Silas has his head sitting in Roman’s lap. It’s the perfect place to watch how Roman furrows his brows or smirks at whatever is taking place in the story he’s reading. His light brown hair is messy at the top and a hand frequently pushes through it. Every so often Roman’s eyes drift down to catch Silas’ and both boys’ smile.

It’s the first of July and the sun leaves pools of warmth on Silas’ uncovered arms. The curtains are never closed during the summer and occasionally, like now, the windows are thrown open accepting the refreshing breeze from outside. The small apartment is warm and cozy, filled with the summer afternoon.

Aside from the couch they frequently use, there is a large bookshelf holding everything from books that Roman has collected and paintings Silas created or bought. The living room is small and slightly crowded, but Silas can’t picture it any other way. It finally feels like home for them. He never imagined having something to call his own, but here he is enjoying all of it with Roman.

With the day slowly fading Silas lets his eyes droop. This is how most of their afternoons go. Roman reading, while Silas takes a cat nap on his lap. It’s routine. When the sun finally goes down and Roman has finished reading, he will wake Silas, but until then he lets sleep pull him away.

Silas’ eyes open suddenly from a noise he doesn’t recognize through the haze of sleep. The room is clouded in darkness with only a small lamp on the side table giving light. Silas rubs the sleep from his eyes and sees Roman’s furrowed eyebrows looking in the direction of the hallway. Silas is about to ask what the sound was but is cut off by the answer of the repeated noise.

A quick knock on the door down the hall draws Silas’ attention. Only a handful of people knew about their new place, and no one had planned a visit. He shoots Roman a look of curiosity before dragging himself off the man’s lap. He stretches before heading down the hall to the apartment door. Silas hesitates for a moment before opening it.

The young man standing on the other side looks far too proper. The man’s posture is perfect, and his hands are held behind his back in an awkward but polite manner. The boy is wearing black dress pants with a dark green button-up, and his curly black hair seems to sit perfectly around his face.

A memory of a young boy with bright grey eyes, almost silver, pushes to the surface of Silas’ mind. The boy is crying and yelling something, but Silas pushes the image away focusing on the dull grey eyes before him. They look clouded in an aged way that doesn’t fit the rest of the teenage boy’s face. The dullness of his eyes feels almost familiar but that can’t be right because no one in his life has eyes like that.

There’s a sharp mix of smells filling the hallway. The most notable are pine and whiskey. The boy doesn’t appear drunk, but the smell seems to pour off of him in an unsavory way. The smell is the only thing that seems improper about the stranger.

Silas stands there with the door handle still in his hand while staring at the young man in front of him. The boy’s eyes darken as the silence continues but it’s the only change that gives him away. His sharp features remain in a neutral mask, but his eyes show something that sparks recognition for Silas. He knows these eyes. He knows the curly black hair, the pale skin, and the proper mannerisms as if he were still fifteen.

The image of Silas as a teenager with bruises across his body and tears in his eyes flashes through his mind as if it had all just happened. The slamming of the door to his childhood house as he ran away. The little boy with beautiful grey eyes who chased after him. The tears and helplessness in his voice as he begged Silas to stay, for him. He didn’t stay and that boy wouldn’t leave, so he never looked back. He tried to forget the little boy that he left behind. Forget the brother he’d abandoned so easily. He always wanted to forget, but here is the very person he left and there’s nowhere to hide anymore.

“Atlas? What are you doing here?” Silas’ voice is choked, and the name comes out like a question, but there is no denying the boy in front of him is his brother. It’s been years and no matter how hard he tried to push the boy from his mind he still remembered. He hadn’t meant to throw out the last question defensively, but it sounded that way to his own ears.

“Hello Silas. I’m all grown up now, so I wanted to finally find you. I wanted to see what you became,” Atlas’ voice is calm and level. The perfect gentleman and their parents would be proud, but his eyes shine with all the words he isn’t saying. All the questions Silas had already asked himself. Why did you leave him? Why didn’t you try again? Why didn’t you do more to protect him?

