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"So, uh, Clay..." Floyd starts the conversation somewhat awkwardly, which is a little out of character for him.
"Mmhm?" All of the brothers had volunteered to help with dishes. Really, with the size of the dishes, they all need to be involved.
"You're... Well, haven't... In six years, right?" Floyd is quiet, he could barely be heard over the sounds of the dishes.
Ah, so that's what this was about. How Clay used to hurt himself. "Yes, I'm six years clean, now."
"Oh hey!" John Dory butts in from on top of a cup. "We should celebrate when you hit seven years, since we'll be here for it now! When'll that be?"
Clay thinks for a good minute. "I mean, I don't remember the exact date. But it won't be for a while. I just hit six years a few months ago." A dish clinks as someone drops it. John Dory slips and falls into a cup, by the sounds of it. Clay doesn't know. He's not looking up at anyone right now.
"Clay!" John Dory's voice is slightly warped by the cup he fell into. "Clay, why didn't you tell us? We could have done something for it!"
"It was before that whole big talk we had!" Clay turns to where his brother is stuck in a cup. Yeah, okay, someone should help with that. Seeing him in the cup looks a bit too much like a diamond prison. Clay runs over with Bruce to help tip the glass over. "I got myself a cupcake on the day! It didn't go uncelebrated!"
"How did you celebrate the day if you don't remember when it was?" Branch is a bit hesitant.
"I picked a date that felt like it'd be the right day. So it's— Why are we even talking about it right now?"
"Because!" John Dory rolls out of the cup once it tips over. He pops up and points at Clay. "You deserve to be celebrated! And we love you and we're proud of you!"
"Uh, thanks?" Honestly, Clay doesn't know how to react here. He didn't see it as that big of a deal, honestly. "It's just six years."
"Clay." Bruce grabs his shoulder. "Clay, you say that like it's nothing! It's six years! That's a lot of time!"
"But six isn't a round number, you know? Like five or maybe ten." Clay thinks for a moment. "Though six is an even set of threes. Threes are good for, like, angles and geometry. But no one really counts by threes these days."
John Dory groans. "Oh God, numbers talk." He shakes his head. "Okay, sorry. Look, so I wanna celebrate and be proud of my little brothers after like twenty years of not even knowing for sure if they were alive! Sue me!"
Clay sighs. "Alright. Fine. Then do that." He holds his arms out. "Everyone have you're little 'I'm proud of you' moment. It's not even the most impressive thing I've done! I haven't even told you about the fostering thing Viva and I had set up after this one group came to the golf course!"
"Clay," Branch stiffly pats Clays back. "I love you and appreciate you. And I'm proud of you."
"Thank you, Branch."
"Clay." Floyd looks at him with his patented sensitive boy stare.
"Floyd."
Floyd keeps staring at him and opens his arms out to him. Clay sighs and walks over to give his younger brother a hug. Sometimes, he swears his magenta-haired brother has been finding one way or another to keep some of his baby brother privileges ever since Branch was born. First by being the "sensitive one," then that whole V&V and near-death scenario. "Love you, brother."
"Love you too." Then Clay adds on quietly, "You baby."
"Hey can this turn into a group hug?" Bruce asks
"Alright, fine. Bring it in."
His immediate older brother comes in to hug the both of them. "You are stronger than you know, and I am so proud of you."
"Mm-hm."
"John Dory incoming!" The eldest joins the hug and squeezes hard. "I've got the best younger brothers ever, and I am the proudest older brother in the whole world."
Clay almost laughs at his brothers. They can be so ridiculous sometimes. How did he end up being known as the Fun Boy? Now here he was, sitting in the middle of a group hug with three of his brothers. Just one person missing. "Hey, Braaaaaaaaanch."
"Hey! i already did my little 'I'm proud of you' moment!"
"It's a group hug, Branch."
"Braaanch," Floyd draws out, beckoning their youngest brother over.
"Braaaaanch." John Dory joins in.
Bruce, finally, joins in, too. "Braaaaaaanch."
Eventually, all four of them are chanting Branch's name over and over again. Their youngest brother sighs and rolls his eyes, but he's still clearly smiling. He makes his way over to the cluster of brothers and throws his arms around them. "There, happy?"
