Olive Branch
Dec 11, 2018 15:46:01 GMT -6
Post by Snick on Dec 11, 2018 15:46:01 GMT -6
Patrick had plenty of homework. Not that it didn't come fairly easily to him, but the expectations were high, especially from Father. So whether or not the subject was easy, studying was essential. He was expected to stay at the top of his class in everything, including sports and clubs. Fortunately for him, he was better cut out for that than Phrixos.
Phrixos. Patrick sighed. He missed him. Seeing that blood gushing from his nose broke something inside of Patrick. Not something big, but something broke just the same. He hadn't been able to get it out of his mind.
He started on his next essay, double checking his references to make sure he wasn't plagiarizing.
Phrixos was pretty sure he knew where Patrick would be at that time on that day. His schedule was almost identical to the one Pratt had a few years ago. With a curt nod to the puzzled librarian (Pratt rarely stepped foot inside the library unless there was a meeting), he lead Siobhan through the library, looking this way and that. When he finally spotted his brother, he stopped, stared for a moment, then turned and took a few steps in the opposite direction. "I can't," he murmured, looking straight ahead.
Just seeing Pat made his blood boil. The resentment and anger and unexpected pain at the sight of him was too much to immediately hide. After gathering himself as best as he could, Pratt squeezed his girlfriend's hand and turned back around. He walked over to his brother's table, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply.
"Can we talk?" he tried to sound indifferent, but fell very short of that because his teeth refused to unclench.
Patrick felt his heart start slamming into his chest and guilt twist into his stomach. "Sure, have a seat," he answered, trying to sound casual. "You too, Siobhan." Please, please, I don't want to fight anymore. He moved his books to the side.
He looked from Siobhan to his brother. Phrixos was pissed. Siobhan was nervous. She put him up to this. Great. Phrixos wasn't ready to talk at all. This wasn't going to work then. He made eye contact with O'Brien and barely shook his head. Nice try--but it wouldn't work, not if she nagged him into doing this.
Siobhan put her hand on Pratt's knee and squeezed it gently. She caught the look from Patrick. What was he trying to say? No what? Should she just start and ask if he had decided which legacy to pledge? No, better to let Pratt lead, unless he told her otherwise. She tried to smile. She was here for support.
Phrixos sat and crossed his arms. The squeeze of his knee was noticed, but only distracted him for moment, rather than eased his tension. He bored a hole through Patrick's head with his stare for a while before speaking.
"I thought you might like to go sailing. Maybe discuss Legacies," Pratt never took his hardened eyes off his brother. If he knew just how much he favored his father in that moment, he might have tried to look a little kinder. "But you look busy. Maybe some other time?"
Patrick sat there looking into his father's face and felt more than a little freaked out. How did Phrixos do that when most of the time he didn't look like their dad at all? He pulled back a moment, unnerved, then the word came out.
Sailing. It was a balm to his soul. "Yes, I want to go sailing. Did you want to go now?" he asked, figuring he could finish his essay in the morning if he got up an extra hour early. He couldn't help feeling relieved. He didn't even hear the rest about legacies. He didn't care. His brother wanted to go sailing with him. So what if Siobhan put him up to it? He knew it was the one place he and Phrixos could communicate, with or without words.
Siobhan wondered if the Pratts were waiting for her to say something. She didn't even know if there was room in a little catamaran for a third person, having never been on one herself. She was suddenly feeling like a third wheel, even though her express purpose was to be Pratt's support. Then again, if she didn't go, who was to keep one of them from killing the other at sea? "I hope you don't mind if I come along, Patrick, that is, if there's room on the boat."
"Now?" No, not really. "Sure, if you've got time. Wouldn't want to throw a kink into your agenda."
That came out sounding more hostile than he meant, though it was directed more at their father than Pat. There was honesty in Pratt's words. Their dad was unforgiving when it came to straying from the course even a tiny bit. Not only would he come down on Patrick for veering off course, but if he knew it was Pratt's fault, the punishment would be doubled.
"I think we can make room for Ginger, don't you?" His eyes still didn't leave his brother's.
"I'm almost done. I can finish this essay in the morning." He looked at Siobhan. She looked like she'd never been anywhere near a boat. She'd be dead weight. "Sure. We can make room for 'Ginger' in the cat." He looked back at Phrixos, stacking his books into a pile without paying much attention. He put his things away into his bag, then stood up.
"Shall we walk down to the pier?"
