into nothing but wrappers on the bedroom floor. And when he’d woken up the next morning to the light streaming in through the window, his brother was still there, passed out at the foot of his bed, snoring lightly.

Cyrus sat up and stretched, feeling more content than he had at all over the past few days. Careful not to wake his slumbering sibling, he wiggled out of the covers and gently touched down on the floor. All was back to normal. Just as it was meant to be. So, before his brother awoke and his presence was made known, Cyrus crept downstairs into the quiet living room, still bearing a few leftover decorations from the day previous. There, he poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat on the couch, enjoying the last free moments of silence he’d hear all day.

But honestly? He’d have it no other way.

“Cyrus,” his father said suddenly. “You’ll help your mother set up for tomorrow?” It was the last thing Cyrus wanted to do, but he nodded his head vigorously, overly eager not to upset him even more. “Good. And…would you help cook tomorrow as well?”

The way he asked the question and the content itself made Cyrus’ heart stop briefly. He didn’t really think Fiearius wouldn’t be here did he? That was nonsense. He would be here. He would help with the cooking. Not Cyrus. But Cyrus nodded anyway.

“Good,” Rohlan said again and added kindly, “Eat your soup, it’ll get cold.”

Obediently, Cyrus picked up his spoon again and did as he was told, but internally he was in turmoil. No, he decided firmly. He’d been right the first time. Fiearius would be back before midnight. He’d crawl home just like he said, say he was sorry and go upstairs quietly to bed with his tail between his legs. And then the next morning, he’d get up and go downstairs and turn on the oven and rip open all of his gifts like always. Everything would be back to normal.

In the meantime, the family ate their soup in silence. No one paid any heed to the empty fourth place-setting nor the still-steaming bowl set upon it until hours later when his mother dropped it heavily in the sink and it chipped.

——————————————————

The next morning, Cyrus awoke in his bed after a deep and heavy sleep to the sound of children laughing in the street outside his window. Tiredly, he opened his eyes, blinking at the stream of sunlight coming in from his window. It took a few moments for him to realize why there were kids out playing this early. And then he remembered. Concordia!

Excitedly, he sat up in bed and shouted, “Fiear! Wake up! It’s–” but as he sought out his brother to incite him to hurry downstairs to get a headstart on the day’s activities, he found the bed across the room empty. “Concordia?” he finished, his heart sinking. The sheets were just as messy and in disarray as they were when he’d fallen asleep last night. They hadn’t been touched.

…He hadn’t come home.

But maybe he had. Maybe he had just happened to get up earlier than Cyrus and left his bed the same as it had been. Or maybe he was sleeping on the couch. That seemed more likely. Already knowing he was lying to himself, he nonetheless crawled out of bed, wrapped the blanket around himself to fight off the morning chill and crept out the door onto the landing.

Still holding onto some semblance of hope, he started down the stairs, but, as he should have expected, Fiearius was not on the couch. Their mother was instead. She sat completely still upon the edge of the cushion, as though ready to spring up any moment. She was still wearing her clothes from the night before. She looked exhausted. Cyrus could feel his insides clench as his foot set down on the last, creaky step and those tired, red eyes looked up at him as though he were a ghost. But after a moment, she smiled sadly.

“Y’etah Concordia, issyen,” she greeted him calmly as he slowly came towards her and sat down on the couch by her side.

“Y’etah Concordia, ti’hma,” he replied quietly, putting his arm around her back and leaning his head on her arm.

—————————————-

It wasn’t until well into the night that Cyrus finally climbed back upstairs and fall into bed. The Soliverés were a rowdy bunch, especially when you got all eighteen of the local ones in the same room. Once they were there, enjoying the food and drink, it was apparently difficult to get them to leave. He had almost drifted off a number of times during the evening, particularly during his grandfather’s story hour, but he forced himself to stay awake for the midnight candle lighting. It was his favorite part of the whole day when the entire city shut down for just a few minutes and Paradiex was lit only by candlelight against the cold, black desert sky.

After that, of course, he’d been roped into helping to clean up.

Overall though, it had been a pleasant Concordia. The visiting family had been in high spirits. The feast had been as good as always. He’d finally gotten the robot construction kit that he’d been asking for for ages. Everything was as it should have been. Save for that one glaring omission.

Cyrus wasn’t sure what his parents had been intending with their treatment of Fiearius’ absence. Had they really expected none of the family to notice that the elder Soliveré son who had been, for the last 14 years, a very present force at these events, was no longer there? That there was no one starting fights with the cousins. No one flicking vegetables across the table during dinner. And no one interrupting people’s conversations to make them try whichever new concoction he’d cooked up this year. Fiearius was a hard person not to notice.

