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𝖠 𝖲𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖲𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌 ' ★
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It seemed like no matter how much he tried he just couldn't fall asleep. His mother's words were playing on repeat in his mind. Like the constant berating was nagging him and nitpicking everything he was doing. He thought once he got onto the airplane, his thoughts and mine would slow down and stop thinking about what his mom had said, but he was wrong. He leaned his head against the cold window, watching the faint glimmers of city lights fade into darkness as the plane ascended. His eyes felt heavy, but his brain refused to let go of the tension. The echo of her voice—sharp, guilt-laden—was relentless, cutting through his exhaustion.

He thought about how many times he'd tried to explain to her, to make her understand. But every year, it was the same argument, the same accusations. It frustrated him to no end. His mother was one of the most complicated people in his life—someone he cared for deeply but who could also make him feel as if nothing he did was ever good enough.

Kian slept soundly beside him even with the loud music playing in his headphones. Lorien envied him for a moment—how could his brother sleep so easily with everything hanging over him? Maybe Kian's mind didn't have the same constant weight that Lorien's did.

Lorien sighed closing his eyes. he thought back to everything for a moment. How this exact situation felt so familiar. How him and Kian used to travel back-and-forth between Scotland and America when they were kids all by their selves. Occasionally, their father would join them on the trip but due to work he couldn't most of the time. Their mom never bothered to join them on the airplane. Back then he never understood why. But now that he is thinking about it, pisses him off. They were kids. Why couldn't his parents be reasonable enough to at least live in the same city?

He remembered the anxiety that came with those trips—the uncertainty, the loneliness of it all. And yet, they were expected to just handle it. Their mother would always stay behind, never willing to make the effort to be with them for even a few days.

It wasn't just the flying, it was the emotional distance too. She never seemed to care, never seemed to want to be a part of their lives in the way that mattered. Lorien had always felt it, that absence. It had shaped him, the feeling of being half of a whole family, with no one willing to make the necessary sacrifices.

His dad had tried, always trying to balance his life between two countries, even though it meant sacrificing time with Lorien and Kian. But his mom? She had her own life. Her own plans. And they just weren't part of them. Lorien sighed rolling his eyes. It was all crazy now that he thinks about it. He's heard his mother talk about how she never wanted kids and now he can see why. Kids were meant to be a part of her dream. A dream of being the world famous opera singer, and having kids would ruin that for her.

Lorien clenched his jaw as he stared out the window. He had heard her say it once, years ago, when she thought he wasn't listening. "Children tie you down. I wasn't meant to be tied down." At the time, he didn't fully grasp what it meant—he was just a kid who wanted his mother to look at him like he was enough. But now, as an adult, he understood. She saw him and Kian as the weights that held her back from soaring into her ideal life.

The thought still stung, even though he had tried to build a wall around those old wounds. No matter how many times he told himself that her indifference wasn't his fault, that he and Kian were just caught in her inability to prioritize anything but herself, it never really erased the ache. It was buried deep, like a scar he had learned to live with.

Kian stirred slightly, his head tilting further to the side as his music continued to blare. Lorien watched his brother for a moment, his expression softening. Despite everything, Kian had always been there. If it weren't for Kian standing up for him in those moments when their mom's criticism cut too deep, Lorien wasn't sure how he would've managed. Kian, with his quiet resilience, had been his anchor more times than he could count.

He sighed closing his eyes. Maybe it was finally time for him to be the big brother and not let his brother handle things. Yeah, He'd do just that. He sighed as his eyes drifted shut and his breathing slowed. The low hum of the plane and the distant murmur of passengers blended into a soothing white noise that began to lull him into a restless slumber. For a brief moment, the weight on his chest seemed to lighten.

Lorien dreamed of a simpler time, a memory buried deep in his subconscious. He and Kian were kids, sitting on the floor of their father's apartment, playing with LEGO bricks. Their dad was in the kitchen, humming a tune Lorien didn't recognize but had always found comforting. Kian had just finished building a crooked tower that leaned dangerously to one side, and they both erupted in laughter when it toppled over. Their dad peeked around the corner, spatula in hand. "What's so funny, you two?"

"Nothing!" they said in unison, dissolving into giggles again. It was a moment of pure joy, free of the heaviness that would come later. No arguments, no guilt, no trying to mediate between two parents who couldn't seem to coexist. Just them—two brothers and their dad, building towers and memories.

—

The next morning, the landing jolted Lorien awake. He blinked groggily as sunlight streamed through the airplane window. Kian was already awake, stretching lazily and pulling his headphones off. "Morning," Kian muttered, voice thick with sleep. "You finally got some rest, huh?"

