Chapter Text
❉❉❉
"What are you doing, Kyle?" Cale asked his younger brother whom he found crouching in front of a rose bush.
There were also two maids escorting Kyle, each putting on gloves and holding a small pruner. The moment they spotted Cale, the maids hastily curtsied before returning to their task.
Kyle calmly looked up from the water container that had already soaked several cut stems of avalanche roses in peach and pink colours. The roses had not been in full bloom yet; surrounded by the spread of outer-most petals were the fresh buds not opening completely.
"Why are you back so soon from your training?" Kyle answered him with another question, and years of familiarity helped Cale pick up on the confusion soft in his brother's voice.
It made Cale frown a bit more. Kyle who would normally not be getting up at this hour in the morning unless he had a lesson was seen in the garden harvesting roses.
What could be so worthy that his little brother was willing to sacrifice his precious rest for?
And why did it have to be roses?
"I went back to fetch a few things," Cale said, the grip he had on his wooden sword subconsciously tightening. "Lucky that I did because, otherwise, I wouldn't know what my brother was doing without telling me."
Cale watched the faint grimace on Kyle's small face, a strange, distant, feeling of satisfaction aching in his chest amidst the anger of the past few months. The overwhelming resentment and loneliness.
Kyle had been so acceptant, so inquisitive that it was infuriating, that Cale looked childish and unreasonable in comparison.
He did not hate Kyle, could never, but he hated this persistent feeling of betrayal, hated the fact that he did not know who to even blame.
And this gradual, yet constant, accumulation of grievances was triggered at the sight of Kyle by the roses, reddish-brown eyes oh so attentive. Cale wanted to ask after him, where are your gloves? Those stems haven't been dethroned yet, please be careful with your hands. But Kyle was so evasive about his plans, a seven-year-old child so good at hiding and keeping things to himself.
However, one thing was clear to Cale: Kyle had not expected his older brother to be here.
Cale had lost one person who he loved dearly, and now was feeling so disconnected from another despite being so close.
Right at the moment Cale decided to run back to the training ground before he lashed out at the only one whom he did not ever desire to hurt, Kyle started to speak.
"Does this rose garden look neglected to you?"
It was such an inconsequential and unrelated topic, hardly worth being late for his training session, but Cale knew Kyle was never one to say nonsense unlike most children of his age. So Cale said honestly, "It does."
It was indeed neglected. The bushes had turned a bit wild and dull without proper pruning and fertilizing. There was a distinct lack of springtime decoration throughout the estate which should have been embellished with beautiful blooms in numerous vases once spring arrived.
Tending to the gardens and furnishing the mansion were fulfilled under the guidance of the Countess. A position left empty for now.
"Mother wouldn't want to see it in such a state." Kyle continued, "I don't want to see Mother's garden in such a state."
And Cale suddenly found it difficult to breathe, difficult to stop the slight tremble of his hands. Those words softly spoken in a clear boyish voice seemed to strike a chord.
Perhaps, right at the beginning, Cale had realized what was happening, as he was highly observant and sensitive. But noticing and accepting were different matters. In his refusal, Cale started to feel lost along the way, started to feel alienated in a reality he could not be agreeable towards.
Ignoring the cautious looks the maids sent his way and the unwavering gaze of his little brother, Cale finally turned his back and marched out of the garden without uttering anything.
His quest for revelations remained unclear.
It was dark in Cale's room when Kyle came after dinner, the lump on the bed lying unmoving. Kyle walked to stand at the bedside and remembered what Ron had told him once he got back from his impromptu visit.
'Anger is a great motivator in terms of enthusiasm, but it is also a hindrance in terms of judgment. I'm afraid you have to check on your brother, Young Master Kyle.'
Ron and his metaphors. Kyle had learned very soon to fear its viciousness and precision, so he listened closely even though his attention may seem as adrift as his gaze.
As reported, after their encounter in the rose garden, Cale began his training with vigor and ended it with avoidable injuries. Even his tutor acknowledged his bad mood and gave him advice on the importance of keeping a clear head before sending him off to lick his wounds.
Cale had never shown up for dinner that evening.
Which he had never done except for...
Except for the time Father could not bear to show.
In the end, Kyle sought him out and was now staring at his brother's prone form, knowing full well the older boy was not asleep.
"I've brought food in case you're hungry," Kyle said to the tuft of hair whose colour was similar to his peeking out from the cover. "It's not good for your development if you keep skipping meals. Children should eat well and-"
"Look who's talking?!" Cale cut him off, suddenly jolting up and yanking the blanket away from himself. "Are you not a child yourself?!"
