Alright now, let the fun part begin! :D

That's a pretty twisted title, isn't it?

See you at the ending notes.

ACT 3 – AFTER LAUGHTER

Chapter 22 – The Storm Behind the Calm

Mexican food never tasted worse.

Claire kept dipping nachos in the chili sauce but only a few of them got to crack under her teeth. Her plate was rife with every kind of goodness Mexico's ancient culinary tradition had produced, yet nothing of that colourful, spicy, odorous food tickled her appetite. Not that it was any less delicious than usual, but all the bitterness lingering in her heart was somehow affecting her taste. The more she stared at it, the more she grew nauseated.

Her mind kept replaying the closet scene of a few hours before like a broken record.

The grievous movie just restarted over and over again. And any time it ended the same: with Chris leaving without hardly looking at her. Sometimes though, that obsessive repetition was interrupted but the interfering remembrance of "the sequel".

A few hours before, after an indefinable moment of uncurbed disheartenment, spent sobbing at the mirror's foot with her knees tucked in her chest, Claire had seemed to calm down at last. Had she run out of tears or was she really recovering from the blow? It's hard to tell.

Mother naked in that dusky lair, surrounded by all her clothes and fashionable accessories, she eventually laid down, in apparent quietude as to listen to the plashing of the ongoing tempest. She aimlessly kept her ear out for something, a sign, an anomaly in the monotonous clinking and hammering of rain on windows and roof. Claire almost hoped to hear the roar of a thunder or whatsoever noise even if it'd make her wince in fright. Anything to pierce that feeling of emptiness that was devouring her. She unawares prayed for dismay to take her. Where was the panic when she needed it?

She just felt so numb.

What had just happened? What had she just done? Had it been only a dream? It had to be. She had seemed to be so decisive while spelling those few words, but it had been an illusion. She couldn't have been farthest from decisive. What happened right after though had been... so violent and abrupt it could only be real. Her weeping mouth had ignited a blast. She was the cause of the tempest. She had provoked the hurricane in the shape of her brother to raise and rage and freeze everything in its path, her blood included admittedly. She ought to have expected it. In that micro fraction of a second separating her making up her mind from her asking for a break, she should've imagined that Chris wouldn't have taken it easy. But how could she expect him to leave her just like that? After all, all she had done was to express her worries – he had asked her to do so! It wasn't her intention to make him feel... rejected. Then again no, she solely wanted to beg him to understand and... help her see straight in that misty confusion surrounding them.

She had to talk with Chris.

She had to let him know all the thoughts and worries that since the previous night at the bar hadn't let her rest, she had to explain the meaning of her words... or ask him to help her doing so. It hadn't been a little girl's whim! Had it, Claire? She had thought about it a lot, hadn't she? The whole night and the morning at school. She was doing it for his good! Right? It hadn't been a gut reaction dictated by a moment of terror – even if his words had almost knocked her out!

Her imagination was birthing a great deal of Pindaric flights that would let her find a recondite meaning in those three heartfelt words he had uttered, different from the one that was so strongly frightening her. But their simplicity left little to no room to any interpretation. How many times had he spelled them in his life? Uncountable. Then why this time those words didn't speak of the brotherly love she had grown accustomed to?

Chris had declared his love while they were having sex.

Chris had confessed her his love.

Chris loved her.

"I love you".

How many times had he repeated it? Claire had counted at least five, and certainly there were five times in excess.

A gleam of determination flashed in her gaze and she stood up, demurely avoiding looking at her figure reflected in the mirror after having stared at it for so long during the intercourse. Even so, a brief glance confirmed that she absolutely had to clean the glass and erase the Claire-shaped halo her sweaty back had impressed on it.

She put her panties on, grabbed the first shirt she came across and, barefoot, she walked out the closet on unsteady feet. Girly Room was quiet, the water danced onto the windowpanes like a sheer, silvery waterfall. Claire would've loved to simply watch it for a while hadn't she been so hurt and shocked. Her head was spinning a little, maybe she had stood up too fast, maybe she was just sick from the blast. She felt the same sense of stupefaction she'd experienced in her father's lab weeks prior. A sudden lightning only enlivened that unwelcomed memory. Was it happening all over again? Had she just got her life fucked up for good? A shiver crossed her body from her toes to the root of her hair but she didn't linger any longer to wear anything warmer.

