Despite the house going quiet hours ago, lights flicked off and doors closed, it was still too loud.

The only glow came from the thin crack of Maksim's bedroom door, flashing every so often with the movement of the tv- soft laughter slipping through, tangled with the faint movie dialogue.

At the end of the hall, a large grandfather clock ticks loudly, steady and sharp. It's old chestnut wood and gold trim caught whatever light that dare shine past it.

And next to it, a door stands, cracked open but lights off. There was no light, no sound. It looked empty.

But it wasn't.

Rian sat at the edge of his bed, legs pulled to his chest, blanket bunched around him. His eyes stay fixated on a small teddy bear which is slumped on one of his shelves, its glassy stare meeting his own. His mind is loud, and it won't quiet down.

He had heard everything. Every word. Every truth.

"Don't invite him to hang out with us anymore. Let him entertain himself."

Hastily, Rian presses his palms over his ears, squeezing as tight as he could in the hopes that the voices would get drowned out. But, the efforts were hopeless. The words kept circulating through his head, shouting like a mantra.

Rian lets out a shaky whimper, curling more into himself, hoping he'd just disappear. His chest rose and fell way too fast, every breath that escaped his throat felt heavy, like it didn't want him there either.

-

The faint smell of jasmine tea and syrniki fill the kitchen and parts of the living room whilst the soft grainy sound of the radio echos off the porcelain walls of the kitchen.

Mrs. Volkov moves around the kitchen quietly, as she does every morning, her pearl white robe tied neatly around her figure and pastel pink slippers sliding against the quart tile underneath. She looked tired, like she always does.

Rian is sat at the kitchen table, his body hunched, with one hand wrapped around a spoon and the other gripping his old pajama shirt. The milk is no longer cold - it's gone lukewarm, and the cereal had dissolved into nothing but mush, small bubbles sitting atop its surface.

"Solnyshko, Ты совсем не спал, да?" (Little sun, you didn't sleep at all, did you?) his mother asks softly, voice hushed.

Rian continues to stare at his bowl of cereal quietly, before answering. "A little."

Lie.

Mrs. Volkov hesitates. "Did... your brother say something to you again?" Her tone is still soft, but a bit cautious. Rian doesn't say anything, which answers her question. "My solnyshko, I'm sure he didn't mean it."

Rian's grip tightens on his spoon, eyes hardening just a bit. "No. He meant it. He meant every word." he mutters, leg beginning to bounce lightly.

"I know you think that, but remember - you two are different ages. Your brother doesn't hate you."

Just as she finished speaking, loud footsteps could be heard clambering down the staircase, followed by a long drawn out yawn. Maksim.

"Доброе утро, дорогой." Mrs. Volkov says gently to her oldest son, who just grunts in return before roughly sliding out one of the oak chairs from the table and sitting down.

"Food smells amazing, mama." Maksim lazily reaches forward for his utensils, eyes flicking to Rian who sat beside him. "What's up with you?"

Rian's eyes lifted, empty. But if you were to look closer, you'd see something uneasy. Something uneasy festering inside. "Nothing."

"Sure doesn't seem like nothing. Didn't sleep again last night?" He asks, stuffing his face with the warm pancakes.

"I would have if someone wasn't being so loud."

"You should've closed your door then. Not my problem you sleep with it open." Maksim sends a reply instantly, not even sparing him a glance. "Would you stop staring at me? You're freaking me out."

"I heard what you said last night."

Maksim finally turns to look at him, face wearing an unapologetic expression. "Did you." He took another bite, nodding in approval at the taste. "I'm glad."

Rian flinches, the grip on his spoon tightening. "You're... glad?" he repeats it, voice much quieter.

"Yeah. I am." He swallows. "I told the truth, stop being a baby about it."

"I'm not being a baby." Rian says instantly.

"You always are."

"Maksim. That's enough." Mrs. Volkov warns, giving her eldest a hard look, to which he just shrugs and takes a large gulp of his milk, unbothered.

The loud screech of wood against tile is heard, Rian shoving his chair back. "May I be excused."

"You haven't eaten-"

"I'm not hungry." Rian says, tone a bit flatter than it was before.

Mrs. Volkov swallows. "At least let me get you a smoothie or something to fill.... you up..." She sighs, watching as Rian is already leaving before she can finish. She turns to her other son, arms crossed.

