July 1st, 2017
- Present Day -
"Morning, Gray," Zach says as he places a blue glass plate nearly overflowing with bacon, eggs, and a biscuit—apple butter adeptly spread on each half—in front of the 13-year-old.
"What's this?" Gray questions curiously, a slight grin tugging at the corners of Zach's lips while he wipes his hands off on a nearby towel.
"Well, I know you had a rough night last night, so I fixed your favorite," he responds gently, his smile broadening.
"Thanks, Zach," Gray beams as he begins to dig into the food, Zach leaning over the granite countertop, staring intently at his brother. "What?" he pauses momentarily, his mouth full of scrambled eggs.
"Nothing," Zach chuckles softly, watching Gray reach into his pocket; he examines him curiously. "What're you doing?"
An evil gleam sparkles in Gray's blue eyes as he slowly pulls out a white piece of folded material. "I know exactly what you need," he mumbles incoherently under his breath, casually strolling to Zach's side. He shuffles behind him, and Zach listens carefully; the only sounds to be heard are the ones of crinkling paper.
"Gray," he begins sternly, "What're you doing? You're behind me with some white thing, I can't see you, and I don't like that."
Gray quickly pounces on Zach from behind, looping his arms tightly around his neck to ensure that he does not fall. He places a petite sized paper chef's hat on top of his older brother's thick bunch of dark brown hair—a complete contrast to his own golden curls.
"Gray, what did you put on my head? Should I be worried?" Zach questions softly, an anxious edge to his low-toned voice as a small giggle escapes the 13-year-old's lips. "I feel like I should be worried."
"Don't be," Gray's grin broadens, and he slowly jumps down from Zach's back, landing with a thud on the wood flooring. "It looks nice with the rest of your outfit. Zesty… would be the word, I believe."
Zach's brow quirks up, and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he stares down at his younger brother, who pulls out his white iPhone 5s. "Zesty, huh? As zesty as my food?"
"Well, why don't I just show you," Gray replies flatly, clicking the light-colored camera button on his screen—the flash startles Zach, but seeing as most of the time he's pretty photogenic, it doesn't matter. "See? Zesty." He hands the phone off to Zach and plops back down on one of the barstools, beginning to toss the food into his mouth.
Zach chuckles softly as he stares down at the picture, examining the—surprisingly—well-made details of the paper hat. He sets the phone on the counter and slides it over to Gray. "Mom didn't tell me you got a phone. I could've texted you or called you if she would have."
Gray's gaze droops to the floor then back up to Zach, a crestfallen expression on his pale face. "Well, I tried to get her to tell you, but she kept forgetting over and over and over again. And, after a while of that, I just gave up. I figured I could get it from you now."
"Of course! Here. Lemme see it," the 18-year-old exclaims eagerly as he types his phone number into Gray's contacts. "There. Now you can call me or text me if you wanna talk."
"Great! Thanks, Zach," Gray pauses momentarily, slowly pushing the empty plate away from him. "I'm not sure why she wouldn't let me talk to you. I don't think she could forget that many times."
"She's been under a lot of stress for the past two years—probably even longer than that. Believe me, she could forget that many times," Zach comments blankly as he grabs the blue and white plate, placing it in the dishwasher. "Anyway,"—he leans over the granite countertop, staring intently at Gray—"I thought we could begin on the whole water thing today. Don't worry, we'll start easy. But, before we do that, where did you even get this hat from?"
Gray snickers faintly as he takes the white piece of paper from Zach's palm, shoving it back down in the pocket of his pajama shorts. "I inherited my big brother's artistic ability and made it."
A genuine smile fades onto Zach's face—he swipes his hand through the dark brown hair falling across his forehead. "Yeah, I suppose you did get it from me, considering that totally amazing axe I built many many years ago. Speaking of which, what ever happened to that thing? Did Mom and Dad throw it out thinking it was trash when we moved?"
Gray hesitates for a second, contemplating over whether to tell his brother that he's kept the axe all these years. There isn't a single passing minute, hour, nor day that he hasn't had the little old, shriveled paper plate on a ruler with him. The plate is torn in places, and there are many spots and stains to be seen on it. The ruler, however, has held up well, despite the faded numbers and blue ink. "Um, well. To be honest, I kinda- I still have it, actually. Like, right now. It's in my bag upstairs."
Zach's eyebrows furrow as his calm gaze locks with Gray's seemingly anxious one. "Really? That thing's survived this whole time? I must actually be an artist!"
Gray chuckles softly, relieved at seeing that his older brother is not mad with him for keeping the item—he is also content in knowing that he's not going to be made fun of. "I'm glad you're not, y'know, mad."
