I think it all started when we were younger. When we just started to learn the true colors of the world. That's when he started to change too. Perhaps it's all my fault.
Arthur pounded the door as hard as possible. "Oi! Ally are you home?! I know you're there somewhere watching football or something!"
"Artie, maybe you should leave Allistor alone. If he's not answering the door then he must be doing something very important."
Arthur snorted. "Yeah? Like what?"
"Paperwork? Your brother works in the office, right? Then he must have a lot of paperwork to do at home. Mattie said that people who work in those jobs usually don't have a lot of freetime."
"Have you met my brother? I know he's playing around." With that, Arthur went back to knocking on the door. "Allistor come out already. You're making a scene. "
The door opened. "It's too early for all this ruckus, Arthur. How many times do I have to tell you."
Allistor Kirkland was the eldest brother of the Kirkland family. Since their mother and father were always out of the country for work (Alfred still didn't understand what they did for a living) their seventeen-year-old son, Allistor Kirkland—a part time office worker—took care of the family. Allistor had red hair with black streaks apparently left over from some sort of phase, and the same, iconic Kirkland green eyes that Arthur had.
"It's four in the afternoon, you idiot." Arthur retorted.
"Same thing. I just put Patrick to bed so it's morning." Allistor looked down at the two beaten boys and sighed. "Again? Well come on in. Make sure you call your mom, Alfred."
The two boys went inside the house. After having five kids, the Kirklands realized that having a white couch or a white anything was a death wish. Therefore, most of the furniture in the house contained dark colors that made the house look rather gloomy. Alfred didn't mind, however. He was used to it.
"Go use the phone. I'll get the bandages." Arthur said on his way upstairs.
Alfred dialed his number into the phone. His dad was at work right now, so he wondered if his mom would be upset at him for ruining another shirt.
"Hello?"
"Mattie? Is mom home?" Alfred asked his older brother.
"No, is something wrong? Did something happened?"
"No." He couldn't tell his fifth grade brother what happened. He might think that Alfred was a coward. That was totally not true. But he didn't want his brother to miss hockey practice just for him. He had a big game Friday after all. "Can you tell her I'm at Arthur's house? We're doing homework together. "
"Sure, just make sure you come back by dinner time."
"I will. Love you big brother. Bye!" Alfred hung up before his brother could reply and limped over to the couch. Baby Patrick, who had just turned two, crawled over to Alfred to demand care. Alfred just smiled, picking up the young Kirkland.
"Hello Patty." He cooed. "Did we wake you up?" Alfred winced as Patrick curiously poked one of his bruises.
"I don't understand why Patty loves you so much." Arthur said, all bandaged up and laying on the couch. He was holding an ice pack to his head. "You know babies in general love you, though."
"Well you know me Artie. I'm a babe magnet."
Arthur tried to hold back a snort. Allistor came into the living room at this time, holding what was left of the first aid kit. "Enough with the horrible puns Alfred. Why don't you hand Patty to Arthur and sit on the couch so I can patch you up."
When Arthur was younger he used to be convinced that his older brother would become a doctor or a nurse. He always did well when it come to taking care of Alfred and the others whenever they were sick or hurt. Allistor, however, was not good with anyone his age or older. Perhaps a caretaker at some local preschool would be a much better job for his brother.
"Ouch!" Alfred cried out.
"Hold still Alfred or else you're going to make it worse. Arthur, can you get some of Dylan's comics?" Arthur nodded. Alfred got his obsession with superheroes and comic books from the third oldest Kirkland—Dylan. He was in fifth grade—the same class as Alfred's older brother. The two had a strange bond just like the one Alfred and Arthur had.
Arthur walked upstairs to Dylan's room and grabbed the first comic he saw. He didn't understand why the bullies always liked to tease Alfred. Alfred was pretty strong and tall for his age, but the young boy was kind hearted and caring—a trait he got from his brother. He refused to fight most of the time. He was smart as well which should have been a perfect combination to take on the bullies. He wished his friend would be a bit more inclined to fight rather than flight. Perhaps his friend just needed a big push...
I think it is...It's definitely it.