Page 24 of Seared Fates
Fuck, it’d felt good.
But what do I do with it now? Learning control, probably. But to what end? At the moment, all it’s good for is the occasional Molotov cocktail and lighting candles to have a potentially dangerous wank.
My thoughts are interrupted by a light, but persistent continuous knocking. One that doesn’t stop even as I shout, “Alright, I’m coming!” I stomp to the door and all but rip the thing off its hinges; however, my annoyance fades the moment I see who’s there. “Teagan?”
“Yo,” Teagan replies. His calm voice is always on the edge of being too quiet, easy to mistake for shyness, which my little brother is anything but.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt. “How did you even know where I was?”
In answer to my question—though it answers nothing—he holds up a paper bag smelling of eggs and bacon. Then waits, like he’s got all day for me to give in.
Teagan’s a few inches shorter than me, skin a few tones darker. Hair an abundance of tight black curls, and in his usual uniform of tight jeans, baggy T-shirt and hoodie, all splattered in every colour of paint, a toxic-green skateboard clutched at his hip.
Trying to hold back an eye roll, but not quite managing it, I step aside for him to stroll in. Teagan only talks when he feels like he’s got something to say, which isn’t often.
Even with that button nose and hoodie swallowing his frame, Teagan carries a quiet confidence. His diamond-shaped face and small, rarely smiling mouth give him an unapproachable air. Yet his eyes, which verge on too round and too large for his face, framed by sweeping lashes, are where his curious personality shines.
His obsidian gaze takes in everything like an inquisitive little owl. It might be his first time in Apollo’s flat, but he’ll enter even his own room like it’s his first time, and he needs to find and examine every angle.
Kicking the door shut, I make my way over to Teagan just as he pushes aside a stack of cassettes and props his skateboard against the wall. He tips the greasy bag upside down, spilling two breakfast sandwiches and four hash browns across the scratched wooden surface, then slumps into one of Apollo’s rickety folding chairs.
I sit beside him, taking in his soap-clean scent, and any lingering annoyance I had for my little brother vanishes. Even more so when he pushes food towards me, my grumbling stomach coming back to life with a vengeance.
Neither of us speaks as we eat. Teagan scoffing food as if at any minute it’ll be taken away from him. Probably because when we were kids, our other brother Thomas would sneak food off his plate.
“You didn’t message ‘goodnight’ and ‘good morning’ in the family chat,” Teagan finally says, as if time hadn't passed.
“So you came all the way here? And again, I ask how you knew where I was?”
“You’ve got your location on,” he answers around a mouthful, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. This time, I don’t bother hiding my eye roll. “And youalwaysmessage.” He stares, both annoyed at me for always checking in, yet annoyed at mefornotchecking in. “The only time you haven’t was a few weeks ago when you started acting weird.”
I rub the back of my neck. “I haven’t been acting weird…”
Teagan doesn’t call out my obvious lie, or even react to it. Instead, he takes another large bite of his sandwich and rocks back and forth on his chair, reflecting my image in his big-ass eyes.
I don’t want my little brothers to lie to me, so I don’t lie to them. When Thomas first started partying, he called me—not our parents—to pick him up or help nurse a hangover, and when Teagan started sleeping around, I’d take him to the clinic to get checked regularly.
Even when we were kids, if someone had a problem with my brothers, they’d soon have a bigger problem; me.
But telling either of them about this vampire shit? No way in hell am I putting them at risk. Especially Teagan, the kid has no fear. He was born without the side of the brain that said scaling skyscrapers and skateboarding down rusted railings was dangerous. Fuck knows what would happen if he discovered supernatural creatures have been living in the shadows all this time.
Or that his big brother is one.
“Can I have your hash brown if you aren’t gonna eat it?” Teagan asks, already taking it.
Waving him off, I don’t stop him. His intense focus doesn’t waver from me as his teeth crunch into the crispy fried potato.
Knowing I have to tell him something, I reluctantly say, “You know how I always told you I had a one true love? Well, I met him.”
He nods. Not like Golden does with his whole body. It’s a half thing, the smallest incline that's meant to encourage me to continue.
“But he doesn’t want me,” I admit, stomach sinking, “and can never want me.”
Teagan stares at me for a long time, then whispers, “Oh…”
“Yeah,” I mutter, eyes dropping to my breakfast sandwich, “oh.”
Slowly, a half-eaten hash brown slides into view, Teagan’s long, paint-stained fingers pushing it over. Affection fills me so quickly, tears rise close to the surface.