"Why the actual hell would I be mad at you, Gray? I gave it to you as a gift. It's yours. If you wanna stuff it in your pocket and lug it all over creation, that's your deal. Do what you want with it," Zach responds flatly, a reassuring tone laced through the audible amusement in his voice. "Now, c'mon. Let's get started."
"Fine, but I'm not diving into the pool at first sight. Just gonna put that out there," Gray comments softly as he slowly follows Zach out the sliding glass back door to the edge of the pool. The incredibly bright reflection of the crystal clear water dances restlessly on his face, and he finds himself staring intently into the depths of it.
Zach gently places his hand on Gray's shoulder as a sign of silent comfort. "I'll be right back, okay? I'm gonna go grab a few things. Just stay right here, and, whatever you do, do not, I repeat do not touch that water, got it?"
Gray nods lightly and gulps, it slowly maneuvering its way down his throat. He finds himself shivering as Zach disappears back in the house, and he is left alone with the 30,000 gallons of sparkling water.
"Why are you doing this to me?" he mumbles softly under his breath; Gray glances down at the ripples flowing smoothly across the surface as they collide with the tiled-concrete rim of the pool. He jerks anxiously when the sliding glass door slams shut behind him, and Zach appears next to him holding a washcloth, a college ruled notebook, and a pencil.
"Alright, let's do this," he says flatly, glancing up at the 13-year-old as his neutral gaze meets Gray's seemingly diffident one. "Hey, don't be scared, okay? I'll be right beside you the whole time."
Gray, once again, nods, his golden curls falling into his light blue eyes. "What are we going to do first? I'm probably gonna need about an hour to prepare myself for it."
Zach chuckles softly as he places the bright red notebook and black mechanical pencil a few feet from the edge of the pool, dipping the chocolate-colored washcloth in the shimmering water. He quickly pulls it back and begins to ring it out until it's nothing but slightly damp—apart from a few droplets descending to the ground.
Gray watches his older brother with a questioning expression on his pale face. He hastily jolts away from Zach, the 19-year-old beginning to slowly move towards him with the sodden washcloth. A deafening shriek escapes his lips as his foot loses balance on the slippery surface, and he plunges into the pool, bashing his arms about to keep his head from going under. "Zach, get me out! Get me out, get me out, get me out! Help!"
By the time his name is called by the younger Mitchell, he's already down on the concrete, latching tightly onto Gray's hands. "Hold on, okay? I'm gonna pull you out!" he exclaims reassuringly as he quickly tugs his little brother over the rim of the pool, enveloping him in a snug embrace.
Gray glances down at the water that, to him, appears to be fluttering mockingly, the tears rolling down his cheeks in dense streams. He hurriedly turns his head towards Zach, burying his face under his chin. He feels his heavy breath slowly decrease from wheezes and coughs to a neutral rate as he focuses sharply on the steady thump thump, thump thump, thump thump of his older brother's heart to anchor him into contentedness.
"You okay?" Zach questions softly, gently rubbing his fingers over the heavily soaked material clinging to Gray's back. He closes his eyes and sighs faintly when the 13-year-old nods his head, slowly pulling away. "C'mon. Let's get you dried off."
Gray grasps tightly onto Zach's hand as the elder Mitchell helps him to his feet. He squeezes his younger sibling's shoulders reassuringly, quickly grabbing the notebook he had left by the edge of the pool and leads Gray inside. "I'm really sorry, man. I should've told you that I was going to put the washcloth on your skin, and then I wasn't even fast enough to catch you when you fell."
Gray's gaze slowly trails down to his now-soaked dark blue t-shirt and back up to Zach, a slight grimace forming on his face. "It's okay. It wasn't your fault. I should've gotten it through my head that it was my big brother moving to put a damp cloth on my arm, not a crazy killer dinosaur attempting to shove me off a cliff into a pool of water or eat me for dinner."
"Yeah, I guess. Anyway, go get changed into some dry clothes. I need to pick up a few things from the hardware store, and then I was thinking maybe we could stop at this local sub shop for lunch," Zach replies flatly, staring at his little brother, waiting patiently for an answer or response of some sort.
Gray's highly-forced, gritted-teeth smile gradually fades to a genuine grin as he nods briskly, turning on his heel in the direction of the stairwell. "Yeah. I think that'd be nice. I haven't had a good sub sandwich for a long time now."
"Well, there you go!" Zach playfully slugs Gray in the shoulder and trails closely behind the 13-year-old, heading towards his own bedroom. "What? I need to change, too. My clothes got a little wet when I hugged you," he responds calmly when his younger brother watches him with an inquiring expression on his face.
