My last post:

Silence fell between the two men, and Darren was too occupied with his own thoughts to notice the hand that petted his hair. His face was ashen pale, and his lips were tightly shut, forming a thin, unhappy line.

The last time he met with his brother things had ended on a bad note, for various reasons. Those reasons were what made him look so sickly pale and worried now.

For the longest time he simply lay there in the half dark room and stared into the air. Eventually sleep claimed him and let him rest his thoughts.

(Yeah...and you know what sucks really bad now? I used to have a class where I could just use the Internet the whole time, to keep up daily, but now I only have it Tuesdays and Thursdays.)

Darius awoke the following morning long before the alarm went off. For a long while, he merely stared at the wall ahead of him, lost in thought. The concern in the pit of his stomach twisted into a knot after awhile, and he rolled over to face Darren’s back.

It took a moment, but he gave in to what he personally wanted (something that didn’t happen very often, bearing in mind just how controlling Darren really could be) and moved over the bed in order to wrap one of his arms over Darren’s hips and hold him. He didn’t know how the man would react when he woke up, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. All he knew was that he was worried, and Darren took care of him.

He snuggled close and went back to sleep.

The alarm went off at seven ‘o clock precisely, and Darren slammed his hand down on the button before his eyes were even open. The annoying ringing died as the clock his the floor and had its batteries knocked out. Groggy from sleep and nightmares as he was he couldn’t think straight, but he became aware of the warm body snuggled up against his backside. Darius had one arm wrapped loosely around him, something the boy usually wouldn’t dare, and being all snuggled up and cosy with each other was not Darren’s cup of tea. He threw the arm off and rose from the bed.

“Get up and start packing. I’m taking a shower.”

Without looking at Darius he went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, then got in the shower and turned on the hot water. It felt heavenly.

Darius frowned a little, watching Darren stalk into the bathroom. He stood up, though, and went to pull a suitcase from the closet. He was trying his best to be excited, as Darren had never taken him anywhere, but he was too busy being worried about the older man. Sighing the entire time, he packed the suitcase halfway, to the point that it was only his clothes that weren't in there, and toiletries.

Nervously he headed to the bathroom, poking his head into the shower. His eyes trailed over the man's body, before he forced himself to focus. "Darren...last night- before the phone call, I mean...you said not to make breakfast...are you sure you don't want anything?"

“I was supposed to meet a colleague for breakfast, but no, I don’t want anything.” The fact was, flights made him sick, and he didn’t want to risk his dignity by throwing up like a little kid. He glanced at Darius, and then promptly ignored him as he began to rinse out his hair.“Go make yourself some toast. I don’t want you to get sick in the car.”

He turned off the water and reached out for the towel conveniently placed on the toilet lid. Darius stood there, looking a little lost in his thoughts, and Darren saw the boy’s eyes wander over his wet skin. “And go get me a phone. I need to get some flight tickets.”

"I won't get si-" He broke off, not wanting to argue right now. His eyes drew across the man's skin once more before he left the room to return with a phone. He handed it over, then stared at him in silence. There was a question rolling around in his mind, one he was afraid to ask.

He substituted it with another question. "Are you sure you want to take me along?"

“Can’t leave you here, can I?” came the quick reply. The question was one he hadn’t even considered. It was not entirely necessary to bring Darius along for the trip…Doing so meant he’d have to introduce the boy to his grieving mother, and worse, to Kyle. He frowned deeply and turned his back to Darius as he toweled himself dry.

“You’d turn the place upside down,” he said flatly. “Get going. You didn’t finish packing did you?” He paused. “Damned…You don’t have a suit for the funeral.”

He didn't bother to argue with Darren's reason, not particularly in the mood to be yelled at- not this early in the morning. If the man wanted to take him along, he would go, because to not do it would be to get himself more-or-less kicked out. ...If the man would let him go away by now.

"No, I didn't but- you could just leave me in a hotel or something instead of taking me to the funeral." Darius told him awkwardly.

He turned to go finish up and then turned his head to ask quietly, "How are you going to explain me?"

