"How was the cult meeting?"

Brennan's voice is still as commanding as ever, booming through the hallway as Bennett enters her house. It's become kind of a safe place for him - a large mansion with too few residents, each room decorated personally by his sister - it feels more of a home than his father's professionally decorated building ever did.

"For the last time Brennan, family dinner is not a cult meeting. You're a part of this family."

She'd stopped coming to family dinners the moment she got married, the jibes from their father towards her partner being too much when they were engaged, and bound to get worse once they got married. That left Bennett and Bentley sitting in mutual silences, staring at each other and the food in front of them as they were questioned by their father and then dismissed like school children.

"Nope, I changed my surname. Glad to not be a Frazier, little brother."

"What's a cult?"

Her daughter's voice is equally as captivating as hers, even at barely 4 years of age.

She takes tiny steps and walks up to Bennett, extending her arms - a silent order for him to pull her up. He slides a hand under her knees and lifts her, a small cheek coming to rest on his shoulder. Once she's settled, she asks again, "What's a cult, Benny?"

"It's just a group of people, Flo." He says, timid as he looks at his sister for approval of his definition.

She nods, walking to the kitchen, and he follows. "Did you eat anything there or do you want something here? We haven't had dinner yet."

"Actually, do you mind if I cook?"

He places Flo down on the counter, strongly resisting her grabby hands as she reaches for him again.

"Why would I? Go make a feast for us, peasant."

Brennan goes to pick up her daughter, and the pout on the child's face finally goes away, "A clingy one, aren't you?"

The girl just grins, and is whisked away by her mother to another room as Bennett takes out a black apron and puts it on. The pans and pots are kept in a streamlined shelf, arranged every day by the house help, and he takes what he needs before rolling his sleeves up and taking a head band from where it lays on top of the fridge. He pushes his hair back and puts it on to avoid the raven locks from getting into his eyes, before turning back to the task in front of him.

An hour later, he's laid out the food on the table, and is explaining to Brennan how he got the shine on his teriyaki beef. Though he's explaining, he isn't sure if she's listening.

"So the soy sauce goes in with the mirin and the lime juice, there's the brown sugar too. I add rice wine sometimes but since Flo was gonna - hey, Brennan?" He looks over. Sure enough, she's typing away on her phone.

"Hmm? Yes, very interesting."

"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Not a clue, but keep talking. You rarely ever do."

Bennett isn't quite sure what she means, but she goes back to her phone before he can ask her. Truth be told, he isn't sure if he even wants to ask her.

A part of him wants to tell her he saw Delilah, but he hasn't wrapped his own head around it yet. In his mind, he's still unable to process it as something that happened.

Something he had thought about happening, sure, he'd admit with guilt - but something that actually, really took place? Something he experienced and lived through?

He's too far deep into his own mind to let himself think of it. Because if he thinks about Delilah, he'll think about her brother, and he'll think about them, and about the dreams of reconciliation and happiness that are so out of reach that he has to stretch mentally before he lets his mind go that far.

"Are you okay?"

His sister's voice brings him out of his head, and he tries to shrug.

"Yes, of course. Why?"

"Nothing, your face looks blanker than usual."

She says it like it's funny, and in turn Bennett gives her the driest look on planet earth. Which, really, is just his normal expression for when he's bored. Or anxious. Or scared. Or denying reality.

"Come on, spit it out. I'm sure we've had family get togethers worse than whatever it is."

Bennett has always admired his sister for how convincing she can be, but as he sits at the receiving end of her "listen to me, you know you want to" words, he's rethinking his admiration.

"I saw Delilah."

"Delilah as in?"

"Delilah Lynch."

"Oh."

Really, Bennett is astounded by his sister's helpfulness. The oh serves to tell him he isn't overreacting, at the very least, and that he isn't the only one who doesn't know how to take it.

"Did she recognise you?"

"No, I didn't expect her to."

Why would he? Who goes around showing their little sisters photos of ex friends who left them and who, coincidentally, they were in a gang with? Surely not the elder Lynch.

"Maybe she did and just didn't say it?"

"How would she recognise me? I haven't exactly been around since she began to walk."

It's bitter to say the words. Time heals things, yes, but not even time can truly erase some scars. It's a wound that's covered up, Bennett thinks, that makes you flinch if someone presses on it, but when you touch it yourself - when you acknowledge its existence on your own - that slight flinch turns into a piercing stab of memory.

"Hey, it wasn't your fault, okay? It's been seven years, stop beating yourself up over it."

Brennan places a hand on his arm, gently squeezing in comfort. He leans into the touch, and they stay like that till everyone's joined them for dinner - Brennan's family of four and their guest who's there everyday. It feels like a real family dinner.

______

"Whose jacket is this?"

Declan is used to his sister sneaking out. At first it worried him, but when he realized the only place she went to was the supermarket 5 minutes away, and that it's owners were a sweet couple who recognized her and were always so thoughtful about her late night cravings, he relaxed a little and forewent telling their parents. Still, every now and then, he wakes up in the night and checks on Delilah to see her bed empty, and then he'd follow her to the supermarket and pay for whatever she wanted that night. It's an arrangement that works.

"A guy g-"

"A guy? You're not even a teena-," He's stopped midway by his sister's scoff.

"Chill out, he was old. 20 something."

"I'm 20 something."

"Exactly. Old."

Declan fakes offense and lightly shoves Delilah, who only takes it as a sign to continue.

"He was really nice, saw I was cold and gave me his spare jacket."

The brunette gives the jacket another one over, and the brand tag on the inside catches his eye.

"We need to return this jacket."

"What? But he gave it to me!"

Delilah's protest goes unheard as Declan grabs the jacket, gentler than she has ever seen him with clothes, and closely inspects the tag before nodding to himself.

"Yeah, it's an Armani. We need to return it."

"Why?" She can almost be described as whining at this point.

"Because it's too expensive, and the person who gave you this was a stranger."

"Doesn't that just mean he's kind?"

"It doesn't matter, we're returning it."

Declan's tone carries finality, and Delilah understands it. Her brother is not one for ordering people around, so when he says something with decisiveness, she listens.

It's mostly her who pushes him around, persuading him with doe eyes and innocently made demands, but the respect she has for him never wavers - not when he's doing everything she says, and not when, once in a blue moon, he's expecting her to follow what he says.

"Okay." Her voice is small, and her brother notices it, gaze immediately softening.

"Hey," He bends down, ruffling her hair, "We'll go and buy you a new jacket, okay? You should've told me or Mom and Dad that you needed one before."

"I don't need one. I just saw yours lying around last night so I wore it, not because I didn't have my own."

Declan shakes his head at her, getting back up. "We really need to do something about your laziness."

"How about we do nothing and sit right here?"

Declan laughs, and the smell of their mother's freshly cooked lunch wafts through the house.

"That works too."

______

I have a math exam tomorrow and my teacher has banned me from studying right before the test because I get anxious if I get a single thing wrong so I decided to distract myself on Instagram but big whoop, insta's down. Finally ended up on Google docs and stress wrote this even though I wasn't actually planning to update for like a week. Hope you liked it, do let me know what you think! Thanks for reading :)
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