"Heh. Sorry," Gray chuckles softly, anxiously rubbing the nape of his neck as he shuts the solid wooden door behind him. He kneels down beside his Jansport backpack and begins to dig through it, tossing random piles of clothes which begin to litter the dark flooring.
Once he finds what he's been searching for—a pair of denim-blue cargo shorts and a red and black plaid button-up jacket, a dark gray colored t-shirt displaying the Captain America logo to go under it—he hastily peels the soggy pajamas away from his skin and chucks them back on top of his bag, carelessly throwing the new dry clothes on in place of the old ones.
"Hey, G. You ready to go?" Zach questions curiously as he softly knocks on the smooth surface of the door. He cautiously pushes it open and steps inside when he gets no response from his younger brother. "You doing okay?"
"What? Oh, yeah, sorry. Let's go," Gray replies flatly as he quickly raises up from his backpack and meets Zach outside the door. "So, what're we going to pick up at the store?"
The 18-year-old leads Gray through the entryway—being sure to lock everything up before he leaves—to the four-car garage on the south side of the house. "Well, as you saw last night, I'm painting the bar area downstairs, and I need to get some more paint. I also wanted to look at buying a new sprayer to finish the walls with; the one I was using before you came over broke yesterday morning,"—Gray nods, understanding—"Now, to the most important topic of the day: Which car shall we take?"
Gray glances up at his older brother, eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment. "Zach, you know I'm not a car fanatic. D'you think I even know what any of them are? And, before you say anything, no. I don't know what any of them are."
"Oh my gosh, little brother Grayson. What has Mom done to you since I left? Completely sheltered you from everything and made you stay in your bedroom with absolutely no access to the outside world like a hobo?"
"Honestly, yes," Gray comments blankly as Zach latches tightly onto his forearm and tugs him in the direction of the first car. "My phone, although I'm on her plan, I can't do anything with it unless I have Wi-Fi. The only things I can do with it are call and text—maybe play a game if it doesn't require internet service."
Zach's eyebrows furrow crossly as he directs Gray's attention to the snow-white Lamborghini sitting in front of the duo. "Well, that's stupid. I should add you onto my AT&T plan. Then you could have unlimited call, text, and data. Anyway, d'you know what kind've car this is?"
Gray cracks a genuine smile and stares intently at the car beside him. "Um,"—he hesitates momentarily—"A sports car? I don't know. I told you, Zach. I know absolutely nothing about cars. Especially not these kinds of cars that Mom could never afford to even look at, let alone buy."
Zach chuckles softly and pats his little brother on the back. "Touché, Gray, touché. If she can't teach you about cars, then I will. This"—he motions towards the car—"is a white Lamborghini Veneno, currently the most expensive car in the world. Not to brag or anything.
This one"—he leads Gray to a red car parked a few feet from the Lamborghini—"is a very common type of muscle car, the Chevy Camaro.
And then,"—the 13-year-old trails behind Zach as he is taken to the next possible option—"we have the Shelby Mustang GT350R, charcoal gray with white stripes across the hood; it was custom.
And, last but most definitely not least,"—he waves his hand towards the final remaining car in the garage—"the royal blue Hennessey Venom GT. Take your pick, little brother."
Gray's baby blue eyes slowly widen and dart back and forth between each of the four cars sitting in front of him. "Zach, I'm confused, so very confused. So, I'm gonna ask you one thing that'll seal the deal on my decision: Which one's the fastest?"
"And that, my friend, is why you're my baby brother," Zach grins faintly as he gently places his hand on Gray's back and pushes him towards the Hennessey Venom GT on the far right. "This, this little car, is the fastest one in the world. You're looking for speed? We're taking this one."
"Cool!" Gray's smile broadens when he and his older brother plop down in the front seats of the car. "Just don't get a speeding ticket though—for my sake."
Zach glances over at Gray, his eyebrow slightly quirked as he revs the engine up with a loud roar. "Oh yeah? And why's that?"
"Because I need you to be able to pay for my phone when I'm added onto your plan instead of you blowing all your money on speeding tickets and whatnot," a smug grin tugs at the corners of Gray's lips, and Zach chuckles softly, carefully pulling out of the driveway and onto Tradewind Avenue.
Gray definitely knew a lot about the Jeep in the movie, but he doesn't strike me as a car guru, so here's the outcome. Also Zach is RICH rich, so like kinda makes you wonder where he's getting all this money from, eh?
Also the stats used for the cars was true in 2017 but most likely don't ring true anymore, so don't come after me on that lolol