She left to go to Chris.

Her fist was mid-air, ready to knock at his door, when the thud of a shutting door rose to her ears from downstairs. Was it her Mom? What time was it again?

Rising from one floor below her feet, she heard a familiar rumble join the storm's one. It was Chris's car. Abandoning every good manner, she thrusted Man's Cave's door open and found it deserted. She then rushed to the window beside Chris's closet, where he kept his guitars and some childhood memories exposed and that overlooked the garage's entryway, just in time to see her brother's dark car getting out in reverse under the pouring rain and leaving.

That scene got her to shudder in sorrow. Where was he going? Was he leaving her? It's dangerous outside! There's a storm! Her heart was maddening and Claire discovered she hated seeing him go. When the car disappeared from her sight, Claire rested her forehead against the cold glass and shakily sighed. She had waited too long. She couldn't stop him anymore from leaving.

She had talked and he had left.

She had waited and he was gone.

That last thought got her to shake even harder. She didn't want him to be gone. She wanted him beside her. She needed him to be in her life. What had she done? How could she feel safe and good if he wasn't around? Who would've relented her fears and sorrows in her lonely nights? Chris has been in her life since she was still in the womb, she couldn't even imagine her life without him.

Unsatisfied by the not-relieving icy touch of the window and unwilling to stare at her reflection even on that glass, she turned and watched the desolated bedroom in the grey dusk of the early evening. Its immobility, its silence, its solitude, it was all so distressing. It was Chris's room and he wasn't there and she was alone. In every sense of the word.

Fortunately, a chance glance at the calendar hanging on the wall reminded her it was Monday. And, like every Monday, Chris had gym on his schedule. If on one hand it explained where he was so hastily going, on the other it didn't erase the bitterness to have seen him go.

Was it possible that the gym was more important than talking it all out with her and making peace?

Two hours later, when the rain had reduced to a drizzle, more bothersome than whatsoever irrigating, and Claire was no more alone in every sense – Robert had come home from work – Chris returned.

She had patiently waited for him in the living room, to no avail inciting the hour hand to run faster. She was ready to intercept him and lead him somewhere private to have a word. That spare time gave her the chance to think and, most importantly, remember. Her waiting reminded her of that Saturday when, getting home from the restaurant in which they had celebrated Riley's birth, Chris had fallen under the weight of fears and scruples – just like she had now. That afternoon things had turned to her advantage in the end. Sure, today-Claire had to obtain the exact contrary of what she got back then but, to make things worse, she couldn't count on the same level of determination. If, back then, all she wanted was to keep having intercourses with him without the slightest shadow of a doubt, now instead she was a tempestuous hurricane of shadows. What was she even going to tell him when he'd be back? Her heart said one thing, her brain another, her limbs the contrary of both. Because she knew their romance was hurting him, and she knew it was best for him if they quit, but she wasn't sure she was willing to renounce their nightly habits. Something prevented her from letting him go, but she didn't know what it was. Not yet at least.

Claire needed him in a way she wasn't even aware of.

As the garage door swung open, Claire jumped up on her feet from the burgundy pouffe beside the crackling fireplace but she hesitated as she saw Lily appear in the doorframe. The smiley blonde was enthusing as she recounted how her cute niece had fallen asleep in the end thanks to her experienced cures as a mother of two. Right behind her, the quiet listener, Chris. He was chivalrously carrying the food bags along with his gym bag.

Their gazes met. Like they had on that infamous first Saturday as lovers. But this time, their roles were inverted. Claire's look was sorrowful, almost apologizing, Chris's one was chagrined and hurt. And it lasted a mere second all the same as Chris averted his brown eyes and proceeded towards the kitchen, absently nodding at Lily's words.

Claire hesitated but she eventually made up her mind and walked towards the kitchen as well. The hell she was gonna wait too long for the second time in a day!

Sure, their mother was there too, therefore they couldn't talk right there but she'd have walked there even to just hug him. He always said actions speak louder than words, he'd have understood what that hug meant!