Darren slipped on some fresh boxers and ran a brush through his hair before facing the boy. “I haven’t decided yet,” he said, truthfully, and made his way past Darius back to the bedroom. The boy was right- Darren could avoid bringing him to the actual funeral and the awkward introductions. It nagged him that he hadn’t even considered that.

Of course, he very well knew the reason why he needed Darius to be there with him. It had nothing to do with his father’s death (the old man was better off dead anyway), and everything to do with a certain older brother. This was also something he would never admit out loud. He had a pride to maintain, thank you.

“We’ll grab some lunch at the airport.”

(want to skip ahead a bit? I can't be bothered to write a whole flight, XD. Maybe to them having arrived or being picked up by Kyle?)

(Not a problem ^^)

In the airport, Darius stood pressed close to Darren, not accustomed to being surrounded by so many people. Even when he had still been homeless, he had more often than not ghosted around places that were mostly abandoned. It had made food harder to come by, but he had managed. Already Darren had tried to press him away more than once, and he just kept coming back up. Now the man had given up and allowed the small boy to grasp onto his wrist.

Darius fidgeted nervously, looking around and then down at himself. He asked softly, “Who are we waiting for, Darren?”

Darren answered without looking at him. “My brother.” His eyes were fixed on the cars that came and went,searching for the black Mercedes he knew Kyle owned. His stomach and nerves were uneasy and jittery- anything could set him off right now.A hand clamped down on his shoulder. The surprise had him turning around swiftly to face the person, and his eyes remained narrow and suspicious even as he recognized the man before him as his very own brother.

”“How lovely to see you, D,” Kyle said pleasantly and smiled. They were four years apart in age, but they shared the same dark hair and facial features, though Kyle was physically larger than him. The most noticeable difference between the two of them was that one smiled while the other did not.

“Don’t call me that.”

The man chuckled. “Always so brash and rude, baby brother, tsk tsk.” He raised an eyebrow when he noticed the boy clutching Darren’s hand so tightly. “Hi, I’m Kyle, his older brother. And you are…?”

"I-I'm...Darius." The boy replied hesitantly, noting uneasily how Darren had tensed up. The man had taken him in and was his caretaker, and seeing him this way only served to bother him. He somehow pressed himself closer to Darren, wrapping his fingers more tightly around the wrist as though to tell the man he was there, he wasn't going anywhere, and he didn't need to worry about it.

Darius took a deep, hissing breath, carefully deciding how he wanted to word his next sentence. He didn't want to say anything that would upset Darren, and didn't want to say anything that would cause a problem with this new person, but at the same time... He wanted someone to know what he was to the man he lived with, to create a definition so that maybe he could know himself.

"Darren saved me."

Kyle raised an eyebrow curiously, but the little smirk told Darren that his brother already knew which relationship he had with the boy. “I see. Well, you are his type. Never figured him for the charitable kind of man though.”

“Let’s go, okay?” Darren mumbled and pushed his way past Kyle. He squeezed Darius’ hand so tightly that it surely must hurt, but his attention was focused on trying to ignore his only sibling.

The older man grinned, excited to have back the one person who knew his every bad and good side.

"Yeah." Darius's voice was quiet, still comforting - or so he hoped - in some small way to the man he lived with. He kept close, asking with a squeeze of his fingers if Darren was all right. He didn't expect much of an answer, not with Kyle so near. Whatever Darren's problem with being around him was, he didn't like the way Kyle was acting.

"But it isn't your business."

Darren opened up the car door for Darius and let the boy crawl into the back seat. The look of surprise on Darius’ face when he too got in instead of taking the passenger seat went by unnoted. He felt tense already, and he’d only been in Kyle’s company for five minutes. How was he going to make it through the next 24 hours?

“Mind if I put on some music?” Kyle closed his own door and turned the key in the ignition.

“You have crap taste in music, so yes, I do mind,” came the quick reply.

“You sure are pissy, D. I thought you’d be happy that the old man finally died,” Kyle said dryly and looked at him in the mirror, a small smile on his lips.

Regardless of his shock at Darren actually choosing to sit with him, the boy snuggled close to his lover. He wanted to say all sorts of things to him, to just encourage him for whatever was going on here, but he didn't want the man in the front seat to hear him.

