Scanning the many trophies, he saw that some were from football, swimming, hockey, and baseball. Others were purely academic; anything from winning an essay contest to achieving first place in the science fair. Others yet were from doing voluntary community service. Nathan gave a whole new meaning to well-roundness.

The perfect son.

Not for the first time, Adam felt the need to destroy all those trumpets of triumph, the constant reminder of his brother's superiority. There were too damn many of them anyways. But he restrained himself out of respect for his brother's memory. Respect…and admiration. Coming towards the bed, he smoothed out imaginary wrinkles, and then buried his head in Nathan's pillow, inhaling the scent.

Frowning, he found that Nathan's scent was long gone. He remembered how when Nathan first died he would come in here and encase himself in the sheets and eventually fall asleep. Somehow, when he was surrounded by Nathan's scent, it was almost like Nathan was alive again, almost like he was comforting him. And upon first awakening, disoriented, he could almost convince himself Nathan wasn't gone. Shaking his head, he moved along the perimeter of the room as he examined countless pictures. Pictures of Nathan, of their father, of Nathan and him. One in particular brought a merry smile to his face.

It was when Nathan borrowed his friend's motorcycle, for whatever reason, and Adam was riding behind Nathan on it, his arms wrapped around Nathan in a near death grip. Nathan, not warning Adam beforehand, performed a wheelie, to the immediate distress of Adam. After that, Adam never went on a motorcycle again, much to the amusement of Nathan. Good times, good times.

He next came upon a picture of Nathan and his girlfriend. Adam never thought she was all that good looking, but she was nice from what he remembered. He was horrible to her though, like any younger brother would be to someone who took their big brother away. Nathan and her were becoming inseparable, his brother no longer spending as much time with him, and Adam would get jealous. Inspecting the picture again, he noticed how at ease his brother was with her, how he tenderly held her against him. She was looking up at Nathan with adoration in her eyes. He wondered if they were closer than he realized, and then kind of regretted that he never tried to get to know her.

Continuing on he came to the last photo. It was a family photo, taken shortly after he was born, and it was the only photo he ever saw of his mother. She was a beautiful woman, with a wavy black hair and fair skin like Adam's. She had intense brown eyes like one of Nathan's eyes. Her full lips were widely smiling, and in one arm she carried baby Adam as she sat in a chair, her other arm enclosing Nathan close to her. Young Nathan had his arms hugging her shoulders and his father, healthy looking and lively, had his muscular arms encircling the whole family. He too was smiling widely, a man completely different from the one Adam knew. They looked like a strong happy family, the kind were you would think nothing could go wrong, nothing could break they them apart.

How did it come to this?

His brother dead, his dad a lifeless drunk, and his mother just simply gone. What went wrong? Looking closer at his mother, he again wondered why she left them. She appeared like she couldn't be happier, completely satisfied with her life, and she lovingly held him and Nathan like she couldn't bear to be parted. So why did she leave? What kind of woman was she, to leave her own children and loving husband for another man? He would never know, he realized.

"What are you doing in here?" his father's gruff voice asked, accusatory. Startled, Adam faced the doorway, seeing his father standing there, a beer in his hand. He stumbled in, not completely sober, his face red. With anger or alcohol, Adam didn't know.

"I was just looking," Adam said, his tone placid, trying not to anger his father.

His father came towards him, and Adam moved quickly out of the way, afraid he might get violent. His father only looked at the photo, an odd expression coming over his face, bereaved and full of nostalgia. Turning towards Adam, his face harsh once more, he said callously, "She left because of you. Shortly after you were born, she left. And it's all your fault. You know what she told me before she left? That she couldn't handle you, that she never wanted another child in the first place! She hated you! That's why she left." It wasn't so much the words his father spoke, but the utter sincerity in which he spoke them that hurt Adam.

But that didn't make…sense. Shocked, he glanced at the photo again, feeling certain that his mother held him with love. But it was a photo, only capturing one aspect of the story, the thin veneer people choose to show, and Adam was never good at reading body language.

His father ranted on, "All your fault that Nathan is dead. All your fault this family is ruined!" He pushed Adam away roughly. "Get out! I don't want to see you in here again, desecrating Nathan's glory."