As she approached the arched living room entrance, by a chance she wasn't run over by Chris's wide-built body. She gasped, he dodged her with a quarterback-worth agility. And he walked past her.

Not a single look.

If he hit her and crashed her to the ground it'd have hurt less. But maybe it had been better this way. She wasn't sure Chris would've let her hug him. Such a refusal would've killed her.

He's so mad at me.

"Claire, darling, would you please set the table? Dinner's ready!" Lily commanded from the kitchen island while extracting all the food boxes from the paper bag.

Less than ten minutes later, there she was, sitting by the table, at her usual spot, with zero hunger, staring at that appetizing quesadilla in utter disgust. Chris was sitting right beside her and he hadn't interrupted his indifference at all. Not even when she had caringly served him the food, or asked him to hand her over the water carafe or if he'd like some more nachos. Chris would just reply with short nods. Not even monosyllables! It hurt but it also started to infuriate her a little.

Ok, you hate me, fine! But where are your manners?

The lovely bastard only cared to pig-out as usual. Not even a broken heart got to trump his famous appetite, especially after a strenuous workout.

"Ok, what's wrong kids." Robert's warm voice intervened at some point and broke the suspicious silence, after scientifically observing them for a while. He didn't even care to put a fucking question mark in it, his hadn't to be mistaken as a question. It was most likely a gentle command to spill the beans.

That was the right moment for Claire to finally shove some nachos in her mouth! Daddy doesn't want you to speak with your mouth full, right?

"Mh...? Claire? Chris?" Robert exhorted, carefully eying each of his kids.

The quesadilla had never been so interesting as Claire intently observed it as to find the best part to bite, and Chris simply swigged the water in large gulps as though they weren't the same Chris and Claire Robert was addressing. But someone had to answer, because their faces were speaking volumes on their behalf!

"Did you two have a fight?" Lily asked.

"No." The siblings replied in unison. Oh, was there a faster way to admit they had indeed?

"Your faces tell otherwise." Lily acutely observed.

Chris wiped his mouth with a napkin and hurled it back onto the tabletop. "We didn't fight. We just discussed some bullshit." He earnestly gruffed.

Claire knew he was lying just to end that conversation here and now, but to be called "bullshit"… also, when exactly had they discussed it?! Gulping down those useless considerations along with her over-chewed food, she sheepishly nodded. "Chris's right, Mom. It's nothing important…"

"Well, then, if it's only about bullshit, you better get over it." Robert bluntly stated, returning to pay attention to his food. "My kids must not fight over bullshit."

Claire chewed her lower lip in jitters and, timidly, she turned to her brother. "Daddy's right. And I don't wanna be like thi-"

With a screeching sound, Chris slid his chair backwards and stood up, he blathered something to excuse himself and disappear somewhere outside the dining room but Claire's hand grabbed his forearm and kept him. She'd not let him shut her up by walking away!

"I'm sorry, Chris." She said, struggling to prevent her voice from quivering.

For the first time in hours he seemed to acknowledge her presence again. His hazel brown eyes cryptically stared at her and this made something inside her shiver. She didn't know how to read that face, since she'd never seen it before. She didn't even know what to look for on it. Why? Why was he acting like that? Didn't he notice he was only hurting her? Her eyebrows curved in supplication and her eyes begged for him to take her apologies and cherish them in his heart before his standoffishness killed her for good. He seemed to be struggling to remain imperturbable now in front of the blue of her irises. "I don't want you to… feel bad for what I said." She spelled, leaving it to her eyes to speak what she couldn't say with her lips.

"Nevermind. It's fine."

Was that a soft hue in his voice? He didn't sound angry. Had he accepted her apologies? No, his words were mere meaningless formalities but... but his voice had something in it... something that hurt and moved. What was it? Sure as hell, that short exchange wasn't enough to consider everything talked out and alright between them.

Still under his penetrating and obscure gaze, Claire let him go. Chris disappeared in the darkness of the living room, taking the mystery of his attitude along with him. Claire strived to repress the tears that threatened to fill her eyelids and she turned again to the table, dissimulating a dismissive smile. "Big bear needs to let off steam." She hardly joked to defuse the situation.

