Chapter Three

"... Well good evening to you too son." His cold tone was awfully recognizable, so much that it stung.

My father was back from Oscar's award ceremony. He wasn't supposed to be back so soon.

"So can you kindly brief me on your whereabouts. It's 12:30am and I'd love to know where my beloved 'wounded' son is coming from. Mmh." Though his tone sounded concerning, It was obvious he was faking it. His stoic ass was reeking of sarcasm and even a visually impaired man could see it.

I cursed inwardly. Eldse you've done it this time. You couldn't go for your brother's memorable event but you could stay out with a girl? How brotherly and utterly responsible of you.

I sighed bitterly. Missed Oscar's event wasn't intentional neither was meeting Flare nor staying out her, let alone so late. But sincerely, I grunted inwardly at the betrayal of my so called mind. That coward just knows how to leave me to suffer for the consequences of the actions we took as one.

I rolled my eyes at the sarcasm of my dearly beloved old man. I could feel my stomach churn with both anger and disgust and deep within, fear. The fear wasn't because of my retired general, no. It was rather because of the figure my eyes landed upon.

Sitting at the extreme of the room was the familiar slender yet sleek figure of my blonde haired brother, Oscar. His brown eyes were hooded and held more manliness than the eighteen year old brother I remember, who had left for college four years ago.

"Hello there, dear brother. You haven't changed at all." His perfectly calculated gaze and smile made the statement more of an insult than a tease. Or perhaps it wasn't. Then again you wouldn't exactly blame him for the slight insult if it was. I presume you to do same if your dear brother keeps missing every important day of yours.

It was right. Guilt set in. I was feeling more sorry than ever. Oscar has always been there for me and then there was I, who always somehow ends up indisposed at every important day of his.

"Oscar, you're home." I was happy to see him, now he was here, explaining why I wasn't there would be easier. But then again I wasn't expecting to see him home. I had figured his homecoming to be tomorrow or next. "You've changed quite a lot." Indeed he has. He was looking older and more matured yet strikingly charming. His glass frame sat on the bridge of his nose, adding more flare to his slightly distorted hair which was obviously acquired from the hassle of the day's event

He chuckled. "Why thank you brother. I figured a few years being busy would be overwhelming, thus inducing rapid change." He wasn't wrong at all. "You on the other hand look quite dashing. You reek of teenage boyishness which is obvious for your age. Though your eyes are darker and surrounded by dark circles and your skin pale, I presume you're okay, yes?" His eyes darted down to the bandages on both my palms and I sighed and nodded.

"I'm fine." My husky and nearly hollow voice came. Those two words were nearly for me to believe myself than for him to know.

"Dad told me about your college application..." He was about saying further when Dad's voice cut him off.

"Oscar I believe I was having a conversation with your brother before this rude interruption." His eyes shifted from Oscar then to me. I swallowed dryly at his stare. "Son pardon him may we, now as we were saying, I believe an explanation is due." His calmness was predatory and I was feeling like a prey. My mouth went dry as I felt his gaze bore holes on my skin.

What was I going to tell him? The entire truth maybe?

Heck no was I going to tell him 'everything'.

"I just felt suffocated, hence I went for a walk down the street. I'm sorry I lost track of time."

He nodded his head as though understanding everything I had said. "And what made you lose track of time? Stargazing?" The mockery was heavy and bitter.

That too

"... Sitting in the grass?"

That was involved too.

"... Or was It drawing?" He laid emphasis on the word. My entire heart skipped a beat.

"W-what?" I was shocked. Was he referring or trying to say what my beating heart was hoping he wouldn't say. Though I was trying to sound strong and less of a culprit, my stutter chose the perfect timing to show itself.

"Yes son. Penny for your stutter, Mm?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked obviously confused.

He chuckled and sighed. "Perhaps this would jog your little memory."

My heart stopped because right in front of me, was my Sketch book.

Fuck! Holy shit!

I cursed, that was all I could do because every fiber in me went rigid and cold and I stood frozen. I stared blankly at the book and back at him and I swallowed. I had nothing to say.

"Mmh, are you alright son? You seem a little pale." His voice was daring and irritating to me at that moment.

My eyes landed on Bernard who wore an apologetic look. His look said it all because standing next to him was my dearest mother. I didn't need to ask for the story, his expression and Brianna's posture was a storyteller already.

I swallowed hard. How on earth did he find out. I darted my eyes to Bernard who just shook his head. One glance around and the expectant look on my mother's face said it all.

"Where did you get that from?" I asked feeling angry at the breech of my privacy.

"That shouldn't be the question." He started, "the question should be, are you supposed to be drawing?" His voice was getting higher as he spoke. "All the things in life and this is what you choose to invest your time in?" He yelled at me in a thunderous baritone.

"What I do with my spare time shouldn't be your business." I spat back.

"Don't speak to your father like that!" Brianna interrupted.

I turned to her, "are you serious right now?" I scoffed.

"Eldse so help me God!" He gritted.

