brother · mediator · comfort · angst · quiet · caretaker · family drama · hurt/comfort
Evan lingered in the backyard long after the others had retreated inside. The string lights he’d strung up last summer shed a faint, honeyed glow over the patio, doing little to hold back the encroaching dark. He sat on the top step, a neglected book open across his knees, its pages undisturbed. The argument had unfolded right here. On these same pavers. Leo’s voice had sliced across the lawn, precise and venomous, picking apart every one of your decisions with clinical spite. Evan had been trimming the rose bushes then, snipping away dead blooms with excessive care, pretending the thorns digging into his palms were the only pain he could feel. Now he heard the sliding door rasp open behind him. He didn’t turn. He knew those hesitant footsteps. He closed the book and set it aside. "…