TW - loss, family loss, negative eating habits

If one had knocked on the door to the Kirkland house on Friday night, they would either have been pleasantly surprised or shocked and appalled.

Some nights there would be jolly talk, nothing seemingly abnormal except for the heavy amounts of cursing that the brothers were accustomed to using casually. They'd speak of schoolwork, of what they were getting family members for their birthdays or the holidays, or of Alasdair's embarrassing antics as a sophomore in high-school. These were the rarest nights, and they cherished them.

Other nights it'd be quiet, the only noise the shuffle of papers being flipped as the youngest boys did their homework and the oldest did projects for their job. It was a peaceful quiet, sometimes Arthur would make tea for them all, or even muffins, but it was quiet. They tended to like these nights.

And on most nights, there would be fighting. Yelling at the top of their lungs, things from newspapers to chairs being thrown over Peter's head, the twins ganging up against each other and tumbling onto the floor, so angry that they wouldn't even look at each other the day after. The two who least enjoyed these days were Owain and Arthur- Owain was a rather peaceful soul, and Arthur always ended up with at least several bruises from Alasdair.

But on this night, a week after the hype of the end of the school year died down, there was nothing but complete silence. The creeping feeling of emptiness had started when Owain had made dinner for the other four, which had been a simple and bland meal. He had taken cooking classes in high-school, but even his hair seemed lackluster on this day. An uncomfortable, hollow silence except for the clink of forks on plates accompanied them to the dinner table, and they didn't even look at each other as the watched the food on their plates slowly disappear. Then one by one they finished, cleaning their plates off and sitting in the living room.

Arthur sat on Alasdair's big comfy armchair, one arm wrapped around Peter, who was falling asleep on Arthur's chest. His eyes were closed and his large, bushy eyebrows were knit together, but he wasn't asleep. He was thinking.

Liam and Seamus sat on one side of the couch, laying on top of each other haphazardly. They were looking out the window lifelessly, almost hugging each other. Both seemed absolutely lost.

Owain had done the dishes, eventually walking back into the living room to see the others. He sighed, squeezing next to Arthur and holding him like Alasdair always did, playing with his hair- though whether the comfort was intended for Arthur or himself, neither of the young boys wanted to know.

Peter stirred and shifted his position so that he was laying on top of his older brothers, his head on Arthur's lap. He seemed to look at the two, deciding what to do before his hands reached up to Arthur and he brushed the beginnings of what had to be tears away, shaking his head slightly.

Owain looked at the two sadly and sighed, breaking the silence, which had become a bubble around them. It had been an hour since he'd sat down, and he hadn't realized the time had gone by so fast.

"...hey, Liam, Seamus… you should get to bed." Owain said in a gentle voice, looking over to the two with a sigh. "...I have to go to work tomorrow, you two will be in charge of Arthur and Peter…"

Arthur looked up slightly when he said his name, glancing at the twins before looking down again. He'd have to eat. He'd refused to eat ever since Alasdair had left, and his strategy had worked surprisingly well until his twin older brothers had found out. Now, when Owain was out of the house, the two would make sure he ate. And they'd obviously studied up, because they knew every trick of the trade at this point.

Seamus and Liam nodded solemnly and stood up in sync, Liam propped up and Seamus's shoulder. They looked tired and weary, and still had that lost look about them. They went upstairs to the bedroom they shared with Owain. Alasdair had shared it with him, but over the summer months the twins moved in after Arthur and Peter had both rejected the offer to come stay in the room. So now Owain was sleeping in the room with the twins, while Arthur and Peter slept on the couch. The twins used to sleep in the basement, but now that Alasdair was gone and the basement was flooded because of a storm, they'd crammed their belongings in with Arthur and Peter's.

"Come on Arthur, Peter, you too."

Arthur looked up at his brother and nodded slightly, picking up Peter with a grunt and managing to get him up off the ground, carrying him to the couch where he curled up. Arthur wrapped a blanket around his small frame, trying to ignore the fact that Peter was still shivering. Another blanket and it had died down, and Arthur deemed it satisfactory. He brushed Peter's hair away from his face and frowned, not noticing Owain come up behind him.

"...Arthur, come on, it's time to go to bed."

He looked behind him and didn't speak, his head spinning. This was the most Owain had spoken the whole week- the most any of them had spoken the whole week. It was like they'd all been subdued at the absence of their brother, the silence of his study. Alasdair's booming voice had always been a source of comfort, a reminder that through thick and thin, something was still constant, still the same as it had always been. And that was Alasdair's voice.

Arthur thought all of these things in a matter of seconds, standing up and stretching, not wanting to meet his brother's eye.

Owain sighed and led him to the small bed in the corner that Alasdair had found for him not too long ago, for Arthur's birthday- he'd jokingly complained a month before that the sofa had given him more kinks in his back than the desks at school, and he'd apparently gotten through Alasdair's gruff demeanor. He sat Arthur down on the bed and plopped down next to him, watching his younger brother's every move. "...you know we have to move on eventually." he said quietly, concern clearly shown in his eyes. "We have to let him go, Arthur."

Arthur croaked, fresh tears already shining in his eyes. "...I know. I did it with mum, with father, I even did it with Francis." his best friend had died of suicide just three months prior, and Arthur still called his cell phone, knowing it was probably lying in that ditch in Armenia that they'd found him in. "I… it's Alasdair."

Those simple words were understood by his older brother- Alasdair had been looked up to by all of the brothers, and he'd taken care of them through everything.

"...I know." Owain said softly, gripping his shoulders and watching his every move. "...but we have to. Why don't you think about it while you sleep?"

When Arthur nodded in affirmation, Owain smiled weakly, trying to be comforting. It ended in sort of a grimace, but the sentiment seemed to be understood by the younger of the two. The man stood up, ruffling Arthur's hair teasingly and chuckling. "Get on to bed then, Arthur." he said quietly before he retreated into sleep.

Arthur nodded and pulled his thin blankets over his head, suppressing a yawn. He laid his head down on the pillow, watching through the window the gentle tap of the rain. He imagined one of the drops as his brother, free and able to go practically anywhere. He smiled sadly, closing his eyes.

"Goodbye, Alasdair…"

Alright, it was a little iffy towards the end because I was rushed, sorry. Reviews are VERY MUCH appreciated, please! I'm working on the first chapter of Ceaseless, and I'm almost done, so look out for that!

Panin -