Fuck! Holy shit!

I cursed, that was all I could do because every fiber in me went rigid and cold and I stood frozen. I stared blankly at the book and back at him and I swallowed. I had nothing to say.

"Mmh, are you alright son? You seem a little pale." His voice was daring and irritating to me at that moment.

My eyes landed on Bernard who wore an apologetic look. His look said it all because standing next to him was my dearest mother. I didn't need to ask for the story, his expression and Brianna's posture was a storyteller already.

I swallowed hard. How on earth did she find out. I darted my eyes to Bernard who just shook his head. One glance around and the expectant look on my mother's face said it all. Snooping, she was snooping around my things again.

I hated the fact that my privacy wasn't respected in my home. She snooped to the extent of trespassing the jewel case grandma had given me. 

"Where did you get that from?" I asked feeling angry at the breech of my privacy.

"That shouldn't be the question." He started, "the question should be, are you supposed to be drawing?" His voice was getting higher as he spoke. "All the things in life and this is what you choose to invest your time in?" He yelled at me in a thunderous baritone.

"What I do with my spare time shouldn't be your business." I spat back.

"Don't speak to your father like that!" Brianna interrupted.

I turned to her, "are you serious right now?" I scoffed.

"Eldse so help me God!" He gritted.

I sighed and shook my head then stormed up the stairs. I didn't want to argue, I didn't want to fight, especially not today.

Deep breaths, deep breaths.

They say one can control his situation by choosing the right call of actions and tonight, walking away was the perfect option. Infarct, walking away has always been the perfect option for me. I sighed one last time as I remembered my sketchbook. I had so many memories recorded in that book; every image was a reminder of what I felt like at various times, I wasn't really going to let that go, was I?

Two words, No!

I stood up and reached for the door, heading downstairs. I stopped at the base of the staircase and observed what was going on.

My father sat on the soft leather black couch, his finger massaging the bridge of his nose, my mother sat on the arm of another couch, with legs crossed and an arm rested upon the couch, Oscar stood by the large glass window at the extreme, seemingly on a call. Bernard just stood by the corner, waiting to tend to anyone's need, when called upon.

"... This behavior of his is absolutely not acceptable. He's becoming more of an untrained hooligan day by day and that just saddens me because one would question my training." Brianna  sighed as she tipped her head back, "we have to do something about him dear." She turned to my father and sighed again.

"I know he's been a stubborn boy but this is just pure delinquency. He's becoming a delinquent. He couldn't even get into any college but here he is staying out late and defying orders." He was enraged.

Oscar walked up to him and took a seat on a chair opposite my father's. "I've made a few calls, I've managed to secure his admission on the account of my word. All I had to do was introduce him as my brother and based on my record, they have agreed. They'd be sending him his admission letter in the next two days but first he'd have to take a test or rather, an exam. That way the school won't be questionable and would still have be fair." He explained.

"You've done well but if he couldn't get admitted to six normal colleges. What makes you think it's Harvard? I mean of course Harvard is prestigious and they offered him a chance to take their exam and claim an admission letter but can he?" He exhaled and rubbed his face.

I decided to make my presence known by walking up to him and claiming my book from the glass table.

"You will drop that at once!" He snapped.

I paused and turned to him, yet holding firmly to my book.

"Emillio drop it! For once be reasonable. You will have more important things to channel your energy into than that drawing of yours because Oscar has..."

"Managed to put me through for an exam at Harvard." I completed her statement for her.

"Oh good, so you do know. I expect you to take the exams seriously because..."

My phone beeped, interrupting her speech. I paused and sighed then took out my phone. It was a mail, an email from Michigan state university. I skimmed through the letter and my eyes nearly popped. I got admitted. I couldn't believe it. I even forgot I applied to the university.

"... I'm talking to you." My mother snatched the phone from my hands and glanced at it. Her eyes widened.

"What is it?" My dad asked.

"He got admitted."

His eyes darkened as he snatched the phone from her hands. His eyes glanced at the letter and a minute later, he spoke, "he's not going!"

"What?" My head snapped to his direction and a frown braced my lips.

"You heard me, you're not going. You'd be going to Harvard, so go and study for it. I believe you know you'd be taking the exam in two days time. Best of luck." And with that, he was gone, leaving me to cold thoughts.

I didn't want to go Harvard, I had applied for Michigan because it was in america and still far from our state. They wanted me to go Harvard so they could keep an eye on me, I wasn't a child.

"I don't want to go to Harvard." I quietly spoke out. I rushed to him, "you know, I wasn't really expecting it but I got accepted. I'm not that much of a failure... I got admitted. Aren't you proud? Michigan state university is a good one and..." I was happy, not really proud of myself but happy that I wasn't that much of a failure.

"It's as same as you not going. I had wanted Cambridge for you, but you couldn't even get into it. You're not going to any state university." He declared. "And let it be known that this is the last time I'd have my decisions for you questioned." He turned and walked away.