It sounded funny hearing someone call her Ginger besides Pratt, even from another Pratt. "All right. We can leave your bag by the lighthouse, if you want." Siobhan stood up, taking Pratt's hand as she did.
She looked up at Pratt. "How often did you two used to boat?"
Phrixos. Patrick sighed. He missed him. Seeing that blood gushing from his nose broke something inside of Patrick. Not something big, but something broke just the same. He hadn't been able to get it out of his mind.
He started on his next essay, double checking his references to make sure he wasn't plagiarizing.
Phrixos was pretty sure he knew where Patrick would be at that time on that day. His schedule was almost identical to the one Pratt had a few years ago. With a curt nod to the puzzled librarian (Pratt rarely stepped foot inside the library unless there was a meeting), he lead Siobhan through the library, looking this way and that. When he finally spotted his brother, he stopped, stared for a moment, then turned and took a few steps in the opposite direction. "I can't," he murmured, looking straight ahead.
Just seeing Pat made his blood boil. The resentment and anger and unexpected pain at the sight of him was too much to immediately hide. After gathering himself as best as he could, Pratt squeezed his girlfriend's hand and turned back around. He walked over to his brother's table, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply.
"Can we talk?" he tried to sound indifferent, but fell very short of that because his teeth refused to unclench.
Patrick felt his heart start slamming into his chest and guilt twist into his stomach. "Sure, have a seat," he answered, trying to sound casual. "You too, Siobhan." Please, please, I don't want to fight anymore. He moved his books to the side.
He looked from Siobhan to his brother. Phrixos was pissed. Siobhan was nervous. She put him up to this. Great. Phrixos wasn't ready to talk at all. This wasn't going to work then. He made eye contact with O'Brien and barely shook his head. Nice try--but it wouldn't work, not if she nagged him into doing this.
Siobhan put her hand on Pratt's knee and squeezed it gently. She caught the look from Patrick. What was he trying to say? No what? Should she just start and ask if he had decided which legacy to pledge? No, better to let Pratt lead, unless he told her otherwise. She tried to smile. She was here for support.
Phrixos sat and crossed his arms. The squeeze of his knee was noticed, but only distracted him for moment, rather than eased his tension. He bored a hole through Patrick's head with his stare for a while before speaking.
"I thought you might like to go sailing. Maybe discuss Legacies," Pratt never took his hardened eyes off his brother. If he knew just how much he favored his father in that moment, he might have tried to look a little kinder. "But you look busy. Maybe some other time?"
Patrick sat there looking into his father's face and felt more than a little freaked out. How did Phrixos do that when most of the time he didn't look like their dad at all? He pulled back a moment, unnerved, then the word came out.
Sailing. It was a balm to his soul. "Yes, I want to go sailing. Did you want to go now?" he asked, figuring he could finish his essay in the morning if he got up an extra hour early. He couldn't help feeling relieved. He didn't even hear the rest about legacies. He didn't care. His brother wanted to go sailing with him. So what if Siobhan put him up to it? He knew it was the one place he and Phrixos could communicate, with or without words.
Siobhan wondered if the Pratts were waiting for her to say something. She didn't even know if there was room in a little catamaran for a third person, having never been on one herself. She was suddenly feeling like a third wheel, even though her express purpose was to be Pratt's support. Then again, if she didn't go, who was to keep one of them from killing the other at sea? "I hope you don't mind if I come along, Patrick, that is, if there's room on the boat."
"Now?" No, not really. "Sure, if you've got time. Wouldn't want to throw a kink into your agenda."
That came out sounding more hostile than he meant, though it was directed more at their father than Pat. There was honesty in Pratt's words. Their dad was unforgiving when it came to straying from the course even a tiny bit. Not only would he come down on Patrick for veering off course, but if he knew it was Pratt's fault, the punishment would be doubled.
"I think we can make room for Ginger, don't you?" His eyes still didn't leave his brother's.
"I'm almost done. I can finish this essay in the morning." He looked at Siobhan. She looked like she'd never been anywhere near a boat. She'd be dead weight. "Sure. We can make room for 'Ginger' in the cat." He looked back at Phrixos, stacking his books into a pile without paying much attention. He put his things away into his bag, then stood up.
"Shall we walk down to the pier?"
It sounded funny hearing someone call her Ginger besides Pratt, even from another Pratt. "All right. We can leave your bag by the lighthouse, if you want." Siobhan stood up, taking Pratt's hand as she did.
She looked up at Pratt. "How often did you two used to boat?"