"Always." Clay isn't going to act like this doesn't feel nice. He's completely surrounded by his ridiculous brothers. Ridiculous brothers who were determined to make sure he knew how proud they were of him. "Alright. I'll admit it. This is kinda better than just a simple cupcake."
"See? Celebrating is better with your brothers!" John Dory beams.
"Hm, I don't know," Branch hums. "Viva probably would have thrown a big party for you, considering how much she's like Poppy."
"Oh, Viva is never finding out about my cutting thing." Clay internally cringes at how casually he managed to say 'cutting' like that. "She'll get all upset about not noticing when it was happening, and she might never forgive herself. Not letting that happen."
"She might find out anyway. On her own."
"Hm." Clay considers that for a moment. "Guess there's a non-zero chance she'd noticed something by now, but she hasn't said anything." Great, now he's gonna be stuck thinking on that for a while.
"Alright, bros. I think we're gonna have to wrap this up to get back to the dishes."
"John, you just hugged tighter as you said that."
"I didn't say to break up the hug right away! We can keep hugging for, like, five more minutes!"
Branch whines. "Who does a standing hug for that long?"
"Three more minutes," Bruce compromises. "If we put them off for too long, they'll be harder to clean."
"Not if they're soaking in the sink!"
"Are they all soaking in the sink?"
John Dory is quiet for a minute. "Alright. Three more minutes."
"Two," Clay corrects his brother. "You just spent a minute talking about it."
"Can't a guy haggle, anymore?"
It's moments like these that makes Clay glad to have his brothers again. He just loves them so much. Loves being surrounded by them and that brotherly love. Sure, Viva was a very physically affectionate person, and his best friend, but that's not quite the same. He almost whines as the hug breaks apart. He's not a baby, no need to whine. He's an adult that has chores to wrap up.
Clay is alright. He's fine. He's never been better in his whole life, and it's amazing.
And then suddenly, he's not fine.
Clay's lying in bed (the top bunk of bunk beds, just like old times) when it hits. It's not unheard of for a bunch of feelings to hit him out of nowhere. He's handled it alright on his own (and the paperclips, again, do not count). He just wishes it didn't happen now. Not when his brothers all just had a moment, hours ago, reminding him that they're proud. Not when he's not alone.
Thankfully, Clay is very gifted in acting like nothing is wrong. That's how he managed to hide it from Viva for so long. Except that one and only time she pointed out a cut that had poked out from under his wristbands. And if she was more perceptive than he gave her credit for, then she'd already know what he used to do.
But then why wouldn't she have said anything about it? If she knew, wouldn't she have said something?
Well, actually, her coping mechanism for the longest time was refusing to talk about things.
But she would have said something to him. She's been his best friend since basically before they left the troll tree.
But how could he know for sure?
Because Clay knows Viva. She would have worried about him too much to keep quiet. And if he told her about it now, even if it was more than six years since the last time he hurt himself like that, she'd spend weeks worrying about him. And spend months freaking out any time he was even remotely sad or upset. And Clay isn't going to have that. No siree.
Okay, he needs to calm himself down a bit. He can feel his heart trying to push itself out of his chest with every heartbeat. Despite how he's just been lying here this whole time. He counts out his breaths like he's learned from Floyd. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. He taps a finger on his chest. It's okay, he reminds himself. It's okay, because my brothers are proud of me for making it through everything.
It takes a few breaths, but his heart stops trying to push itself out of his chest. Alright, now all that he needs to do is settle down with a nice book. Then he can actually get some good sleep. Clay reaches for where he hung his bag on the corner of thew bed, looking for onre of his books. "Clay?"
He freezes just a moment. It was so soft, Clay would have missed it if it wasn't right below him. He looks down to see his second youngest looking up from the bottom bunk. "What's up, Floyd?"
"What are you doing?"
"Just getting a book out to read."
"Isn't it late?"
"Well, yeah. It helps for settling in for sleep. It's like the adult version of being read to sleep, you know?"
"Oh."
Clay finds one of his books and pulls it out. Then, a thought occurs to him. "Hey, Floyd?"
"Yeah?"
"Why you bring up the six years thing earlier?"
Floyd looks sheepish. He retreats partly back into his bunk. He whispers something that Clay doesn't hear.
"What was that?"
Floyd doesn't say anything. Clay hops down quietly from his bunk, book tucked under his arm.
"Hey, what's going on, man?"
