Zach's eyes flutter open to sunlight streaming through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the room. Beneath him, Gray curls tightly against his chest, seeking comfort in the safety of his brother's arms. A gentle smile tugs on his lips as he glances at the alarm clock, whose digits blink 8:42 AM.
Feeling the stir of movement, Gray startles awake, his wide eyes reflecting a lingering sense of panic. Instinctively, Zach reaches out, enveloping him in a reassuring embrace, murmuring soothing words until his breaths steady and his grip relaxes.
"It's okay," Zach whispers, "I've got you." With a tender touch, he brushes away the remnants of tears from his cheeks, his hand pressing gently against the younger's back. "You want to talk about it, buddy?"
Gray's gaze remains downcast. "I-I'm not sure," he stammers, his voice trembling.
Recognizing his little brother's vulnerability, Zach offers a reassuring smile. "That's okay. We can take it one step at a time. Later." With a playful twinkle in his brown eyes and a grin tugging on the corners of his lips, he questions, "Are pancakes still your favorite?"
Gray's nod is hesitant but earnest, and, with a gentle squeeze, Zach drags him out of bed and into the hallway. He notices the tension that still lingers in his brother's frame, despite their lighthearted banter about pancakes. Gray's steps are hesitant, his movements slow and calculated as if he's attempting to avoid something — or someone .
Zach's heart clenches with concern, a knot of worry forming in the pit of his stomach. He knows his brother well enough to recognize when something is truly troubling him, and the sight of Gray's downcast gaze only deepens his unease.
"Hey, Gray," he says softly, "You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever's on your mind, anything."
Gray's response is a hesitant nod, his lips pressed into a thin line. Zach can see the struggle written across his brother's face, the flicker of anxiety that dances in his eyes betraying the front he's attempting to put up.
"Let's take it slow," Zach continues with his hand resting comfortingly on the younger's shoulder, "We don't have to rush into anything. But whenever you're ready, I'll be right here."
Gray's gaze meets Zach's, and, despite the weight of his worries, there's a flicker of gratitude in his eyes, a silent appreciation for his brother's unwavering support.
As they move to the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the aroma of pancakes cooking on the griddle. The soft sizzle of batter hitting the hot surface fills the air, accompanied by the gentle clinking of utensils as they prepare their breakfast.
With practiced ease, Zach measures flour and pours milk into a mixing bowl, while Gray cracks eggs with concentration. Their movements are synchronized from years of shared meals and countless mornings spent in each other's company.
While the pancakes start to take shape, he can't help but notice the way the younger's shoulders gradually relax, the tension of earlier moments melting away slowly. It's in these small moments that Zach finds solace, grateful for the opportunity to provide his brother with a sense of normalcy.
"Hey," he says, breaking the comfortable silence that has settled between them, "Remember that time we tried to make pancakes for Mom's birthday and ended up with a giant mess in the kitchen?"
Gray's lips twitch upward in a fond smile. "Yeah," he chuckles, "You started it when you threw that egg at my head…"He pauses suddenly, gazing down to hide the ornery smirk that has formed on his face before flinging a raw egg at Zach's head.
With fast reflexes, the elder ducks quickly and leaves the egg to splatter on the cabinets before slowly sliding down the wood. "You're asking for it now!" He retaliates by flicking a dollop of whipped cream at Gray, who responds with a playful swat of his spatula, sending a spray of batter across the countertop. They dance around the kitchen, ducking and dodging each other's attacks, their laughter echoing off the walls in a symphony of joy.
Amid the chaos, Zach manages to grab a handful of chocolate chips, launching them at Gray with pinpoint accuracy. They scatter like confetti, landing in his hair and dotting his face like freckles. Gray retaliates by snagging a handful of blueberries, pelting Zach with fruity ammunition until they're both covered in a colorful mosaic of pancake toppings.
Their antics escalate as they chase each other around the kitchen, dodging between countertops and leaping over chairs in a flurry of laughter and excitement. Suddenly, chocolate chips still in hand and ready to fire, Zach hears the shrill ring of his phone. He quickly sets the toppings down and rushes back to where it sits on the countertop, his stomach sinking when he catches sight of his mother's profile picture.
"Shit," he mutters while Gray creeps up to his side, his face immediately blanching, "I forgot to call Mom." As his heart pounds with apprehension, he fumbles to answer the call, his hands slick with remnants of whipped cream and chocolate. With a quick swipe to clear the screen, he lifts the phone to his ear.
"Hey, Mom," Zach says, his voice strained, "What's up?"
Karen's voice floods through the phone, her concern palpable even from miles away. "Zach, have you seen Gray? He never came home last night. I'm worried sick. John and I have been looking for him all morning, and I'm about to call your father"
Zach casts a guilty glance at Gray, who stands beside him with wide eyes, his expression a mirror of his brother's own turmoil. "Mom, I'm so sorry," he says, his voice thick with remorse, "Gray's with me. He's safe, I promise."
Relief floods through Karen's tone, her gratitude evident even through the crackling connection. But beneath her relief lies a note of confusion, a question left unspoken. "Why didn't you call me, Zach? Why did he run away? This is so uncharacteristic of him."
Zach's mind races as he searches for an explanation, but even he isn't entirely sure what is going on. "I...don't know, Mom. I can't really give you an answer. Just give me some more time with him; I'll figure it out, okay?"
Karen's voice softens with understanding, her concern for both her sons evident in every word she speaks. "Okay. Please just make sure Gray is safe. And call me if anything comes up, alright? Your father and I will be here if you need us. And John, of course."
With a promise to keep his mom informed, Zach ends the call, a heavy weight settling in the pit of his stomach. As he turns to face Gray, he can see the sweat beading on his forehead, teeth tearing into his lip once more.
"Hey," Zach begins, his voice gentle but firm, "We need to talk about what's going on. I know something is bothering you, and I want to help. You can trust me, okay?"
Gray's shoulders slump, and his gaze flickers with uncertainty. "I-I don't know if I can, Zach. It's... it's complicated."
Zach nods understandingly, his heart aching. "I get it, okay? But it was bad enough for you to decide to run away in the middle of the night, so you have to tell somebody. " He notices the way Gray's body tenses, his muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. His shoulders hunch forward, a protective barrier against the world, while his hands twist nervously in his lap, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
The air in the kitchen grows heavy with unspoken tension, each word hanging between them like a weight. Zach can feel his own heart pounding in his chest.
"Gray," he continues, his voice steady but filled with urgency, "You can't keep this bottled up inside. Whatever it is, we'll face it together. But you have to tell me what's going on. Please ."
Gray's gaze flickers upwards, meeting Zach's with a mixture of fear and resignation. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, each inhalation a struggle against the suffocating grip of his own anxiety. "I-I don't know if I can," he whispers, his voice barely audible above the roar of their racing hearts. "It's like… like I'm drowning, Zach. And I'm scared that if I start talking, I'll never be able to stop."
Zach's heart breaks at the sight of his brother's pain, his sense of helplessness threatening to overwhelm him. But he pushes aside his own fears, focusing instead on the one thing he knows he can offer: unwavering support and unconditional love.
"Hey," Zach says softly, reaching out to gently grasp Gray's trembling arm, "You're not alone in this, okay? I'm right here beside you, and I'll be here every step of the way. We'll find a way to get through this." And as he squeezes the younger's hand, three shaky words tumble out of his lips.
"John hurts me."
John is a bad man, right? How dare he hurt our precious little Gray? :(