KEREN

Homework infopods piled around the table while the clock ticked down the ascent of the moon. Without Ethan to tutor him on the subjects he struggled with, he wriggled in his seat and hoped to spot the headlights of his brother's Cobra pulling in the driveway. If—no, when Ethan came back, he wanted nothing to stand in the way of them spending time together, like they used to. As a family. He promised him. He tapped his IPen against his temple before writing down an answer to the packet of his homeroom class. None of Father's associates, or Father himself came into the house to needle him, or force him to retreat and block out all the noise and disappointment. It continued to hum out the turn of the hour, and he chewed on his lip and tried to keep all the numbers straight in his frazzled mind. There were ten million things he'd rather do than do math work.

Build model ships.

Research ships.

Fly.

Fly.

Keren let go of his IPen and brought himself closer to the stars, the galaxy as it span across the universe. Will this really bring me closer to that? Is that why Ethan is so dead set on me staying in school when he's the one that dropped out? He prodded an infopod to roll it across the table, back and forth between his hands. Wheels squealed against pavement in the distance, but whenever he spotted headlights outside, he perked his head up. His own disappointment choked him when cars rolled past without bringing him his brother home.

Sighing, he returned to his rhythmic tapping of the IPen against the table. Boredom sliced through his throat and snapped his knees against his chair. He tipped backwards and forwards, trying to pull himself through the stretched out moments of silence. As long as he was alone, the nagging thought of Ethan disappearing as Mom had done sent him forward to the crack of the chair legs hitting the wooden floorboards of the dining room. It shook his feet as he tapped his heels and tried not to chew too much on his fingers.

If Ethan took any longer, he'd have no fingers to chew on.

Anxious terror swelled into his lungs as he tried not to imagine the worst case scenario. All alone. No Mom. No Ethan. No one. On the I-Screen, he left it on a station of Ethan's favorite music tastes. Soft pianos, and gentle strings to accentuate the sounds. The lack of voices served to bring forth the notes Ethan loved to lose himself in. Keren twisted in his seat to stare at the pulsating colours flowing in time with the smallest beats.

He'll come home.

He sorted through the remainder of his homework packets to shove them in his schoolbag, with nothing but the music for company. It curled into higher notes, and he straightened himself out when another pair of headlights crawled through the neighborhood, sending streams of the illumination through the thin blinds of the front windows. He chewed on his flimsy hope to crawl closer to the window, to investigate the approach of whoever slid into their driveway.

A Cobra.

Ethan!

Keren bounced on his heels and tried to settle his fear back into his stomach as the door slid open, and Ethan hauled himself out. He's home. Nothing happened to him. Schoolbag kicked underneath the table from his well-aimed foot, he shuffled to the front door, to wait for Ethan at the jingle of his keys. Will he take us to that restaurant by the casino? He, Jesti, and Urto go there a lot... but so do Father's associates. They haunt the place as well... though maybe that's why they go...

The door opened, with the single streetlamp casting a shadow around his brother.

The music went quieter into its final finish.

Malice trickled, and he frowned at the crackled tension rolling across his neck. Cold air flowed from the open door Ethan left as he stood on the threshold. The lamp flickered outside and deepened the darkness underneath Ethan's green eyes, though the glow from Eteran's moon persisted.

Empty.

"Welcome home," he whispered. Ethan's footsteps became heavier than the last as the door closed behind him. He came to a stop in front of him, a looming figure. Keren laced his fingers together. "Um... I got to thinking, and we don't... we don't have to go out if you don't want to. We can do something fun here. Maybe we can play Chain Winch? You said you'd teach me more of it." He motioned at the house, into the living room where Ethan once spent most of his time reading his mystery novels. Mysteries he jumped to the end, to avoid the entire complicated puzzle to begin with. "How does that sound?"

Father's silence filled the air between them.

"Did you tell Jesti I said hi?" Keren pressed at Ethan's unblinking figure.

Ethan finally blinked. "I did." Shadows coalesced with his movements and the furrow of his brow. "I guess it is a little late to go out. Staying here sounds like a good idea. I'll cook you dinner. Next time we'll go out and do something."

Another trickle swept down his spine as Ethan headed for the fridge. "I... did get some things gathered that I wanted to eat, just in case. I started craving noodles after you left," Keren forced out as Ethan sorted through the contents of the food prep he hastily put together. "I mean, I kind of... like your cooking better anyway. You make Mom's recipe for sauce really good... almost as good as she did it." He drove his fingers into his nape to tear out the slavering, strange sense of intent. Ethan smiled, no different than before, but Keren tasted metal. "Um, Ethan?" he questioned before he took the food prep out.

"Yes?" Ethan sorted through Keren's selection.

"Something's wrong."

Ethan's shoulders stiffened, and he twisted to him to give him a cautious side-eye. "What do you mean?" His attention drifted to the window, to the darkness outside, but nothing as intense as the shadows on Ethan's face.

"No, sorry, I worded that wrong," Keren said and joined Ethan in the kitchen. "Well, not wrong. I just..." He frowned at Ethan, who studied him. "Are you... Are you okay? Did something happen at Jesti's?"