Lorien nodded, rubbing his face. "Yeah... kind of." As the plane taxied to the gate, Lorien felt a mix of relief and trepidation. He was finally here—back in America, back with his dad and Yari. But the nagging tension from his mother's words hadn't completely dissipated. It lingered, a faint shadow at the edge of his thoughts, threatening to pull him back into the spiral if he let it.

"How's Dad going to handle us both crashing at the house?" Kian asked, half-joking, as he shoved his headphones into his bag. Lorien smirked faintly, appreciating the attempt to lighten the mood. "You mean crashing at his house? I'm pretty sure Yari runs things now."

Kian laughed softly, shaking his head. "True. She's got him wrapped around her little finger already."

The thought of Yari brought a genuine smile to Lorien's face, something that had been rare over the past few days. He hadn't spent much time with her yet, but from the videos and photos their dad sent, she already felt like a bright light in their family. A part of him was excited to see her again—to hold her, to hear her tiny giggles. It was such a stark contrast to the weight he carried when he thought about their mother.

The flight attendants began ushering passengers to disembark, and Lorien grabbed his bag, following Kian down the narrow aisle. As they stepped out into the crowded airport terminal, Lorien instinctively scanned the throngs of people for their dad. He spotted him almost immediately—tall, with salt-and-pepper hair and a warm smile that cut through the chaos around them.

Their dad raised a hand in a wave, holding Yari in his other arm. She looked even smaller than Lorien remembered, bundled in a bright yellow jacket with a matching beanie. Her wide, curious eyes locked onto Lorien and Kian as they approached, and her face lit up in recognition.

"There's my boys!" their dad called, his voice full of warmth. Kian was the first to reach him, giving their dad a one-armed hug before ruffling Yari's hat. "Hey, little bean," he said softly, earning a delighted squeal from her.

Lorien hung back for a second, taking in the scene—their dad's easy smile, Yari's happy wriggling in his arms, Kian's relaxed demeanor. It felt grounding, like this was the piece of his life that still made sense. When he finally stepped forward, his dad pulled him into a firm hug, patting his back.

"Good to see you, son," his dad said, his voice low but full of affection. "I know this trip wasn't easy for you, but I'm glad you're here."

Lorien felt a lump form in his throat as he returned the hug, closing his eyes for a moment. His dad always knew how to make things feel a little better, a little less heavy. And now, with Yari in the mix, there was this sense of homecoming he hadn't felt in a while.

Lorien pulled back from the hug, trying to brush away the lump in his throat. Yari reached her tiny hands toward him, and he smiled, bending down to take her into his arms. She was warm, and the scent of baby lotion filled his senses, calming him in a way he hadn't expected.

Her small hands grasped at his shirt, and he couldn't help but smile at how much she had grown. It felt like a lifetime since he had last seen her, but in this moment, it was as though the distance between them had never existed.

"How's she doing?" Lorien asked, glancing up at their dad as he joined them. His dad's face softened as he looked at Yari, his eyes warm with pride.

"She's been a handful, but in the best way," their dad said, chuckling softly. "She's got her own rhythm now—bosses me around when she wants something." He shook his head affectionately, clearly smitten.

Lorien laughed, feeling a tug of warmth in his chest. He could already tell how much their dad had bonded with Yari. It made him feel a little less uncertain about his own relationship with her. The gap in age and experience had been intimidating at first, but now that she was in his arms, all those doubts felt a little smaller.

As they made their way toward the airport exit, Lorien's heart lightened a little. The bright, chaotic energy of the terminal, the bustling crowds, and the loud voices of people greeting one another felt different now. With Yari in his arms and his dad beside him, there was a sense of peace in the air—a warmth he hadn't realized he'd missed.

Once outside, the cold air hit him, and he adjusted the jacket around his shoulders. He glanced over at Kian, who had already started joking around with their dad, asking if he was ready for their marathon Thanksgiving dinner. Lorien couldn't help but feel a small smile tug at his lips. It was good to be home, even if he didn't fully feel that way yet.

"Let's get you two settled in," their dad said, pulling them into the rhythm of the day. "I know you both are tired from the flight. We'll have some time to catch up later."

As they made their way to the car, Lorien's thoughts drifted back to his mother, the unresolved tension still lingering in the back of his mind. But it felt a little easier to push her voice aside now. For the first time in days, he felt like he could finally breathe a little easier.

