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It was a warm afternoon. It was the type of weather that one had just before rain, the stickiness that stuck to your skin and drenched the backs of your necks in sweat and irritation. Really, staying in during such a evening was a pain with how swelteringly suffocating it was.
But, Benson thought, softly smiling to himself, at least he had the luxury to enjoy this evening at home.
Klein hadn't come home yet. After getting his new job, he had started coming back home later and later. Benson worried, but at the same time, he couldn't help but feel proud, and also the slightest bit guilty. His little brother had become truly reliable.
He absently doodled at the edge of the page as he studied, the numbers making his eyes cross and his head hurt. Really, he couldn't help but think that his little siblings were smarter than ever! Warmth rushed through him for a brief second. Really, he ought to buy them some gifts soon. Probably once he got his new job.
Engrossed in his studying as he was, he didn't notice when it got dark. The door creaked open lightly, and light feet pattered across to the dining table where he pored over the books, eyebrows furrowed.
"Benson!" Melissa frowned, hands on her hips. "Don't read in the dark! Don't you know your eyes will stop working!"
Benson startled, before smiling sheepishly up at her, squinting lightly. "Right, right," he agreed, "I'm sorry."
Melissa huffed, moving to light the gas lamp at the corner of the room. "Klein is late again," she noted, setting her book bag down as she pulled out a chair opposite him.
Benson nodded, passing his notebook to her. Accepting it, Melissa took out a pen, casting a scrutinizing it carefully as she started to check his answers. "He must be busy with his work," he said. "He seems to be settling in well."
Melissa frowned. "Really though," she said, biting at the edge of the pen. Benson leaned over, lightly pulling it away from her mouth, and she shot him an embarrassed look. "It's odd for a new employee to be so busy right?"
An abject fear suddenly wormed its way into Benson's mind, along with a crushing, fleeting anger. "I hope he's not being bullied," he said tightly. "Or overworked."
Melissa's eyes widened. "Maybe that's why his pay is so high! remember the handsome guy you saw him with once? What if—"
"Honestly, aren't you guys' imaginations too wild?" a warm hand settled on his shoulder, and Benson tilted his head back to look up at Klein. The edges of Klein's eyes were lined with exhaustion, but they also crinkled with a happiness and faint longing that he couldn't put into words.
Benson was happy.
"Klein!" Melissa exclaimed, and Klein laughed. It was different than what Benson remembered, but his little brother had changed a lot over the years. He was more confident now, happier, possessing a strange sense to the world that he hadn't earlier. Regardless, he was Benson's little brother, and Benson loved him.
"How was your day at school?" Klein asked, moving to the other end of the table and leaning down to kiss Melissa on the forehead.
Melissa beamed, starting to rattle out words at a truly impressive speed. Klein nodded, humming at appropriate points while Benson chimed in at the right moments. Outside, evening slowly melded into night as Klein moved into the kitchen, insisting that little children ("I'm not that little!" pouted Melissa) should focus on studying instead.
("Do you need help?" Benson called.
Melissa and Klein paled simultaneously. "No thanks!!")
After a while, all the books were cleared off the table and Klein set down pots of hot steaming food. Indeed, his cooking was better than it had been in the past. Benson would have eaten every bite of it either way, but it was nice for it to be so delicious. It tasted like their childhood. It tasted like home.
The house that had just a couple of days felt like home felt like a cold elegy instead. Benson bit his lip, his nails digging into the skin of his palms so hard that they drew blood. But, he couldn't cry. Not now.
Melissa still held the bouquet of Seville chrysanthemums. She looked pretty and adorable, just like when Benson had first looked at her, and decided that this was the cutest baby he had ever seen (for the second time, his mother had laughed). Her gaze was vacant. Her face was thin, and her eyes were still bloodshot. Tears silently ran down her face, and she was still too young.
Klein had been young too.
If Benson had worked harder, if he'd been smarter, if he'd been a better older brother, would Klein still be here? Would he not have had to take that job, would he still be sitting in this same room, laughing, smiling, alive?
His eyes burned, and he swallowed hard, trying to make the lump of emotion in his throat disappear. Benson slowly moved towards her, leaning down to match her height. He took her hand in his, hoping his smile didn't seem watery. "These flowers will get smushed," he told her, relaxing her grip around them. "How about I put them in a vase?"
Melissa looked at him for a small second. She looked devastated, as if the floor had been pulled out from underneath her and she was left falling. Benson felt the same.
With a wordless cry, Melissa threw herself at him. Benson instinctively opened his arms to catch her and she started to cry in earnest as Benson stroked her hair, and biting his lip, trying to the best of his ability to prevent himself from crying.
"He'll come back, right?" Melissa sobbed, and it was as if somebody was twisting his heart cruelly. Did it hurt when his sweet little brother died? There was a hole in his chest. "This is all just an elaborate joke right? I'll be so mad at him when he's back."
