Chapter Text
“ If you hadn’t failed your exams, you could have prosecuted your first case today, I hope you realize that.”
Konrad shot his brother an annoyed glance, short o f rolling his eyes at him.
“I didn’t fail , I chose to take them in the fall so I can focus on the band-“
“Konrad, this is absurd.”
Kristoph’s hands tightened around the steering wheel, gripping it with more force than necessary.
“ But, I-“
“You can’t have two full time careers at once. I tolerated your choice regarding your legal career, but this nonsense about starting a band needs to stop.”
The boy hit the cream-colored leather seat he sat on, lips pinched with anger.
“Would you listen for once!? We already have a record label! We could be big ! ”
Kristoph scoffed at his brother’s vehement and loud declaration, but remained quiet. His brother’s silence aggravated the soon-to-be-prosecuting-rock-star even more, and he hit the seat again .
“Goddamned it, Kris! You never listen! You say you ‘tolerate my choice’ but you don’t! You treat me like I don’t know what I am doing, but I have thought about it! It’s like you don’t even trust me with my own choices!”
The defense attorney remained quiet once more, a hard line around his mouth and his blue eyes January-cold.
Konrad gasped, wounded by the display.
“You don’t.”
His voice was toneless and he rested his head against the cool window , suddenly tired.
He had wanted Kristoph to be proud of him, of his success , and finally hunt for the truth hand in hand with his brother.
Maybe Konrad was proud, but he was stubborn too – so when he had asked his brother for aid to solve some kind of legal problem, it was usually justified since Konrad lacked the actual experience to solve the issue to his own standards.
And while Kristoph did not exactly deny his help, he didn’t go out of his way to help his brother either .
***
The last time Konrad had asked for help, already contrite with the prospect of tarnishing his own glory , Kristoph had been impatient, explaining in clipped, harsh German words that this was a topic solely regarding prosecutors and that Kristoph as a defense attorney c ouldn’t help him with that – benutz deinen Kopf, Konrad !
They have had a shouting match after that, and the boy had known fully well that the question had asked had only been a substitute for the reoccurring conflict of choosing the prosecutor’s course at Themis.
The boy had finally run up the stairs, hissing and spitting with rightful anger and locked himself in his room, playing his guitar as loud as possible.
But Kristoph hadn’t asked him to quiet down – in fact he hadn’t talked to Konrad the whole day afterwards.
And then the boy had left his room long hours after bedtime, chased from the comfort of solitude by hunger.
With careful, quiet steps he had made his way down the stairs to the kitchen, not even bothering with turning on the light.
At first, he didn’t notice the things on the kitchen island, too busy to inspect the hidden treasures the fridge harbored, briefly wondering if Kris still had some of the banana-brownie left in there he had bought after work.
Even though Konrad had eaten his share already, he really wasn’t inclined to grant him the treat he had been saving all day.
And indeed – he was in luck.
Maybe Kristoph had skipped dinner again to work on one of his cases, like he did so often.
With a satisfied hum Konrad took the clingfilm-wrapped plate to the counter, already munching happily on his stolen pastry.
As his gaze fell on the second plate on the counter, his mouth went dry and the delicious brownie tasted like ash.
With a sudden loss of appetite Konrad swallowed and examined the second, too plastic-wrapped plate, placed carefully on a book.
Carefully he put the sandwich aside – the unholy combination of cheese, mayonnaise, pickles, pepperoni and tomatoes the boy inhaled on a daily basis – and gave the book a closer look.
It was a law book, but Konrad had suspected as much.
What he hadn’t expected was the fact that several chapters were marked with sticky-notes, which in turn were labelled in Kristoph’s neat, cursive handwriting.
Konrad had to bite his lip as he realized that the notes covered the question, he had had earlier today more than enough for the boy to shine with the solution to a problem each of the aspiring prosecutors had to present the next day in class.
He stood there in the dark kitchen for a long time, eyes hefted on the thick book on the kitchen counter, not sure if it was meant as an apology.
***
“Konrad.”
Kristoph’s voice was gentle, but the boy didn’t react, even though there was no chance he could have overheard his brother.
The defense attorney shot a quick glance to Konrad, curled up on himself on the passenger seat, eyes averted from his older brother.
For a heartbeat he wondered if he was crying or just avoiding eye-contact.
The adult sighed, knowing full well that he had to play with open cards now, if he wanted to mend the wound he had inflicted upon his younger brother by mistake.
It was not like he distrusted Konrad – he just didn’t trust the rest of humankind.
Kristoph was no stranger to the world, he had been faced with more than enough suffering and loss for a lifetime and desperately wished for his brother to stay under his wings, where he could shield him from ever suffering what a mean, cruel world had to offer.
And Kristoph had gotten to know how hard and rotten life could be, since he had fought teeth and claw for custody when their father had succumbed to the grief their mother’s accidental death had left the whole family with.
He had been able to forgive his mourning, for he had lost the love of his life.
What he hadn’t been able to forgive was the fact, that he had given in to the grief and chosen to follow after her.
At the age of nineteen Kristoph had been forced to carry the weight of his brother’s and his own future on his shoulders.
He had slipped into the unfamiliar role of a caretaker for a boy of eleven years, while resuming his legal studies at the same time he was trying to cope with his own – and more importantly – his brother’s loss of both of their parents and home.
Maybe it had been selfish of him to take Konrad to Los Angeles, but if Kristoph had wanted to offer the child a stable home, he had to have a reliable income and a stable job first, right?
And if he had become cold and calculating as he tried to create an environment where his brother could flourish, that was only fair, since his coldness and calculation were the shield he had built between the world and Konrad.
Konrad, who seemed so keen on leaving the desperately built up walls his older brother had constructed around him.
“Konrad, I just want to protect you.”
Kristoph shot another glance to the boy; who now looked up, eyes red rimmed and overflowing with a heartbreaking sorrow only a teenager could feel.
That one moment of distraction was enough, and even if Kristoph tried his best to brake in time, the stopping distance was too long – and the teeth-hurting sound of squeaking tires found its raging crescendo in a world-shattering crash of metal and glass.
What followed was whiteness and silence.