Jack loved his brother. But his brother always seemed to be going away, studying and returning for short weeks or even days at a time, and the things he was promised would happen with them together, often didn't.

Years later, Jack's brother went missing. Jack pulled out all the stops, leaving home and his broken family made up solely of a strict father, to find the light of his childhood days again.

When the brothers met, Jack was over the moon. "Alex!" He breathed. "I've spent the last few months looking for you!"

"Should have just stayed where you were." His brother responded indifferently.

With that, he suddenly blacked out.

He woke up at home, back in the bedroom that had been his childhood cage, and under the stare of his father who had been the dragon guarding it.

That was what he's always been. The unapproachable dragon, seeming ready to spit fire if anything he disapproved came near.

"You shamed the family name." Erick De Alba reproached, upper lip curled. "You shamed me."

"Hasn't preserving your father's honour, your family's honour ever mean anything to you? Didn't I teach you anything?"

There was a silence during which Jack could feel the sweat on his temple, almost see it glistening under the white spotlights dotted on his ceiling. Lights that were so white, not yellow.

They'd always felt cold.

"Foolish son, your actions rubbed my honour in the mud. Everyone thinks they know what 'sort of people' we are, now. As if your older brother abandoning the family, refusing to carry the mantle of our legacy wasn't damning enough."

Jack listened, tense.

He'd heard most of it before, but he listened away.

"Do you think it's all about you?"

Then, a silence began.

"Your wants, your wishes, your silly childish desires?"

His father held up a well-worn notebook, and Jack's eyes froze when they saw it.

"'All I want is to go far away, to a place surrounded by nature, maybe a near a waterfall or a huge, limitless expanse of forest. All I want is to be free.'" His father read from memory, in a mocking tone.

Jack was tense. Panicked. Like a mouse, cornered.

He always felt so small in front of him.

But there was only one way out.

"And what, father?" He replied, managing to stifle any tremors that nearly made their way in.

"What's wrong with having dreams?"

"I'm your son." he whispered quietly, hoarsely. "The only one you have left with you. Why can't my dreams and yours be hand in hand, father?" He couldn't bring himself to look into his eyes, so his focus remained on his hands. "Must I run from you too, to find solace?"

His father was expressionless, hands clasped behind his back.

Then he walked over slowly. Still unsmiling. But not frowning either.

His eyes held a parent's compassion, albeit rusty, unpracticed. But even if buried, always there.

"All you had to do was tell me."