Work Text:
in the summer, there were bluebells.
we'd run through fields and gather as many as we could
before she passed, mother taught me how to weave them into crowns.
you'd sit beside me in the grass
staring down at my working hands
moving in and out, twisting and knotting the stems
once i finished, i'd hand it to you
and you'd smile and look up at me
throwing it on your head, arms squeezing around my stomach in a tight hug.
you'd praise me in passing
admiring everything i did
what it was or how well it was done didn't matter
for i am your big brother
an example, what you should have aimed to be
one night, i came home bruised and bloody
three apples and a loaf of bread in my arms
i figured you'd be asleep by then
and id slip through the door unheard
my wounds would look better by the morning
so you wouldn't have to worry for me
instead, you were waiting by the door
when you saw my face, yours shriveled up
not in disgust or hate, but fear and empathy
tears began to well up in the corners of your eyes
you hugged me, and i knelt down
as your open hand pat my back
why were you holding me?
i should have been holding you
that night, we ate
an apple for each of us
and a half loaf of bread
i'd eat whatever you couldn't finish
you smiled, and said i was "cool"
for fighting so hard to get this meal
and that one day, you wished to be just like me
what kind of example was i setting?
now i lay on a soft feather mattress
alone, warm beneath silk blankets
my head rests on a pillow, a real one, and my skin is soft and cleaned
i lay, looking up at painted ceilings
covered in flowers and kings and knights
i wish you could see it, but i'd never wish this upon anyone.
would you still be proud of me?
would you still wear a bluebell crown,
knowing i was the one who made it?
my muscles ache, my skin throbs with bruises
it's just like old times, isn't it, luka?
i should have never let you take my role.
that was my stress, my burden, my responsibility.
still, i doubt i'd have to tell you to avoid me now
even dressed in fancy frills and tailored coats
fingerprint bruises peek from beneath my collar
fingerprints that i begged to be branded with
between heavy panting breaths
i'm not the brother you knew
and you certainly shouldn't love me like you did him.