A Rhapsody Of Sorts

27- Brass Buttons Hold You Together

November 24, 2012.

The snow was already melting, frost gleaming like broken pieces of crystal on the grass as the sun fought, and mostly failed, to break through the gray clouds overhead. I watched from the window seat, moving aside the curtain and dropping my forehead on the cold glass. Across from my perch, Harry slept soundly on the sofa, curled up in the same position that he'd passed out in after we ate the rest of the soup my mum had stowed away in the fridge last night. I hadn't slept, and even though my lids felt heavy and I couldn't stop yawning, I wasn't planning on trying to any time soon.

It was peaceful looking out the front window with nothing to accompany me except for the sound of Harry's steady breathing. I felt serene, like I could sit here and watch autumn become winter and winter become spring, and so on, forever, content just to watch and listen from within my own little glass bubble while the world continued to change outside and Harry and I stayed just as we were.

But Pip's voice shattered my calm.

"I'm telling Mum," he hissed.

"Don't be an idiot," Sydney snapped in a harsh whisper.

"That's not fair," Pip sputtered loudly. "We're not allowed to have girls over, so why can Oliver have boys stay the ni—"

I heard the sound of Sydney smacking his hand over Pip's mouth. "Because you're fourteen bleeding years old and Oliver technically owns this house anyway so—don't lick me, you wanker!"

With a frown, I pulled my face away from the window and let the curtain fall back in place. When I turned, I was met with the sight of Sydney and Pip standing beneath the living room archway, both snarling in annoyance. It couldn't have been much later than half-eight, but they were both already dressed — which was weird as it was Saturday and my brothers rarely, if ever, bothered to roll out of bed before eleven when they didn't have school. With a deep, wistful sigh, I hopped down from the window seat and hurried over to them.

Pip broke free from Sydney's hold as I reached them. "Oliver, why is—"

"Shh." I grabbed each of them by the crooks of their elbows and walked them back out into the foyer, sitting them down at the foot of the stairs.

"What's he doing here, Oli? Will he still be here later? Can Elisabetha come 'round?" Pip asked excitedly, slapping his hands against his thighs. Sydney elbowed him in the ribs.

"Shut up, Pip," he grumbled before he looked up at me with guilty eyes. "Uh, er, are you...quite angry with me, Oli?"

"Maybe I should be." I shrugged and crossed my arms over my chest. "Honestly, Sydney, you're supposed to be on my side here."

Sydney's apologetic look turned hostile, his upper lip curling in anger. "I am on your side. I wouldn't have called Harry at all if I wasn't on your side. I wouldn't have given him our address if I wasn't on your side," he exasperated, tugging on his hair. "If I was any more on your side I'd be super-glued to your hip, you twat!"

I gawked. "How the hell does you calling Harry without asking me qualify as you being on my side?"

"What're you two on about?" Pip whined, looking between us.

I gulped and averted my gaze from their matching hazel stares. Sydney laughed sharply. "Oliver is being an idiot," he told Pip. "As per usual, she doesn't know what's best for her."

"And like you do?" I asked, voice dangerously low. "You don't get to play around with my life as you like, you presumptuous knobhead."

"Did you two work out whatever it was that was bothering you?" he barked, snappish and condescending as he shot me an unwavering glare. Sydney could be shy and reserved but this side of him — the arrogant, snot-nosed brother — was bursting forth now. "Did Harry coming here make you feel better?"