AN: As you might have noticed, I'm slightly placing the story quite on Stephen's side. I'm only using the character to show the family status. And there are some shifts in POV. And the disclaimers... of course. I don't own Schwarz.
Metallseele
Chapter 2: Visions, Voices
Stephen tilted his head and laughed hysterically, his eyes glazed with amusement. He slapped his thigh repeatedly, all the while ignoring his brother's emotions. Who cares? He has his euphoria over baby sitting, so the hell with it!
"Are you joking?" he asked and lurched himself into a laughing fit once again.
"No I was not," protested Brad in a whisper. He kept his amber eyes locked onto his brother curiously.
"And you were!" Stephen bolted up, grabbing Brad's small shoulders rather roughly. "I didn't know you had a sense of humor, my great little brother!" his eyes glinted in hate for a moment, as the grip became tight on Brad's shoulders. The child winced.
"And now I know why mom and dad loved you so much," Stephen hissed in Brad's ear, then releasing him to laugh again in strange happiness, which Brad thought to be so complicated to think of.
"But they loved you too," Brad said innocently in his small voice. Caramel orbs probed gray eyes intently, and Stephen irritatedly shoved the gaze away.
"Well, of course!" Stephen stood up, his frizzy hair landing to his eyes, but he ignored it, like he didn't care. Instead, he proceeded to the foot of the bed looking down, then snatching the bedtime story book, roughly placing it on his lap. He forced a small smile at Brad's direction, leafing through the pages unmindingly.
"So now, I'm going to read you a story..."
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Stephen discreetly placed the book on the desk, watching the little form of his brother on the bed, the blankets covering the small body heaving up and down from his breathing. Brad was neatly tucked in the covers, his small hands crossed over his chest on top of the blanket.
Brushing his brown locks from his face, he sighed contently, and closed the door behind him after turning off the lamp. Baby-sitting has relieved him from stress a bit, and from the angry thoughts of his parents.
And Bradley had entertained him quite a lot.
He chuckled lightly at the thought, then proceeding downstairs to get some milk before going to sleep. The clock told him it was already nine forty-five, fifteen minutes past his sleeping hour. He doesn't care anyway, late or early, it's always the same each night - he'll always hear the yells and screeches outside, produced by his bickering parents. And who the hell knew what they were talking about!
All Stephen knew was that his family is breaking apart.
Dragging himself, his eyes already drooping, he found his way to the kitchen, then leaned on the counter lazily, picking out a tall glass. He opened the refrigerator clumsily, and the glass slipped from his hand, landing on the carpet in broken shards, causing a curse slip from his mouth.
"Stephen! You broke a glass again! Be sure to clean it up!" their father, Alan, yelled from his study. Stephen only stared at the broken glass aimlessly, a picture playing in his head.
A car. Glass. Broken glass. Lots of it falling... falling...
"Stephen!" a loud yell cut through his thoughts, jerking him to reality. He shook his head, a slight pain building on the back of it.
"Yes Dad!" he rubbed the back of his head slightly, remembering the weird pictures. It all seemed like distant images, the color, the shades... Yet it seemed so real.
Was it a premonition?
He chuckled softly, disregarding the thoughts. Probably he's just being very imaginative this night. Plus Stephen's so sleepy, and probably that triggered the weird images. He picked up the broom, sweeping the broken glass quickly, then dumping it in the trash can.
This time, when he reached for a glass, he picked a plastic one. He filled it with milk, then proceeded barefoot to his room when he heard the front door crack open. Stephen froze in his tracks, knowing immediately that it was his mother.
There were inaudible whisperings from the door, and Stephen was confused when an unfamiliar deep voice spoke in the same whisper. The front door finally shut closed, and he tiptoed hurriedly to the top of the stairs, not wanting to be seen awake. The door of his father's study opened loudly, the force setting the mahogany door slamming onto the wall, the sound painful to Stephen's ear.
And before it all happened, Stephen already knew.
He had been always the knowing one. With shaking hands, he welcomed the violent sounds reach his ears, sipping his milk, the taste awfully different.
"And where were you again this night, Courtney? Don't tell me -"
"Business, of course! Don't you understand? And why do you doubt so much? I've spent so much time on work, and you still don't know it?" the high-pitched yell of his mother pierced Stephen's ear. He winced, and took another gulp of milk. A growl emanated from his father's throat.
Stephen could almost hear the race of his heartbeat in his chest and the warmth spreading on his face, most especially on his eyes. He took another gulp of his milk, and realized that the glass was already empty. It was a dreadous thing to go back in the kitchen when mayhem was in the living room.
