An Aftermath Of Many Years (CrankGameplays)

2

1st November 2016

I had headphones on as I looked out the window, feet up on the dashboard. No matter how many times Mark pushed them off, they always found themselves back to that spot. The funny thing was that I could've been doing anything but this right now, yet here I was because my brother wanted me specifically to help out. Not just to pick up his little slave monkey from the airport, but with some videos earlier in the day. He just hadn't let me go home yet. I looked at him in the reflection of the glass. His red hair shone vividly. I had always liked each of the colours he went for. He had the right face for it.

"Are you on medication currently?" He asked. He was fine with asking questions like that. I pulled off my headphones and he repeated himself. "Other than the anti-anxiety ones."

"No. Why?" I looked at him with my warm brown eyes. He had the same ones. "You wanna use my body for something and not sure whether or not I'll die?"

He just laughed and pulled up to a boom gate. Happy airport times, indeed. Of course, I continued to look down at my phone, more engaged in the text conversation on the group chat between my friends. There were about four of us, each doing our own thing at all times, but mostly sending each other memes. Specifically ones of my brother, who had mustered enough courage to look at what I was laughing at. He regretted it instantly.

"Fuck your friends," he mumbled, pulling into a parking space.

"Honestly, they'd probably enjoy that," I laughed as he opened his door. His small head shake and chuckle said that he knew it was a joke. I enjoyed how much he wasn't a serious person, and even though sometimes it was necessary for him to be serious, he always had a lightness to him and a warm casting smile. "I swear, they like you more than me."

I pulled myself out of the passenger seat and put my headphones back on. They were a dark orange colour. Like an Australian dust or a deep terracotta. A warm summer night in the desert. Tyler had gotten them for my 19th birthday and I had told him and myself that I'd look after them. They were my lucky headphones now, and I used them to edit almost everything I did. I loved the darker shades of orange. They were this weird shade of something that was warm, but not burning like red and I could barely describe it properly.

LAX was busy no matter what day or time it was and the swam of different people, each with a different life and family and story intrigued me. All of them had their own thing going on. You could see families reuniting and loved ones enjoying their first together moment in far too long. I didn't know if they had been without each other for a week or a month, but the love and vulnerability of each person made it obvious that it didn't matter. That was their story and I was a faceless background character for them. I liked it that much more, knowing that. I could witness a thousand moments like this, and I would matter none of them. To them, they were the only two people in the world.

Mark, noticing my disengagement in my own world, pulled my arm with his right hand and pushed my headphones off with his left. I looked at him, concerned with the sudden lack of Fall Out Boy.

"You get distracted easily. One day you're going to get lost in a supermarket." I could barely argue, not that I wanted to because Mark would always win, physical or not. "Just, stop watching strangers and being weird."

"It's not weird."

"Yes, it is."

I sighed and shoved my hands into the pockets of my dungaree's. I sat down near baggage collect and pulled out my phone. The group chat, that was purposely always muted, was open when I unlocked my phone. Still, just images of Mark were the only thing they were sending each other. I smirked and opened up my camera. He was standing a few feet in front of me, so it wasn't that hard to get a photo of him.

He's making me come with him to pick up his newest slave monkey.
- Kiara Fischbach

Wow, what a meanie.
- Jenny Waitsing

Who's the slave monkey?
- Aaron Smith

The mixed responses of the group were always my favourite. They had heart, even if they were just a bunch of white people collectively being white people.

Some kid called Ethan.
- Kiara Fischbach

I looked up at Mark again. He had a certain posture that he adopted when he was waiting for anything. In line to get a coffee, that posture. Waiting for me to get ready to go out, that posture. I snickered and shifted on the metal seat, my shoes squeaking against the tiles. He looked back at me and waved me over. I hadn't noticed what he was looking at before, but as I stood up, the sight of a boy not much taller than me came into view. He had blue hair and looked largely out of place compared to everyone around. I walked up and stood next to my brother, shoved my hands into my pockets and gave the boy a soft smirk. He smiled back and adjusted the bag hanging loosely over his shoulder.

"Ethan, this is Kiara." He looked at me as I screwed up my nose and looked directly at Ethan. He looked away. "My sister."

I stuck out my right hand for him to shake it and he just looked down at it. "It's rude not to shake someone's hand."

"Loosen up, Ki. You're already the worlds most unintentionally intimidating person." Mark shoved my shoulder and I pulled my hand away. "Kiara, this is Ethan. My-"

"Slave monkey." I looked directly into Ethan's eyes. They were a vibrant hazel that leant more towards the blue side of things. I could imagine them being a beautiful turquoise colour when he cried and from that moment, I wanted to see him cry. Mark whacked my shoulder forcefully and I smiled innocently.

"Don't mind her. I swear, she isn't always like this."

Ethan laughed and scratched the back of his neck. "It's alright. some people just take a while to warm up to me."

I bit my lip and slid my hand back into my pocket. "You're not sitting next to me in the car."