After all those weeks of utmost attention in keeping their romance concealed, they oughtn't to raise suspicions now that… that it was over…

Over.

Claire bit her quesadilla rabidly hard, pouring all her distress into that bite.

I don't want it to be over...

She chewed that big mouthful.

…but I fucking have to.

The simplest is the truth, the hardest is to admit it.

With the little tableware they had used for dinner, Lily just didn't need help with the dishes, but the attentive mother wanted to get to the bottom of her kids' sudden fight. That's why she asked Claire for help.

Chris and Claire had always got along well. Sure, during their growth, they had had their share of misunderstandings and arguments and, every year when it was finals season it wasn't rare that the mood would heat up and they'd blow their tops easily as the good young Redfields they were. But it was exceptional. It never happened that their fights outlasted the time necessary for their hot heads to cool down and rationalize their mistakes. Mutual affection always won. Most importantly though, none of their fights had ever led to Chris ignoring his sister. That attitude of him was what alarmed Lily the most. Whatever had pushed her son to act so harsh towards his little sister, it must've been something important and bad if it hit him so hard. To be fair though, they had also never had some hard times like those past weeks. Things had changed... had her children changed too?

Anyway a non-eating daughter and a non-speaking son wasn't good. What's wrong if Lily wanted to accelerate the pacification?

"So, what did you two fight over this time?" Lily asked at some point, handing over a glass to wipe. "Is it bullshit like Chris claims?"

Bam. Chris's straightforwardness definitely came from Lily's side of the family.

Claire had to think fast.

Notwithstanding she'd have really used some advice from her mother about the real thing going on, the girl knew she had to come up with a good lie and make it credible. If Lily bought it, then Claire could focus on finding a solution with her brother without worrying about her parents to get in the way and… investigate. If there was a thing Claire had learnt in those last two months since her life got fucked up, was that if you want a good lie you gotta put some truth in it.

The girl let her fantasy run free.

"Oh... uhm... it is, I guess." Claire answered, trying to gain as much time as she could. "One of his guys is dating one the girls. That's it."

Lily almost lost the grip on the soapy plate. "What?! Are you really arguing over this total bullshit?" She uncharacteristically scoffed.

Claire fumbled for words and lastly sighed.

"Let me guess..." Lily slyly smirked. "It's about Rebecca and Martha's son, right? The two pantry lovers?"

Claire nodded at her mother's giggle.

With a headshake, Lily asked why two people dating was ever a problem to them. "It shouldn't be none of your business, Claire..."

"I know but..." Claire mumbled. She kept aimlessly fiddling with the dish cloth as she had no idea what to say before another stroke of genius hit her. "You know, uh, Chris has grown pretty fond of my girls lately and, uh... you know him... he's so jealous and all..."

A malicious grin dawned on her mother's gorgeous face. Lily winked at Claire to come closer and whispered. "So... is my son in love with Rebecca?"

"Oh, no, Mom no!" Claire exclaimed. Damn, truth was getting a double-edged sword! "He's not in love! With anyone!" She made haste to clarify, while the word "liar" raged in her mind. "He's just as jealous of her as he's of me... You know, it's the first time he has female friends..."

"I see..." Lily said, faking an ironic disappointment and then giggled "is he in love with Leon, then?"

"Mom. Please." Claire eyerolled.

"Hey, I was trying to cheer you up." Lily smiled.

She respected her kids' privacy and she knew that parents must not know everything about teens' heartaches. Moreover, she had well vivid in her mind the proud grin on her husband's face when, a couple of weeks before he had fiercely announced he had caught his firstborn in the phone while banging a girl.

She just hoped it wasn't about any unmanageable and toxic love triangle.

Robert lay down spread upon the couch in the living room, focused on finding some passable movie in the streaming service gallery, when he finally noticed his daughter's quiet presence behind the backrest. She timidly wandered about, and her father didn't give much importance to her hesitation in taking a seat. Neither did he worry to further discuss with his kids their sudden uncharacteristic attitude.

