It was a grim day. In terms, well, Ashre would say it was grim in every possibly reason imaginable. He felt weak, having been cooking and cleaning all day, simply trying to pass the time. The room he occupied was large, yet the smallest of the whole house, now his because of his victory.
He thought it was disgusting.
The wallpaper was wrong, the floorboards were gross, the appliances all worked incorrectly. The garden in the back bloomed with the ugliest flowers, while the trail of rocks up to the front door was plain. Paintings' images made him cringe, as well as the shape of the windows. Everything down to the pricks of a fork irked him terribly. However, only if he wasalone. And right now, he was.
Wherin was somewhere else. Not dead, no, otherwise Ashre would've died too. Wherin was at the hospital, his wife bearing a child the very moment Ashre leaned his head against the window. A sigh escaped his lips, forcing up his throat to feel the grey aura. He looked down at his wrist, a silver watch wrapped around loosely. The tick was the only sound in the room, other than the silence of his loneliness.
Twenty years... and I still remember.
It took Ashre three days to speak. After the final interview, he stayed mute for 72 hours, unwilling to even make eye contact with anyone, but Wherin. The first time he spoke, it was to say goodnight to his family, and they all grinned sadly.
It took Ashre six months to sleep through a whole night. And another two to sleep a whole week. Other days, a night terror or two or three or even four, kept him awake. Sometimes, he can still feel how sticky the sweat was from screaming, sitting up his bed, trying to escape the fear.
It took Ashre a year to talk about Keon. He didn't want to, but he ultimately confided in the one other person who knew him. Wherin. The boy's older brother was shocked to hear Ashre talk about Keon with such distaste. For the boy muttered horrid nothings like he were a casualty of war, and not Keon Ristarria himself.
It took Ashre another year to forgive himself, and remember Keon in an unfiltered light.
It took him six years to sit through a Reaping, because Ashre was finally nineteen, an ineligible age for the Games. The thought of being chosen was always there.
It took him a full decade to think of the things he did without shaking, crying, going black. He remembers every moment clearly, but it was recounting it that scared him.
And now, twenty years later, Ashre still couldn't stand being alone.
A knock on the door frightened him, but he shot up to answer it, smiling. He knew who it would be, and why he was coming. The knocks continued, followed by Wherin's deep calls for him.
"Ash tray! Come on! Open up, will ya?"
And he did, twisting the knob ferociously, shoving the door open, jumping forward to engulf his brother in an embrace. It was tight- it was alwaystight. Ashre never wanted to let go, but in a few seconds, he would. Wherin hugged him with equal passion because he knew it's what Ashre needed. He wouldn't let go until his little brother did.
"It's a boy, you know," Wherin said, a permanent grin residing in the middle of a grown beard. He was visibly shaking with excited nerves.
"Really? How's he doing?" Ashre let go and stepped inside, walking briskly to the most comfortable room in the house. Of course, Wherin followed, looking forward to finally getting off of his feet.
"Doing great. He's huge, almost a full head of hair..." Wherin was murmuring, an adorability adorning his tone. They sat by each other, and for a moment, Ashre questioned why Wherin wasn't at the hospital anymore.
He came back for me, Ashre said, I'm still weak.
"Did you two figure out a name?" Ashre asked, watching Wherin with the same pride he did in his teen years.
"Yes," Wherin said, turning to face his brother. His expression was soft and like everything precious in the world was just inside his lips, ready to slip off his tongue.
"Well?" Ashre motioned for Wherin to continue, unaware of how ethereal the moment was. The two brothers would remember the moment to their graves.
"It's Keon. We named him Keon."
---
Karla: Why you do dis to me? I didn't need this. I had closure...
