Prompt Post: ROUND THREE

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ROUND THREE IS CLOSED

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it catches up with you [2a/?]

[anonymous]

Alex doesn’t know exactly when he starts saying it. This is my brother, Erik. He couldn’t put a date or time on the thing, but if he had to guess, it would be sometime after the incident in the hotel room. Maybe it was their mutual losses or the fact that they were the only freaks of nature that they had met in the world, but something sharpened between them.

This is my brother, Erik. Alex lays awake at night, turning the phrase over in his mind. It feels good. Nobody could ever replace his family. His parents, Scott, they’re irreplaceable, but Erik understands that. Alex isn’t a replacement for Erik’s family either. They’re something different. Something new.

Sometimes, Alex wakes with his face damp from tears he doesn’t remember shedding. In these instances, Erik is usually sitting on the edge of Alex’s bed, a silent, grounding force that doesn’t judge when Alex lets out a shaky breath and rolls onto his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Alex says, one time. Erik makes a non-committal noise. “I don’t mean to-“
“Go back to sleep.” Says Erik as he slides the palm of his hand over Alex’s eyes.

--

Every so often, they take a bus out of the city, far, far away until it’s just them and the trees and sky. The first time they do this, Alex half-worries that Erik is planning to murder him. Instead, he drops a duffel bag in the dirt, leans down to unzip it and pulls out a Frisbee.

“I’m going to throw this in the air,” Erik says. “And you’re going to hit it with your power.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Alex replies almost instantly.

“You’re afraid of yourself,” says Erik. “You shouldn’t be.”

“I hurt people,” Alex shuffles his feet, looks at the dirt. “I’ll hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

“We met because I set a building on fire.” Erik has the nerve to laugh and Alex wants to punch him.

“Your power’s uncontrolled, but it’s not uncontrollable.”

“What are you, some kind of wise old man now? Do you or do you not spend 90% of your time plotting murder -“

“Alex, shoot the goddamn Frisbee or I’m using your wrist watch to make you punch yourself in the face.”

“That’s child abuse.”

“Think of it as a motivator.”

--

Alex knows what bars will let you in, even if you’re not eighteen. Sometimes, when Erik is off chasing vengeance, Alex likes to go out and get drunk. It’s sometime after three when he returns to the hotel on one such occasion, soft and easy from the alcohol and smiles of pretty girls. He finds Erik throwing what little Alex owns into a suitcase and the nice buzz he had been nursing fades because no. Because what did he do and how can he fix this.

“We’re going to France,” Erik says, without stopping his task and Alex’s knees almost give out under the weight of his relief. We. We’re going to France. Alex doesn’t care that he doesn’t speak French or that he’s never left the country or that he doesn’t even have a passport because this thing that he and Erik have - it ‘s tangible and Alex wants to hold onto it forever.

“We,” says Alex.

“Yes,” says Erik. He pauses, half-turns, gives Alex a long look over his shoulder. “Did you think I wouldn’t take you with me?”

“Yes,” says Alex. Erik snorts.

“Don’t be stupid.”

And the matter’s dropped.