If they had said it was just bullshit and if Chris had accepted Claire's apologies, it meant the matter had been settled. He was convinced that by then, at their age, the kids didn't need any parental intervention to solve their quarrels. Tsk! In the turn of a couple of years they'd both would've been voting citizens and adults, siblings' squabbles was kids' stuff!

Thus, instead of wondering why this time things seemed to be worse than it'd appear at a first glance, Robert asked his daughter for a movie suggestion. Well, to watch a movie all together would've been of use to the family's unity. Who knows if some downtime and a good laugh wouldn't erase those long faces!

The girl's mind was elsewhere, stuck on the big boy slumped into the armchair, all caught up in futzing with a game on his phone and utterly ignoring her. Nevertheless, she replied to her Dad's request, not to raise more suspicions. Claire was grateful for Robert's slack and oblivious demeanour, but she was growing more and more dispirited by the standoffish and impudently unconcerned one of her brother's.

Chris never sat on the armchair on movie nights. Never.

That was rather Robert's spot, in which he could doze off in all dignity at the opening credits. Chris's spot was on the couch, next to Claire, with a drink in the hand and her shoulder in the other, feet crossed upon the coffee table. Armchair-Chris was just not him.

Claire already knew that night Chris would've watched no movie with her, so it was no surprise when he got up and shoved his phone into the pocket. It was just for the sake of one last hopeless attempt if she asked him if he'd like to watch a bad movie together.

"No… I'm tired." He spelled as if to talk was of utmost effort, and he tiredly rubbed his face.

"C'mon, Christopher, it's been so long since we last had a family night!" Lily intervened while sitting beside her husband.

"I know but I got an essay to revise." He justified. Actually, with all the hustle happened in the afternoon, the boy had completely neglected his homework. He bemoaned he had a lot to study and quickly glanced at his sister, stock-still behind the sofa in vain expectation.

Once again that mysterious look that Claire couldn't decipher. She was tired, she had no more energy to just stand there trying to read hidden things on her brother's face – despite she could literally spend days admiring his features non-stop for how devastatingly beautiful he was. She didn't feel like figuring out a thing, making an effort, empathizing, she only wanted him to tell her what the hell was going on in his mind (or in his heart…) and make peace. But how to make peace? By wiping the slate clean and bury the breath-taking memories of those past weeks, perhaps? By allowing themselves one last dose of their happiness elixir? By conceding him to taste her skin for one last time?

Fuck, no. She couldn't stand those last two words. Last time.

Claire wasn't sure she'd have succeeded to stay away from him, keep her hands off him, not even if she was doing it for his good. The previous night the revelation had appeared so clear-cut, indubitable in her stone cold sober mind. She was hurting Chris. That goes without saying. But why now that she had to put all her good purposes into action she was so full of fears and doubts?

Chris's special treatment had crashed every certitude, every determination in her. It had stirred a burning malaise up in her mind and if that was what it meant to be without him then… then she didn't want to hear of being without him!

He was hurting her so bad… her sorrow pushed her to take shelter away from it. The more it hurt, the hardest it pushed her to hole up into him, like every time recently, like every sleepless night.

Claire was standing in the middle of a crossroads: it was either save him and condemn herself to suffering or ask him to forget her words, become lovers again and keep him caged for who knows how long.

Claire knew that choice was nothing more than a subtle illusion. If it was the other way round, Chris would do the right thing without giving it any second thoughts: to him, Claire always came first. She wished she were strong enough to put him first too.

Chris walked beside her towards the staircase to disappear upstairs, and it almost seemed to her that his imponent and hunky body was suddenly curved, limp, as if a weight was bending him to the floor. The titanic Atlas was falling under the weight of the vault of the heavens. Claire let him pass undisturbed. She was happy he was going upstairs so they could be finally alone but, on the other hand, she didn't lift a foot to follow him.

Once again, she was stuck.

She was scared now that if they talked she'd have had to say goodbye, renounce him and… something in her wasn't ready for it. Claire cursed herself one last time for having waited so damn much that afternoon, when they were both still hot from the blast, and maybe neither of them was aware of what had happened yet.