Adam didn't need to be told twice. He ran to his room and slammed the door, crashing on his bed. Breathing heavy, he pounded the pillow a couple times, drops of wetness falling down on his arm. It took him a moment to realize he was crying, actually crying. Holding in a sob, he tried to calm himself. His mother hated him? He was the reason this family was so broken, beyond repair? Believing that there was some truth to what his father said, another sob escaped his lips. Why else would his father give him such a hard time for all these years if there was no truth to what he said?

Especially about Nathan.

If he hadn't been so damn selfish, if he hadn't been so damn angry, if he hadn't said those damn words…so many ifs. One thing was certain: Nathan could still be alive if it weren't for him.

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When Adam awoke, it was completely dark and the sound of a siren was fading away. He assumed that's what woke him. He felt emotionally exhausted, numb to the world, a feeling he didn't like. He gazed at the clock, trying to comprehend what it was saying. 10:00. Brent should be closing up. Walking down the stairs to the restaurant below, he found Brent picking up the last of the chairs and placing them on the table.

He quickly sat on the last one before Brent got to it, surprising Brent somewhat.

"Yo Adam. What's up? Where have you been this fine evening," Brent asked in his cheery voice.

"Sleeping." Adam said, his voice expressionless. He almost regretted coming down in the first place; he just wanted to go back up and sleep away his problems.

"Tom, that jarhead, he's a real asshole. I don't why you call Jacob the Tyrant; Tom is much worse. Barking out orders and always insulting my intelligence. I hate that he gets right up in your face and screams shit at you. Shit! I swear, he was a drill sergeant, he had to have been! The first thing he said to me when I walked in was, 'You know, that's about as wrong as two boys dry humping in front of the White House.' Or something to that effect. Granted, I was drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette…and I just got done serving somebody. But still, who says that?"

"Dunno," Adam said, not really paying attention.

Brent looked at Adam searchingly, sensing how subdued Adam was. He was too quiet, and Brent didn't like how Adam's expressionless expression didn't change during the story. He didn't know what happened from the time he last talked to Adam, but he wanted to bring a smile to Adam's face before he headed out. "Hey, I got five new numbers, all from the lovely chicks who frequent the Wolf's Lair. And the tips? Damn! I never knew being a waiter could be a brilliant way of picking up girls and making good money. I should do this more often." He pulled out of his pocket a couple of napkins and a few receipts, each with a name and number on them. Adam stayed quiet, seemingly lost in his own thoughts so Brent shoved the numbers in his face. "Lets see. Who shall I call first? Hmm, Stacey is too skinny. Cindy is too fat. Becky has man hands."

"Watch Seinfeld much? You're as bad as them." A weak smiled snuck its way on Adam's face. It was something, but Brent wanted more.

"Hey man, don't hate. I have standards! Xiao though, she was hot! There's just something about Asian girls that turn me on like nothing else. Especially when they're in school uniforms." Brent shuddered in pleasure, Adam looked on in disgust. "And she had an identical twin sister! Maybe I can convince them to have a threesome with me?"

"Brent, you're disgusting. Pervert. Anyways, did you say Xiao? She goes to my school, and she's like…fifteen. Maybe sixteen."

"Are you serious? She told me she was eighteen. Damn, it's so hard to judge their age, they all look young no matter what their age is. Damn, I hope I age that gracefully. Well, she's off the list completely; I have no desire to go to jail." Not even looking at it, he threw her number in the trash. Continuing on, he said, "Trish…eh, she's doable. And last of all, Amy. She's doable too. So who to pick? Trish or Amy? Amy or Trish? Hmm. Amy is better looking, but she is…boring."

"Brent, you're hopeless. Simply hopeless."

"Trish it is! I'll call her tomorrow. And if that doesn't work out, or even if it does, I'll call Amy. She'll bore me, though, I can tell already."

"Brent, you have to be the biggest man whore I know," Adam said, finally smiling.

"There, I got you to smile, my job here is done." Bowing, Brent exited the room. If nothing else, Adam could always count on Brent to cheer him up.

