A/N: Here is the long-awaited chapter 7. Thank you to FoxLover96, Egyptprncssxox, SnowyOwl765, and theabridgedkuriboh for all the reviews on chapter 6. Also, an additional thanks to theabridgedkuriboh for the additional review on chapter 5. I hope everyone enjoys this brand new chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal or any of the characters, Shin Yoshida does.
...
Chris glanced outside the window of his room. Storm clouds were moving in. There was no doubt in the eldest Arclight brother's mind that Michael would end up sleeping in his arms tonight. He didn't mind though.
Though Dr. Faker had allowed Michael to have his own room, the six-year-old pinknette had insisted on sleeping in Chris's room. Chris knew that his youngest brother was still upset about Thomas. He was too.
So as the thunder rumbled softly and the rain pelted against the window, Chris tucked Michael into bed.
Autumn was fading into winter and it was becoming colder. Michael had always been a little more susceptible to illness than either of his brothers, so Chris wasn't taking any chances. After all, he had no idea what was happening to Thomas right now and that made him regret his decision even more. But the least he could make sure that at least one of his brothers was being well looked after.
"I miss Thomas so much," Michael whispered softly.
"I know," Chris said, kissing Michael's forehead gently. "I do too, little brother. Hopefully, it won't be long until we can all be a real family once again."
...
As night fell over Heartland Tower, so did a storm. Michael cuddled close to Chris, who in turn wrapped his arms around the child gently along with another blanket. Michael whimpered and shut his eyes tightly when he heard a roll of thunder. Chris on the other hand, merely smoothed the six-year-old's pink curls, murmuring soft assurances that the thunder was outside and how nothing could harm Michael while he was there.
Before long, little Michael was sleeping peacefully. And with the pinknette asleep, Chris could now rest too, knowing that at least one of his two dear little brothers was safe and resting.
The thought alone struck a chord in his heart. Thomas was perhaps lying in his bed in the orphanage, curled up in terror as the thunder roared above him.
Chris himself was never bothered by storms, but both of his younger brothers seemed to have a particular dislike for them. Michael hated storms as a whole but Thomas had always hated thunder. And now, he was most likely having to deal with that fear all alone. There was no one there to talk to him, to comfort him.
The silver-haired Arclight had seen the signs that his younger brother was receiving less than adequate treatment at that orphanage. From the way the caretaker looked at him like an insect that needed to be squashed as quickly as possible, to Thomas's nervous demeanor whenever she was around. And of course there was the obvious lack of physical care for his little brother; his rapidly decreasing weight, the bags under his eyes, not to mention the bruises and scratches.
Michael stirred, murmuring softly.
Instinctively, Chris's fingers closed gently around Michael's, holding his hand as he slept.
The child smiled slightly and settled back into his relaxing slumber.
...
Only a few months had passed and Thomas had started to mentally regress. Chris had only visited him once and that had been month ago.
The middle Arclight brother lay on his bed, curled up in his blankets and staring tiredly at the ceiling, feeling sickly.
He groaned quietly as his stomach growled. He could only eat whenever Ms. Withers allowed him to and that hadn't been since yesterday afternoon.
The night before, little Thomas had felt tired and decided to rest before dinner. But he then woke to find that everyone had already eaten.
"Well, you should have come when everyone else did," Ms. Withers had sniffed. "Maybe next time you'll wait until after dinner to take a nap. And anyway you're eight years old, much too old to be taking naps. Or are you a baby?"
"I-"
"Are you a baby?" the so-called caretaker teased, smirking at Thomas. "Are you a little baby?"
Thoma said nothing, he merely sighed hopelessly, knowing that it was no use to try to argue with her.
Now, the red-and-yellow-haired child felt a severe need to get up but he felt too weak to get up. So, he decided to just lay there and pulled his blankets closer.
He could hear the roar of thunder outside. This only made his situation worse; the middle son of Byron Arclight hated thunderstorms. He and his brother Michael had hated storms ever since their mother passed.
Thomas didn't dare cry out when the thunder shook the ground or when the lightning flashed. The caretaker would only hit him for it.
Only a moment later, he realized the sheets on his bed felt moist...no...he couldn't have...
The eight-year-old looked under the blankets and realized what had happened...
He whimpered quietly and trembled, knowing that when Ms. Withers found out, she would be angry beyond belief.
Suddenly, the door to his room creaked open and in walked Ms. Withers, scowling.
