This story has no explicit content but has implied themes which I will not state but please be aware they might be triggering. I haven't got a beta so all mistakes are my own.
He knew what was going on but didn't know how to ask the question or even state the fact, all he knew was that it had to stop. He knew the impact it was having on his brother and that when planted on earth he spent every morning and late night in a state of dread, not again. Virgil Tracy had spent countless nights and mornings when he wasn't on a rescue, sat outside his younger brother's door reading or sketching but more importantly guarding.
Tonight he'd invited himself into John's room while John showered with a sketchbook tucked under one arm, he intended to sketch a landscape tonight, a distant island perhaps, much akin to their own yet distant and safe.
In the bathroom John showered aware of his brothers presence and hopeful he would leave, John was also aware of Virgil's suspicions but never acknowledged them and had never verbalised the subject with anyone else. It was a comfort Virgil knew, John mused washing suds from his thighs feeling the constant pull of gravity securing him to the floor, it was exhausting.
Padding through to the cool bedroom John's heart sank, Virgil was still sat content sketching with purpose never lifting his eyes from the canvas paper.
"Don't you need to get some sleep? That rescue was intense."
Virgil grunted, in truth he needed to sleep, desperately so but he was needed here. Their roles as search and rescue didn't only apply to helping those off island, sometimes the war was closer to home.
"I'm fine, drawing helps me relax, have you acclimatised?"
"No I never do honestly, being back on earth is like wearing lead boots most of the time."
Virgil noted the disdain in John's voice and could hear him drying off, the familiar shuffle of the bath towel and scent of John's soap; Due to his time in space John's skin was incredible sensitive and he used a gently scented soap, compared to his brother's heavily scented masculine soap it was water.
Virgil stole a glance at his brother who was busily rummaging through his sock drawer clad in only a pair of boxer shorts he looked smaller than usual, aboard Thunderbird 5 John spent a few spare hours maintaining his muscle mass by running through and strength training in the gravity ring but clearly this hadn't been a focus this month. John's shoulders were still defined but not as large and his arms were clearly smaller Virgil felt a pang of guilt and pain but swallowed it down like he always did and focused again on his sketching.
Outside Virgil heard the familiar creaking of floorboards, someone was stood outside the door but with it being closed tight he couldn't see for sure and didn't want to disturb John, who seemed oblivious to the sound. Clearing his throat Virgil started another conversation, talking about mundane tasks he had to complete on his vehicle and asking gentle questions about John's schedule all the while listening for the floorboards. Once the sound had abated he fell silent and watched John comb through his hair which behaved differently on Earth under the effects of gravity.
"Have you hurt yourself?"
The question shot through John's heart like a bullet, he knew exactly what Virgil was alluding to but didn't have the courage to acknowledge it. John instead kept his gaze focused on his reflection and dragged the comb through his hair.
"I don't know what you mean, I'm fine."
"Well that big angry bruise on your leg tells me otherwise. What was it, something on the way down or an accident in the hanger?" Virgil gave him plenty of opportunity, clasping the sketchbook close, legs folded on John's bed he continued.
"You know you can trust me."
"Oh that... It was just a bump I'm fine. Really."
Unconvinced Virgil Studied John carefully, watching him pull his pyjama bottoms on, slipping into a comfortable shirt he sank down next to his older brother nudging the sketchbook out of Virgil's hands.
"It's just a rough sketch nothing special."
"It's good, what else have you been working on?"
John flipped carefully through the book ensuring his fingers didn't smudge the pencil or charcoal, the book was comprised of mostly landscapes and studies of particular animals but a few pages caught his eye.
"Uh... I just wanted to practise my human studies..."
Virgil went to snatch the sketchbook but John was quick. "You studied me?"
"Well yeah... I hope you don't mind; I don't see you often so your features are always fresh..."
John leafed through the studies, there were a couple of unfinished full body sketches of him sat by the poolside with his legs dangling over the side. Another of him laid on the communal sofa, cold cloth over his forehead as he fought off a migraine. The final one was of him sleeping bunched up in his sheets at complete peace. Virgil's hand was beautiful and captured what he was trying to interpretate perfectly, in any other context he would have made a very successful illustrator. Then the studies changed to Thunderbird 2 and various mechanical pieces clearly John's leave had ended and he had returned to his station John remembered that migraine particularly clearly.
"Do I always look that sad?" John leafed back to the sketch of him by the pool.
"You don't look sad, I thought you were reflecting on something?"
"I don't know. Probably how heavy gravity feels."
Virgil rested back against the headboard feeling his heavy eyes close, letting John look through the rest of his book undisturbed, there wasn't much more to it anyway he'd only acquired that book during their most recent shopping trip with Grandma. He'd drawn a few scenes including his brothers and their island but not in as much detail as John, for some reason he felt drawn to immortalising his brother as much as possible with him always being so far away. The pull had always been there but was more intense these days especially when John had freshly left the Island and considering his suspicions.