Instead he just curled up, planning to force Darren to really talk to him later.

The ride back to his childhood home was long, tedious and extremely uncomfortable. Kyle fell silent after those words, but Darren caught his eyes in the mirror several times, and there was an unspoken promise of something to come later. His skin was crawling and itching where Darius was glued to his side, and if he hadn’t been so busy trying to ignore his own discomfort he’d have shoved him off.

They arrived at the large, white house some time later, and Darren left the car in a hurry to fetch their suitcases. Several other cars were parked on the property, and he could see sad-faced people clad in black through the windows of the living room. “Come,” he curtly told Darius.

Darius nodded slightly, wrinkling his nose- he didn't like to be treated like a dog in front of other people. ...But he wouldn't copmlain. He would just listen, like he always did... No need to upset Darren further than he already was.

His eyes looked over the immense house, surprise evident at just how big it really was. Did Darren come from a family with money? ...He never would have guessed. He quickly grasped one of the suitcases that was in Darren's hand, in a rush to help him.

“I can handle it,” Darren huffed and pulled the suitcase out of the boy’s reach. He saw the worried, hurt look on Darius’ face, but promptly ignored it and walked across the lawn to get to the entrance. “If my mother asks, the two of us work together. She thinks she has two straight sons.” If she found out that he fucked other men she’d throw a fit and maybe have a heart attack.

“You’re staying in your old room, right?” Kyle asked as he came up to them.“Yeah. And I don’t want you snooping around in there.” The older man laughed, as if the hostility Darren showed was amusing and not threatening at all. Of course, Darren knew that he’d never be able to intimidate Kyle.“Well, Marissa and I are sleeping next door to you, so please keep the noise down at night. She gets a tad hormonal now.”

“Heard you knocked her up,” Darren snorted.

“We’ve been trying to have a kid for two years now, as you know, D.” Kyle arched an eyebrow at him, no amusement in his expression now. “No need to be rude. You’re going to be the kid’s uncle, after all.”

"But-" Darius sighed with a shake of his head. Whatever.If Darren didn't want his help, he wouldn't give it. "All right then."

Somehow he couldn't see Darren as an uncle. The man was awful enough to him, and he was nineteen already. He hadn't any idea how to imagine Darren dealing with children. It just didn't seem possible.

"That'll be weird." He muttered. Then he perked up, doubting his lover would be as bad to him as he usually was when they were in front of other people. "Darren, are you any good with kids?"

Kyle burst into laughter. ”Him and kids? They start crying the moment he shows his grumpy face!” He smiled. “You should have seen how our cousin’s baby reacted to him when he was forced to hold it.”

“Come on.” Darren stalked ahead with angry movements and disappeared from their view. He ascended the stairs to the second floor quickly and hastily walked down the long corridor to find his old room. Kyle was screwing with him, again, and he couldn’t help getting angry. Kids were frightened of him, even when he treated them well, and in turn he had grown to dislike them.

Then why did I go find myself a brat for a lover…?

He shook his head and opened the door.

Expression turning to one of concern, Darius gave Darren a swift nod and bolted after the man. Inside the house however, he realised he had no idea where he was. It wasn't as though he'd been here, and Darren had already vanished from where the boy could see or hear him. He turned around in a circle, unnerved by the quiet.

God, this place is huge.

Darius found his eye drawn to a painting on a wall, one of exceptional beauty. There was no hint as to who had done it, and he didn't recognise it as being by any particular artist of fame. Still, he had to love it.

But it is really pretty.

(hey, that painting....would you mind if Darren had painted it? He could have dabbled in arts when he was younger, but felt like he wasn't good enough, so he gave it up)

The silence stretched on without interruption, and Darren paused to listen for Darius’ footsteps. None came, though he waited for a couple of minutes since the boy might have gotten lost on his own. “Whatever.” He took a moment to absorb his surroundings; the blue walls, the large easel that had been half hidden behind his desk. Books filled his shelves, but there were no pictures, posters or anything personal to spot anywhere.

Just as I left it.

