#who's in this weird place of admonishment and rekindling his relationship and guilt and sympathy

[bellysoupset]

ugh i ran out of tags, so read them first i'm sorry!!

But I just wanted to add, Hex being sooo uncomfy with this huge display of affection... I love him?? His insistence with the food and the fact he doesn't even know how to make an omelet and how he's fidgeting with them crying, even though he knows this was coming and he arranged for this. I love this boy so much.

Crying and croissants

A little emotional conclusion to the brotherly revelation arc.

Matthew woke up to Isaiah sliding his suit jacket on, checking himself in the mirror.

He sat up up on the sofa. The red wolf wasn't quite sure how they got here during the night. Somewhere between the worry and crying and holding onto each other, all three of them. He was very grateful for that sofa that could be extended.

"Zaya? Where are you going?" Matthew tried to blink the sleep from his eyes. He was exhausted and he wasn't even the one upset.

Isaiah's hair was a little wet from a shower but freshly combed, he had his pristine shirt doing it all the way up to the collar.

"Hector texted. Wants to meet. I'm going to his place."

Matthew stifled a groan as he got himself seated, not jostling Seline awake. She was passed out on his left, mouth hanging slightly open. "It's not like you have to go there just because he calls. You had a rough night, can't you just take it easy for a day?"

Isaiah watched his mirror image intently. "I'm perfectly fine now."

"Bullshit. You can't convince me you aren't in pain after yesterday."

Isaiah sighed, turning towards Matthew. "It's bearable again."

"Oh, because that really makes me feel better-"

Isaiah smiled slightly, walking nearer to put his hand on Matthew's shoulder, lowering himself to his level on the sofa. "Thank you for the concern. And for last night," he said softly.

Matthew's eyes widened. He was glad Isaiah was at least acknowledging that something happened, but that wasn't the point he was trying to make. Where did he have the strength to just get up and get all ready and smooth after a night like that?

He could see the mask of perfection was on, that Isaiah was under tight control again. Everything shut down, emotion and insecurity, even emeberassment.

It made Matthew wonder if his shadow was lashing out right now or if it was in pain too. Isaiah obviously wasn't respecting either.

"I'm going to be back soon. Get some more sleep," Isaiah murmed. He got up again, to crouch down next to Seline too, brushing his hand gently along her cheek and jaw, then kissing her forehead.

Then he went to the door, got his black coat and slipped out of the apartment with decisive confidence that left no room for argument.

Matthew sank back against the sofa and blankets with a frustrated huff, hoping Hector and Arnie would see what they got in him.

...

Arnie woke up to Hector shutting the door behind him. The wolf came in with his hands filled with packages.

Arnie rubbed his eyes, sitting up. He wasn't cold; Hector had brought him the covers from his room and let him sleep on the couch to watch over him.

"W'at's g'ing on?" He asked sleepily.

Hector threw the packages on the table. "Croissants, ham, cheese and those small tomatoes. I'm going to make some coffee. Do you want an omelette too or do you think this will be enough?"

"Huh?" That got Arnie scrambling up, only wincing a little at the movement. "Enough for what?"

"For breakfast," Hector said with forced nonchalance as if he had ever made breakfast before. Hector usually only got coffee in the morning and left too early for Arnie to share breakfast with him. They both switched between cooking or getting dinner, lunch reserved for outside of the house.

Arnie blinked owlishly at him, wondering which one of them had gone crazy without him noticing.

"Maybe not coffee for you, so maybe tea?" Hector didn't seem to be able to stand still, hanging his trademark leather jacket and his shoes, like someone was stopping time for him to finish. He did, however, throw a concerned look Arnie's way. "How is the pain, from one to ten?"

Arnie thought about that for a second as he peeked inside the packages to indeed find fresh croissants from the bakery and big-sized lumps of ham and cheese. Were they having Swedish breakfast or something? "Around three," he murmured. It wasn't a big deal anymore, but it would probably hang around for the rest of the weekend. "Do you want ehh...help?"

