ONCE UPON A WARLOCK ✓

BLOOD IS THICKER THAN SEMEN

JULIUS CAN'T FIND SOMETHING GOOD enough to motivate him to make him leave this torture room. It's like he's been crucified, invisible nails stabbed into his palms and feet against the arms of the cushion. He randomly glances at Ezra's diamond ear stud, his lustre Audemar watch and they pitch little to no interest. Mere glancing at Remi's velvety knees sears his corneas. Then he lands on the glass resting on a stool beside Remi, a glass of white wine.

Somehow the white triggers him of his father's essence.

"Excuse me," he mutters.

Julius is halfway out of the seat when Ezra's grip on his wrist--again--freezes him midair. Ezra's cerulean irises burn into him like lazers, those lazers bend in form of words like neon shop signs telling him it is all a prank and this is all purposed for some corny wedding proposal.

He still won't gree anyhow.

Brothers don't stare at each other this way. Okay this seems like normal, harmless staring but even Scooby-Doo can tell this is more than fraternal. Surprise surprise, Remi can tell too. The wiggling of her leg speeds up, so does the tapping of her fingernails onto the glass. That formerly unctuous countenance has wrenched into an oxymoron.

"Your brother needs some air." Remi, with unwavering nonchalance checks those rubicund, plastic talons on her fingers. "Clearly he's xenophobic, leave him alone."

Julius' left eye twitch, so does the right corner of his lips. Tearing his arm out of Ezra, he stampedes out of the scene. With his heart in his boots and his palms red-hot, he opens the door to the master's bedroom and slams it close. Ezra can be heard knocking, begging frantically to enter. It's locked; as if there's anything a warlock can't open.

Julius is in an akimbo, walking to and fro the room. An index finger is clamped between his teeth in regret. His hands fly back to his head, ruffling the coffee-coloured locks that are already all out in bearings.

This new information is way too much for him to absorb in a night. It's like this 4500-word essay Mr. Rasheed instructed the class to soak into their head within 30 minutes. Right now, Julius is a theatre arts student because this essay is a visual and is labelled My Gay Boyfriend is Getting Married To His Business Partner's Daughter.

Because Julius remembers the tramp.

Ezra talks about her all the time, not in the good way of course but the current circumstances have conjured the skeleton out of the cupboard, they have exposed the fowl's anus from beneath its feathers.

"Ezra is getting married. Under my nose, fuck! He is going to the altar, Jules. He listened to Beyonce's advice and now going to put a ring on it, on a girl! Julius Sullivan, your boyfriend is about to be wed to a--"

The door opens-

Julius doesn't spare the intruder a second as a blood-red lightning bolt in a sphere shoots out of his palms, causing the apartment's lighting to fluctuate. Ezra is quick to counter it, his eyes flashing ardent gold as he stretches his hand towards the incoming attack. The sphere disintegrates into numerous streaks of red with a vociferous spark that resounds within the room.

The younger man grits his teeth before flexing his fingers in a flurry of handsigns that conjure those streaks to form a cyclone around Ezra who suddenly begins to glow a blinding gold color, erasing the insane volts of electricity from sight.