He glanced down at Yari, still cradled in his arms, and realized that maybe this—this family, these moments—was where he truly belonged.

As the days leading up to Thanksgiving wore on, Lorien found himself growing more restless. The excitement of being home, of being with family, had faded under the weight of unresolved tension. The conversations with his mother still hung in the air, leaving him uneasy, as if he were walking on a tightrope between the past and present. He knew his place was here, with his dad, Kian, and Yari, but the shadows of the previous week seemed to follow him, lingering just out of reach.

By the time Thanksgiving night arrived, though, the house was filled with a sense of normalcy. The familiar smells of turkey, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie filled the air, and the table was set with a care that only his dad could manage. Kian, ever the easy-going one, was sprawled out on the couch, headphones hanging loosely around his neck, while Yari's laughter echoed through the living room, a constant reminder of the new life his family had found.

As Lorien sat down at the table, surrounded by the warmth of his family, it felt almost surreal. He tried to focus on the joy of the moment—the laughter, the shared stories, the lighthearted banter. But even in the glow of the holiday, his thoughts kept drifting back to his mother. It was impossible not to feel the weight of her absence at this table, and even harder to escape the sting of the unresolved conversation that had started this whole mess.

As the plates were filled with the bounty of Thanksgiving, Lorien tried to push the thoughts of his mother aside. His dad, ever the perfect host, made sure everyone had enough to eat, and Kian, with his usual ease, cracked a joke that had everyone laughing. Even Yari, who was still too young to understand the complexity of adult tensions, seemed to brighten the room with her innocent chatter.

Lorien found himself in a rare moment of peace, at least for the time being. The pressure of the week, of the arguments and the long, uncomfortable silences, began to melt away in the warmth of his family's presence. He watched Kian and his dad share a knowing look, something only they could do, a silent communication that made him feel like, despite everything, they were all in this together.

"Lorien," his dad's voice broke the quiet, "you alright? You've barely touched your food."

Lorien blinked, realizing he'd been lost in thought. "Yeah, just... thinking. It's been a while since we've all been together."

Kian raised an eyebrow, clearly reading him better than he'd expected. "You sure you're not still on edge about mom?"

Lorien's throat tightened. It wasn't the first time Kian had caught onto his mood. But this time, he wasn't sure how to explain the discomfort that still lingered inside him. He shook his head, forcing a smile. "I'm fine, just... a lot of things going on. But I'm here now, and that's what matters."

His dad nodded, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Family's here. That's what counts, son. No one can take that away from us."

The warmth of his dad's words settled in Lorien's chest, and for a moment, he allowed himself to relax. Maybe things weren't perfect, but this—this was home. He didn't need anything else.

"Alright, alright, no more heavy stuff," Kian grinned, clinking his glass with Lorien's. "Let's just enjoy this meal before I fall asleep on the couch."

Lorien chuckled, and for the first time that night, the weight on his shoulders lightened. Maybe Thanksgiving wasn't about everything being perfect. It was about the people around the table, the small moments of laughter, the comfort of knowing you weren't alone. Tonight, he felt the truth of that more than ever.

As the conversation flowed, and the meal turned into dessert, Lorien found himself taking in every small detail—the way his dad would glance at Yari as if she was the most important thing in the world, the way Kian teased him about his fork-dragging technique, and how Yari would giggle when they made faces at her. It wasn't perfect, but it was real. And for that, Lorien was thankful.

As the evening wore on, the laughter and chatter slowly faded. Kian, unable to fight the food coma any longer, had collapsed onto the couch, snoring lightly as his dad sipped on a glass of whiskey. Yari, too, had been carried off to bed, her small body nestled under the blankets as she drifted off to sleep. The house settled into a quiet hum, the kind of peaceful calm that only a full house and a holiday meal could create.

Lorien, still restless, found himself sitting across from his dad in the living room. The TV flickered softly in the background, but neither of them seemed particularly interested in it. Instead, they sat in a companionable silence, each nursing a glass of the rich amber drink.

His dad shifted slightly in his seat, eyes glinting in the dim light. "You've been quiet all night. What's on your mind, kid?" Lorien hesitated for a moment, swirling his drink in his hand, the amber liquid catching the light. His dad was always perceptive, always able to see light through the walls he tried to put up. This time, though, Lorien wasn't sure he wanted to hide it.

"Dad," he began, his voice a little more vulnerable than he intended. "Can we talk?" His father raised an eyebrow, but there was no hesitation in his voice. "Of course. Let's step outside."

