Arthur was never on good terms with his brother.
The young blonde was only a child when his brother was a teenager, and Allistor had left for college when Arthur finished up fifth grade. The only clear memories he held were of the days that Allistor would tattle to their mother saying that the younger stole cookies from the batch that was setting out to cool. (Subsequently causing Arthur to persistently deny any wrong doing, with chocolate residue at the corners of his lips). Or times whenever Allistor would bring a friend, or his girlfriend of the month, over while their mother was out working. The little Kirkland begging and pleading for them to play with him. Only to end up sobbing when Allistor's patience reached its limit. Or, whenever Arthur would catch Allistor committing harmful deeds to his body in order to relieve his growing stress.
They never got along, their age gap being the main culprit behind all of that. Perhaps they did get along at one point, but as time crawled along they both erased those small moments from their minds.
But, as they stood side by side observing their mother's corpse in her casket, they came to an unspoken mutual agreement to keep all those petty fights behind them.
Guinevere Kirkland died from overworking herself to death. Both of her sons noted the bags under her eyes that makeup couldn't hide and the skin around her knuckles cracked, raw from the endless cycle of cleaning that consumed her life. Allistor stood as straight as a post, having learnt how to keep his emotions in a prison from the nights where his father hit his mother, to being hit himself, to the day where his father left for good when his mother went into labor. Allistor learned that emotions were a sign of weakness. He had to stay strong for others. Especially for Arthur, who was shaking like a leaf caught in a thunderstorm. Hands balled up, knuckles turning white, were kept down to his sides. His green eyes were slammed shut, tears prickling the sides of his eyes, and hidden behind the clear glass of his black frames. He was not making a sound, it was as if his throat clenched up and his vocal cords were ripped out.
Allistor noticed the behavior out of the corner of his eye, yet he didn't have the necessary compassion in order to comfort the brother. He never comforted anyone in his life, he didn't want to embarrass himself.
Unfortunately, there would be plenty of that when they move in together.
The small cottage that Arthur and his mother resided in was sold shortly after the funeral—along with the furniture save for a few trinkets that Arthur smuggled in his luggage. Allistor was renting out a two bedroom apartment in a moderately sized city in America. The empty bedroom was originally intended to be furnished into an office, whenever Allistor had the time. But it's original purpose scrapped when Arthur's belongings funneled in small waves before the man himself arrived.
Arthur arrived in America in a Sunday, being greeted by aggravating customs and monotone TSA agents who believed a malnourished child like him was capable of setting up a massive terorist plot. On top of that, Allistor slept in late and arrived an hour after Arthur was deemed safe to entire the United States.
Now there they were, sitting in Allistor's car thirty minutes away from the apartment complex.
"He'll be startin' a new school tomorrow. I signed ye up for classes based on yer past schedule, it's on the counter at home." Allistor spoke up, talking over to 80's radio station that Arthur was quite enjoying. "He don't have to wear a uniform, I'll wake ye up in the mornin'."
"You better not sleep in tomorrow or we'll both be in some serious trouble." Arthur quipped back, sarcasm laced in his voice yet his face held no emotion as he stared at the passing scenery on the freeway.
Arthur heard a loud groan escape from Allistor. "Ye better keep those comments to yerself. Or we're gonna have some issues, lad." At the sudden threat, Arthur hugged the urn that was resting in his arms closer to his body.
Arthur remembers moments in his childhood when Allistor said that he was going to have a talk with someone after school. It often resulted in a teenager missing their two front teeth and their mother being called out of work to defend her son in front of the principal. Remembering these moments made Arthur silent for the rest of the ride.
Shortly thereafter, they arrived to a building boasting eight floors. Children were playing in the grass—garnering grass stains on their clothes and scrapes on their knees—some of them halting and peering at the new person who entering the complex. Inside the lobby sat the landlord counting the money for tenants rents. He glanced up when he heard the door open and close.
"Ah this is the younger brother!" The landlord said, his accent an unidentifiable Mediterranean one, not Italian, nor Spanish, but neither one of the brothers could identify it. "It's a pleasure to meet 'chu!" He waved, winking and causing some of his brown licks to fall to his face.
Arthur shyly waved in returned, being drowned in the landlords optimism. He went back to hugging the urn closer to his chest and waiting for Allistor to guide him up to the apartment.
Allistor was not the most social type either, since he just nodded at the landlord and lead his baby brother to the stairs. In silence, they climbed three flights of stairs before Allistor walked down a hallway and stopped in front of a wooden door that said 'C8' on the outside. A jingle resonated in his pockets as he fished for his keys.
"Before I open this door, I am gonna lay down some ground rules for ye." Allistor suddenly halted, the silver key wedged in the lock. "First off no parties. It doesn't matter whether I'm here or not. If I find out ye threw a party... Ye better be prayi-"
"Alright, alright I get it." Arthur interjected, readjusting the urn in his hands nervously.