Hector looked a little undecided, then brought a stock of big flat plates they almost never used. "If you could arrange the ham and cheese in some kind of aesthetic way or whatever crap it's supposed to look like...I will make some boiled eggs, I'm not sure how an omelet works."

Arnie accepted the task with a yawn, sitting down to start rolling the ham slices and arranging them on the plate, then continuing with cheese. It was incredibly early in the morning, around 7. He didn't understand how Hector came up with the idea. The blond would have happily gone back to sleep and Hector couldn't have been very rested either after yesterday.

The restless energy around his older brother was tugging at his clouded mind though. Why make a fuss about breakfast?

Mornings have been Isaiah's thing.

During the days of his Executioner training, Isaiah spent almost no time at home. He had to leave early and came back late into the night and if he came sooner, he would just lock himself in his room.

But there was one secret time that Arnie found with his brother and that was early mornings. Food has always been a sensitive topic since their mother died from one day to the next. Father didn't want a cook, paranoid someone would poison them, but didn't want to cook himself. Not since he had his own apartment closer to the heart of the base and Isaiah arranged for the brothers to live in one of the upper apartments on the other side of the building. Arnie didn't understand for whose sake that was before, now he thought Isaiah just wanted to keep them as far away from each other as possible.

The question of food was hanging in the air. Hector and the wolves were allowed to eat at the common canteen, but Arnie was excluded from that because he was too young and human to boot. Isaiah had taken it on himself.

No matter how late he came home, he always woke up at 4:30 in the morning and cooked a three-course meal for lunch and dinner that day. Lasagne, spaghetti, Chicken paprikash, risottos, bean soups, ravioli, schnitzel and even quick and easy pies.

And while Arnie was too small to reach the counter or help much, sleepy, he would wake up and watch his brother in the kitchen as it filled with warmth, the smell of herbs and flour.

The kitchen was one of the few places that seemed to put Isaiah at ease in those days. The rigidness of his shoulders and the tension in his expression loosened and he sometimes even hummed to himself as he worked.

While they waited for the cooking to be done, Isaiah would often sit with him in the living room, movies for children playing in the background. Arnie would drape himself over him, reassuring himself his brother was still the same person, no matter what coldness came to his face, what distance was put between them or what lies were said in their apartment.

Sometimes Isaiah would talk, asking Arnie about his day and commenting on it. Sometimes he would say something about the pack doing this or something else. Sometimes he would say nothing at all.

These moments were Arnie's and Isaiah's. Hector sometimes found them curled up on the couch like that, giving them an angry scoff and disappearing for early training. He would promise not to eat any of Isaiah's food, but ate it for dinner anyway. Dinners and late night movies were Arnie's and Hector's.

Arnie wondered why Hector never joined them in the mornings, knowing that was the only time Isaiah was unsupervised enough to steal it for himself.

Oh well. He knew why. It just squeezed his windpipe and worsened the pressure in his temples to think about it.

...

Isaiah didn't know what to expect.

Hector's text came so early and sounded uncharacteristically hesitant.

Isaiah wondered if this was it. If they were all sit down by a table, talk over his failures and crimes and make clear rules about not seeing each other again. If Hector wanted to create an opportunity for Arnie to tell Isaiah how abandoned they both felt, how they now knew why he would spend the few hours he could at home locked up in the bathroom, passed out on the floor or in the bathtub while the silver injuries wouldn't heal or his shadow was too deeply rolled down to respond.

Isaiah hated those years of being an Executioner. He hated that he wanted to leave and he hated he was so relieved to leave and he hated he had left his brothers behind in the process. He hated those years he spent without them, not knowing them, not being there for them just as much as he hated he could not force himself go back to that pack. The mere idea of nearing that house had his skin crawling with wasps.

He also hated he had to lie to them, but also thought the lies protected them.

But looking back, he was still living in those lies, still thinking he was holding them up for their sakes's...when maybe he was doing it for himself. Because aside the hurt it would cause the two to know what their father did - in case they decided to side with Isaiah and not him - he had this irrational, insisting fear that...they would look at him differently.