The two of them stood and made their way out the back door, into the small backyard that had seen countless late-night talks over the years. The chill of the night air greeted them, but the quiet solitude was comforting, especially after a day spent surrounded by family and expectations.

Lorien took a deep breath, glancing at his dad. "I don't know where to start." His father leaned against the railing, taking another sip of his whiskey. "Start wherever you feel you need to. I'm listening."

Lorien felt the weight of everything he had been carrying, the confusion, the irritation, the unresolved tension with his mother. He didn't know what to say, but he knew it had to come out. "I'm tired. I'm tired of constantly being nagged and nitpicked by mom."

His dad sat in silence for a moment, eyes softening as he looked at his son. He was used to Lorien's bluntness, but this felt heavier than usual. "I know, son," he said finally, his voice quiet but steady. "I know how hard she can be on you."

Lorien scoffed lightly, running a hand through his hair. "It's like nothing I do is ever good enough. No matter what I say or how I try to explain myself, it's like she just doesn't hear me."

His dad nodded slowly, taking a moment to process his words. "Your mom has always been... set in her ways. She's had her own battles, and sometimes that clouds how she sees things. But that doesn't make it any easier on you."

"I get that," Lorien muttered, looking down at the floor. "But it doesn't make it right. She treats me like I'm some kind of failure. Like I don't have a choice in what I do with my life. Every time I try to be honest with her, I feel like I'm talking to a wall."

His dad's expression softened even more, and he leaned back in his chair, his hand resting on the edge of the table. "Your mom and I... we don't always see eye to eye. But I think you and her are both stubborn in your own ways. She just... she's never been good at letting go of control. But that doesn't mean she doesn't care about you." Lorien's brow furrowed at that. "Does she? Because it sure doesn't feel like it most of the time."

"Lorien..." His dad's voice was gentle but firm. "I'm not saying it's easy. But sometimes, when people don't know how to show they care, it comes out in ways that are... hard to understand. Maybe she doesn't know how to say she's proud of you. Or maybe she's afraid of losing you in some way. You two have always had a complicated relationship."

"She's the one making it complicated. I always try and try and try to make things right between us, but it's always an argument that it ends in. I'm tired of that. She's trying to make me choose between you or her. Why should I have to choose between the two people I love and care about? Why can't we just be one big happy family? Why does it have to be dysfunctional? Everything and I mean, everything has led up to this moment. You and her don't know how it felt to be picked on for having a dysfunctional family. For having to go back and forth between Scotland and America every single month or so when I was just a child, and Kian was a child."

Lorien sighed closing his eyes. His dad watched him quietly, the weight of Lorien's words hanging in the air. It was clear this wasn't just about the argument with his mom—it was everything that had built up over the years. The tension, the constant back-and-forth between two worlds that had never fully come together. He could see that his son was carrying a lot more than he let on.

"I wish I could change it for you, son," his dad said after a long pause, his voice tinged with regret. "I wish I could have made it easier. But we both know it was never simple, not with your mom and me. We did what we thought was best, but maybe... maybe we didn't always think about how it affected you."

Lorien shook his head, still looking down, trying to suppress the frustration building up inside him. "You can't change the past, but she keeps dragging me back into it. I don't even know how to handle it anymore. I don't know how to deal with her constantly trying to make me feel like I have to choose between you and her."

His dad nodded slowly, leaning forward in his chair. "I understand. And I'm sorry. I know that's unfair. But no matter what, I want you to know this—you don't have to choose between us. You've never had to. I may not have been perfect, but I've always tried to be there for you. And I'm still here now. Whatever happens with her, don't think you're alone in this."

Lorien looked up at his dad, his eyes tired but searching for something solid to hold onto. "It's funny. It truly is." He says letting out a bitter laugh before letting it all go.

His dad watched him closely, sensing the shift in Lorien's tone. "What's funny?" he asked quietly, unsure if he should push for an explanation or let Lorien speak when he was ready.

Lorien's eyes glinted with something that felt like both frustration and resignation. "I'm trying to please a woman who didn't want me to begin with. Who didn't want kids. It's funny how she's trying to make me and Kian pick sides when she didn't want us. She didn't want us so why should I want her? Why am I letting her still be in my life?" He let out a short, bitter laugh, his shoulders slumping as the weight of his words settled between them as he dropped his head staring at his lap.

He stared at his pants watching as they grew wet. He reached up touching his cheek. Tears. He was crying and that hadn't been something he had done in years. Lorien sat still for a moment, the tears on his face catching him off guard. He hadn't cried in so long. He had convinced himself he was too strong for it. But in that moment, everything felt like it was crashing down on him—the tension with his mom, the weight of growing up in a family that had never truly come together, and the painful realization that no matter how hard he tried, nothing ever seemed to be enough.