Allistor huffed in annoyance, but decided against scolding his younger brother. "Second, yer curfew is nine-thirty. No reason that ye should be out past then. Third, keep yer room clean and always clean up yer own messes. Yer old enough that I don't have ta' pick up after ye."
"Is that it? Should I refrain from sneaking in boys? Or sneaking away sips of yer alcohol?" Arthur joked, his sarcastic tone drenching his words and causing Allistor to huff and glare down at him.
"Yer a junior in high school. I hope ye've grown up since the last time I saw ye." Allistor mumbled to himself before unlocking the door and pushing it open.
A faint whiff of tobacco tickled Arthur's nose, reminding him of moments where he would catch Allistor smoking cigarettes he stole from gas stations with his friends. The brothers both removed their shoes by the door, all without speaking another word. Allistor went over to the refrigerator and acquired an ice cold beer can. Cracking it open, Allistor took a sip of the foam that accumulated at the top of the can. As Arthur began wandering around the apartment—becoming acquainted with his brother's horribly bland decorations—Allistor migrated to the couch and flipped on the television. He occasionally took a sip from his beer before kicking his legs up on the coffee table. Rather than bore himself by watching a new caster with no personality, Arthur traveled down a miniature hallway adjacent to the living room, finding an open room littered with cardboard boxed labeled with words such as 'Clothing' or 'Books' in Arthur's beautiful cursive handwriting.
Despite his jet lag begging him to crawl on that bed and descend into slumber, Arthur sighed to himself before mumbling, "Here goes the rest of your evening."
Arthur carefully placed down the urn on the dresser that was covered in dust. He ensured it wasn't damaged before softly speaking. "I made it to America, Mum..."
With his feet dragging against the floor, Arthur went over to a stack of boxes and opened up the one on top that was labeled 'Trinkets' and peeled back the flaps concealing his belongings. A small plush from his childhood, small statues of animals from pottery classes, notebooks containing stories he wrote whenever he felt alone, lastly the only picture containing the brothers with their mother that Arthur looted as he called Allistor after discovering his mother's body.
The brothers were visiting their mother at her job at a retro diner. The two were smiling and sharing a milkshake. (Well it was more like Arthur was stealing sips). Their mother was leaning over the other side of the counter. A loving look painted over her face, but now Arthur noticed a cry for help in her eyes. They were drowning in stress, in anguish, in pain. But, seeing her children managed to bring a compassionate look to her face.
Arthur hugged the photo frame tightly to his chest. "I'm sorry." He breathed out. He felt his throat grow dry and his eye beginning to well up with tears.
Knowing his uncontrollable emotions, Arthur was about to enter a sobbing session. However, the sudden appearance of his brother in the doorway caused him to swallow his sorrow before he made a fool of himself.
"Oi, I..." Allistor began, leaning on the doorway with his arms crossed and gaze pointed downwards. "... might've acted harsh towards ye ever since ye've been here." Arthur raised an eyebrow at this. "I know it's been hard for ye since ye found Mum and all... geez why am I doin' this? I can't explain me emotions well." The elder admitted, a tint of red flushing his cheeks out of embarrassment.
"Join the club, you could be my Vice President." Arthur's quick wit shot back.
The blonde placed the photo down on the bed, facing down so Allistor couldn't catch a glimpse of it. The elder remained in the doorway and watched as Arthur began scavenging boxes for books to place on the bookshelf beside his bed.
"If you are just going to stand there and gawk at me, I think your time would be better spent doing something else. Don't you think?" Arthur eventually said, causing Allistor to purse his lips in a straight line and stand upright.
Nothing more had to be said for the brothers to understand that they needed to be alone for now.
The rest of Arthur's day was spent unpacking. He came to the conclusion that he shouldn't become over emotional over his belongings. If he did that perhaps moving in would go by faster. He tried to forget the sentimental value some of his items held. His copy of 'Macbeth' that his mother bought him for his sweet sixteen just turned into meaningless pages of text bound in leather. The baby blanket he still slept with that his grandmother knitted before she died became a worthless piece of cloth.
He was so hyper focused on getting his belongings unpacked that he didn't hear Allistor calling him numerous times for dinner. The elder receive the message that Allistor wanted to be left alone. He sensed a pinch of venom in that voice earlier. He simply baked a frozen pizza, taking into account the consideration for those with low-level cooking skills. He hoped that Arthur would smell the food and wander out, having taken note of the lack of fat his brother held. Thirty minutes and twenty shouts later, Allistor assumed the term did not want to eat.
For a moment, Allistor acquainted the lack of appetite with Athur's I naturally skinny body, but he later shook it off as a sign of exhaustion from jet lag.
