Oh Brother (Completed)

Home Sweet Holt

The first coherent memory I have of Damien Holt was our third summer at the beach house. We'd been seven and it was supposed to be the summer everything returned to normal. We'd go to the beach house as we usually did, unpack, and I'd walk out to find my parents gazing out over the deck on the second story of the nose, staring lovingly down at my brothers, the Holts, and I as we played in the cold water of the pool.

            Instead, it'd been the last summer I'd spent here. It had been weeks of constant screaming matches between our parents, Phillip and Buckley almost always caught in the crossfire as they tried to calm our parents with their level heads. Phoenix and Damien had always just sat beside me, watching as my older brothers fell wounded in the war raged between our parents daily. The night Damien had come to me was a little fuzzy around the edges, but it had been close to the end of the summer. He had found me crying in Aden's room, my hands over my ears to block out the fighting echoing through the large house. When he realized my brother wasn't there, he didn't say anything at all, but shut the door and joined me on his best friend's bed. His eyes had shined with more green that usual that night, and he looked to be just as miserable I was.

            "My parents fight too." He'd said softly. "Nix usually distracts me, but I still hear it."

            I hadn't spoke, but my brother's best friend had sat down beside me, pointing toward the window. "The waves. Maybe if you focus on them, it'll stop you from thinking about your parents."

            I'd done as he said, but he still remained next to me. The sound of glass shattering had startled us both, his own tough expression crumbling as he buried his head in his hands. After a moment I had taken his hand and led him closer to the window, and we both just stood there, watching the waves crash against the shore, crying.

            The expression the man before me wore now triggered the memory I had long since buried deep in my subconscious. He was most definitely hung over, but his entire being radiated the same energy that had been between us in Aden's room that night.

            "Ari?" Damien's voice was a good few octaves lower than his older brother's. It startled me. These men wore the faces of the boys I once knew, but were most definitely not them anymore. "Arianna?"

            Then, for the first time since he'd walked into the room five minutes prior, his lips curved upward into a smile, showcasing the only family resemblance he shared with his brother. Hesitating for a moment, he crossed the room and hugged me. His hug was unlike my Phil and Nix's life siphoning ones, but more like Buckley, protective but not tight enough to force my soul to leave my body.

            "You look—" Damien started, but his brother draped his arm over my shoulder with a grin, cutting him off.

            "Hot."

            Buckley started to make gagging sounds, feigning that he was ready to throw up as he headed for the kitchen. I smiled a little at the immaturity and looked between the brother's on either side of me. "Thanks."

            When I looked back to Phil, he was peering up the staircase, frowning. "Where are Sam and Aden? I know Hud's at work, but I told those two idiots Ari was going to be here today."

            Both boys perked up at the mention of their best friend's names, but Nix was the one who responded. "Sam's still getting dressed. He wants to look all sophisticated and proper. No idea where Aden is."

            I'd never quite understood how Sam and Phoenix had become friends, let alone stayed them for this long. As far back as I could remember, Sam was the quiet, pessimistic kid. He always found the negative in everything and made sure to point it out to everyone and dampen their mood. Phoenix was like the sun; radiant and optimistic, shining a light and his happiness one everyone. He was the little golden boy, Sam was the outcast, but maybe that's why it worked. Maybe Nix was the light for him. I'd thought Sam might grow out of his funk, but the way his friend was speaking of him was a definite sign stating otherwise.