She stayed with her parents for a while, pretending to watch the movie, but she didn't resist much long. At her Dad's very first snore, she stood on her feet and ran upstairs, under her mother's trustful and satisfied gaze.

Enough, Claire! The sooner, the better!

Claire knocked at Man's Cave door but she got no invitation to come in. A brief glance confirmed that Chris couldn't be in the bathroom, so she just feared he didn't want to open.

Fuck it, I'm gonna do it by myself!

Putting her good manners aside for the second time in a day, Claire peered through the room. Oh, Chris was really studying! It disappointed her a little, she somehow expected – or maybe wished – to find him broken and crying in a corner, all curled up like a battered dog. It would've been fair, thus she'd have the certainty they were both suffering.

Differently from her unsaid expectations, Chris was sitting by his desk, nose-dipped into his copybook, and kept his head tiredly rested on the palm of his fist, therefore he didn't see her coming in. Neither did he hear her approach or the door click closed, since he was deafened by some loud music, as the white bars of the earphones revealed.

Was it a dejà-vu? Was that infamous Saturday happening all over again?

That Saturday had ended in the best way possible for them – she still remembered the smacks of his skin hitting against hers and that much was more than enough to inflame her cheeks again.

This time though, the appetizing transgressions that the presage in the shape of wireless earphones alluded at had absolutely not to happen. But Claire wasn't that sure she wanted it for real, neither that she could manage to not fall in his arms and let him sigh his love for her one more time.

What Claire didn't suspect was that Chris couldn't be farthest from studying, contrary to the appearance, in conformity to her selfish hopes. He was trying, he was trying with all his efforts, he had even tried to shoot some thrash metal music through his ears straight inside his skull not to hear the noise of his thoughts or the echo of the cracking of his heart, but uselessly. He was reading the same paragraph for the tenth time in a row when he felt a slight touch on his shoulder. He didn't wince only because he knew that touch just as much as he knew the love he had for the girl behind it.

He peeled off the desktop with weariness and straightened his back slowly. He slid his earphones off and turned towards her, weary, silent, resigned to undergo the inevitable and always with that mysterious look of him, imploring pity, threatening rancour.

"Chris, I…" Claire faltered. She wanted to just hug him and nothing more, she wanted to feel him around her, to listen to him saying it was alright. Maybe her hand indulged on his meaty shoulder a little too long and she feared he was just leaving again when he abruptly stood up. She was sick and tired of constantly seeing him go. "Wait, don't go away…"

"I ain't going nowhere, Claire." He muttered, almost regretfully, as if he really wished he was a thousand miles away.

How could he make everything even more enigmatic? Why was Claire unable to read his mind anymore? Since when was she no more privy with his innermost feelings? Was it him concealing himself or was it her who lost her insight? She only knew she loved hearing him talk again, and she didn't want him to stop. "Then just talk with me." Claire exhorted, taking a step forward.

Chris rested the tiny white bars on the shelf but did nothing to acknowledge and fulfil her request.

"We need to talk this out." Claire stated, surprised by the determination in her own voice.

Chris scoffed his scorn out and clashed his lips together in order to refrain a spontaneous yet harsh repost, but his jaw would never tighten enough to prevent his hot-blooded temper to have the best of him. "Haven't you said it all yet?" He gruffed, still not looking directly at her.

Claire had to chew that bunch of bitter words and gulp it down along with her grief. Chris was only continuing to make her pay for a sincerity that came out at the wrong time, but she knew how to handle him. It wasn't their first fight after all. "I may have. But you never replied."

"There was nothing left to say." He murmured, filtering as much sorrow as he could from his whispered words.

That sudden mild and calm tone suggested Claire that maybe… she could… she could dare.

"Chris, we both made a mistake today. Ok, fine, my timing was shit, but you dumped me and left me alone and naked like a whatever slut!" Claire replied, concealing the quivering in her voice the best she could.

Chris let a melancholic chuckle out and a sarcastic smirk to crease his mouth at the thought that now it was "him" the-one-who-dumped.

After a brief pause that Chris didn't care to interrupt, during which Claire had to struggle to stop the bad movie from replaying again in her mind, she resumed, softening her tone. "But now we can make it right… we can fix everything!"

