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The rev of his motorcycle thunders across the neighborhood. It’s late, but Mattholomule still perks up at the sound. His glance flits over to the calendar — it’s two weeks before his brother’s supposed to visit. Even in the darkness, Matt can make out the giant, neon words he has scribbled at the bottom of the month — VISITATION DAY!
He scrambles out of bed, tossing on his black hoodie and running outside, with only socks to shield him from the pavement. The motorcycle headlights cut through the trees. Matt grins, blocking his eyes as the illumination hits his face. It’s late, and the neighbors are certainly going to chew them out in the morning for being loud, but none of this matters to Matt. His older brother steps off the bike and shakes his hair out of his helmet.
Steve mirrors his little brother’s smile. They’ve both got the same left dimple, the one inherited from Mom. He opens his arms, and Matt closes into his hug, deflating in the familiarity. Steve buckles his knees a bit, so his little brother can rest his chin on his shoulder the way he always likes to.
“What are you doing here?” Mattholomule asks, and the question makes Steve’s heart pang. He can’t even visit his own home on a whim without it being unexpected, out of the blue. Steve can’t even fault Matt — the last time he visited, he was only able to stay a couple of hours, and on the visit before that, he had shown up ridiculously late.
“That’s not important,” he says. “Let’s catch up inside!”
Matt detaches, reluctantly, and walks up to the house. Steve tsks.
“You’ve gotta wear shoes, dude.”
“Well, you gotta call ahead next time you visit,” he retorts. It’s like home the way they fall back into easy banter.
The brothers walk in and sit down at the table. Steve takes in his surroundings, checking to see what has changed and what hasn’t, while Matt wordlessly boils water for tea.
“Hey,” he suddenly says. “Why aren’t you wearing the Emperor’s Coven mask?”
“I’m not on duty,” Steve says. “No need to wear it.”
He doesn’t give Mattholomule the true explanation. He just gives him the easy one. Matt accepts this, seemingly, and sets the mugs down.
Steve frowns at his little brother’s attire. He’s wearing sweatpants and a hoodie and thick socks, but he’s still shivering. Two people working full-time, and yet Matt is still cold. “What have you been up to, man?”
Matt grins. “Well, I’ve been making lots of money. First, I helped Tibbles scam this annoying girl from my school, then I got to speak at a CryptCurrency seminar, and I started doing commissions at school.”
“Those are… definitely ways to make money, yes. What are people commissioning you for?”
Matt runs upstairs and reappears with a stack of poster-making supplies. He drops them onto the table earnestly — he’s got a swath of different brushes, a pack of acrylic paint pens, and even some glitter glue. Some assorted markers go rolling off the table, and he scrambles to save them all.
“Slow down, Matt,” Steve advises, moving his tea mug so he doesn’t knock it over. “We have all night and all morning.”
“You said that last time,” he says. “And then we didn’t.” Matt holds up a half-finished poster. It depicts a teenaged-couple. Above it reads, in slanted text, Happy Seven Month Aniversery.
“You’ve misspelled ‘anniversary’.”
“I don’t care.”
“This is really good,” Steve says, folding his arms and looking thoughtfully at Matt’s art. It’s actually very well composed, there’s form and technique to it, like Matt’s actually been studying anatomy in his spare time. The coloring is skillful, and the rendering of skin looks fairly realistic considering the cheap supplies he used. “I didn’t know you liked drawing.”
“Pfft, I don’t ,” Matt lies, badly, leaning forward with his hands on his hips. “It’s just for money.”
Steve leans back, amused. “Mmm-hmm.”
“I’m serious!” Matt uncaps a pen and draws a stick figure on the back of an envelope. “There. That’s the extent of my passion.”
Steve laughs. “You’re odd, Matty. You’re real fucking odd.”
His little brother flushes red with embarrassment and puts his pen behind his ear, drawing attention to the glint of metal dangling off his earlobe.
“...Is that a piercing? ”
Matt recedes even further into himself. “Yeah. My friend Willow did it for me. Gus said it would look cool, so…”
Steve rolls his eyes and pulls Matt in for a noogie. “You could have gotten an infection, and you did this for a boy’s approval?” He digs his knuckles further into his skull with each emphasized word.
“Hey!” Matt struggles to wrench himself from Steve’s grip, but he’s grinning all the same. “He was real impressed by my bravery.”
Steve studies the little hoop earring. “Well, it’s not too bad. I think it’ll look nice once you get your horn in.”
“I don’t know if it’s going to grow.”
“Well, something’s gotta cover this landing pad of yours.” Steve releases Matt from his grip only to knock his fist against his forehead.
“Oww,” he whines dramatically.
“Bet your brain’s rattling around in there,” Steve comments. “Lotssss of unused real estate.”
“At least I don’t wear a shirt with my own name on it,” Matt snarks back.
“At least I don’t have a bowl-cut.”
Matt chases Steve around the kitchen for a bit, before tackling him into the couch. Goodnaturedly, he pretends to be taken down for-real as his little brother punches mosquito-sized blows at his stomach.
“Alright, lay off,” he says, picking Matt up by the armpits like a cat and moving him aside. “Let’s talk, seriously. How are you holding up at Glandus?”
“Steveeeee,” Matt complains. “I’m at Hexside, remember?”
Shit.
“I was just messing with you, I remember,” Steve fibs, settling back into his kitchen table chair. His tea’s gone lukewarm, but he takes a swig anyway. “Made any new friends?”