But neither Rohlan nor Idya offered any explanation of why only one of their children were present this Concordia. Why there was a stack of gifts left unopened. Why there was a single empty placesetting at the table. Instead it was left to Cyrus when, in the middle of dinner, following a long discussion of how he’d been doing in school, his aunt turned to him and asked, “Now, Cy, sweetie, where’s that brother of yours at?”

The flush of panic was likely apparent in his face. He looked up at her with wide eyes and then glanced to his father at the end of the table, desperate for him to jump in with the proper alibi. His father, however, either hadn’t heard or simply didn’t care. He continued to fork bites of food into his mouth, completely oblivious to the fact that half the table was now fixated on his son and anticipating an answer.

He looked, then, to his mother instead who, in contrast, had definitely heard. She neither met his eyes. Idya had dropped her hands to her lap and was staring down at the plate before her, holding back tears from welling in her eyes. No one else had noticed her yet. Cyrus didn’t want them to. Diligently then, he looked back at his aunt and decided to answer.

Unfortunately, he didn’t know the answer, nor, even, what would have been a good answer to give. At a friend’s house, he came up with later and kicked himself for not saying it. All he did instead was frown curiously and shrug.

His aunt widened her eyes at him, surprised and glanced to her husband who grimaced thoughtfully. Across the table, one of his cousins, the one Fiear without fail ended up shoving into a wall every year, gave a little ‘hmph’. The younger cousins, who had always enjoyed Fiear’s fantastic stories of things that never happened, let out disappointed groans. And then the whispers started. They didn’t end. All through the night, the entire family seemed to be quietly speculating the whereabouts of the missing teenager behind their backs. All Cyrus could do was smile innocently at their questions and hope they didn’t see just how much every mention of his name seemed to make Idya crumble in on herself.

When Fiearius got back, Cyrus had assured himself, refusing to even consider whether the ‘when’ should be an ‘if’, he was going to be so angry for putting him through that.

As angry as he may have been, however, when he stood on the street in front of his house and looked up across the city skyline at all the flickering candlelight as far as the eye could see, it wasn’t anger that he felt. It was concern. Fiearius had run away before. Plenty of times. But never for this long. Never overnight. Over two nights, really, since he still wasn’t back.

As he laid in bed hours later, trying desperately to sleep, all he could envision in his head was that image Fiearius himself had provided. The gutter. He tried to chase it away, but it wouldn’t leave. There were so many ways he could end up there and his brain seemed determined to make him consider every single one.

It was just as he was imagining a particularly nasty scenario centering around a faceless man and a rope that Cyrus’ eyes bolted wide open at the sound of something against the bedroom window. He was facing the wall and couldn’t see the window, but as the rustling continued, he became more and more afraid to turn around and look. Surely it was just a bird or something, he thought. He was just scaring himself and being paranoid. But as the noise continued and Cyrus sunk further and further under the covers, he wasn’t quite as sure as a logical mind should have been.

Finally, however, the noise ceased with a bit of a clunk and silence fell over the room and the quiet street outside. Cyrus stayed wrapped up safe in his blankets, however, listening carefully for quite a few more minutes until at last he let out a sigh and relaxed. Just as he felt a hand close around his shoulder.

Instantly, Cyrus jumped up and spun around to face his assailant, a yell already forming in his throat, but a second hand clamped down around his mouth, blocking it from ever coming out and sending him into even more of a panic. Frantically, Cyrus struggled to escape the grip, but it was no use. His attacker was much stronger than him and fought back just as willfully. He was going to die here, wasn’t he? his mind pointed out hopelessly. Killed in his own bed by some horrible stranger. But then–

“Cy–Cyrus, stop,” the assailant whispered angrily, still struggling with his flailing victim. “Hey–would you–ugh ow–stop it! It’s me!” Cyrus realized suddenly that he recognized the voice as, almost simultaneously, a stream of light from the window caught a glimpse of red hair. Hesitantly, he relaxed.

“Mmf-hmm?” he asked from beneath his brother’s hand.

Slowly, Fiearius released him, but with the reluctance of someone that didn’t actually believe Cyrus was done yelling. But Cyrus didn’t yell. He just blinked up at his brother, his eyes gradually adjusting to the dim light and almost unwilling to believe he was there. Or that he’d just climbed through their bedroom window. Quietly, he muttered, “You came back.”

“Of course I came back,” Fiearius said simply, stepping away from Cyrus’ bed and moving over to his side of the room to dig through a drawer. “Couldn’t miss Concordia with my lil brother.”

“It’s none of your fucking business,” Fiearius snapped viciously, standing up from his seat at the dinner table defiantly.

“Damned if it isn’t!” his father spat back, doing the same. His chair caught the momentum and flew back across the floor several feet. “You’ll tell me what the hell you were doing out all day when you were supposed to be here helping prepare for tomorrow. You live under my roof, you follow my rules.”

“Well maybe I just won’t live under your roof anymore,” was Fiear’s poisonous response, backing away from the table a few steps. Continue reading →