Upon seeing Cale's indignant face distinct even in the dark, Kyle swallowed the instinctive it's different for me and said, "I'm not the one who has gone without eating properly today."
Cale glared at him but did not retort.
"Are you hungry?" Kyle asked again because he did not forget how uncomfortable and even painful it was to sleep through the night with hunger.
"You've had dinner already, right?" Cale grumbled, deliberately not answering.
"I have, but I can also have some desserts while you eat," Kyle said, deliberately not exposing him.
"Is that allowed? Having desserts this late?" Cale sounded doubtful.
And his doubt was correct.
No desserts before bedtime according to Ron.
"... I'll have some fruits then."
Several minutes later, a tray of food was placed on the table, and Kyle managed to drag Cale off his bed to sit on the couch to share their late spread. Vicross had prepared hummus on toasted bread, a salmon dish, and a cup of chamomile tea with honey for Cale, and a plate of sliced apples along with a glass of warm milk for Kyle.
They ate in silence but kept close on the same couch. Cale was a quick eater, and with both his vigorous training and growing age, his appetite was actually healthy. As a result, despite his grudges, Cale did not take long to finish his food once he set his eyes on them - Unlike Kyle who favored savoring.
So Kyle was still drinking his milk when he felt Cale's brown eyes turn to him, but he ignored them and waited.
"Did she like the roses?" Cale eventually said after a while.
"I think she did," Kyle gazed into the depth of the glass recalling the glimmer of unshed tears in Lady Violan's eyes, her serious face gentled into softer lines when Kyle gave her the bouquet. Basen had been there by her side, looking on with wonder and curiosity.
Something had tugged at his chest at the sight.
"She's a good person," Kyle continued, locking eyes with Cale. "Basen's a good kid too."
Cale kept his mouth shut for a moment, those boyish features appearing as stubborn as always.
But Kyle could clearly see his brother's eyes, as well as the discreet tremble in those brown hues with a tinge of red. Just like this morning.
His older brother, his Cale, was only a ten-year-old child.
Somewhere along his chase after the future, Kyle had admittedly left people behind. Unaware of their gazes on his turned back. Only to come to a realization when he eventually had to stop and locked eyes.
So Kyle stayed silent as Cale searched for words. The first few his brother found were: "You're a good kid, too."
And then followed by: "But I'm not."
"I'm sorry," Kyle said to Cale's profile.
"For what?" Cale still refused to look his way, his hands clenched tightly in his laps.
"I'm sorry for making you think that you are not good."
That got Cale startled, and Kyle continued, placing his palm down onto one of Cale's hands. "You are always good to me."
Watching Cale squeezing his fingers back, Kyle said again. "I'm sorry."
"... For what?" This time the question came out more forcefully.
"For making you feel like you were alone."
Drop.
Drop.
Drop. Drop. Drop.
Their intertwined hands were beginning to get wet, but neither pulled away.
This was the second time Kyle saw his older brother cry after... their mother's passing. The way his brother bit his lips to keep his pains quiet.
This house had been so quiet.
"It's okay to grieve," Kyle said in a whisper. "Loving others does not mean to stop grieving."
"I miss Mother," Cale said amidst relentless tears, finally curling up against the delicate body beside him. "I miss her terribly."
"I miss her, too," Kyle said to Cale's hair, his arms full of a quivering child.
Ron was right beside the door when Cale stepped out, an eyebrow raised on that benign smiling face.
"Does Father know?" Cale asked after closing the door carefully in order not to disrupt his younger brother's slumber.
"The Count was informed that Young Master Kyle went to The Fragrance of Tea with Poetry to pick up some books," Ron said, as far as anyone knew it was the truth.
One day Cale was going to master how to be out of line yet still not break any rules just like Ron. He had always found it both disturbing and awe-inspiring.
Cale looked away from Ron's calm features, saying: "I should have gone with him."
"It's easier to run away from a problem than to have the patience to endure and deal with it." Ron intoned, and Cale flinched, clenching his fists.
However, Ron was not done. "Ignoring things will not make them disappear. No matter how far and long you run, they may be there just around the corner, waiting for your most vulnerable moment to come back."
Cale could feel his eyes starting to burn again, but he did not bow his head in defeat, remembering Kyle's warm, soft, palm against his skin; Kyle's gentle, serious, apologies to his weaknesses.
Kyle's tender hold on the roses that somehow still managed to thrive with what little they had.
"I will not let him be worried anymore," Cale said, missing the grip of his sword fiercely. "It's time to stop running."
With that vow, Cale turned to walk down the hall, in the direction of the Count's study which was often lit late into the night.
Behind him, Ron smiled. "After you, Young Master."