KEREN

He put the model box to the side, taking a peek at the assorted parts to build the ship to add to his small collection, careful to make room for his future project on the small shelf in the corner of his room. Full of previous models Ethan helped him build to kick start it, he sat on his bed to admire it.

Argumentative voices dragged him out of it.

Light on his feet, he checked both sides of the upstairs hall. Father's office rested on the other end, a constant, suffocating reminder of his presence without needing him in the house. Breath held deep in his chest, he crawled to the staircase to investigate the commotion.

"What if something happened, Ethanius?" Mother bit and paced circuits around the living room, with Ethan standing in the middle of it, head lowered and eyes closed. "Stars, you know how dangerous the south end is and you—" Her hand waved in the air to spread her disbelief. "I can't believe you took Keren out there. What were you thinking?" Her voice came out harsher than Keren's ever heard it sound.

Keren slipped to the floor to listen closer for Ethan's response.

Just tell her it was my idea, Ethan.

Ethan tipped his head to the side at her rampant, misdirected rage, as if trying to avoid the verbal lashing. "And what?" he whispered. "So what? I thought it'd do him some good. It was just a ship museum... I don't get the big deal about it."

Keren frowned when Mother steeled her gaze. "Because you don't seem to think about the consequences of your actions until they've already hit you, Ethanius," she said. "You need to be more responsible — you knew south of downtown was dangerous. Despite that, you both went there. You put him in danger."

Just tell her, Ethan.

Ethan remained silent.

Keren dug his fingers into the corner and listened, waited for Ethan's witty response.

"It's not healthy keeping him locked in one area," Ethan muttered. "I thought he needed it."

Stop telling lies. Stop telling them like it's the only thing to do.

Mother's disappointment rang clear in her voice, "I thought you knew better than that, Ethanius. I can't control what you do, but you shouldn't drag Keren into it."

Ethan... stop lying...

Ethan kept his head bowed to Mother. "I'm sorry, Mother," he said, cool and formal. "It won't happen again."

Mother folded her arms and her brow furrowed, and Keren wanted to cry at the similarity between the arguing pair — one sided when his brother refused to stand for himself and reveal the truth.

It wasn't him. I'm the one that dragged him, not the other way around.

Irritation and pain both strangled Mother's worn features. "I don't know with you sometimes, Ethanius," she mumbled and despair rippled in her soft voice. Ethan closed his eyes once more, and Keren held down the reflection of his own frustration when Mother turned her back on Ethan. "I can't make you take caution when you throw it to the wind time and time again. Go to bed, and I don't want this to happen again," she repeated his words. "Stay away from the south district, Ethanius."

"I understand, Mother." Ethan never lifted his head from the shadows. "Goodnight."

Keren frowned when she left his view, and Ethan twisted around in one robotic motion and headed for the staircase. He scrambled to get out of his older brother's way, but Ethan ignored him when he stomped past. Keren checked that Mother was out of earshot before chasing after him.

"Ethan—"

"Nope." Ethan slammed the door on his face.

"Ethan, come on..." Keren rested his back against the door and slipped to the floor in front of his brother's room. "I just want to talk..." He tapped his knuckle against the bottom. Ear against the wood, he frowned at the silence. "I thought we would build that model together." He crossed his legs and sat outside the door. Keren groaned out his frustration, then tucked his palms together. "Why didn't you just tell her it was my idea?"

I just wanted us to have fun.

His older brother ignored his questions, and Keren dragged himself up the door to stare into it. Light from Father's office slipped under the door, but from the green panel, Father was not home. Keren rested his hand against the door to Ethan's room. "I can fix this, don't worry, Kellzoro."

I can fix this... and we can have fun.

His heart hammered against the sharpness in his ribcage as he crawled down the steps to find Mother, who leaned against the bar counter of the kitchen with her head in her hands.

"Ma?"

She turned at his call. Keren crept to her side and kept a tight grip on his own hands. "Yes, sweetheart?" she said with a soft smile, but he never saw her smile the same way at Ethan. "What do you need?"

Keren steeled his resolve. "It was my idea."

Her smile faltered. "Oh, you don't need to take the heat off Ethan," she said and brushed his hair. "He's at the age that he should know better."

Keren shook his head. "No, I mean it was my idea," he insisted. "I'm not trying to take heat. I just..." He shook on his knees. "All Ethan did at the cottage was clean and watch. He never did anything. So, I asked him if he wanted to take me to the spaceship museum."

"Ethan knows the south end is off limits. He should've told you no."

"He did." Every bit of Mother's resolve died. Keren came closer. "You should be mad at me, Mum. I just wanted to have fun. I prodded and prodded and... I told him I really wanted to go, y'know?" He shook and longed to wrap himself in the warm embrace of family. Of Mother and Ethan. "Please don't be mad at him for something that was my idea. Please?" he added for extra emphasis.