"I'm alright..." Ethan's eyes narrowed, a strange sort of realizing anxiety crossing through them. "Why do you think that something is wrong?"

The trickle flowed off his back, a stream of electrified nerves. "No reason. You just seem tired," he fibbed. "You told me you might be a little late, but you were super late."

"I didn't mean to take so much time," Ethan said and unfurled the packages. "I just had to stop by the casino before I came home." He reached forward to flick the dials of their edevic stove as he placed a pot of water into the lit up boiler before locking the clamps in place. "If it's for no reason, why did you ask?"

"Huh?"

Ethan checked on the water. "Nevermind," he said after a momentary silence. "I'm fine, Keren. Nothing happened at Jesti's. He said hello." His smile returned, a pale reflection of Mother's, but it served to re-intensify the crashing wave of rustic intent. "Pop on one of your movies and get a deck ready. I'll teach you some tricks to Chain Winch that you'll be outplaying the average player." Ethan's grin turned mischievous. "Not that you'll ever beat me."

Keren wanted to taunt his brother back, but he frowned with the trickling sensation in his throat. "Is... Is Father going to come home?"

His presence always sent an odd worm of malice through his throat, but he chewed on the bizarre feeling at Father's distance when it came to him. Barely able to communicate with his other parental figure, where Mom and Ethan both proved the more consistent, warm company.

Alone.

"Much later. You'll be in bed by then," Ethan said. "He's at the casino—but you don't need to worry about that." He pointed a scooper at him. "Go on, this will be ready soon enough." He tapped it against the boiler.

Maybe... I was just nervous that he wouldn't come back.

"What movie?" Keren asked, then scoffed. "You're going to say one of those noir flicks, aren't you? You can't get enough of them in books, so you grab the movies?"

"Much harder to spoil me when I know you don't watch them," Ethan teased, but the emptiness within his face remained to douse the playfulness he grew accustomed to. "If you'd be so kind, I think if you give them a chance you'd enjoy them."

His scoff died in his throat, replaced with a sense of uncertainty. "But they're boring, they're just giant puzzles to reach a very simple conclusion," he tried to play along to the tune of what they used to have, for the fleeting memories with Mom.

"Really?" Ethan whispered. "I don't find them boring. Just because it's not your action flicks doesn't make it boring. I prefer the slow build up. It brings a much better sense of satisfaction — when I don't get told the ending when the entire point is trying to figure out the puzzle."

The puzzle of the cascade of intent.

Of malice.

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" Keren mused.

"Never."

But Ethan said there was nothing wrong.

Maybe I imagined it? I kept thinking about what if's...

Ethan returned his attention to the water when it boiled, so Keren left the kitchen to head into the conversation pit to sort through the racks of movies. He picked one of Ethan's newer films, then murmured, "Someone has to worry about you."

'He never talks about what's bothering him,' Mom admitted.

It's so hard to tell what you're thinking...

"What was that?"

Keren straightened himself out to hold the infopod up. "This movie?"

Ethan nodded.

Bile replaced the rustic trickle, but he swallowed it to push the movie into the slot on the I-Screen. "I was just saying," he repeated. "I think someone has to worry about you. You don't worry about yourself. It's dumb."

Ethan chuckled. "You're the last person I want worrying about me."

It hurt.

"Why?"

Ethan slid the pot lid over the boiler with the noodles inside. "I already told you," he said. "I just want you to focus on yourself. It'd help me more than if you spent all day and night stressing out over me." He eyed the boiler, then headed up to him as the menu screen played the song of the night. He placed his hands on his shoulders, then tipped his head. "Okay?"

No. It burned into his soul, a cascade of pain and intent. Keren nodded against the current of the rusty taste. "I just don't want to be left alone, Ethan, and I'm just... I'm always scared that something will happen to you..."

Like what happened with Mom.

"I know, Sellzora. I don't mean to worry you as much as I do." Ethan tapped his cheek then returned to the kitchen. "I know things have been tough lately, and confusing and I know I'm not exactly helpful in that regard," he observed as he lifted the lid to let a bloom of steam out to stir the contents. "Just, do what you can, Keren. You want to go to a Flight Academy, don't you?"

"Yes."

Ethan smiled. "They do have some rigorous testing for an entrance exam, and I can't exactly help you with that... not really much of a ship person myself. All I know is from you. So, focus on your schooling. Let me handle everything else, okay?" He tipped his head at him, and Keren knew he wanted a single response.

"Okay." Atmospheric warmth embraced his shoulders, but the bitter taste beneath it rested on his tongue. "I'll work hard on my schooling, so you don't have to worry about that."

For you.

Only you.

"Good."

Keren turned away from Ethan to face the patio doors to the trellis in the backyard. The gloam around his mind dissipated in the shadows of the moonlight, but when he checked on Ethan, it disappeared in its entirety.

As if he had imagined the empty sense of purpose that radiated off Ethan when he entered the house, bathed in the dark.