His brother brightens up. “Yeah,” he says, softly. “I’ll show you on my scroll.”
Steve peers over his brother’s shoulder, mentally committing each kid to memory. He recognizes a few, but he figures it would be awkward to like, explain how he helped take his little brother’s classmates hostage for the sake of the Emperor’s Coven. Yeah. Maybe that’s a story for later.
If there is a later.
“...and that’s Gus from the ear piercing story. He’s like, my best friend. Unless he doesn’t consider me his best friend. If that’s the case we’re just regular friends. He’s super cool. I guess. I started studying illusions because of him.”
“Illusions… Hope you don’t end up like Graye,” Steve says. “Hey, what did you ever end up doing with that map I gave you?”
“...It’s a long story.”
“Just don’t let the illusion coven head find the ruins,” he advises.
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
Steve takes another swig of his drink and checks the time on the oven. “It’s getting kind of late, kid.”
“Steveeee,” Matt whines, again. “I still wanna keep talking. It’s only been like, an hour.”
“You gotta have enough energy to keep up with your posters, sport,” Steve says, wistfully. He looks at Matt’s hand-painted art again. The teenaged couple illustrated on it stares back at him forebodingly, a freeze-frame of youth. He’s getting a bit nostalgic himself. It’s been forever since he’s been afforded the luxury of reminiscing.
“Can I tell you about one last thing, then? Before bed?” Matt says. Steve’s taken aback — he expects his brother to beg to stay up and pull out his puppy-dog eyes, but Matt’s already resigned to the fact that these visitation days never last long. He looks nervous in a sort-of tentative way, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie and kicking his feet underneath the table.
“Sure thing, bud.”
Matt seems to sober up. “Stay right here.”
He runs upstairs, again, like if he takes too long Steve’ll disappear. Matt comes back, toting a copper chest in his arms. He buckles under the weight before slamming it onto the kitchen table. Steve’s real glad Mom’s a heavy sleeper. Mattholomule runs his fingers across the spine of the chest, taps it rhythmically, and the box opens.
Inside is a heap of coins and bills, some crumpled, some dirty. A few of the bills are even denoted with particularly high values. It’s a lot of money for a kid. Steve’s eyes widen. “Matt… Why do you have all this?” His brother is not the responsible type. Honestly, Steve’s assumed all the spare snails made off of scam work went toward things like candy and apple blood and CryptCurrency.
Mattholomule looks nervous and small. His eyes are downcast. “I’ve been saving up,” he says. “It’s so that you can quit the Emperor’s Coven.”
“ What? ”
Matt exhales and runs his fingers through his little treasure box. The loose change jingles melodically. “I know coven work is hard. I know the Emperor’s Coven is like — corrupt. I know. But you can quit and work at the Book Nook or somewhere else. You’ll take a pay cut, but I’ve been saving up, and this can help us get by.” He looks up, determination in his eyes. “Steve, I’m not a kid anymore. You shouldn’t have to suffer for me.”
The look in his brother’s eyes makes Steve recoil. It’s hard to look Matt right in the eyes, it’s hard to repress his thoughts when he’s forced to look at his earnest, tired little brother, and pretend as though the Day of Unity isn’t in two days, pretend as though his death might not be approaching soon.
Matt’s grown up too fast. His brother’s a bonafide teenager now. He’s finally gaining an identity of his own, and Steve’s already missed the start of it. He might not see any of it, he realizes now with a pang.
“Can you fucking say something, man?”
Steve can’t. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror reflection of the window. He’s all distorted from the blinds. Steve grimaces. It looks unreal, like an animation squashing and stretching. “Mattholomule, you need to save your money. For college. It’s not — I’m fine.”
Matt slams his fist against the table. His nose scrunches and his eyebrows furrow. “For Titan’s sake, Steve, I don’t want you to get taken out!”
“What?”
“I know what’s coming up. I know that there’s like these — these wild witches, and you’re — what if you die out there, Steve?”
Steve deflates. “You don’t need to protect me, Matt. I’m your older brother . Titan.”
Hot, angry tears prick against Mattholomule’s skin. “You’re the only one whose always cared for me, and you’re already lost to the Emperor.”
“Matt, do you think I don’t know the Emperor’s Coven is a load of shit? I can take care of myself. I’m almost ten years older than you.”
“Take the money.” Matt’s sobbing by now. “I’m in a rebel group at school, and you — you need to leave.”
Steve scoffs. “I am not going to run away and leave my kid brother to die out there.” He stands up and envelopes Matt into a hug — this time, his little brother stands up on his chair to rest his head into the crook of Steve’s neck. “Who do you think I am?”
“I wanted you to be safe. You’ve wasted so much of your life caring for me , and that’s not fair.”
Steve frowns and sucks in a breath. “You’re not a waste, Matt. You’re not a burden. I love you so much. I know I’m never here, and it kills me too, okay?” He pulls away and wipes the tears off his brother’s face. “It kills me to know that you’re growing up without me. A few more years and I might have missed your goth phase, or your first partner, or your graduation. Look, it’s hard , but I promise, things will get better.”
Matt sniffles. “Are you going to be safe out there?”
“Of course. I’m working with some others, and it’s going to — it’s going to be fine.”
“Really?”
“Really. And I promise, after this is all over, we’re going to go for a drive on my bike. I won’t be in the coven anymore. I’ll get a job, and you can keep your money.” Steve smiles. “You’ll need it. And maybe — maybe we’ll still struggle. But I’ll be here.”
“You promise?”
“I promise,” Steve lies.