"Y...Yes?" Thomas gulped, his eyes darting to the mattress nervously.
The caretaker glared at him.
"Get up," she snapped.
He whimpered softly, but did as he was told.
Ms. Withers stared down at the mattress and wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"Did you do this?" she asked.
Thomas could feel himself shaking and his mouth had gone as dry as cotton.
"I..." he finally managed to find his voice.
"Don't you DARE lie to me," the woman growled.
"I...I'm sorry..." Thomas whispered softly. "I didn't meant to-"
Ms. Withers's hand swung out and hit him in the face. She then proceeded to grab his shoulders.
Thomas fought the urge to cry out as her claw-like nails dug into his small, now bony shoulders.
"We work very hard to keep this place running smoothly and we don't need little brats like you making that harder," she snarled.
"Especially spoiled, entitled little brats who got to the point where their own father abandoned them."
This cut Thomas like a knife. His father had not abandoned him...he had disappeared yes, but...he would never leave his children. Never.
Unable to contain his sorrow, the middle Arclight began to cry.
"Stop that this instant or I'll hit you again!" Ms. Withers warned. "Thomas, I mean it!"
Thomas gave a whimper of annoyance and put his hands to his eyes, sniffling, trying to stop crying.
Ms. Withers glared before grabbing Thomas's arm, yanking him a foot off the ground, and smacking him in the face. She then proceeded to shove him against the wall before storming from the room.
"Clean up this mess!" She barked over her shoulder.
...
"I win again."
Chris smiled slightly as Kite Tenjo huffed and folded his arms over his chest.
"Chris is the best duelist ever," Michael said proudly as he crawled into Chris's lap.
"Right behind Kite," uttered Hart Tenjo, Kite's younger brother from his bed.
Kite stood up from the table where he and Chris had sat and had their duel, which happened to be right next to Hart's bed, sat down beside Hart, and petted the child's soft, light blue hair.
"Thanks, kid," he said with a smile, something only little Hart could get out of him. "But right now, Chris definitely has me beat."
"It's just because I started sooner," Chris said kindly.
"And he's done it longer," Michael added.
Kite smiled at the small pinknette. While he was in better health than Hart, the youngest Arclight brother was very much like Hart in size and demeanor. The two were even the same age. The elder Tenjo brother was grateful that there was someone Hart's age for him to interact with, it might even help him gain the strength to fight his mysterious illness. And after all, it always did a child good to have friends, and Michael Arclight was kind, caring, polite, thoughtful, and gentle, Kite couldn't have found a better child to spend time with his precious little brother.
Meanwhile, he also felt he had found a kindred spirit in Chris. Both had had to grow up rather quickly due to circumstances with their fathers, the reasons being entirely different but the results were the same, both were intelligent and preferred to keep to themselves unless of course their siblings were involved. That of course, was another thing they had in common; both had little brothers that they loved dearly. Kite had Hart, and Chris had Thomas and Michael.
Kite knew to never mention Thomas around Michael. Chris had told him that Dr. Faker had forced him to choose between his brothers. One would stay and one would be sent to the orphanage across the city. And in a spur of the moment choice, Chris had sent Thomas away and Michael came with him to the tower.
The blond-and-green-haired teen didn't hold it against Chris though, if there was anyone he was angry with for the matter it was his father. How could he do that? There was more than enough room for all five boys in the tower.
"Kite?" he heard Chris calling him. "Kite. Earth calling Kite."
"Oh...sorry," Kite apologized.
"I think that's enough for today," the older teen said, gathering up his deck. "We'll pick this up again tomorrow, around the same time."
"Sounds good," Kite replied with a nod.
"You're certainly improving," Chris added with a hint of a smile as Michael grabbed his hand. "You actually managed to take half of my Life Points this time."
Kite grinned. Chris was a firm but fair teacher, always pushing him to try his absolute hardest.
"Alright," the thirteen-year-old duelist-in-training said as his friend left the room.
"Kite..." Hart sounded tired.
"What is it?" his brother asked, his smile now replaced with a look of worry.
Hart said nothing, but his amber-colored eyes slowly closed.
Kite decided not to push for answers and let his brother rest.
...
As Chris lay in his bed, Michael snuggled up beside him, he decided to pay another visit to the orphanage. For his brother's sake, he hoped things would go differently.
...
...
So, how was it? Let me know.
Next chapter: Chris visits Thomas in the orphanage again. But this time things will be different.
Next chapter date: Saturday, August 15th.