Another part hits Silas and it takes him a second to comprehend the weight of Atlas’ words. Adult? Silas mentally goes through the years it’s been and realizes Atlas has to be eighteen. The boy he left behind was practically, literally in the legal sense, a man. His pale complexion and thin frame make him look every bit of a helpless fifteen-year-old, but the years prove otherwise. Silas takes a moment to steady his thoughts before saying anything.

“I—you’re eighteen? You’ve grown so much I hardly recognized you, at first,” the friendly forced tone shifts into Silas’ voice as if on cue. Less than five minutes with someone from his family and all the etiquette training seems to come to the surface.

That voice tugs at the anger he’s fought so hard to control over the years. He remembers the things his friends have told him and knows it isn’t his fault. He was a kid in an abusive home with no one to protect him. He was a child protecting another child. He did what he had to. All of it was true, but he still left his brother to endure the abuse. He left him alone with a violent drunk of a father and an emotionally abusive mother. The stubbornness and guilt seem to mix into the pit of his stomach until he can’t tell which he truly believes.

“I guess that’s what happens when you don’t see someone for six years,” Altas lets out a scoff that breaks the polite manners he’s held so far. “I’m not a child anymore Silas, and I wanted you to see that I survived without you. I didn’t need you to protect me, and being old enough to do what I want has helped more than you ever could,” the bitterness seeps through his voice and reminds Silas of their mother. Always quick to verbal assaults and endless insults.

Atlas is alive and standing in front of him, and his words cut open old wounds that never fully healed. He didn’t need Silas to protect him but the bitterness in his voice and the darkness in his eyes scream that he wanted it. How many scars does Atlas have from their parents’ drunk tirades? How many times has he cried alone when it used to be the two of them against the world? The anger leaves him as it seems to grow in his brother.

Silas has come to terms with the fact that he was a child and did what he did to survive, but that doesn’t change the fact that he abandoned his baby brother. The guilt claws against his rib cage wanting to say something to fix everything, but nothing can fix this. His little brother tracked him down as soon as he became an adult to tell him he was alive and didn’t need him. How can you fix something so broken?

Silas takes a deep breath and locks eyes with Atlas. There’s so much pain behind the anger that it hurts to look at what he caused, but it’s the least he can do. To face his brother and take responsibility for the pain he put him through, even if it wasn’t his intention. He’s grown enough to know his mistakes and can only hope that Atlas has grown enough to understand his side.

The most surprising part is his brother’s emotions being less controlled. The smell of whiskey hits him again and he doesn’t want to believe it. After everything they grew up witnessing his brother couldn’t, wouldn’t, show up on his doorstep drunk.

Whatever Atlas’ intentions or what pushed him to come here Silas has things he needs to say. Things that had been waiting for an opportunity he’d never reach for on his own, and that opportunity just walked to his front door. He pushes the thought of his brothers’ soberness, or lack thereof from his mind.

“I’m sorry, Atlas. I’m sorry I left you alone and I’m sorry I never tried to come back. It won’t make up for anything, but I’m sorry,” he keeps his voice steady, even though he can feel his walls coming down. The urge to crush Atlas in his arms and never let him go is almost impossible to ignore, but he knows it’ll only push the boy further away.

“I don’t want your pity, Silas. I got over you leaving quick enough. I just wanted to see you at least one more time, to see if it was worth it. If leaving your family behind had any positive affect,” his eyes take in Silas as if appraising him, “you look healthy enough at least, more than I can say for myself,” the polite tone slips back into place and his eyes focus on the door frame.

They stand in the silence and Silas feels it crushing him. Atlas came here to make sure he was safe. He’d never admit it but under all the pain and anger he does care. That alone sparks hope that there is a chance to rekindle their relationship, or at least start over. If there is any chance of that, Silas has to be honest even if it sounds harsh.

