Side Story 3, Chapter 2: Nothing Like Him

[Side Story 3, Chapter 2: Nothing Like Him][Notes: AUTHOR BLADE HERE!!!! ENJOY SOME GOOD OL ARIEL SLANDER also kem was here lmao]

[Words: 689]

     Collecting pictures from a flood that wrecked our home,

     It was a flood that wrecked this—

     And you caused it.

     “Riyon—“ Despite being visibly taller than his brother, and arguably more athletic, he had to speed walk in order to keep up with the boy, “RIYON!”

     Twitching in utter annoyance, Angelite grabbed ahold of Riyon’s shoulder, roughly pulling him back and preventing him from walking further, “Man, the fuck is your problem? I’d assume you’d be more cheery about this, but even after almost a decade you’re still quiet as hell.” Angelite almost snarled; his brother was being so difficult, and for what reason? It’s been a long time, and rather than a hug, let alone a greeting, Angelite was instead met with two brothers who dared not to look each other in the eyes—any communication was swiftly cut. So damn infuriating.

     Riyon stood still for a while, allowing Angelite’s words to sink in deep into his brain, before he snapped his head around to face his older brother with moist eyes and terribly furrowed brows that displayed his anger. Opening his tightly clenched fist, he raised a finger up to Angelite’s face and started to stagger forward—his brother, in response, staggering backwards and raising up the both of his hands in surrender. 

      “I refuse to talk to that person—never, has he even thought about communicating with me! When he died, with sorrow I had mourned the loss of what I thought to be a brother, only for him to come back—to which I was significantly grateful for—and act like it never happened! I cried, we all did, and he’s… completely fine? He didn’t think about how we felt, no words of reassurance, nothing! He just went to wherever he goes, and forgot about me—us!” Even after Angelite confirmed he had gotten the point of his lengthy rant through rigidly nodding his head forward with a pitiful expression, Riyon continued with a pained voice—aided by short breaths, “When mother and father had been killed by the likes of the god who was engulfed within an inescapable darkness, when I thought you had suffered the same fate, I turned to Ariel because I thought the both of us were similar. I thought we were all we had left, but I was wrong. I was the only one. He had a family to go to. I had no one.”

     Now, Angelite didn’t know what to say. Had he been expecting the entire recount of the boy’s life, maybe the older could have concocted a better answer—and a better look; his face was scrunched up and just barely empathetic. He couldn’t relate, or know how his brother was feeling. And with this depressive state those feelings are putting Riyon through, he wasn’t too keen on finding out for himself. This entire thing was bringing down the entirety of his mood. Putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder, he plastered on the most sympathetic look he could manage onto his previous one—that hadn’t been doing the trick—in hopes that his younger brother would just magically get better. 

     “You’re just as bad.”

     Angelite should have expected it, he had walked right into that statement after putting little effort into displaying a false sense of empathy. He knew he didn’t care, he knew he was just faking it to get this entire situation over with, it was just so much easier to push everything to the side and continue on like nothing happened. Riyon would just get over it eventually, Angelite was sure of that—though, still, that statement that compared him to his spineless pink-haired brother felt like a hard jab to the stomach. Him? Similar to Ariel? He was so much better, he was nothing like him! He dethroned corrupt kings, saved people when needed, and what has—oh, so, scared-of-everything-Ariel done? 

      “I’m not even supposed to be sixteen—I’m five! You didn’t notice that, not even my death!” Riyon thought about snapping his fingers in his brother’s face with the way Angelite looked so dumbfounded and zoned out when he spoke, like he wasn’t paying attention in the slightest. Only hearing certain words; like his name, and the mention of his death.

      “I’m willing to change.” Angelite gasped out, his eyes devoid from emotion—though his face still animate; twitching out of what looked like frustration. It wasn’t clear enough for Riyon to understand, and that only made the younger burn deeply.

     “Prove it.”