Harmony in Hell: A Radiodust Story

Chapter Twenty-Two

Anthony's hands caressed the petals of his cherished flowers, a moment of tranquility interrupted by the harsh sound of his brother's voice. "You're messing with those flowers again?"

The blonde lifted his gaze at the familiar tone. "Do you need something, Jonathan?" Despite being older, Jonathan stood shorter than Anthony, resembling their father with dark brown hair, self-cut, and a perpetual frown etched onto his face.

"Listen, Dad's on the way home," Jonathan announced with an air of urgency. Anthony's brows furrowed. "Why?"

"He got laid off again," Jonathan replied. "You should probably make yourself scarce; Molly already took off." Anthony's eyes flicked back to the flowers, contemplating whether to stay or go.

"Are you planning to stay here?" The blonde asked. Jonathan nodded, his words laced with a sense of duty. "Someone's gotta make sure he doesn't go off killing someone."

Anthony chuckled, though the laughter was strained, his concern evident for Jonathan whenever he played the reluctant guardian. "Could you water these for me?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jonathan sighed. "Do you need some money, or are you going to that one guy's house, what was his name again?"

"Alastor, and no, I don't need any of your money," Anthony assured. Jonathan nodded in understanding, offering a parting word, "Alright, well, I'm not sure when Dad's gonna show up, so it'd be best if you get going now."

Anthony rose from his seat, brushing off imaginary dust from his pants. "See you later then."

"Arrivederci."

–

When Anthony arrived home that night, an unsettling feeling lingered in the air. The silence enveloped the house, unsettlingly quiet for his taste. 'Maybe Dad passed out,' he pondered. Instead of immediately stepping inside, he opted to loop around the back, hoping to find solace in the presence of his beloved flowers. A soft hum escaped his lips, a tune reminiscent of moments spent dancing with Alastor. The memory of their joyous hours together still held a tight grip on him.

However, the pleasant reverie was abruptly shattered as he laid eyes on his once-thriving garden, now reduced to ruins. Flowers were cruelly torn from their roots, petals strewn about haphazardly, and in some places, it seemed as if the garden had fallen victim to a blaze. Tears welled up in Anthony's eyes, and he felt rooted to the spot where he stood.

"Anthony," a voice broke through the devastation. Slowly, the blonde turned to find Jonathan standing behind him, a broken nose marring his features. "Dad... he was angrier than I thought. He showed up while I was watering them for you, and I... there was nothing I could do."

Silence hung heavily in the air as Anthony simply stared at Jonathan, his heart weighed down by the destruction before him. In a weak attempt to console, Jonathan offered, "You can always replant it. They're just flowers, after all."

Anthony's eyes widened, his tone filled with venom. "They weren't just flowers. This garden, it's important to me, and you... you led him right to it! I worked so hard to make sure he never found it, that he wouldn't even look back here, and you ruined that! Ti odio!"

Jonathan stayed silent for a moment, the weight of Anthony's words hanging heavily in the air. When he finally spoke, there was a heavy resignation in his voice. "This is why I told him that it was yours."

Anthony felt as if the ground had been pulled from beneath him, a sharp pain of betrayal slicing through him. He stepped back, incredulous. "You... what?"