He looks into Atlas’ eyes and sees the hints of red flooding the white around his irises. He looks at the red and smells the whiskey surrounding them and knows this is the only way Atlas would find the emotion he needs to face his brother. He could only hope that’s all the drinking was for.

“I am sorry that I left you behind and I’m sorry for how you had to grow up, but I can’t lie to you Attie. I’m not sorry that I got out. I’m not sorry that I did what I had to survive,” Silas takes an unsteady breath and watches his brother’s eyes narrow. “I wanted to forget everything from our childhood, and that included you. I felt guilty for years, but I talked to people and I’m handling it better now. We were children and going through things that should never have happened. I would love to have you in my life now, but only if that’s what you can handle. I won’t push you, Atlas. I also think any further conversation we have should be when you’re sober,” Silas finally stops, and his voice is more confident than he feels. He means everything he says, but he never thought he’d have the chance to say it.

“I hate you, Silas. I hate that you seem so in contr—“ Atlas stops and his expression closes. He had been showing too much emotion apparently, because the next instant he is neutral, and his tone is polite once more. “I don’t even know you. We are brothers through name and blood alone. I’m not the same pathetic child you left behind. We will never talk when I’m sober because I can’t tell you the last time I was. I didn’t come here to start a relationship, and I don’t think this new version of my brother can give me what I wanted.” Atlas lets a sneer cover his face at the last comment.

Silas looks at his little brother and knows he wants an argument. He wanted a fight to break out because no matter how much they loved each other as children, they always argued. Silas can’t give him that. He can’t make comments on how he’s acting like the good boy his parents created, or how his words cut deeper than anything their parents could have said. That’s the only way they learned to find love and that wasn’t the case for Silas anymore. Those words, those actions, they feel meaningless. They feel like the defensive animal he had to be in the past, and he can’t bring himself to be that now.

“The only reason you’re here is because you’re drunk and looking for an argument. Atlas, I can’t give you that,” Silas finally lets the door handle go and steps closer to his brother. “You opened this door and if you want it closed, you’re going to have to be the one to do it. I’ve grown Attie and having you in my life is something I’m capable of fighting for now. I won’t be the one to walk away, but I will not watch you drink yourself stupid like our parents did,” the words fall off his tongue with concern and love that he didn’t know he’d be capable of with someone from his family. He’s anyways loved his brother but the wall their parents built around that love was gone now. He didn’t have to hide that love anymore and hopefully, Atlas would learn the same.

Atlas stumbles back as if slapped and increases the distance until he’s standing as far away as possible in the small hallway. Silas looks closer at the boy now and can see the subtle chaos of his appearance.

The green button-down is half untucked from his dress pants. His shoes are scuffed as if he wasn’t picking up his feet while walking. The curls in his hair are less precise and fall more carelessly around his face. Silas can see the flush of his cheeks in the form of a soft pink. The small things only someone who’s truly paying attention can notice.

The most shocking thing he notices is the bruising slipping up under the collar of Atlas’ shirt. The bruises that Silas remembers so vividly in his nightmares. His brother still hasn’t escaped the abuse of their parents, and it takes everything in him to continue breathing with some normalcy. The drinking, the reaching out, and the harsh words all make sense now. Atlas is still in that house where he left him. He’s still living the life that Silas couldn’t live.

“Stay here. Atlas please don’t go back to them. You don’t have to like me or even acknowledge me, but don’t go back to that house. I told you I won’t push you into anything, and I won’t, not with me, but you have to leave them. Please, don’t do it for me, do it for yourself,” the pleading edge in his voice is devastating. Silas thought of his parents as if they didn’t matter anymore, but for Atlas, they were still there. They’re still in his life and using him as a punching bag.

