A Message To Myself - 1. Chapter 1

Sighing from boredom, I push against the window, blobs accumulating from rain, veins trickling down the pane, offering the same soothing effect I've endured the past 48 hours. Just wearing shorts and a t-shirt in the middle summer, with rain, and not being able to go out makes it's more like the winter months. Lorcan has his friends to entertain him online, but I don't have anybody who is willing to kill time with me. I reckon it is my own fault. I have a habit of not applying myself in school. Humans and I don't mix well, not that I hate people, but I just prefer my own company. Though I don't end up staying long-drawn in one location either, so, it can't always be disputed it is ever me. However, I tend not to notice how lonely things can get since I spend most of my time outdoors. Except, the latest rain band from the west has interrupted my regular out-of-doors adventures. There is only so long I can stay cooped up inside, but Lorcan doesn't seem to mind all the same; curled up in the corner of the room he is so lost in his video games to care about our situation. The new foster parents agreed to take us as a package deal; sure, most couples are only looking for young kids. Just I am a little happier that the social services didn't split Lorcan and me up.

As much as the little shit annoys me, not having him around would be like losing an arm or leg. Besides as much as I hate to admit, it's his cute puppy brown eyes, always dishevelled hair, untucked shirt and expressive eyes that win over the adults. Comparing the little doofus to me, they see an eager teenager, a bit cranky, harder to mould to their expectations, unbearable to be around. To the happy white picket fence families, I'd say they are cracked in the head. I know I haven't got a ton of experience in life, but comparing me to my brother is contrasting the difference between a burnt-out car and a sandy beach. I'm not saying I'm a fragmented mind of broken accessories. Instead, I'm just saying; how can you compare two drastic extremes to each other?

"Argh… Get fu… outta the way," came a voice.

Breaking away from the window, I glance over at my brother who mash's the DualShock controller hard in his hands. Absorbed by the game, eyes shift to the TV where a white man is running down the central divide someone in Los Angeles with an assault rifle with police swarming in from everywhere. Absently my brother dives right firing his AR-57 at the squad, avoiding the police. The panic had been set in motion when a stray car knocked him over, and the character had taken longer than anticipated to stand up. AI can be so dumb. My little brother's character riddled itself with the bullets of the swat before the camera cut away, saying that he died. Lorcan groaned, collapsing back onto his bed with the defeat. In the past few days, I have come to hate sitting at the end of his bed. The metal support for the legs runs across under the duvet resulting in a numbing sensation when you sit on it.

"You get killed again?" I say, climbing off my bed. Toddling over to my brother clad in socked feet, I stop shy of the divan.

"I can't finish the mission there is too many of them."

The tone is his voice suggests he is at the end of his rope, but the expression on his face making it clear that his ability to continue from here on out is crushed. Knowing my brother, he'll only get pissed the more he fails, possibly blowing the lid on the pot when he loses it.

"Why not take a break?" I add, easing down onto his mattress.

Reaching out, my fingers drive through the mop of blond hair, moving toward the scalp. He relaxes moving back into my touch, but placing the controller on the bedspread. Little doofus can't resist my head rubs, they relieve the tension he builds up unknowns to himself. Lorcan is a worrier even if he might not realize. Everything stresses him out and that can't be good for your mental health. I'm older, so it's my job to look out for him, though. He should be concerned with how to make a giant Lego structure support itself without tipping over or still learning how to tie his shoes. Many times, I have shown him the bunny ears thing, but now I am just thinking if it is easier to ask whoever is looking after us to get him Velcro straps. But I don't want him to quit so easily when he gets discouraged. I need to show him to keep going when the going gets tough.

Naturally, the two of us lay down next to each, me rubbing his head to comfort him. I know some time passes because the pair on a trial run with us argued for a little bit, afterward Jerry stormed out. How much longer we will stay here before they don't want us? And I have been good this time around; I know my brother is growing resilient to living out of a bag, but just for once in his life I'd like for him to be happy. Plus, the room has gotten darker, a cold grey, the daylight hours are fading away… that's sad. I settle in, now playing with Lorcan's hair instead of gently caressing it. His breathing grows a little shallow; peaking down, I watch over my little brother whose eyes are closed. Concluding I am finished, I nudged him away, but I am stopped in the process.

"Don't go…"

I remain holding onto him; the embrace so warm. The entwined arms wrapped around one another, not wanting to let go for in the event if we did we might lose one another. Lorcan scooched closer, nuzzling his head into my chest. The mess of his blond hair covering the entire of his face; a sight similar to the Old English Sheepdog on the Dulux adverts. He stirs.

"Do you ever think about mom and dad?"

I concentrate on the stipple ceiling; not wanting to regard the question. It's notion souring my mood already after a second of its introduction. I often think about the past; the mystery puzzling to me. How did our parents just disappear? Both of them and nobody can tell us what happened. How can people just vanish? In this day and age, it would be impossible to just go poof like a one-act magician. Did they leave on purpose? Where we bold? Awful? Did they die? Police were never able to find a lead on how they dwindled out of existence, but how can that be too? Authorities have the means and resources to look for people; to lock people in jail, to help sick people, and run a country. I still remember the day as clear as anything; dad dropped me off at primary, I waved to him from the sidewalk, schoolbag on back, football under my arm. That was the last time I saw him in that blue minivan. A Volkswagen from 2011. I scratched the rear backdoor behind the passenger seat when I was in a booster seat with my football cleats. The handy work seeming like the mouth of a smiley face. I got in so…

"Aiden!"

Shifting my attention to my brother, I quizzically stare at him.

"Wah…"

"You zoned out."

Grumbling, I say, "sorry."

Turning away from my brother, I leave him lying on his back. I twist onto my side, nestling my arms under my head, curling into a little ball. Suddenly feeling the slight drop in the temperature.

"Well…?" Lorcan hinted.

"Well, What?"

"Do you think… think about them?"

"Yah…"

A stray tear rolled down the side of my face into the blanket under my head, effectively moistening my hands. Lorcan was a lot younger; he probably can't recall our parents as best as I can. Even though the world is a confusing place for me right now; I can say that he is my brother; the only thing I have from my old life. That much should be protected and both treasured. It's hard to sit through social workers, continually saying that we should move on, try to build a new life with strangers. Though weirdly, it's nice to have someone who I know I can depend on. Lorcan wouldn't do what our parents did, I know it, I can feel it in my bones. He won't abandon me like a car in a dump after you sell it off for parts, he won't… Sell a car… Sell a car… Raising up the notion passes through my mind again. Exchanging a car leaves paperwork, right? An auto can't disappear in Ireland without paperwork… Well no... Well, yes, but if you plan to sell, it does. Dad was driving the minivan the last day I saw him.