The Mercy of Birds

CHAPTER 25: THE YEARS BURN

Yet there was no salvation, no deliverance for him when he saw a familiar face of his dissident brother standing outside on the threshold, scorching his lungs out with a cigarette. The thoughtful look on his face was only diverted from within himself by the sight of the car pulling up the sidewalk.

Victor wondered how much he could take.

He slowed down to gather his belongings, thinking that Cameron would try to avoid him, but his stance grew firmer, his shoulders straightened with anticipation, and when Victor could no longer stall, he stepped down into the small staircase as if to welcome him.

The wind breezed past as he slammed the car door, he breathed in all the oxygen he could while his body was still turned away from his awaiting brother. Ice spilled on his spine, his jacket could not provide the warmth he was so terribly deprived off when he closed his eyes and awareness pervaded within him, that this was the last time, from right here on, everything would change.

"Vic," Cameron called out from the porch, simultaneously tearing him from his abstraction.

Like an arrow that had been drawn and eventually released, he stormed in the direction of the door, but Cameron's hand grasped him tightly by the shoulder.

"Vic—"

"I swear to God, Cam, if you say one more word, I'm going to punch you in the face," Victor hissed his words, laced with venom and anathema that never would've suited one's own brother to be the receiving end of.

Cameron's grip firmed, his eyes resolute. "I couldn't do it through the phone, but I will do it tonight."

"Better do it before dinner then unless you want me to throw up all over the place," he cynically retorted, referring to the symptom of his panic attack. "Are you done?"

Cameron sighed but he still didn't let go. He lifted his free hand and fumbled something from his jacket's pocket before revealing a blue envelope that made Victor frown.

A foreign handwriting displayed on the front, every letter in capital, striking, stealing all his attention: HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

"She wants me to give this to you." He extended it towards him as he finally removed his hold on his shoulder.

Victor's first reaction was to instinctively object, but before he could utter his refusal, someone opened the door, and out of instinct of perceiving danger of being caught doing something illicit, his body just moved out of its own volition to wrench the envelope from his hand, and tucked it inside his bag.

"What's going on here?" Nicholas appeared, sensing the hostile tension simmering between his two brothers. His eyes flitted back and forth studying their taut expression.

When none of them immediately answered, he raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms against his chest, leaning against the doorframe. "Are you really picking a fight with Victor on his birthday, Cam?"

Victor didn't understand. Nicholas couldn't have been that oblivious on identifying the strain, yet somehow he didn't forthright mention it or demand an explanation straight away from them.

Victor stole a glance at Cameron, he could see the moment his countenance shifted, a second of lapse on his performance of deceit revealed his true emotion: fear and anticipation, yet in that mixed steadfastness, passion, and resolution. His mouth was gaping, but no words came out of it.

Victor couldn't stand it—he flexed his hands—he wanted to strangle Cameron at once.

"Is there any food?" Victor asked Nicholas, his voice was too flat for it to be natural, and it made Cameron wince.