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Yelling echoes throughout the house, down to the basement where Vegas is, a hedgehog in his hands. The weapons are safely locked behind a cabinet, only he has the key.
He knows the voice, his fathers. It’s clear he’s yelling at someone for something, but Vegas can’t tell what. It’s a bunch of insults, before something shatters.
The scream of a boy follows, and heavy footsteps follow lighter ones. Vegas can hear the boy come closer to the door.
Gently, he pets the hedgehogs head and waits for the door to open.
The face of his little brother, Macau, peeks into the room. He’s been caring for him ever since their mother passed away. She did her absolute best to love and care for them. The three of them tried to ignore hurtful comments from the man they lived with.
A person they didn’t even want to call their father. Sometimes, Vegas and Macau only refer to him as “he”, and they know who it is.
Just like now, Vegas nods and lets Macau know it’s okay for him to enter the room. It doesn’t look like a torture chamber, not at all. Just a basement.
Macau slips in, closing the door carefully and quietly. Perhaps he doesn’t know where Macau ran off to.
He doesn’t look at his older brother, hanging his head as if it was his fault.
“What did he do?” Vegas never asks Macau was he was doing, the man always got upset over the smallest things.
Macau looks disturbed, his fingers intertwined. Vegas studies him, seeing the scratch right below his knee. It’s red and ugly.
“What did he throw at you?” Vegas changes the question.
“A plate,” Macau mutters, frowning. Vegas walked closer to him. Macau plays with the sleeve of the green jersey jacket he wore, hiding his hands in the sleeves.
“What was he yelling about?”
Macau opens his mouth to answer, but he doesn’t know what to say first. Several topics, ranging from business deals that didn’t even concern him to how he didn’t deserve to be a son. His son.
“Uhm,” He itches the bandaged spot on his forehead. When he fell into the fountain after getting into an argument with Porsche.
Vegas waits patiently for Macau to answer, eyebrows drawn together in concern.
“I kind of…yelled- I was playing a game. He got upset, and started ranting,” Macau breathes deeply, shifting uncomfortably.
“It’s not your fault, Macau,” Vegas made sure to speak softly. Macau doesn’t react to it.
“I didn’t mean it,” Macau blurts out.
“I know,”
It’s completely silent, up until Macau sniffles and reaches up to wipe his face. Vegas walked over to him, arms open and welcoming. His little brother immediately reaches out, extremely tense.
Vegas can feel Macau sob against his shirt, soaking it. He heaves yet keeps his face against his brother's chest like he’s trying to hide.
“I didn’t mean it, Phi,” Macau mumbled, sniffling. His older brother mumbles “I know”, petting his hair to soothe him.
This wasn’t the first time it’s happened; Macau always came running to him. He was on the verge of tears most of the time. The times Vegas came between his dad and Macau resulted in both of them being hit.
Macau grips the back of Vegas’ shirt, tightly. Vegas doesn’t say anything, holding his brother until he calms down. It takes a little, but he doesn’t care.
Slowly, Macau pulls away, and Vegas lifts his face to wipe his eyes. Macau closed his eyes.
When Vegas lets go, he then asks, “Do you want to feed the hedgehog?”
“Yeah,” Macau looks at the cage. It’s running around in there, sniffing at random things. The sight alone makes him smile.
Vegas smiled, walking over to the cage and opening it. It walks into Vegas’ hand, but he gives it to Macau.
The hedgehog seems comfortable with both and doesn’t mind sitting comfortably in his hands. Macau sniffs again, but he still smiles at the animal.
He greets it with a quiet “hi” and pokes its nose with his thumb.
Vegas watches, reaching for the bag of food as well as fruit. Watermelon was sliced into tiny cubes, sitting in a cup.
Macau cradles the hedgehog in the crook of his elbow, taking the fruit first to give it. It doesn’t seem to mind where it is; and begins to eat.
He feels a lot better now.
“I’ll take you to your friends for a while, how’s that sound?”
“Really?” Macau looks up from the hedgehog in his arm.
Vegas nods, “I think you need to go outside, maybe play a game with them.”
Macau grins, “When I’m done feeding him.” Vegas agrees and lets him bond with the animal.
Macau has a habit of speaking to the hedgehog in English. Vegas did it every time, so Macau thought it only knew English. Vegas has had the hedgehog since Macau was a baby.
The hedgehog lived a nice life.