above all (m×m) ✔

14) father figures

"Are you sure you're okay?" Steven breathed, noticing the tension in Brandon's shoulders, the uncertainty in his eyes. "You can talk to me, you know that ri—"

"Didn't you say you're starving?" Brandon cut him short, standing up. 

Steven watched Brandon as he made his way to the kitchen counter and picked up the paper bag, the hunger long forgotten from his mind. Luckily his appetite made a come-back as soon as he smelled the greasy aroma of hash browns and Egg McMuffins.

"My dad's new wife is only 33 years old and their girl just turned three." Steven found himself telling Brandon somewhere in between his second and third hash brown. He could hear how tentatively the words came out of his mouth, and he wondered what exactly he was hoping to gain by telling that. "My mom and his husband have a son, Bereket, who was born a year before my parents' divorce."

Brandon listened intently, not once trying to interrupt Steven or ask questions. He had forgotten all about the Egg McMuffin, which lay on his lap in its wrapper. His lips were parted, his eyes pensive, yet focused. Steven wondered yet again if he knew exactly how much effort talking about his family, without the jokes and belittling, took from Steven. 

"And, as you already know", Steven started, chuckling uncomfortably. He picked at his hash brown, frowning and trying to collect his thoughts. Brandon waited patiently, until Steven finally continued: "My parents can't even look at each other without wanting to claw each other's eyes from their eye sockets. So, it's safe to say I have some experience with dysfunctional families."

A silence fell over them, as Steven waited for Brandon to say something. He didn't, but instead picked up his Egg McMuffin and took a bite of it. He seemed perfectly content with the silence. To the point where Steven was thinking that Brandon knew what he was trying to ask, and deliberately acted like he didn't. 

"So, um.." Steven cleared his throat. "You don't have to talk to me, but just know that I won't get spooked easily in case you do want to talk about your dad. Or the nightmare."

"What is your dad like?" Brandon asked, taking another deliberate bite of his breakfast. Steven knew he was stalling, trying to veer Steven's thoughts elsewhere. Waiting for Steven to tell a story and forget all about his previous question. That wasn't going to happen, not this time.

"Nicholas is glum and grumpy, but he means well. He's loyal to a fault, and he would never have cheated mom like mom cheated him." Steven told Brandon anyway, shrugging. "And Hakim is funny, adventurous and loud. I swear, you better bring earplugs if you ever visit him."

"And, who was who again?" Brandon chuckled, smiling apologetically. 

"Nicholas is my biological father and Hakim is my stepfather." Steven explained, waving his hand and smiling. He leaned back on the couch, letting his back sink in the soft cushion. He kept gazing at Brandon, wordlessly trying to coax him to talk.

Brandon hummed, then shifted uncomfortably, noticing Steven's expectant stare. He set down the rest of his breakfast, biting his lower lip. Just as Steven was thinking about letting it go, Brandon snapped: "What do you want me to say?"

It wasn't anger that made his voice rise, but desperation. Brandon had never raised his voice at Steven or anyone else as far as Steven knew. He hadn't meant to corner Brandon like that, and he opened his mouth to say so, but Brandon beat him to it.

"Sorry, that was uncalled for." Brandon sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose just above the bridge of his glasses. "I'm tired and.. I don't know. I just don't know." 

Then Brandon stood up, new-found determination in his expression. He opened a kitchen drawer, picking up something and walking back to Steven. He didn't say a word, but just dropped a piece of paper on Steven's lap.