Gordon finds Scott awake and fretting in the middle of the night.
“Scott?”
A golden glow shone from the landing, casting Gordon’s face in shadow. Scott lifted his head from the tablet he had been staring at since the last rays of sun had dipped below the horizon. The numbers streamed across his vision still as he blinked a few times, trying to take in his brother’s silhouette.
“Hey Gordon,” he said, pushing himself upright.
Gordon flicked the switch and the living room was flooded with light. Scott yelped.
“Sorry, sorry,” said Gordon, quickly plunging the room back into darkness.
“Why are you up?” asked Scott, sitting back in his chair and pressing his palms over his eyes.
“Bioluminescent algae,” said Gordon with a shrug. “What about you, you look like you’ve been run over by a train and then tossed in a centrifuge for an hour.”
“Speak for yourself,” muttered Scott.
“Ooh, nice comeback,” said Gordon, although there was no heat in his voice. His eyebrows were drawn together as he looked Scott over.
The silence stretched long between the brothers, Gordon’s endless patience battling against Scott’s relentless self-reliance.
“Do you think we baby Alan too much?” asked Scott finally.
Gordon snorted. “If anything, we don’t give the kid enough space to just be a kid. Every teenager thinks they’re not taken seriously or thought of as an adult.”
“Yeah, but he was so angry at me.” Scott looked utterly miserable.
“And I’ve been angry at you before him, and Kayo before me, and Virgil, well I suppose you and Virgil had your fair share of screaming matches at Dad. And remember how John would storm off and slam the door so hard, the house would shake.”
“And then Dad would roar up the hallway at him to use his damn words and not take it out on a perfectly good house,” said Scott with a slight smile. “We were such kids then, didn’t know anything. It seems so long ago now.”
And it is, Gordon remembers. Twelve years since Scott has been Alan’s age. Scott doesn’t remember the constant bubbling confusion of the teenage world, where the waters shifted constantly and the thrill of responsibility one day became a burden the next. Doesn’t remember the angst of not being trusted because he’s the eldest child, he was always entrusted with the care of his brothers and bearing the responsibility of the choices they made around him.
“He said he hated me. He really hates me Gordon.”
Lithe arms stretched out to curl around Scott’s shoulders and he was suddenly, forcibly reminded of how much his little brother has grown. Exhaustion and worry spill over and suddenly, Scott is crying silently in his brother’s arms.
“He doesn’t hate you,” said Gordon softly. “He loves you too much for that.
Scott is a whole head taller than him, but he still hunches in on himself when he’s upset and so Gordon pulls him into his chest and holds him tight, ignoring the trembling beneath his fingertips and wishing his Dad were here.
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