Allistor ate all to his lonesome as Arthur finished his unpacking—leaving the empty cardboard boxes in an empty corner of the bedroom. By the time he finished however, the apartment was eerily silent... save for the snoring erupting from the bedroom next to his. Sighing, the blonde changed into his pajamas that he left out neatly folded and collapsed into the bed that was pushed up to the left side of the room—being right under a window.
In England, it would be roughly three o'clock in the morning. Unfortunately for Arthur, he was still trapped in England's time zone. He didn't even have time to crawl under the comforter. No, as soon as his head hit the pillow his exhaustion took control and dragged him into slumber.
The extremeness of the exhaustion was apparent, considering the nights he spent awake after his mother's death, the stress of having to move in with Allistor keeping him awake, and his dreams playing the memory of finding his mother's body certainly kept him away from sleeping eight hours every night. However, that night nothing played in Arthur's dreams. There was nothing, like his brain was giving his body a chance to heal.
Arthur could've slept weeks if he was left undisturbed. But, Allistor had to wake him up for school.
It began as a soft tap in the shoulder followed by a whispered, "Get up". That didn't work in the slightest as Arthur just grumbled in his sleep and turned over. Sighing, Allistor preceded to shake his brother awake with a, "Get yer' ass up!" to greet his brother. Arthur shot straight up in bed, appearing startled for a moment before glaring at Allistor.
"Ah, ye've mastered that glare. Ye used to do it all the time when ye were young."
"Why did you wake me?"
"Ye start school today."
The word 'school' rang in Arthur's ears as the teen grunted and flopped back down on the bed. "Can't I start tomorrow? I'm exhausted."
Allistor shook his head. "Are ye sick?"
"No."
"Then that's yer answer." He smirked. "Now get movin', lad. I'm droppin' ye off before I go to work."
Allistor waiter as Arthur rose up from the bed before leaving his brother alone to get ready.
In England, his schoolmates never brought up his clothes in their insults. They all wore the same grey and navy blue school uniform after all. As trivial as it sounded, Arthur had to fret over his schoolmates bringing his clothes into their insults. It was such a stupid thing to work himself over, but Arthur's wardrobe consisted of baggy sweaters, dress pants, old band shirts, a few casual pants, one pair of scuffed up loafers, and one pair of black boots. From all the high school comedies he's seen, the characters wearing clothes like that were either the side character that got bullied or the socially awkward then who embarrassed themselves for laughs.
Arthur contemplated feigning a fainting spell, going as for as to plan where he should land to ensure he wouldn't injure himself terribly. The realization of having to go to school tomorrow hit him and he proceeded to gather clothes and showed up.
He settled for his favorite beige baggy sweater for comfort, some worn dress pants, his loafers, and his black frames that added significant amounts to his nerdy atmosphere. His mind was belittling him for such awful fashion choices, but Arthur was already stressed enough as is to listen to those insults.
Arthur was thankful he packed his backpack the night before because he came out of the bathroom dressed but supposedly late. Allistor was frantically frantically collecting his belongings whilst trying to tie his tie.
"Ye done, lad? Me boss called and asked for me to come in early. Somethin' about papers not being filed."
Arthur gulped. "Yes, I just need to grab my backpack."
"Great, let's get movin'!"
It seemed like a blur, but Arthur remembers rushing into his room and snatching his backpack. Afterward, both of them hustled out the door—Allistor nearly forgetting to lock the door if it wasn't for his neighbor—and running down the stairs.
On the car ride to school, Arthur silently wished that they would get into a car accident.
But when did Arthur ever get what he wants?
Before he knew it, Arthur was standing out front of his new high school. A courtyard of sorts laid before him. Students were lying down on the weed infested grass, students were sitting in the concrete ledges protruding from the ground, and students were walking inside. All of them were either in pairs or in groups. And here Arthur was, standing alone.
Already the odd one out.
The blonde felt his throat clench and his stomach flipping as the first day jitters were reaching its climax. He tugged at the sleeves of his sweater before hugging himself.
His emerald eyes kept jumping from person to person as he thought, 'Why am I so nervous? I must look like a complete and utter fool in front of everyone... splendid job Arthur..."
In an attempt to conceal his awkward actions, Arthur attempted to take a step forward and trudge through the courtyard. 'It's okay. I'm just going to take one step after the other and I will be inside in no time!' His leg lifted up slowly and was set back down on the ground with a snail's pace.
'Who am I kidding? I can't do this! Back in England my schoolmates despised me! It will only be the same here... my clothes are awful, I look awful, I feel awful.. how am I supposed to fit in? Ugh! I forgot to pack a lunch or bring lunch money... I'm such a bloody idiot! Perhaps if I run away to the forest nearby I could come up with a-'
"Yo, dude. You doin' okay? You've been standing there for awhile."