"What did you say to him?"

Maksim leans back, chewing lazily. "Nothing he hasn't heard before, mama. Don't worry about it. He's just being overdramatic." He hops up. "Breakfast was amazing, thank you."

"Maksim."

He turns, pausing at the base of the stairs. She looks at him with a faint frown, a worry she didn't voice.

"Please don't start anything."

Maksim sighs and gives a small, almost reassuring smile. "Hey, I won't." He says softly. "Promise." And with that, he's rushing back up the stairs, feet slamming heavily against the wood.

He needs to get ready for school.

-

Rian walks down one of the empty hallways which lead to a corridor, one that is has been locked off and put off limits to Rian for as long as he could remember. His hand slowly grabs at the doorknob. His face, round and full, is reflected back to him from the polished silver.

Fat. His brother's voice plays in his head. he told him that his head looks like a pumpkin with eyes for halloween.

He stands there for a long moment, staring at the polished oak wood, contemplating whether or not he really should enter, but his hand is already twisting it and pushing it open.

The room isn't what you think an abandoned room would look like. It's well kept - dusted and cleaned regularly. The glossy red oak floor glistening from the sunlight which seeps in through an open window.

His eyes glances through every single piece of furniture which was placed pristinely, perfectly - with a purpose, like a preserved memory.

And in the center of it all sits the grand piano.

It doesn't belong here. Not anymore.

He steps closer, drawn in. He isn't supposed to touch it - he remembers that clearly, but his fingers move before he can stop them.

His movement is slow as he carefully places his finger into the ivory key, a high pitched sound playing, but faintly. The tune rings in his head as his vision lightly goes a bit hazy. It sounds sharper than usual, the way it slices through the silence.

"Solnyshko?"

Rian pauses, snapping back to reality, turning to look towards his mother who is standing behind her son cautiously, distant - almost afraid. "I told you not to come in here." She whispers, a pale ballerina pink shawl draped around her shoulders. "And... to not touch that piano."

"I hardly did..." Rian mutters, staring at the keys.

She stares at him for a long moment, reading him the best she could, but it was no use. Reading her son was like reading a whole book in another language. "Alright then. Come outside. Help mama garden a bit." She reaches over and slides the cover to the piano keys over, the sound making a blunt thump.

Rian flinches at the sudden noise, his eyes snapping back to the piano. It wasn't loud, but to him it echoed - sharp, like a gunshot.

"Solnyshko." Mrs. Volkov says that name again, softly, and it makes Rian grit a bit, his hands slowly balling into fists. He doesn't like that name. It doesn't suit him.

"Come garden with me."

Gardening is stupid. Rian doesn't have a greenthumb like his mother. Most plants he's handled had died rather quickly because he's too harsh with them.

"No no no Solnyshko, these plants are delicate. Be very gentle as you place them into the soil." She'd say. "If you're gentle with them, they'll grow. Like people."

"I don't want to garden!" Rian suddenly shrieks, the outburst so random that he even shocked himself for a moment. It's quiet, the air between them thickening.

"Solnyshko-"

"Don't call me that.." The words come out small - more a whisper than a shout, his throat tightening and mind fogging over. He doesn't dare meet his mother's eyes, afraid of the expression that he knows she's wearing... shock, pain, regret.

Does Eunwoo feel that way towards him too?

"Don't let him hang out with us anymore."

There it is again, the same venomous words repeating in his mind. Rian slides off the stool, body tense and heart leaping just a bit before quickly leaving the room.

"Rian-" Mrs. Volkov swallows thickly, her hand slowly sliding to her stomach where she lets out a shaky breath, trying to calm herself.

"Sergei-" The name leaves her painted lips without even thinking, tasting bitter on her tongue.

Hesitantly, she places her hand on the black polished wood of the piano, tears stinging her eyes, her gold wedding ring shimmering from the light, something she couldn't bear to take off. She's crying about him again.

"What do I do about our Solnyshko..." Her voice cracks, her carefully built composure starting to slip. "You always hand the answers, but then you left me to figure it out on my own."

Her hand tightens around the edge of the instrument. "You walked out and left this family, and now I can't even recognize our boy. I can't hold him."