Numb3rs fic: What a difference a day makes (1/2)
Note: written before I knew certain things, like Charlie went to Princeton, so sorry if there are errors
You’re 8 when you suddenly get a brother, not that there hadn’t been 9 months to prepare but it sill feels sudden to you. It’s not too bad, the crying at night isn’t much fun, but your dad bought you the action man you’d wanted forever and when you hold him, your little brother, you think he’s kinda cool.
You’re nearly 11 when he stops being cool and starts being annoying. 3 years old and he’s doing math in his head you can’t do on paper, so he’s smart and it’s annoying. It’s two days later when you realise it’s math that your dad needs a pencil and a long time to figure out and you finally get what the big deal is. So maybe, you think, maybe Charlie does need the tutor, but you still think it’s unfair that the interviews mean dad can’t take you go-karting like he promised.
You’re 14 and you just started high school. It’s good, you’re playing baseball, classes are going okay and the girls seem to like you. You don't see Charlie much now, he’s at home when you are sure, but he spends most of his time working in his room, playing with his numbers, if he’s not skulking away when you catch sight of him trying to pretend he hasn’t been watching your every move.
But the weekend had been nice, you’d let him tag along on a bike ride with your friends and he hadn’t horribly embarrassed you, had even managed to keep up, mostly. And hey, Shelly thought you were ‘sweet’ hanging with your little brother, so maybe he is good for something.
You’re 16, you’ve just started your junior year and so has your brother. Your little brother, at your school. He’s everywhere you turn now, in the corridors, in 3 of your classes, in the gym - which is the only place you know that you can do better than him.
Shelly doesn’t think it’s sweet anymore, but that doesn’t matter, it isn’t like you wanted her so come to the movies with you really. And the guys still think you’re cool, you’re still playing baseball and that’s good, even though it means you have to put up with Charlie spouting weird equations at you. Some crap he’s done to the statistics that is supposed to help your game, make you like him more, like that’s gonna happen.
And the tense twisting feeling in your gut everytime you stand by and do nothing as some kid pushes him over, or one of your friends calls him names, or as blood drips from the cut on his eyebrow, chin, arm, knee, from the fist he didn’t dodge quite quick enough, well it doesn’t mean anything really.
You’re 18 and getting ready for your senior prom, your brother sat on your bed watching excitedly, math for once seemingly forgotten. It’s when you finally get your bow tie on right and he announces how ‘cool’ you look, that you realise just how much Charlie is missing out on.
He’s not coming to prom obviously, he’s 10 years old, but unlike the younger brothers of your classmates he’s not sat there imagining how he’s going to look this cool when it’s his turn, this is his prom and he’s not going.
You reach over and ruffle his hair, making him laugh and bat at your hands ineffectually with his own. And you find yourself, for maybe the first time since he joined your school, genuinely remorseful for all the times you’ve wished he were normal, stupid, dead.
You’re still 18 but today you graduated. Today you got that piece of paper that means you can get out of here. Go of to college where no-one knows you as Charles Eppes brother, where Charlie won’t be following you around, because your university is on the east coast and Charlie, he’s going to CalSci just round the corner from home.
Today was a good day though. Charlie looked really cute in his cap and gown, like a little kid for the first time in weeks, for the first time since prom, if he wasn’t so excited about CalSci you’d think he was scarred. No you know he’s scared, he’s been far to quiet recently, far to into his math and the panic attacks he gets sometimes have been happening a lot. Not today though, today he was smiling, clutching tight to your hand as you went up to get your diplomas together, as your parents took photograph after photograph of the two of you.
You’re proud of him, you’ve realised this in the last month or so. Really proud, he’ll turn 11 in three weeks and he’s already graduated high school, is on his way to college and he still thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread, still doesn’t understand the fuss people make over him sometimes.
You watched today as the press took his picture and asked him questions, watched as your jealousy grew for just a second before you noticed that he didn’t seem to like the attention either, noticed that he still hadn’t let go of your hand, noticed the excitement in his eyes being replaced by a small spark of panic.
You stepped in then, said a few words and led Charlie away, watched the panic fade into gratitude, gratitude for such a small thing, something you should have been doing for years, and that feeling in your stomach was back, but this time, this time you could admit what it was.
