Metallseele

Chapter 1: Bradley Crawford

"Dad?"

Slender fingers played on a small child's raven hair, twirling, curling, then releasing to let the hair return to its original straight state. Honey brown eyes lighted up in amusement and lovingness behind the spectacles as he continued to engage himself with the smooth black locks of the child.

"Dad?" the child uttered in a soft voice once again.

Upon hearing the child's call, he tilted his head to meet the large, innocuous amber eyes eagerly gazing at him, curiosity printed all over his features. He let a smile capture his face, and extended an arm to encircle it on the child's tiny shoulders. Ash blond hair fell over his left spectacled eye, framing his faultless face perfectly.

"Yes, Brad?"

"Um, where's Mom? I thought she's going to read me bedtime stories. She promised," the child called Brad said in a tiny voice, pouting cutely. The book entitled '100 best kiddie stories' lay on the foot of the bed, still untouched. His father's beaming face vanished for an instant, then replaced with an uncertain expression, though his brown eyes turned cold behind the glasses, and was instantly shut before the child get the whole meaning of his expression.

A silent fear gripped the back of the father's mind.

Sometimes, Brad gives out comments which seemed highly intellectual for his age. He was only four years old, but he already can read perfectly, a weird thing for the couple didn't even had the time to teach their son, an awful disappointment they carried long ago. But since the child held the books in his small, fragile hands, it seemed as if his brain absorbs the text and learned by himself. It still remained a mystery to the couple, but they were happy enough to be curious even now.

But it seemed so supernatural... too weird to find out in the normal way.

So it was dangerous to give out a facade and revert to an expression alien to his memory, but soon will be found out. Brad wasn't an inquisitive boy, but the way he questions or state the source of his curiosity was hard to contemplate and answer. Yet even if they haven't given out an answer, eventually Brad would discover by himself.

And so, with the tremendous tension in the father's side, he nodded kindly, the smile reaching to his warm brown eyes. "Your mom, apparently, is busy with office. Her company needed her the most now."

"But she promised she'll be home before eight. And look, Dad, it's already nine," Brad pointed at the small blue clock on his bedside table, which ticked in their Mickey Mouse hand pointers.

"She is busy, Bradley, and probably traffic is so tight in the way that she's locked in it in her taxi..." the father trailed off as he met the amber eyes of his son, seeming to digest every single word he uttered. The look in Brad's face never cease, which was dominated by curiosity and innocence.

"Dad, why didn't she call you? She must be sorry all these time from not making here on time... Dad?"

His father has risen from the bed, his lips still curved in a loving smile. He briefly adjusted his rectangular spectacles, allowing locks of ash blond fall over his forehead.

"I'm sure she'll come back soon. You must understand her work, Brad. She's really busy." He turned his back on Brad, and then faced the child once again. "Do you want me to send your brother here? Maybe he can read you stories now."

The expression never changed in the child's face, but a silent hesitation briefly flashed in those caramel orbs. "Okay," Brad whispered, tucking himself in the thick blankets. The man gave him a last smile and exited the room with a slight gladness.

However, he have to deal with his other son now... He sighed exhaustedly, and knocked on the door quietly. Rock music on low volume was heard in the room, and the father knocked once again, this time louder.

"Stephen?" another knock.

"It's open, Dad," came the muffled answer. Quietly, the father opened the mahogany door, seeing Stephen sprawled on the bed, looking at the covers of his records while listening from his stereo beside the bed. Gray eyes bore on spectacled honey browns for a silent moment, then fading away in annoyance in the son's part.

The father quietly closed the door and set himself beside the rosewood cabinet.

"What's it again? Brad?"

The light glared on the father's glasses, shading his eyes. "Stephen," a warning. Stephen sighed and plopped sitting on the bed. Frizzy brown hair from the lack of combing fell on the side of his semi-tanned face, accentuating his gray eyes and well-curved eyebrow. He was nine years old, yet his height is superior over his age. Eyebrows knitted before replying bitterly:

"Okay, okay! But get to the point; I have to baby-sit Bradley again?"

"Just for tonight. Your mom is out late, and I'm up to business -"

"You always were," Stephen muttered almost inaudibly, with obvious disdain tinting his voice. His father turned at him sharply, but ignored the obnoxious remark.

"So I'll leave you to Bradley now. And if he asks you about Courtney, say that she's really busy with the company, okay?" a half-fake smile spread on his face, and the glasses glaring the light, hiding his brown orbs. "Goodnight," and he closed the door.

Stephen sighed in frustration, throwing the record jackets across the bed, and ruffled his hair in annoyance, further making his hair messed up. He hastily picked up two of his Kiss action figures, slamming it onto his lap.

"Oh, Courtney, where were you again this night?" he mimicked in a whiny voice, moving one of the action figure with his tone.

"Business! What are you expecting, Alan?" Stephen said a high-pitched whine, letting the other figure jump up and down on his lap. And gritting his teeth, he gripped the figures tightly, and clashed it onto each other, making yells and screeches.

"Well, fuck that!" Stephen threw the figures to the stereo, and the hand of one of the figure got stuck into one of the speakers. The child rolled his eyes, pulling off the action figure, then turning the stereo off before standing and calming himself.

"Bradley, Bradley, Bradley. How many times would I live off like this?" he muttered to himself, and pulled his robe onto him, going to his brother's room, calmer this time.

He didn't bother to knock on his brother's room, he knew Brad would be anticipating for him. Stepping into the room, Stephen was instantly greeted by Brad's sickly warm amber eyes, followed by the slight pout of the four-year old child.

"Stephen..." Brad almost whispered. Stephen nodded without a word, his face kept impassive. The clock ticked to a quarter after nine, the silence bringing out the ticking.

"Stephen, Mom isn't in the office or the taxi, is she?"

Stephen stared at his younger brother rather shocked, mouth parted a little. Has he been listening all these time, tainting his innocence? But oh, he's only the one. Stephen's the only one on the top of the stairs every night their mother comes home. It's his official space... he'd never seen Brad lounging beside him...

But what?

"What are you talking about?" Stephen made his way into the room, composing himself, and then sat beside Bradley, staring at the amber eyes fixedly. He concluded this might be another joke his little brother is attempting to make.

"Please don't lie to me. She's not in the taxi, isn't she? She's in some kind of place with many people and many glasses, isn't she?" innocence prevailed in the caramel orbs. Stephen gaped a while then chuckled.

"And how did you know, Bradley?"

A slight pause, and silence ensued when Bradley tilted his face to look at his brother in a better view, his amber eyes giving off nothing but innocence. Quietly, and simply, he said

"I saw it."

TBC