everyone around him dies

Part 7

Cale woke up with a shame-hangover.

The embarrassment did allow him a certain clarity of mind though. The toxic thoughts that had clouded his vision started to fade away. All that was left was the throbbing from his healing broken arm that his brother was resting on and the knowledge that he'd been acting like an idiot.

Even if Roksu did hate him, that didn't change his responsibilities to the child. Getting emotional and weak over a few bad days was a privilege for a person leading a better life.

Cale didn't have that kind of time. With the luck his current life offered him he'd be lucky if he didn't lose his arm after a simple break. It was just that kind of situation.

Roksu was still asleep, crying himself to exhaustion with puffy eyes and cuddled against Cale's cast like it was a comfortable pillow.

Considering the number of questionable things Roksu had used as a pillow in his short life, this probably wasn't that uncomfortable.

Despite the discomfort and pain, Cale didn't have the heart to immediately dislodge him. Besides, he'd need to gather his thoughts.

Clearly Roksu didn't hate him and that meant that the reasons for his recent coldness weren't so clean cut. Cale dreaded whatever had been going on inside of that tiny head. It was surely something dreadful.

It was obvious when he wasn't looking at it through the toxic lenses of his own warped feelings.

Roksu's behavior had changed after Cale's injury. Roksu had begun to piece together just why exactly the people around him always suffered.

Cale knew that Roksu had some inkling that he was the source of this nasty curse but he'd hoped that Roksu would never have to deal with it long enough to realize the common thread between himself and those who suffered or died.

Everyone Roksu loved.

In a way, every death defying instance that Cale experienced was tangible proof that his brother loved him. A twisted affirmation. Cale sort of wished he'd thought about that before spiraling with negativity. The three or more instances where he'd barely dodged death's looming scythe over the last two weeks would have been more than enough proof that Roksu still cared.

The moment of weakness had luckily passed though and now he could go about the difficult task of assuring Roksu that there was truly no level of danger that was going to convince his older brother to leave him.

What a difficult needle to thread... Cale let out a low sigh, watching as Roksu stirred in response. Tired brown eyes opened, blurry and red from crying. Despite his tragic life, Roksu really wasn't a child who cried very much at all. Every time he did Cale felt the weight of it. How hard he must have been pushing himself to become this distressed. How much pain he was holding inside.

Cale hoped that one day Roksu could feel comfortable crying. It wasn't right that such a small child couldn't openly express his pain.

In his heart, Cale promised himself that he'd get Roksu a life that allowed him to be a complete brat.

"We need to talk." He said quietly and Roksu nodded, frowning nervously.

Silly kid. He probably thought he'd done something wrong. Well, he had, but Cale would never hold that against him. Kids were supposed to make silly mistakes here and there. They weren't supposed to have the threat of death looming over them if they fucked up.

Roksu sat up and Cale hid the pain that radiated from his broken arm, slipping his feet over the edge of the bed and towards the hallway. They didn't want to wake up all the other sleeping kids or be overheard by any early risers. With the practiced ease of two delinquents, they snuck up the stairs to the rooftop. Cale had long since pinched one of the staff keys so he was able to sneak in and out of anywhere in the building.