That last invocation, so full of hope and apology, got rage to flash in his eyes, now piercing hers intently. "How?!" he roared, his eyebrows so knitted they almost joined, his beautiful chestnut eyes so squinted that the white disappeared along with their usual sweetness. His lips tightened again, not to curb this time but to compress and shoot his wrath farther. He turned to her, ignoring the slight step back she took as he moved. "Tell me how the fuck do you suppose to fix it. Uh? I'm waiting!" He roared, merciless and unbridled. "How will you do it after what I said? After what you said?!" He accused, poking her clavicle with his accusatory forefinger.

Claire stood her ground, fiercely, but that annoying tone of him was tingling all her impulsiveness. She slapped his finger away with the back of her hand before he'd dare touch her a second time and mirrored his same frown. Their consanguinity was never as evident as when they fought. They were heating up but the air seemed to freeze around them. A dark dome of tension fell over the room and charged their bodies with electricity. The memory of the humiliating abandonment returned with vivid strength to make her blood boil in her veins, whilst the echo of her susurration flowed in his like poison. Now, the siblings were testing each other.

"I said what you'd never have the balls to say, Chris!" Claire snapped.

"Oh, so you broke up with me for my own sake?!" He sarcastically growled.

"We can't break up 'cause we never even were a thing!" Claire barked, returning his rabid gaze.

"Well it was to me!" he shouted, his voice coming out in a rough sob.

A darkest shadow flashed in his eyes and Claire swore she heard the ripping sound of his flesh being torn apart, but it was too late to eat her words and too early to feel the need to apologise. She wasn't aware of it but she had just returned every single bloody stab she'd received while he kept fucking her and declaring his love in the closet.

Chris averted his eyes before she'd notice how fast they were filling with tears and sat – more like collapsed – on the edge of the mattress, taking his head in his hands and massaging his temples in slow circles, on the verge of losing the little self-control left within him.

"Just to make it goddamn clear, Claire…" He angrily sputtered. "In case you're not smart enough to get it, when I say that I love you I mean I motherfucking am in love with you!"

Claire didn't bat an eye, despite his words burning her to ashes like the heat wave of an atomic bomb consumes the bark of a tree.

He repressed a sob that blurred into a scornful grunt and continued. "How could I really expect you to understand what it feels like to be in love with someone?! You are... you are my everything but you're unable to understand how... fucking much I love you."

He let those last words sink in in an interminable moment of silence and their mere coexistence in the same room. In the meantime, Claire had overcome her anger and looked at her brother in utmost concern. He was shaking like he was either crying or on the verge of giving in to his wrath and making a scene – to which those hateful words would've been just a faint prelude. Much to her dismay, she found herself quivering as well. Why was she even shuddering at it? She ought to have known better! In hindsight, it was so pretty damn obvious he had been in love with her for so long! Chris hadn't taken her to Jack's Bar just to do Kevin a favour. He had taken her there as his girlfriend not as a sister. In a night full of couples he wanted the girl he loved by his side to delude himself he had one, that what he thought they had was real. She had stupidly thought she could read his mind, but she had forgotten to read his heart first. How come she hadn't gotten the real meaning of his nightly ravings, when he told her he was scared they knew about them? It wasn't their parents' reaction he feared, it wasn't even the menace of imprisonment. He only feared to lose the girl he loved. Her.

"I can't be your girl and you can't be my man." Claire murmured, borrowing his own words, more like speaking her thoughts aloud than willing to add any element to that pointless conversation.

"Fuck off, Claire!" he shouted from behind the mask of placid tiredness and resignation, where a storm of sorrow and heartbreak was infuriating, so violent to make the recent hurricanes blanch. He stood up, not giving a shit about the tears rolling down his cheeks, grabbed her by the arm and pushed her out of Man's Cave and slammed the door so hard that Robert winced upright downstairs, abruptly drawn back from his nap.

I can never thank Xaori enough for the big help with this one. Sometimes I just create words that don't exist and build up sentences that no one on Earth would understand but me (and her XD). Thank you Xaori, you're an exquisite one!