That they would look at Isaiah and see all the weakness, the shame, the humiliation of all tries when he couldn't hold out, when his pride broke, when his shadow didn't respond, when he was too slow or too scared or too whiny about the process. Rationally, he knew that training was wrong, that he would never put anyone else through it, that it was brutal and unfair...but it still felt like he had failed at it, disappointed father, disappointed himself and his brothers by not completing it with more grace.

Before Isaiah formulated that thought to the end he had arrived in front of Hector's and Arnie's door. He took a deep breath, stealing himself for whatever would come. Then he rang the bell.

"Come in, it's open!"

Isaiah followed Hector's voice, stepping in carefully as if he expected a trap laid on the floor, mumbling a quite good morning.

Hector's spiky blond head appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. "Hi. The eggs are almost ready, so just sit down. I'll be right there. You still drink coffee, right?"

Isaiah's eyebrows shot up, nodding in surprise. He hesitated about getting his shoes off. He didn't want to make a mess, but being barefoot felt like too much of an assumption he would be allowed to stay for long.

He decided to risk it, his sense for order not allowing the shoes inside. But he kept his coat, just in case, as he went where Hector indicated.

The table was halfway in the living room with a view of the sofa with bed covers, as if someone slept there recently. The TV was playing quietly in the background.

Isaiah froze in his tracks when he found Arnie sitting behind the table, with rolls of cheese and ham, cutting cherry tomatoes in half.

Arnie looked...pale. Sickly even. There was a small frown etched into his forehead and a tense pinch in his features, like something pained him. His green eyes were huge in his face as he stared at Isaiah like he was seeing him for the first time after a long time, like he was seeing him in a new light.

Isaiah ducked his head, apprehensive of disgust, disappointment, reproach...

But Arnie got up, eyes wide and filling with tears. He watched Isaiah as if afraid the black wolf would bolt out of the room if he approached too close.

And then something clicked between them. Isaiah opened his arms cautiously, not sure how that would be taken - and Arnie launched himself at him at the invitation.

Isaiah wasn't sure why Arnie was crying, but he was, face buried in Isaiah's coat against his heart, sobbing and wailing. He squeezed Isaiah by the waist like he would fade away if he didn't.

Isaiah stood rigid for a moment before returning the embrace. His chest felt untethered, hollow, some kind of painful tension clawing up his ribcage. But Arnie's hold was so strong and so inviting and he wanted Isaiah close, even knowing everything...and something about that made Isaiah want to cry too. He bowed his head over his youngest brother, squeezing him back just as tight.

They stood like that for a few long minutes, just holding each other. Isaiah vaguely noticed Hector sneaking around them to put the eggs and a tray with steaming coffee and mugs on the table. Then he backed away to get a pack of tissues with a sigh.

"Alright, alright, enough with the waterworks," Hector complained, standing behind them. "Could we get to the breakfast part? Hello?"

Isaiah chuckled softly against Arnie's hair. Hector's handling of emotions never boded well.

Arnie leaned back a little, face covered in tears and snot, sniffling. Hector looked down nervously, hands clenched at his sides.

Isaiah brushed some tangled hair out of Arnie's face, swiping at his cheeks with the sleeves of his black wool coat.

"Ehhh, you will ruin it," Hector commented with a grimace.

Arnie snorted, then tackled them both in a hug, one arm around each brother. Isaiah's soft smile widened at Hector's eye-roll, though he allowed his human brother whatever he wanted, not moving away. "Breakfast. Food. Drama over," he continued to complain, no bite to his tone.

Isaiah laughed at that, and Hector gave him a weird look. He reached for the tissues on the table and handed them to Isaiah.

Isaiah blinked at the paper tissue with surprise - Arnie was the one crying after all - but when he put it to his cheek, he realized it was wet too.

"Thank you," the oldest wolf said quietly, voice hoarse.

Hector looked away, ears red and a deep scowl on his face. "Can we please go eat already? I didn't do this whole thing for nothing."

@bellysoupset