His dad's gaze softened, a quiet understanding in his eyes. He could see that Lorien had always carried this weight, but watching him break down like this was harder than he expected. His dad wasn't sure what the future held, but he was just thankful Lorien wasn't holding back anymore.

Lorien sat there for a moment, his chest tightening with every breath, as the tears slowly fell down his face. His father watched him silently, the words that had been building in Lorien's chest for so long now spilling out in a way that both frightened and relieved him. It wasn't the first time his son had expressed frustration about his mother, but seeing him vulnerable like this—seeing the years of suppressed emotion finally break through—was different.

His dad didn't say anything at first. Instead, he leaned forward, a small sigh escaping him. "I can't change the past either, Lorien. But I do know this—you're not weak for crying. You're strong for finally letting it out. You've carried so much for so long, trying to be the man everyone expects you to be. You don't always have to be that person, son. You're allowed to be hurt."

Lorien sniffled, wiping his face with the back of his hand, but the tears kept coming. "I hate how it feels like I'm always the one trying to fix things. She won't listen. She won't understand." His voice cracked, and he fought to steady it, but the frustration and sadness weighed too heavily on him.

"I know," his dad said softly. "I know it feels like you're the only one trying. But that's not because you're the problem. It's just... it's just how things are with her. She's afraid of losing control, afraid of things slipping away. And that fear? It makes her push people away."

Lorien's eyes stayed on his lap, unwilling to meet his father's gaze. "I don't know what to do anymore. She wants me to be someone I'm not. Someone I can't be. And it feels like no matter how hard I try, I'm always falling short."

His dad reached across the table, his hand resting gently on Lorien's arm. "You're not falling short. Not in my eyes. You've grown into someone I'm proud of. I've seen you work through so much, and I know it hasn't been easy. But you don't have to carry this weight alone, Lorien. You never have to. I'm here, your brother's here, and no matter what, you're always going to be my son. That's never going to change."

Lorien closed his eyes, a quiet sob escaping his lips. His dad had always been there for him, but hearing those words, hearing that he wasn't alone, brought a sense of relief he hadn't realized he needed.

"I just wish she would... I don't know... stop pushing me," Lorien whispered. "I don't want to lose her, but it feels like I already have."

"Sometimes, people don't realize what they're doing until it's too late," his dad replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But that doesn't mean you have to lose hope. You're still her son, and you matter. Maybe, one day, she'll see that. But until then, know that you have us. You have me. And I'm not going anywhere."

The words hung in the air between them, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Lorien felt a small shift inside him. The burden didn't disappear, but it felt a little lighter—less suffocating. His dad's reassurance, the quiet support that had always been there, was a lifeline he hadn't fully realized he needed until now.

"I don't want to be like her," Lorien muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't want to make people feel like they have to choose sides or that they're not good enough."

"You won't be," his dad said gently, giving him another reassuring squeeze. "You've already shown that you care. You just need to learn to take care of yourself too. You can't pour from an empty cup."

Lorien sat in silence for a moment, letting his dad's words sink in. He had a long road ahead of him, but for the first time in a while, he felt a little lighter. Maybe he didn't have to fix everything all at once.

Lorien looked up at his dad, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the heavy emotions that had been weighing him down. He had always known his dad was there for him, but hearing those words, especially when he was at his lowest, meant more than he could express.

"I'm proud of you," his dad added quietly, his eyes full of sincerity. "You've been through a lot, and yet you keep pushing forward. That takes strength." Lorien chuckled softly, the sound still tinged with bitterness. "It doesn't feel like strength. It feels like I'm barely holding it all together."

"You don't have to do it alone, son." His dad's voice was steady, a reminder that no matter how far apart they might be at times, they were always family. Lorien sat there for a long moment, letting his dad's words sink in. It wasn't a magic fix, and the tension with his mom wasn't going to disappear overnight. But for the first time in a while, he felt like he could breathe a little easier.

"Thanks, Dad," Lorien said, his voice barely above a whisper, but filled with gratitude. His dad smiled, giving him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "Anytime, son. Anytime."

For the first time in days, Lorien felt a sense of peace wash over him, knowing that, no matter what happened with his mom, he had his dad's support. And that, in itself, was enough to keep him going. Maybe things wouldn't be perfect, but he wasn't fighting it all by himself anymore.