You’re 8 when you suddenly get a brother, not that there hadn’t been 9 months to prepare but it sill feels sudden to you. It’s not too bad, the crying at night isn’t much fun, but your dad bought you the action man you’d wanted forever and when you hold him, your little brother, you think he’s kinda cool.
You’re nearly 11 when he stops being cool and starts being annoying. 3 years old and he’s doing math in his head you can’t do on paper, so he’s smart and it’s annoying. It’s two days later when you realise it’s math that your dad needs a pencil and a long time to figure out and you finally get what the big deal is. So maybe, you think, maybe Charlie does need the tutor, but you still think it’s unfair that the interviews mean dad can’t take you go-karting like he promised.
You’re 14 and you just started high school. It’s good, you’re playing baseball, classes are going okay and the girls seem to like you. You don't see Charlie much now, he’s at home when you are sure, but he spends most of his time working in his room, playing with his numbers, if he’s not skulking away when you catch sight of him trying to pretend he hasn’t been watching your every move.
But the weekend had been nice, you’d let him tag along on a bike ride with your friends and he hadn’t horribly embarrassed you, had even managed to keep up, mostly. And hey, Shelly thought you were ‘sweet’ hanging with your little brother, so maybe he is good for something.
You’re 16, you’ve just started your junior year and so has your brother. Your little brother, at your school. He’s everywhere you turn now, in the corridors, in 3 of your classes, in the gym - which is the only place you know that you can do better than him.
Shelly doesn’t think it’s sweet anymore, but that doesn’t matter, it isn’t like you wanted her so come to the movies with you really. And the guys still think you’re cool, you’re still playing baseball and that’s good, even though it means you have to put up with Charlie spouting weird equations at you. Some crap he’s done to the statistics that is supposed to help your game, make you like him more, like that’s gonna happen.
And the tense twisting feeling in your gut everytime you stand by and do nothing as some kid pushes him over, or one of your friends calls him names, or as blood drips from the cut on his eyebrow, chin, arm, knee, from the fist he didn’t dodge quite quick enough, well it doesn’t mean anything really.
You’re 18 and getting ready for your senior prom, your brother sat on your bed watching excitedly, math for once seemingly forgotten. It’s when you finally get your bow tie on right and he announces how ‘cool’ you look, that you realise just how much Charlie is missing out on.
He’s not coming to prom obviously, he’s 10 years old, but unlike the younger brothers of your classmates he’s not sat there imagining how he’s going to look this cool when it’s his turn, this is his prom and he’s not going.
You reach over and ruffle his hair, making him laugh and bat at your hands ineffectually with his own. And you find yourself, for maybe the first time since he joined your school, genuinely remorseful for all the times you’ve wished he were normal, stupid, dead.
You’re still 18 but today you graduated. Today you got that piece of paper that means you can get out of here. Go of to college where no-one knows you as Charles Eppes brother, where Charlie won’t be following you around, because your university is on the east coast and Charlie, he’s going to CalSci just round the corner from home.
Today was a good day though. Charlie looked really cute in his cap and gown, like a little kid for the first time in weeks, for the first time since prom, if he wasn’t so excited about CalSci you’d think he was scarred. No you know he’s scared, he’s been far to quiet recently, far to into his math and the panic attacks he gets sometimes have been happening a lot. Not today though, today he was smiling, clutching tight to your hand as you went up to get your diplomas together, as your parents took photograph after photograph of the two of you.
You’re proud of him, you’ve realised this in the last month or so. Really proud, he’ll turn 11 in three weeks and he’s already graduated high school, is on his way to college and he still thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread, still doesn’t understand the fuss people make over him sometimes.
You watched today as the press took his picture and asked him questions, watched as your jealousy grew for just a second before you noticed that he didn’t seem to like the attention either, noticed that he still hadn’t let go of your hand, noticed the excitement in his eyes being replaced by a small spark of panic.
You stepped in then, said a few words and led Charlie away, watched the panic fade into gratitude, gratitude for such a small thing, something you should have been doing for years, and that feeling in your stomach was back, but this time, this time you could admit what it was.