The Perfect Act

Irresolute

THE PERFECT ACT

Six: Irresolute

Ivar stepped into the house, looking around at the unfamiliar space. "Our dad isn't here," Arlen spoke, loosening his tie.

"I'm going to change." Ailey gestured at her black dress. Ivar nodded watching the girl disappear from the room awkwardly.

"Where's the bathroom?" he asked the older brother, looking anywhere but at him.

"Up and down the hall. Last on the left." He nodded and followed up the stairs, noticing the walls were filled with photos; some he even recognized Fitz in. He smiled at the sweet moments this family seemed to have capture with his brother.

He closed the bathroom door behind him and hastily washed his face, staring into the mirror. Ivar's usual short hair had grown a bit in this whirlwind week, accompanied by dark circles beneath his eyes.

The black shirt fit snugly around his muscles, but it was the only one he could find in his closet. He tucked it in neatly again, wishing he could just discard it completely. Ivar's stomach rumbled, his constant ferocious hunger begging to be tamed. Staring into the mirror again he wondered what the hell the siblings had planned. He sighed and hurried back to find what they were scheming.

A coffee mug appeared in front of him and he chugged it down selfishly, the bitter liquid burning his tongue. "That was Ailey's cup..." Arlen tried to hold back his laugh.

Ivar turned to the younger sibling with a burning gaze that made him gulp with guilt. "Sorry." Arlen sat a second cup in front of him, taking the empty one and promising another cup for his sister. Ivar chugged down the second cup too, this time it was a sweet, creamy flavour celebrated by his taste buds.

He looked up again and saw the girl staring at him. God, she was weird.

Ivar pursed his lips, wishing the brother who made him uncomfortable would come back. As if he heard the wish, Arlen appeared; a bag of chips in one hand, Ailey's coffee in the other.

"Here you go." Arlen handed him the bag. Without even a 'thanks' Ivar opened the bag and munched happily.

"Arlen?" Ailey reprimanded her brother dramatically, gesturing at the bag of chips.

"What?" The brother shrugged defensively. "Let the guy eat first."

The siblings stared at each other nervously, waiting for their guest to finish his incessant snacking.

Another empty wrapper flew to the ground and Ivar sat back patting his full tummy. He opened his eyes and noticed the siblings looking at him. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he sat upright.

"Okay. So what is your plan?" The two shared that annoying knowing look.

"That night when Fitz-." Arlen silenced himself and took a deep breath. "That night. I promise I wasn't drunk. And Fitz didn't drink at all. He drove us there anyway; you know he would-."

"Arlen." Ivar stopped him. "You told me already what happened. You don't have to say it again." He folded his arms and leaned back. He really didn't have to mention it again.

"I know, but..." Arlen squirmed where he sat. "Well, at the hospital...You know...everything, right?" It dawned then what made Arlen so uncomfortable, and Ivar sat forward, looking at the bruised up guy.

"You're gay." It was a statement. Ivar had known for a while already, but it was confusing seeing how different this twitching Arlen was compared to the one that shouted it in the hospital. Along with the bruises, Arlen kept moving side to side, slutching where his ribs were fractured. Ivar shrugged his shoulders. "Again, no new information."