The Fall of Forever {A MyStreet FF}

{16} A Mortal's Enemy

Keeping Zianna in the dark about any knowledge of the potion being administered to Garroth, Garte had to manage making sure any hope having to do with their son's life stayed away from her.

The couple had taken Garroth home on certain hospice care. With Garroth being unable to play or be awake long enough to even speak, Garte and Zianna were forced to explain to their other two sons what their older brother dying truly meant. Vylad hardly had a grasp of understanding, but Zane understood just enough to be visibly upset.

Except, the hope that Garte was trying to keep away from his wife was quickly dwindling from him as well. Michael was incredibly hard to contact, and Elizabeth and Zack evaded nearly every question they were asked.

There was a lull in the Ro'Meave house. Amidst the caring calls and visits from family and friends, there was hardly a moment of silence within the family. Garte sat in the dark living room, listening to Garroth's labored breathing and hating his own lungs for drawing in air so easily.

Vylad ran into the living room. Even in the shadows of the dimness, his eyes were still their prominent green. His face was dotted with the freckles that he shared with Zane.

The toddler raced over to his sleeping older brother with a small matchbox car in his hand. He nudged Garroth's arm with a sort of urgency only a two year old would have to play.

"GarGar, GarGar!" Vylad edged on.

Garte gently pressed himself out of his seat in an effort not to startle Vylad, or take part in waking up Garroth. He wrapped his hands around Vylad's little shoulders and pulled him away from the son nearing death's doorstep.

"Shh, Pea," Garte pressed his finger to his lips. "Let's let Garroth sleep."

"GarGar play, please," Vylad expressed with a forming tantrum.

Garte silently sighed and brought Vylad into the adjacent room. The two year old was already pushing against his father, demanding to be let down from his grip. Garte offered the idea to him of playing with Zane, to which Vylad quickly rejected.

Garte pressed his lips together. It was so easy to forget how confusing the entire situation must have been to a two year old whose only previous concerns were his nap times and what color cups he had gotten for lunch.

"Okay, buddy," Garte glanced back at Garroth, who was still in his sight. "Let me see how fast your cars can go."

Vylad, purely ecstatic that his dad had agreed to play with him, practically jumped onto the floor and raced the car he held across the wooden surface. He grabbed more cars as Garte sat on the floor along with him. Vylad quickly began using Garte's arms and hands as race car tracks, giving the toy cars sound effects as he led them up and down.

"Your cars go so fast, don't they?" Garte said to Vylad.

"Mmhm," Vylad uttered in response, too focused by his toy vehicles to pay much attention to anything else.

"Are you fast?" Garte asked the two year old.

"Mmhm!" Vylad said, more excitedly this time.

"Are you as fast as your cars?"

"Mmm, no," Vylad shook his head.

Garte laughed, "Oh, you're just fast like normal then, huh?"

"Mmhm!" Vylad nodded and continued using his father as a racetrack.

Their playing with cars continued for about ten minutes more, up until Garte's phone rang. Garte sprang up, leaving a disappointed Vylad. Garte felt two emotions: one level of exhilaration because of his hope that it was Michael, or even Zack or Elizabeth calling, and one level of worry that the phone ringing was the one thing to wake his ailing son.