"Oh, business, you say! How fascinating," his father's controlled and calm voice was entirely destroyed by his uncontrollable rage. "And I see you have a taste of being in a club with your clothes!"
Club? So that's what it's called...
"How dare you! Is it a trivial matter to not go with fashion?"
"What a ridiculous excuse!"
"And is your questioning not ridiculous?" a loud slap was heard, and a low moan from a female voice. Stephen gasped, losing the grip he had on the glass. It fell a couple of steps from his seat, landing pitifully on the carpeted wood.
"I ultimately don't believe you. How can you explain the male voice I've heard earlier?" this time his father's voice was silent, but eerily forbidding.
"You..." a warning from his mother. Then a laugh. "You're jealous..."
"You're drunk, woman," his father said quietly, then silence ruled for a few seconds before his father decided to end the quarrel in his frightening cold voice. "This is a futile exchange of irrelevant remarks. And if you're talking of business, you still have business tomorrow with Brad." a pause. The door of his study creaked open.
"And if you're just wondering, he was waiting for you hours ago, and perhaps disappointed." the door of the study slammed shut, and Stephen heard his mother's almost insane laugh, painful to his ears.
Stephen felt a weight land on his shoulders, and when he looked up, he saw the small figure of his brother, amber eyes gazing at him innocently, then after a moment, an expression of worry crossed his fragile features. And then Stephen realized tears had scattered on his cheeks, and his eyes felt incredibly hot.
Stephen hastily wiped the tears away, hoping it would restore his normal expression. But the look in Bradley's face just made it clear that he hadn't.
"Why are you still up?" he felt the urgency to change the atmosphere, and avert it to something serious.
"I saw something." Stephen stared at his brother. "It woke me up," Brad added, the innocence never disappearing.
"A dream," Stephen muttered, deciding to pass the weirdness his brother is projecting. Amber eyes became warm and innocence still was etched in every line of his face. Stephen shivered at the thought that this child heard it all.
"And I told you, Mom wasn't in the office or the taxi. I told you, I saw it," Bradley blurted out without any hesitation, his basic eloquence he learned from the household very useful to the expression of his thoughts. Yet neither himself, who had grown up from his parents' professional way of giving them their intelligence, hadn't understood a bit of what Brad wanted to tell.
"How long have you been awake?"
"Just now," Bradley said simply.
"Then go up to your room. You have to sleep for tomorrow," Stephen said mandatorily, picking the glass before he walked to his room. He also had strength to build for tomorrow too. Brad should keep the crying business silent or Stephen's mischief would be revealed for sure.
Glancing back, he saw nothing of a trace of Brad. A faint click assured him that his little brother was back in his room, starting to sleep.
And for now...
Stephen closed the door, hoping the sounds outside would drown him to sleep, and drown him towards an unlasting oblivion.
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"Bradley... wake up now... This is your special day," a soft voice mingled with the warmth the blankets put to the small fragile figure on the bed. The small boy opened his big amber eyes, fixedly looking at the serene figure in front of him.
"Mom," Brad whispered, gazing at his mother's almost transparent gray eyes. Her long raven locks fell onto his face, tingling his cheeks slightly. The sweet smell of her shampoo wafted to Brad's senses, and it joyed him enough to have his company of his mother once again.
"You have to get ready fast as possible. The prospect of you going to school awfully excites me, Brad..." she gave him a sweet smile, then running her long, graceful fingers in her son's raven hair. "Are you excited?"
"I'm more interested than excited," Brad stated silently, a small curve of a smile lighting his eyes. It disappeared after a moment, the usual simple, innocent face returning.
"Of course. So, you've got to ready. I'm just in the kitchen." She gave him an affectionate graze on the cheeks before making her way out of the room, to the first floor. Brad stretched languidly before stepping into the bathroom to get bathed.
It was seven o'clock in the morning, an hour early from the departure. The three family members were gathered in the kitchen, each of them in their usual seats in the dining room. Stephen was eating his cereal quietly, his gaze on the bowl. Alan, their father, was on his seat, a cup of capuccino steaming in front of him, a newspaper spread close to him, blocking his sight. And Courtney, their mother was preparing the children's snack for school.
It was only silence that ruled in the room; silence in the sense that nobody was using their tongues to express themselves. And Stephen found it very uncomfortable. His mother's appearance told him that she have forgotten all about the night, and his father's look, was, well... the same impassive, business-like expression.