Mother took in a breath, and released a sigh before brushing her brow with the back of her hand. "Oh, you silly boy..." she whispered, but whether she referred to him, or Ethan, she didn't explain further. "Thank you for telling me, Keren. I'm not mad at you though."

"Don't be mad at Ethan then," Keren insisted.

Mother frowned and age lines creased her brow. "I'm not... mad at him either."

Keren tipped his head. "You sounded like you were mad." Mother left the counter for the couch, and Keren followed to sit down with her. "You sound mad at him a lot."

"Your brother and I have always seemed to get at each other," she whispered, then placed her hand on her stomach. "He really is my son." Her shoulders slacked. "I'm sorry if you saw that, Keren. I know I shouldn't be so harsh on your brother, but I worry about both of you, and Ethan doesn't tend to concern himself with his own wellbeing."

Keren set his hands in his lap. "That is true. He should stop doing that. It's dumb."

Mother smiled and released a soft laugh. "Well... he's always been like that." Her hand rubbed her lower body. "Always."

"Always... like the second he was born, always?"

Mother went silent. "Your brother was... difficult from the first. Right down to his birth. I felt like I was in a fog, confused on where I was going," she admitted. "But when I held him for the first time I almost forgot everything, but then the fog came back to me." Her hand rested beside her. "There were days where I... I didn't even want to hold him, I didn't want to look into his eyes and see him as my son. I got so scared of the fog that I wanted him away from it — but others, I never wanted him out of my sight. Never wanted him to leave my arms. I just wanted to hold him and look into those big green eyes still full of wonder for the world around him..." A deeper sigh escaped her chest. "It's hard sometimes, Keren. It'll make sense as you get older."

Keren knotted her words around. "So... you wanted to not hold him but you did?"

"When your head's a fog... not a lot makes sense in it," she said. "It's alright, Keren. But your brother was always quiet. I couldn't always understand him sometimes — off in his own little world as he was. No matter how hard I tried, he wouldn't let me in." Pain entered the greens he shared with her. "Ethan doesn't talk about anything, though I suppose don't make it easy on him." She rested her hands out in front of her. "You weren't born yet, but I remember he walked up to me one day, tears in his eyes but never cried as he showed me a cut on his palm." Mother lowered her head. "When I asked him what he got into, he didn't say anything. Just 'can you fix it, Miama?'"

"What was Ethan like as a baby?" Keren asked.

"Quiet," Mother murmured. "Rarely fussed. Didn't cry often, and it was subdued when he did. I was told before he came to be ready for tons of crying and fussing, but he wasn't like that. It worried me for a while, but he was healthy and completely responsive to his environment."

"Aw... I wanted something to hold against him. Something embarrassing."

Mother laughed. "Well... there was this one time he was teething and tried to bite Chalen, but I don't think you'll get to him with that."

"Yeah, he'll probably say something like 'wish I didn't miss', or something." Keren giggled. "I'll hold onto that though, thanks!" He sat with her on the couch, then asked, "So why do you fight?"

Mother frowned. "It's... difficult to explain."

"Can you... try?" Keren questioned. "Does he annoy you?"

"No."

"Frustrate you?"

"What child doesn't frustrate their parents sometimes?" Mother blinked, then wrapped her arm around him. "What matters is I love you both and I want you two to be safe and get good lives out there. Not stuck here. You both deserve better." She lifted herself off the couch, then hesitated. "I remember when you finally arrived, and I brought you home. Ethan was waiting for me in the foyer." Her hand raised to her mouth, and Keren leaned forward when tears slipped down her cheeks. "I don't even know how long he was waiting for me to come home. I couldn't bring him with me to the hospital."

"Did he say anything?" Keren asked and stood up after her. "Mom, are you okay?"

"No, he didn't," Mom said and wiped her cheeks. "He followed me to the nursery, like a little shadow." Another shaky breath escaped her. "He wanted to hold you."

"He... did?"

"I know, it surprised me too," Mother whispered. "I didn't... I curse myself for feeling like I did back then. I watched him hold you and wondered what it was I was so afraid of. Both your eyes got so big when you looked at each other." A smile pushed into her cheeks and reached her eyes. "I wish you two never grew up, but I look at Ethan sometimes and... I get worried."

"Why?"

Her lack of response chilled his chest, but she turned to him with a brighter smile. "Because you two are my sons, and I love you and want you to be safe," she said. "You should get some sleep, Keren. I'll talk to Ethan tomorrow."

"Okay... Goodnight, Miamta."

"Goodnight," Mother said and watched him walk up the steps.

He stopped by Ethan's door once more, and tried to listen to the other side.

"Goodnight, Kellzoro," he tried.

Silence.

He jolted when Ethan's door slipped open to reveal his older brother in the darkness. On the edge of the hallway light he stood under.

He trembled and fought the tears falling down Mother's face. Ethan sighed, then mumbled, "Goodnight, Sellzora."

He closed the door once again, and said nothing more.