• Deal

    It was always like this. Always would be. After a hard day, Kaden would get angry and yell at them, Leal would cry and he…he would attempt to plead with his younger brother and console the older. Plead with a look, console with a word. It would work…and there would be silence. Kaden would shut himself in a room and tear up its interior, saving his brothers from the imminent fit that would come. Leal would go to his room to be alone before going, eventually, to cook dinner. And he would sit down on the floor, get out a pack of cards, put his mind on autopilot and lose himself in the mindlessness of the task, enclosed in the silence. The silence that was so oppressive in its stillness. Nothing but the sound of the crickets and cicadas outside pierced it.

    Deal

    Queen on King, Jack on Queen, 10 on Jack… Did something go wrong? Was King supposed to go on Ace? Or Ace on 2? Yasashiku didn’t rightly know. He never would bother to find out. He tried to drift back into the nothingness of his mind. Somehow he couldn’t. Somehow, he knew something was about to happen. Just like he knew when Leal would cry or Kaden was about to have a fit.

    Deal

    The fits were terrible. Kaden wouldn’t be able to control his rage. Someone would get hurt. Someone always got hurt if Yasashiku wasn’t there. Something in his mind, the part if it that shouldn’t be there, it would always tell him. It was almost like what people described as instinct, only his formed words, as if another person was there, telling him, showing him what to do. Sometimes it showed him what would be. It was the only form of dream or nightmare he knew. He had these waking visions of things, sometimes memories, sometimes future events, and he could barely ever distinguish which was which.

    Deal

    Yasashiku never slept. Ever. When he was staring out into space, not even thinking at all, that was his rest, that was his sleep.

    Deal

    Footsteps were approaching. A shadow loomed over Yasashiku’s game. He was afraid, suddenly, of what could happen… Not that anything ever did happen. No, his brothers never hurt him. Not like Them. They hated him because of what he wasn’t, because he wasn’t what They had hoped. No, not as “successful” as Leal. And Kaden was Their prodigy, the most successful of any. But what if Kaden lost control? What if he became like…

    “’Shiku?” Kaden whispered meekly.

    Deal

    “’Shiku, are you alright?” Kaden pursued.

    Two on Three, Three on Four, Four on Five.

    “’Shiku? Can you hear me?” Kaden’s voice was so soft now, almost inaudible as the tears were rising to the surface.

    Ten on Jack, Jack on Queen, Queen on King.

    “Don’t do this to me, please,” Kaden pleaded, wrapping his arms around his older brother and falling to his knees behind him.

    Yasashiku froze, an Ace in his hand, halfway to the pile. Tears fell from his brother’s eyes onto the plastic cards. Why was Kaden doing this? What he supposed to do? It was all so awkward. Would it be fine if he just didn’t do anything, as usual?

    “Say something! Please,” Kaden hissed.

    Apparently not. But say what? He had barely even begun to talk! Was he now expected to say everything that came to his mind? Hopefully not. He could barely even form a word without stuttering. Yasashiku shuddered involuntarily.

    He hated the stutters. He hated failure, though it wasn’t like he could ever be perfect. They had drilled that into him long ago.

    “Anything, just say anything!”

    Deal

    Yasashiku’s hands moved quickly over the small plot of floor. He couldn’t say anything, not now. Maybe if he just acted like everything was normal…maybe then Kaden would go to his room and sulk until dinner was ready. Maybe…if things would just go back to normal. Kaden was still clinging to him.

    No, he couldn’t say anything now, he would later, when all the memories were put away neatly in their place. When the vault in his mind was securely locked and held no danger of opening, then he would speak.

    Deal

    Suddenly, Kaden dashed around in front of him, sweeping the cards out of the way, sending them flying out the open window. He landed in their place and gripped Yasashiku’s shoulders. He was trembling now. Was another fit about to come? Yasashiku’s “instinct” would not say. He would not look up.

    “Please…please…just say…just say something,” Kaden managed through the sobs. Yasashiku looked up and opened his mouth…but nothing came out. He tried again, but with the same result.

    “B…Br…” he started. He closed his mouth. No.

    Kaden stared wide-eyed at his brother, anticipation clearly written on his face. Yasashiku had almost said it, almost. He could do it, he really could, all he had to do was try. It was all he had to do. Couldn’t he see that? No, he couldn’t. Yasashiku was too oppressed by what used to be. By the expectation of being perfect.

    'Perfect,' Kaden thought bitterly. 'Perfect…Nothing, nothing, nothing. If God meant for us to be perfect, he would’ve made it that way from the start.'

    Another fit was coming, Kaden could feel the tremors rising in his form, but he held them back, held it all back. He had to hear, had to listen. It had been a whole day since Yasashiku had last spoken. Kaden needed so desperately to hear his brother’s voice now, to know for certain that he had succeeded however slightly in his self-appointed mission, and not only that, but to know that Yasashiku remembered. Remembered where they were and who they weren’t.

    The tremors were getting worse by the second, his olive skin paling quickly from exertion and the fits. Why couldn’t he just say something? But Kaden knew why.

    It hurt to think about it, hurt to remember. Because of that place, those happenings, a ‘childhood’ in the dungeons of white, that was the reason it had taken Yasashiku 13 years to say his first word.

    “Please, please, just…just say it, please!” Kaden hissed, gripping his brother’s arms hard enough to bruise the pale skin that lay beneath the black shirt. But Yasashiku didn’t seemed to notice the grip. He didn’t see the room, the cards. He only saw his brother in pain, pleading, pleading for him to respond, to answer while he could still be heard.
    Yasashiku pulled Kaden closer and embraced him, causing the latter to gasp in surprise.

    “Brother,” he whispered as Kaden surrendered himself to the fit. Yasashiku held him, held him close as his body twitched and fought.

    The fit seemed to last for an eternity. Kaden fought to hold in the screams of anger and pain. Silent tears streaked Yasashiku’s face as he sensed his brother’s pain.

    Finally the shaking, the tears, the cries, they all stopped. Yasashiku held his brother a moment longer before gathering the smaller boy in his arms and carrying him to the dilapidated room in which Kaden slept.

    As Yasashiku tucked his brother in, Leal entered the room and approached. He placed his large, muscular hands on Yasashiku’s thin shoulders reassuringly.

    “Thank you,” he said. Yasashiku nodded slowly as he closed his eyes and eased his body back. Leal caught him, unsure of what to do, unsure of anything in situations like this. But as the younger boy’s breathing slowed to a steady, almost inaudible rhythm, Leal let out a sigh of relief and set his brother on the padded ground.

    Then, for the first time in his life, Yasashiku slept.