"Oh Melissa," Benson sighed, hugging her tighter as she punched his arm. The weight of Klein's coffin was unforgettable, so dreadfully real.
Later, he put the Seville chrysanthemum's into a glass jug. They survived for a week, miraculously, before slowly dying.
"Benson," Melissa asked him suddenly, breaking the silence of their apartment. "Will we survive this?"
Benson halted, settling his pen down. Outside, another bomb made a resounding, faint boom. Too far away to actually harm them. "Of course we will," he said, hating the way his voice didn't sound as steady as he hoped. What a failure of a big brother he was.
"Will we though?" Melissa sharply retorted.
"Melissa—"
"How long till one of these bombs hits your office? What if it hits our house?" Melissa interrupted him. "What if one of them lands on you? I can't—" she tapered off into a choked sob, lowering her head. Her fingers gripped around the pen so tight that her knuckles whitened with the force of it.
"Melissa," Benson leaned over to pat her head. Melissa sniffed lightly under her breath. "It'll be okay. Just, have faith, alright?"
"Having faith didn't save Klein," shot Melissa. Benson reeled back. More than a year had passed, but the wound, the everpresent absence of Klein was still jarring. The edges of his eyes stung, and he blinked back tears. He couldn't blame Melissa. She was still so young, she was just scared.
(Guilt still clawed at him, like a parasite slowly eating him up from the inside.)
"I'm sorry," Melissa said after a pregnant pause. "I—"
"It's okay," Benson assured her, smiling. "But really, Melissa—"
"Is it so bad that I wouldn't mind," Melissa avoided his gaze, looking out of the window. Benson's heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach, and he parted his mouth, unsure of what to say. "At least, Klein would be there."
"Klein wouldn't want you to die," Benson told her. His voice felt strange, hollow, as if he was hearing words said by someone else.
Melissa scoffed. "Perhaps he shouldn't have died then." She looked down at her hand, before her eyebrows furrowed in anger. "Who told the idiot to go become a Beyonder? We would have been fine even if he wasn't one!"
Benson frowned, but couldn't help but agree. In the last three months, Klein had looked happier than ever, but was it truly a fair enough price to pay? Was his brother being a 'hero' enough to justify his death— sacrifice? Could Benson accept it easier then?
Of course he couldn't. Klein Moretti may have been a hero to Tingen, but to Benson, he was just his little brother, who he had taken care of, watched grow up. Who he had looked at for the first time and decided immediately to protect.
It was evening. The warm light from the lamps flooded the room, bathing the picture on the mantelpiece with a golden glow. The curtains were closed, but through a sliver, Backlund outside still showed; the people on the streets, the ruins, the grey, grey world.
The world moved on. The planets still rotated.
The doorbell rang. Heavy footsteps, and then the sound of the door opening and then slamming at once. "Dadddd!" Alice yelled, running to tug at Benson's sleeve, and Benson put down his newspaper, allowing her to pull him forward to the door. "There's a man at the door!"
"Alright, alright," Benson hid his fond smile for mock exhasperation. "Let me see."
He opened the door, and then paused. It felt as if the world had stopped for a moment, as if the wind had stopped blowing, and everything was frozen in picture-perfect clarity for a moment. "Klein," he whispered, blinking back tears.
"Oh, this is Uncle Klein?" Alice innocently peeked around his leg. Klein, looking exactly as he had two decades ago, smiled softly down at her, bending down to pat her on the head. The sun shone down on him in a slanted beam, and his edges blurred like fog. Detachedly, Benson remembered a prayer altar, and a honorific name, and murals in a church, and couldn't help but chokedly sob.
"Hello Benson," said Klein, smiling up to him, that smile that had become so familiar over those three months. "I'm sorry I took so long. It's been a while."
Benson didn't reply, instead grabbing Klein by the shoulders and drawing him into a hug. Klein froze for a second, and oh, his brother must have been so lonely, before slowly relaxing into the hug. Alice had let go of his leg, instead running back into the house to yell for Melissa and Lucy. The neighbours had probably noticed the both of them by this time.
Benson couldn't bring himself to care. His little brother was alive! Of course, he had known it, but it had felt like a fact that someone had told him, something that was torn from reality.
"You idiot," he murmured.
Klein laughed lightly, deceivingly. "Don't worry," he patted Benson on the back. "I had some friends!"
Indeed he did, but from what Benson had surmised from conversations with them, he still had kept his distance. And, Benson couldn't help but frown, when had his little brother learned to lie to him so well?
For now, he wouldn't say anything. For now, he would usher his brother in, watch Melissa hug him and soothe her when she started crying, introduce his daughter and wife to Klein. Later on, he would ask Klein to tell him everything he could tell, and scold him and be proud of him and—
For now, he would cherish this happiness, this taste of home. After all, Klein had come back.
Benson was happy.