Before Brent left completely from his sight, Adam called out, "Aren't you going to mop the floor?"

"Fuck no! It's not that bad." Standing from the doorway, Brent turned around, and told Adam, "Oh yeah, there was this weird guy asking about you. He wanted to talk to you, said it was really important. But he had really creepy eyes, like a cat's, and he didn't take to disappointment very well. Hell, he followed me into the kitchen. Good thing Tom was there though. Ha, Tom, he can kick anyone's ass. But yeah, be careful Adam."

Adam heard the door shut, signaling Brent's exit from the building. A man asking after him…could it be Fenrir? Fenrir did, after all, promised to see him again. But so soon after meeting him? Hell, it couldn't be that easy to track someone down. Then again, Wolf's Lair was pretty well known in this town, and so was Adam himself, though he didn't know it. It was a small town however, one that hated outsiders, so no one should willingly give up information about its inhabitants.

But Fenrir was an intimidating man, one that demanded obedience, so it wouldn't be all that surprising if someone told him where Adam lived. Shivering, all of a sudden Adam felt like he was being watched. What the hell did that man want anyways? He didn't like how Fenrir had looked at him, like he some kind of prey to be taken, and how Fenrir had a penchant for touching him. Adam hated when anyone, let alone a stranger, touched him. He wondered if the touching was a means to intimidate him, or if it was because Fenrir simply wanted too. He didn't like the second reason…Fenrir had to be just trying to bully him, and touching him was just a means to an end.

But why come after him? He was either a very vindictive man or just plain weird. Adam would go with vindictive. He did trespass Fenrir's property and then tried to lie to him, and Fenrir seemed the type who didn't tolerate lying. Fenrir was probably trying to teach him a lesson, and would leave him alone once he taught it. But if it was for another reason Fenrir came after him…augh, it did him no good trying to analyze the man. Vindictive he could handle; weird he couldn't.

Trying to forget about the man, Adam reentered his bedroom. Adam decided he could study for his test tomorrow to put the crazy man out of his mind. It was a good thing Clara took down notes for him because he would never bother with it himself. Hell, most times he didn't even show up for class. The test was on all the major Gods from various mythologies: Greek/Roman, Norse, Egyptian, and Babylonian. Greek, Roman, and Norse were standard; but the class voted for Egyptian and Babylonian. He didn't know why…he would've chosen Chinese or Hindu mythology himself, but he skipped that day.

Tiamat, Apsu, Ea, Marduk…who cares about them. Adam read on, Fenrir completely out of his thoughts. Greek/Roman…everyone knew about them. Every year since he started high school, he learned something about them. No need to study them. Ra the sun god; Hathor the goddess of feminine love, motherhood, and joy; Anubis, god of the dead; Set, god of chaos…etc, etc. Adam didn't care to read about them anymore. Moving on to Norse, he read about Odin, Thor, Loki…and Fenrir.

Fenrir, the monstrous wolf, foretold to kill the god Odin, was the son of Loki.

Reading ahead, determined to forget about Fenrir, he read about Tyr, god of war, who was eventually replaced by Odin.

Fenrir was the one to bite off Tyr's hand.

Ok, Adam thought, can't read about Tyr. He skipped to the events Ragnarok, the end of the Gods. Thor kills Jormungandr, the serpent, but is eventually killed off from the poison. Sucky way to go. Tyr and Garm fight and kill each other. Heimdall and Loki kill each other. Ok, got it. The fire giant Surtr will kill Frey. Who kills Surtr? And what about Freya, Frey's sister?Adam read on, deciding he didn't really care.

Fenrir, after a long battle with Odin, eventually swallows him…

Adam throws the notes across the room in frustration. How can he forget about Fenrir when every note reminds him about it? It's obvious the fates conspire against him. Fuck it! He didn't care if he failed or not. It wouldn't be the first time, if he did. Turning around, he attempted to sleep again.

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Liv, your reviews always give me motivation to continue. Thank you!

Just out of curiosity, if you were to guess my age, what would it be? A friend of mine said I wrote like a fourth grader, and well, that kinda hurt. I'm just wondering if my writing is really that bad.