Prompt- So I decided to write out everyone's sort of origin story and how they met Alexis. This is Ike's!
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"Ike! Joshie!"
Ike climbed off of his bed, leaving his room. His little brother was waiting in the hallway for him.
"Are we in trouble?" Joshie asked.
"Only if you did something bad, Joshua," Ike said, giving him a little shove forward.
They went out to their living room, where their parents were waiting. There was a board game laid out on the floor, and Ike sighed.
"I hate family game night," he said. "It's lame."
"You've been so moody now that you're a teenager!" his mom said. "Come on, Ike, it'll be fun! Family time is important!"
His mom said this every time he complained. But he felt too old to be doing stupid things like game night. Still, his mom and dad were determined to spend at least one night a week bonding.
He and Joshie sat down with their parents. His dad patiently explained the game to Joshie as his mom set up all the pieces and cards.
"Here Joshie, which color do you want to be?" his mom asked.
Ike's father leaned over, smiling at Ike. "Thank you," he said, keeping his voice down so the other two wouldn't hear. "You boys are getting older so fast. The bonding nights mean a lot to me and your mom."
"Yea, yea," Ike said. He returned the smile and shrugged. "I guess family time isn't that lame."
***
Ike thought the worst day of his life was the day he crashed into a tree skiing. Everyone had laughed at him, except for his frantic parents. Once they were sure he was okay, though, even they laughed at him. No one had let him live it down. They referred to him as tree-hugger, laughing when he blushed at the name. Surely, no day could be worse than that.
Until the day his mother died.
He was 13 years old when he heard his father screaming in the living room. He ran out, seeing his father on his knees, clutching at his chest like he was in pain. Two police officers stood at the door, looking sympathetic and sad. Their faces grew even sadder as Ike slowly came into the room, followed by his little brother.
The cause of the fire was still under investigation, they informed the three. But Ike's mother had not been one of the people to make it out alive.
Ike had walked out that night, after their family had left them to mourn. His father had sat at the table, a shot glass in front of him, a bottle of vodka open next to it.
"Ike," he said, holding his hand out. Ike went over, and his father placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ike." Ike could smell the liquor potent on his father's breath. His dad was drunk, but not the fun drunk he got at weddings. He looked irreparably broken. "Ike, I wish I didn't love you and Joshie and your mom as much as I do. God is cruel, you know that? Fate is cruel. This fucking world is cruel. Joshie's a good boy. You're a good boy. But you're old enough that this'll change you. You take good care of Joshie, okay? Keep him a sweet boy."
"Dad," Ike said, feeling afraid. "Don't talk like that. It's scary."
"You're as nice as your mom was. You and Joshie watch out for each other," his dad said, patting him on the back and giving him a light shove away. He poured another shot, downing it, staring at the empty shot glass with infinite sadness.