Stephen felt so cold.
Bradley went down to the kitchen just as Stephen finished his cereal. The small child was dressed in a black jumper and blue tee, further making his skin look pale. His raven hair was neatly spread on his forehead, the large amber eyes still innocent.
Already corrupt, Stephen thought.
"Oh Bradley! How cute you look!" she lead the child on his seat between Alan and Stephen. Then, his mother placed the cereal in front of him, including the spoon, and Brad received it with an appreciative nod.
Stephen felt a cold stab of something in his chest, filled with jealousy and annoyance. When he was four, his parents barely took a role on giving him breakfast and stuffs... They just talk, talk, and talk, only sometimes that they lend their time to him to teach him the basic things a child should learn.
Business. What pure shit, Stephen thought bitterly.
He watched his brother silently on the corner of his eyes as he unchild-likely ate his cereal. He seemed more like a six year old having the innocence of a four-year old...
The little hands stopped its process of spooning the food, and amber eyes locked on gray eyes firmly. Quietly, Brad said: "I think you'll be late, it's already seven fifteen," he smiled genuinely, and waved his small right hand. "Bye-bye," Brad said sweetly.
"Oh!" Stephen muttered, looking at the clock. It was indeed seven fifteen, and he'll be late if he won't get going. He stood up, waved at his small brother, and bid his parents goodbye, who monotonously returned it.
Alan put down the paper, and looked at their raven-haired child. Amber eyes instantly focused on his father. Alan smiled lovingly, contrasting his business-like look: brushed back hair, and black suit. The child returned the smile, then resumed eating.
"Brad, you should give your best in school, okay?" his father said softly. Brad heard his mother snort behind the counter, and Alan missed it.
"I will," Brad replied simply, after finishing his cereal.
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Bradley did, in fact, better than his classmates that the teacher suggested that he go to the higher grade after some months of studying ABCs, and all those basic things. The teacher was highly amused when she related how Brad seemed so mature over his classmates, and he's always the one leading the group because of his intelligence. The teacher added too, that Bradley's way of speaking was far different from the utterings of the other children, and so the child deserved an atmosphere right for him.
Courtney absorbed all the praises for his child blissfully, and the night of that day, she got home very early and took the family out for dinner. It was an unusual thing to happen, for Alan still have paperwork, and the children wasn't accustomed to such a thing.
However, they were already in the restaurant, the dishes served fairly quickly, which made Alan Crawford relieved for there was a large pile of paper which needed work on his study.
Stephen was practically feeling neutral, and so do Brad. Brad thought that there weren't any reason to become happy in this kind of thing. He just have to pass the test, and move up to the higher level. Still, it wasn't worth celebrating, the faculty just added a burden to him.
But seeing their mother smile was a different thing.
So the two children just rode on the aura of her happiness.
Champagne was served to the four, and Courtney raised her glass, smiling radiantly at her raven-haired son. "To Brad, whose excellence is showing in a very fast pace," she toasted with the others, and though it was hard for Alan to give in her euphoria, he did, just for their son.
Brad's innocent amber eyes glinted as he drank his glass, and then something in his mind made him stare off in space, the glass still tilted on his mouth. The amber eyes became blank.
Stephen stared at his brother. The parents were oblivious of the child's situation, busy with the payments and heated debate on what credit card would be used.
Bradley placed the glass on the table, and looked at his parents calmly.
"Mom, Dad?" he said quietly.
"Yes?" Alan and Courtney said instantaneously.
"I suggest we go home, before we are bereft of our belongings," Brad said, nothing of an urgency tinting his quiet voice. Innocence glowed from the amber orbs as the parents gaped at their child.
The mother chuckled slightly. "You're tired now, aren't you? Yes, we'll go home," and the couple paid for the bill, then proceeding to the parking lot where their black Jaguar was parked, zooming to their house.
And later that night, when the couple again was in a quarrel, Stephen was again at the top of the stairs, and Brad tucked comfortably in his blankets, the security alarm went off, signifying burglars.
And Bradley was again beside Stephen, as their father called for the cops, and their mother shocked in the living room, jaw hanging slightly, and there was no doubt that it was Brad that she was thinking.
And later that night, Stephen slept in Brad's room, in their father's command, and Courtney lay awake, setting the security alarm, checking everything in the house in frantic worry.
Brad, on the other hand, was dreaming of a steel, sleek gun in the background of pure white, and then fading into a dull brown that was the hue of his father's eyes.
TBC.