Floyd rubs his arm, legs hanging off the side of the bed. "Just... just thoughts..."
"Thoughts?"
"Yeah."
"What kind?"
"I just... I don't know..."
Clay is worried now. Maybe it's just some still lingering anxieties. Maybe there's actually something to worry about here. "Floyd?"
The second youngest sighs and shakes his head. "It's just some thoughts. Nothing more."
Clay is still worried. And if he let's himself stay worried without doing anything about it, then he'll just spiral into bad thoughts and feelings again. And he'll think things like he's not doing enough. He should be doing more. He shouldn't be on a goddamn vacation right now. He holds up the book he had pulled out. "Do you want me to read to you?"
Floyd is silent for a moment, then he nods. He pulls his feet back on the bed and scoots over. Of course. Clay can remember when they were younger, before Branch was born and Floyd decided he wanted to be a big boy. He used to worm himself into his little brother's bunk and read him to sleep. It helped when Clay happened to be up and Floyd was having a rough night. And that seems to be the case tonight.
Now, they aren't exactly four and twelve anymore. Even if they're the two skinniest of the brothers, Clay isn't going to try snuggling up in a bunk intended for just one full grown adult to sleep in (and full grown men don't exactly snuggle up with their full grown brothers like that). Clay takes up a spot by Floyd's feet instead. He lets his brother get settled before he begins reading.
"Late in the winter of my seventeenth year, my mother decided I was depressed..."
From an outsider perspective, one of his sad books would probably seem a bad choice to read after that sudden hit of feelings. On the contrary, Clay likes it. It helps him feel better. Sometimes it helps him cry, and it's good to cry things out. Though Floyd has the easiest time crying. He's not sure if a sad book book would help him at all.
"Hey, Clay?"
He paused in his reading. "Yeah?"
"What got you to stop hurting yourself?"
Ah. "Is that why you brought it up today?"
Floyd half shrugged. "I just wanted to know."
"Well, I read this one book..." Clay trails off for just a second. Should he be telling Floyd about a book like that? That one was so much more depressing than the one he's currently reading. Heck. Clay's not sure he ever even finished that book. Even he has his limits on sad stuff. "It was... It made me think of how you guys would have reacted to me hurting myself like that. I didn't want to make any of you guys sad, so I decided to stop."
"And you did? Just like that?"
"No, it took a while. It was like— I-I don't know if you'd wanna hear my whole process quitting." Clay scratches the back of his head. "It just— it was a process. But... Floyd, okay. I'm gonna be honest. Should I be worried about you asking these details? You're being a bit weird."
"It's just... thoughts. Like..." Floyd trails off. "I was rereading what I wrote in my journal while I was in that bottle, and while I was dating you know who. I wasn't... I wasn't having good thoughts."
"Oh." Oh God, is his little brother telling him he thought of hurting himself? "But it's just thoughts?"
"Yeah. I'm not gonna do anything. I don't want to."
"Then keep not doing anything, and you'll be good. I think. I'm not a mental health professional." Clay shifts how he's sitting on the bed, taking his feet out from under himself. "I-I think I'll get back to reading to you. Is that okay?"
"Yes, please."
Clay clears his throat. "Mom pulled into the circular driveway behind the church at 4:56..."
He reads on for a few minutes. At the end of the chapter, he looks up to see Floyd has fallen asleep. His brother looks really peaceful like that. Carefully, he slips out of the bunk and tucks his book back under his arm. For just a moment, Clay looks at his younger brother curled up in the bed. Floyd looks comfortable and peaceful.
Then he gazes over to his youngest brother in his own bunk. Branch may be grown now, a full twenty-five years old. But when he's curled up sleeping like that, Clay can't help but see the little baby who loved to take his naps in his brothers' bunks. Although, sometimes he looks just like their mom. Like a male, slightly younger version of how he remembered her.
Clay climbs back up to his own bunk. From here, he can see John Dory in his bunk above Branch's. The eldest has his goggles over his eyes, and he's silently snoring. Silently, as in Clay wouldn't know if he's not carefully listening for it and watching his brother make the motions of snoring.
He settles down in to sleep again. When he wakes up, it's a bit later in the morning than he usually wakes up. The smell of pancakes fills his nose. He knows Bruce prefers them with pineapples and coconut syrup, but Clay is really hoping for chocolate chip. Those are his favorite.