He wasn't happy. I wasn't expecting him to be exactly proud of it but he should have been a little happy that I got admitted to a top notch university too.

I gripped my sketchbook and turned to leave. "Leave the book on the table Emillio. You heard your father." She said in an unaffected tone.

I won't deny being heartbroken by their emotions reaction to me getting an admission letter. I wasn't going to stay home for an extra year but then again I wasn't going to a wacky school either. I got admitted to a good school.

I scoffed, which made her head snap towards my back-turned figure. "You should listen to your father. Your father and I know what's best for you. What are you going to gain by drawing? It's just a stupid thing and it's not prestigious at all. You shouldn't be stupid son. Your brother was always more ambitious, but you, all you do is just be stupid and dumb Emillio. When will you grow up?" She snapped at me. Her tone was interlaced with anger and disappointment. Her eyes held a fury so fiery it made her nostrils flare and her breaths short and rapid.

Captured by my disappointed eyes which held a different kind of heartbreak, my passive tone was any less filled with emotions, as I said, "Es eso asi... What I do during my leisure is none of your business dear mother." I knew very well she knew little about Spanish. My grandma wasn't Spanish yet somehow she learned it and proceeded to teach me which I learned. So I was multilingual – English, Spanish, Italian and German too.

I didn't bother to see the seething look on her face but honestly, I said nothing really rude. I dragged my gaze across the room and stormed away. I banged the door to my room and looked around. What I wanted never wanted, it was always what they wanted. I have put everyone else first before me, but no one puts what I want first. I felt so cheated.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. Don't you think your parents are right?

My eyes snapped open, where the hell did that thought come from? I never said they were wrong or anything, I just wanted to still be able to make decisions for myself. I took up sciences because I felt it beneficial due to much consideration, but my drawing shouldn't be a crime and neither should any decision I want to take for myself. I'm not a child.

I took up my sketchbook and began rummaging the memories noted down in lines and curves. My eyes fell on the folded paper and curious creases braced my forehead. I took up the paper and the writing behind was familiar. I turned it and the curiosity reduced a little. It was actually a picture, the same picture I had found in my room.

I rubbed my temple, remembering that I had intended to discover more about the picture and why I was in it with my dad and another lady.

"You're really still as hot headed as ever." My startled body shook a little at the sudden voice. I stuffed the picture in the book and turned to the owner of the voice.

"Hey." I said gruffly. I rubbed my palm over my face, tired without a doubt.

Oscar stood by my dresser with his hands stuffed in his pocket, he glanced on the books arranged on my nightstand and chuckled. "Othello, one of Shakespeare's many." He pushed the glasses onto the bridge of his nose as he cracked an unsightly smile."I see father has you reading it too huh?" His voice held amusement.

"Yeah..." I let out in a dry tone.

"I uh, sorry for not knocking before coming in. Pardon my intrusion." He said.

"It's okay. Um... Sit?" I scooted, though I didn't have to since the bed was king size.

"Yeah, yeah, of course."

He took sat next to me, savouring the silence as we both searched for what to say. He took out his glasses, letting his hassled hair fall to his face as he cleaned the glasses meticulously with the edge of his shirt before putting it back on. "You know..." He began, "father just wants the best for you, though his methods are wrong. And you sometimes just go out of the flow." He started.

"Oscar, I–uh, how do you do it?" I finally found the words that spoke deep from heart. "He expects me to be like you, act like you, talk like you, literally be like you and–and I don't think I can." Those few words summarized how I truly felt. "I understand that I need to give it my all which I am, but how do I be you?" My voice  was tired and solemn.

"Let me tell you something buddy, sometimes when you feel you've done others..." His eyes found mine as he took in my bandaged hand, "try doing you." He smiled genuinely.

"You're not mad at me for not being there? You should be because you've always been there for me but somehow, I haven't reciprocated it. You deserve a better brother." I smiled weakly.

He chuckled, "well I won't say I'm not mad but then again, I know you Eldse, and I know you would never ditch me on purpose but then again, I'm your Elder brother and it's an Elder's job to always be there for the younger ones. Give Harvard a try Elds, you might like it. And if you don't, just say it and I'd get you out of there." He gave that strong yet promising smile of his which I've always missed.

I smiled at the nickname he called me. Elds. It was his thing because he never really liked adding the 'e' and I actually grew to like it. I found it lazy of him yet cool.

"Gracias Oscar, to be honest, I've missed you. Bienvenido de nuevo eso de peluche." I broke into a laugh as I engulfed him in a hearty hug with both of us laughing.

"Oh my-hot-headed-little-bro-who-wouldn't-just-keep-his-mouth-shut-at-crucial-times, I've missed you too." He ruffled my hair.

"You walking textbook." I teased back.

"Excuse me young sir..." Bernard's knock and entry snapped us out of our brother bonding frenzy. "Oh, senior master, you're here. Well, ma'am will like to see you." His eyes fell on me as my body went rigid again.

What have I done this time?

What have I done this time?

What have I done this time?

I fight, especially not today.