The nostalgia that filled him had a bitter taste that he did not appreciate. It tasted sour in his mouth, more so as he walked over to the old record player and pressed ‘play’. Soft, classical music replaced the silence, and Darren stood there, paralyzed, as he listened.

(That would be totally awesome.)

Darius stepped closer to the painting, reaching out to brush his fingers over the frame. He had never seen anything like this picture, and it distracted him from wondering where Darren was or how he could find him. The man would have to come for him eventually, if nothing else.

His eyes took in every detail of the art. It had been one of his loves before his father managed to ruin his life by kicking him out while he waited for college acceptance letters. Still, he wasn't complaining. Without this happening, he wouldn't have ended up with Darren.

I wonder who painted this.

The painting carried only a single initial to identify it- a curly, black C. in the right bottom corner.

The violins played beautifully, accompanied by the piano, but the classical piece did nothing to soften Darren’s mood. If anything, it worsened it, and he huffed as he hit the ‘stop’ button and shut it off. There were wrinkles on his forehead from frowning so deeply, and he pursed his lips and began to pace restlessly back and forth across the wooden floor.

“I never should have come.” The room smothered him. “I can’t…” The words died on his tongue. His mother would never forgive him if he left without attending the funeral. He did not love her, but she was his mother, after all. The pacing slowly came to a halt, and he took a seat on the edge of the bed and stared at the childish play carpet on the floor. It showed cars and roads, shops and police stations, and Darren remembered playing on it as a little boy- with Kyle.

He swallowed hard.He was a grown up man now; he couldn’t let Kyle continue to affect him so badly.

Settling onto the floor, Darius brought his knees up to his chest as he leaned against the wall just underneath the painting. Being there, underneath the beauty of the art comforted him. To be around the wonderful colour combinations. A sigh escaped; he wondered if Darren ever planned to try locating him.

A young woman passed by him at one point, but she didn't notice him resting there. He hadn't expected anyone to though. The boy had always been good at avoiding catching anyone's eye when he didn't want to attract attention. It was a skill that came with being homeless, and with avoiding not only thugs, people who wanted to touch him, but the police as well. He'd never gone with any of them.

...Not until Darren, anyhow. And he still wasn't sure why he'd agreed to go with the man that single time a hand had been offered to him.

His eyes lingered on a dark stain on the carpet, and something changed in his expression just then, grew softer and more vulnerable. “It’s been so long- it doesn’t matter anymore,” he mumbled, but his face said otherwise. He didn’t have to take a closer look to know that it was dried blood from years back.

My blood and his blood. Ours.

“Damn it.” He rose and walked from the room. Where had Darius gone off to? He sometimes forgot how large and maze-like this house could be. “Darius?” he called.

After awhile the boy had begun to drift off. He was tired. There wasn't much sense to it; he'd gotten plenty of sleep the evening before, but then...There was something about the painting, and the surroundings in the house, and everything that made him want more rest. His eyes slid closed, his arms loosened around his knees, and had he been awake he would have realised he was sleeping alone in a strange place.

He didn't hear Darren calling for him, at least not really. The voice integrated itself into his dreams, but that was as far as it got.

“Darius?” Darren gave up calling for him when there was no answer. Even someone so lacking in sense of direction as that boy couldn’t have gotten that lost. It was just a house, for crying out loud. He rounded a corner and came to a stop by the stairs.

“I told her to take down that damned painting!” he hissed, angry with his mother for going against his wishes. He stared at it, unhappy with its existence, then noticed that Darius was sitting right under it. The boy was sleeping soundly, something Darren thought was astonishing. “You idiot,” he sighed and approached him. He kneeled down on the floor and shook Darius’ shoulder.

"Huh?" Darius blinked his eyes open, smiling and blushing sheepishly when he saw Darren in front of him. "Oh. Hi. I...oh, hell, I was sleeping, wasn't I?" He couldn't help laughing as he leaned forward and let his forhead rest on the man's shoulder. "I'm sorry- were you looking for me?"

Rather than wait for an answer, he asked softly, "Hey, Darren, d'you know who did the painting I'm sitting under? It's really, really pretty."

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