‘“‘And so, with the downfall of President Enmilia, Lear Frei remained -’ Excuse me, but why am I reading a children’s book again?”

A large book was slammed before Rilon’s face, atop the papers on which he was working. He leaped back, startled, almost stabbing the quill he had been working with into his hand. “I was keeping you busy.” He said, smiling to himself to keep himself calm. “You are my younger brother, after all.”

“By ten months. Ten months. That doesn’t make me a child. An Irish Twin, more like.” His brother crossed his arms, scowling.

“Irish twin… does anyone use that term anymore?” Rilon echoed in his first language, aware that his brother could understand either way — even if it was broken to him. He slouched over, tapping the quill’s feather lightly on his lips. “Some days, you do seem like a child.”

Luckily, Asiah hadn’t heard the comment, so Rilon sat up straight again.

Not surprisingly, Asiah was rifling through his cabinets, on the other side of the small room.

Rilon cleared his throat. “Excuse me!” He shouted. At the exclamation, Asiah leaped in surprise and fell to the floor with a crash. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Not getting up from the floor, Asiah whimpered, “Do you have any food in here?”

“Well, yes, I guess I’m a cook, so I guess you can look — I’m a fucking doctor, do you expect me to have food in here?!” Rilon brought a hand to his face, heaving a sigh.

Why are you even related to me? He muttered, mostly to himself, pulling at the hair tie which had been keeping his ponytail in place. He fixed it quickly, glaring at his brother.

“Everyone has food in their apartments,” Asiah stood, bracing himself back against the counter top. “But not you.”

Rilon didn’t need to reply to that. There wasn’t a need, anyway. Whoever feels like they had to reply to comments like that?

He sat back in the chair, groaning. Asiah still stared at him, looking like a dumbfounded chicken. His head was tilted as such, that at which Rilon had to bite back a laugh.

“Arlett,” A knock came at the door, just as Rilon got himself out of the chair. A guard, no less. Who else would come to his door?

“Which one?” He called back.

“Um…” The guard behind the door hesitated. “Y’know what — both of you come. Lear needs you in the Main Lobby.”

Asiah and Rilon shared a puzzled glance at one another.

“He can’t be serious,” Rilon muttered as he nearly stumbled down the last flight of steps. He took a large breath as he strode into the expansiveness of the Main Lobby. “He may as well lock me outside during the winter. Who will win: Frostbite, or My Anxiety?”

Suddenly, Asiah took him by the hand, making him jump. Burning eyes met his.

“Stop exaggerating things,” the younger snapped. “He may not be taking us outside, anyway.”

“Said the one who shoved me out the main doors, on my fifteenth birthday, just because you dismissed my nerves as a ‘phase’.” He switched to his first language again, although he was vividly aware the English alone was enough to make people stare. Which happened to be true, even quieting down to let the brothers have their quarrel.

Rilon yanked his hand out of his brother’s and crossed his arms, letting out a sigh which echoed throughout the usually noisy lobby.

He snarled under his breath, “Now look what you’ve done.” The accent in his voice built with his increasing rage, some quirk he’d picked up from his late mother. It looked silly to outsiders, and it made Rilon uncomfortable himself. Oh, well. He couldn’t get rid of it, anyway.

At least it had gotten Asiah’s attention. The younger brother whirled on him, grabbing his hand. “What do you think you’re doing?” His German was slurred, like a drunken man.

“What you think I’m doing.” Wrenching his hand out of Asiah’s, Rilon gave one last remark before total embarrassment set in.

“Boys,”

Asiah had him by his ponytail and was attempting to throw him to the floor, but Lear had approached.

“Let go, Asiah.” They didn’t need to be young children to be scolded like them.

Lear crossed his arms, fixing the brothers with a smoldering stare.

Reluctantly, Asiah let go, allowing Rilon to stand back to his full height. Both concurrently muttered a curse under their breath, earning a further judgemental glare from their father.

Rilon snorted, “You’re annoying…”

“Likewise,” Asiah replied, back in English.

Lear shook his head and sighed. “Come on.” The words were exhaled on a low note, tired of the brothers’ quarrels. He began to walk away, toward the building’s exit. Asiah followed after a final glare at Rilon.

Rilon hesitated. He wanted to join them; he really did. Something prevented him from walking toward those very doors, leading to the outside that he dreaded.

Even when he had, the outside felt like some barrier that choked him, gave him… thoughts, feelings that made him want to lock himself in his room and have a good cry. A good reason to stay inside, he kept telling himself.

But, staying inside had a con: You had to go outside eventually.

Rilon knew that Asiah had outgrown the old habit. Just a simple shove outside was all it took for Rilon to break down.

Last time, the little ‘habit’ had cost Rilon his sense of pride. As for Asiah, the younger brother had gotten a well-deserved slap across the face and the duty of cleaning up glass shards scattered throughout the lobby.

Rilon yanked himself back to the present. Now he was standing there like an idiot, trembling with anxiety in the midst of the lobby.

“Rilon,” His brother called as he held the door open — Lear had already disappeared outside. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Rilon replied after a moment of reluctance. He began to force himself to move across the lobby to the doors.

Yet, as he got there, something stopped him. His hand hesitated on the door handle. Asiah was on the other side, staring at his hand. They mimicked each other's movements like a double-reflection. Rilon deviated by shaking his head and mouthing, “No.”

Exhaling deeply, his hand left the handle.

I can’t do this. Nor could he muster up those exact words, to simply tell his brother, “No,” He shook his head again and moved away into the lobby.

The door squealed open a second later and something caught his hand. It was Asiah.

“We need to go, Rilon.” Asiah began dragging him back into his literal hell, but Rilon whirled on him.

“I can’t Asiah. You don't understand.” He clenched his teeth, refusing to go further. Something in his mind dragged him forward. “You just don’t get it, do you? I can’t go out there, not after-”

Finally, he realized what he was saying, catching his breath with a slight choke. Without another word, he ran back into the lobby, the crowd parting like the Red Sea to let the distressed heir through.