“I told you I didn’t come here for you or your help. I—I don’t know why I even came here. I just wanted—I wanted—,” the words seem stuck in his throat, and he sounds as if he’s lost. Silas catches a glimpse of the tears pushing through before Atlas bows his head hiding in the wall of curls that fall over him. “I’m not like you Silas. I can’t leave because it’s too late for me. You can’t fix me because I can’t be fixed,” the bitterness slips back into his voice, and it fuels the anger Silas has kept under control.

Their parents only know how to ruin people. They break everything good and expect people to be grateful for it. Atlas’ words remind him of what he said to Roman all those years ago. “Roman, I’m not something you can fix. I’m one of those hopeless characters you talk about in your books. I’m broken.” The memory feels like a slap in the face and all he can think to do is say what Roman had said to him.

“No one is so broken that they can’t heal. The scars will always be there, but they’ll fade. If you want to be something more or move past the trauma you have to take the steps to get there. Somebody else can’t save you, but you can save yourself,” the words still send warmth through Silas. It was something he had needed to hear and now Atlas needs the same. He doesn’t need a savior; he needs to want to save himself.

Atlas meets his eyes, and he searches Silas for something. He’s always searching, and Silas doesn’t retreat or look away. Whatever Atlas needs he can only hope he finds it in this moment.

“I have to go, Silas,” the polite tone is back, and Atlas straightens himself once again. The dull grey of his eyes feels empty, but they’re bloodshot showing the remnants of his emotion. He stands still for a second before abruptly turning and walking down the hallway to the exit.

“Atlas,” Silas’ voice catches but it’s enough for the boy to stop and turn around cautiously. He looks scared as if Silas will trap him here. “You opened the door and I’m going to be annoyingly persistent until you shut it. I won’t leave you again, I’ll find you, even if it means going back to them. Also, keep in mind that if anything happens to you, I’ll burn that fucking house down with them in it,” Silas doesn’t waiver in his threat or promise. He doesn’t let his eyes look away from Atlas. A small smirk pulls at his brother’s lips before vanishing.

“I don’t know which of those I look forward to the most.” With that last statement, he turns and briskly vanishes. It was a start at the very least. The goodbye in their words didn’t feel permanent, and that alone meant progress. Silas stands there for a moment steadying his breathing in the hallway before slipping back into the apartment and closing the door.

His home feels so different now with the memories of his childhood so fresh in his mind. This was never supposed to be his normal. He was never supposed to feel safe in a crowded room and not map out all the exits. The scared look on Atlas’ face when he stopped him in the hallway flashes to the front of his mind. His little brother still has to think like that. He still has to map out the exits and the objects that can be used as weapons. Even drunk his mind goes to the things he has to know for his protection.

Leaning against the door, in the safety of a loving home that Atlas has never known, Silas lets the tears fall. He lets them crawl down his cheeks and wet his hair and his shirt. He sinks to the floor and holds his knees to his chest. All the confidence and control he held in front of his brother shattered in the warmth of the apartment. He cries for the little boy he abandoned. He cries for the trauma they both faced, the trauma Atlas still faces. Then he lets himself cry for the man who showed up on his door drunk and lost in so many ways. He cries for this version of his brother and all the ways he’s struggling.

Silas must have made a sound because Roman sinks beside him and wraps his arms around Silas. He doesn’t ask what happened or who was at the door, he just lets Silas crawl in his lap and soak his shirt in tears.

“You’re safe, Silas. I’m here and you’re safe. Whatever it is we’ll face it together,” Roman’s voice is soft and protective. It wraps Silas in a cocoon of warmth and slowly the tears fade away.

They didn’t talk about it that night, and Roman would never push. Silas just lets the warmth between them sink in and pushes away the memories of his parents. He lies against Roman’s chest and plans to see his brother again, no matter how he has to do it. 

He can’t hide this time or force his brother out of his mind. This time will be different. This time he will make sure they both get out and they get the relationship they were meant to have. Memories of his little brother smiling fill his mind and it’s enough to solidify his choice. He wants to be in his brother’s life, even if it’s just to see him smile again. 

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