Chapter Text
The light of the dwindling candle licked across Basen’s sharp features, highlighting the dark circles under his eyes that continue to worsen with each sleepless night. He’s been pulling all-nighters for the past week in an attempt to catch up in his studies to become heir.
It wasn’t fair.
Ink pools where the nib of the pen has been held captive for the past few minutes. The ebony liquid bleeds into the parchment’s grain as resentment continues to fester and breed in his mind. His jaw aching with how tightly his teeth are clenched and even the bite of the fountain pen pressing into the notch on his finger does not break him out of his train of thought.
He wasn’t supposed to become heir… but here he is, stretching himself thin in order to fill the empty role that Cale had left.
How could he not? When their father had called him into his office, exhaustion practically radiating off of his slouched back as he sat surrounded by endless stacks of paperwork. His father had looked at him like he was his last hope.
Basen felt a sense of obligation towards the man. He was the one who had accepted him as one of his own, treating him even better than the son that shared his blood. He remembers the way Cale’s eyes swam with hurt when Basen and his mother had been introduced. Their father had paused mid-step while showing them around the manor, the joyful smile melted off his face as if he remembered a bitter memory. Basen had followed the man’s line of sight, finally noticing the red haired boy who stood there in shock after seeing his own father.
This is your step mother, Violan, and this is your new brother, Basen
Cale gave them a haunted look, his lips trembling around words that never escaped his throat. His lips were pressed in a straight line as he nodded.
Greet them properly.
...Hello step mother… hello Basen… I’m Cale, it’s a pleasure to meet you.
The older boy’s voice warbled with the weight of his emotions, but he quickly schooled his expression and gave them a polite bow. Deruth nodded his approval at his son’s obedience, before ushering Basen and his mother past him, not sparing his eldest son another glance.
(Basen remembers looking back at the boy as he was pulled along by his new father. An old butler had knelt down in front of him, consoling him with hushed words, but Cale only continued to dejectedly stare at their father’s back).
Deruth had only remembered to introduce them after their wedding, burying his first son under the newly reached happiness and shoving him off into a secluded corner of the mansion to avoid being seen. Basen has a feeling that he had usurped Cale’s place in the family, but he’s not sure if the older boy ever had a place there. His own mother seemingly brought in to fill in the aching hold that was left when Deruth’s previous wife passed.
A part of Basen wishes that Cale had lashed out, voicing his displeasure in their sudden arrival, but… Cale never did. He had only mumbled a weak ‘congratulations’ as his new father pulled them away, leaving the older in the hallway.
(Cale looked so small in the too big halls).
(Cale met his eyes with knowing eyes. Maybe he knew that he held no place in where their new beginning would take them).
Had he been in Cale’s shoes, Basen isn’t sure that he would have been able to keep himself from letting the world know of his displeasure, but Cale only accepted it.
He’s grateful for the boy who broke himself even more to make sure that Basen could grow accustomed to his new life in the household. The boy who kept coming to check in on him and ward away the malicious comments of those who were against the remarriage, all while swearing it was just a mere coincidence each time.
He watched as Cale grew up alone, their father making a bee-line straight to him when he returned home every night, swinging Basen into his arms and asking how his day went. Sometimes, he would even catch the ends of crimson hair disappearing around a corner, their owner returning to the lonely confines of his room.
Now that they’ve grown older, their father must’ve had some sort of enlightenment because Basen is forced to watch the man’s futile attempts to rebuild a bridge with burnt lumber and ash. His father’s attempts are shot down every time, but he doesn’t blame Cale for it. He, too, would not forgive the man if it were him and that thought alone troubles him. No wound can be healed just by throwing money at it. Sure, you can buy the supplies to treat it, but money can’t heal the hurt if you don’t even know where to start. Basen is sure his father is blinded by his own ignorance, unable to truly comprehend the mistakes he has made.
When he had first stepped into the position as heir, his father’s support was like a bottomless bucket. As the years passed, he came to learn of the irreparable hole at the base. Basen is left trying to salvage what’s left as it continues to seep through the gaps of his fingers. Nothing he does is enough to please the man anymore. Every improvement he makes becomes the bare minimum of what has been expected and what should have already been done. The man had been so proud of Basen for stepping up as heir-to-be, kneeling down to his level to ask him if he was sure he really wanted to become his heir. Father had reassured him that if he didn’t want to, he didn’t have to. Basen isn’t sure what his father would have done if he changed his mind, but he has a feeling that neither him or Cale would be happy with the solution. The constant reassurances quickly disappeared as the years passed and more responsibilities were piled on top of his shoulders.
Everything is changing and Basen isn’t sure if it’s a good thing.
All of Deruth’s attention has been shifted towards trying to shove his way back into the life of the eldest son who he had left floating amongst violent waves. He had left his son to piece himself back together with shaky, clumsy hands after his mother’s death. The son who had reached out to him with open wounds, begging to be comforted, but was turned away and left to rot.
Basen knows that he shouldn’t hate Cale, but… it’s just so easy when he’s forced to fix a sinking ship amidst a tempest. In fact, a part of him is happy that their father is finally giving Cale the attention he has always deserved, but a smaller, sicker part of him seethes with jealousy. It prickles just below his skin, bubbling up like an infection in an untreated wound. He had been basking in the warmth for years and now that it’s waning, he can finally understand the biting cold that the older boy had grown up in. Only the slightest bit. Their father practically praises every step Cale takes, celebrating every minor thing as if he were a child reaching his first milestones.
The other night, father had praised Cale for not being drunk yet, directing sweet praises of “I’m proud of you” and “you’re doing so well” towards the red head. Cale brushed them off with an annoyed grunt and a fixed glare.
When his father had caught an error in one of the documents Basen had written, he treated it as though he had done it on purpose. The paper crinkled in his father’s clenched fist, spittle flying as he chewed his second son out.
WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?
A-ah, sorry father, it was a mis–
ARE YOU EVEN TRYING ANYMORE? BECOMING MY HEIR IS NOT A FUCKING JOKE. The study was filled with his booming voice, leaving Basen’s ears ringing with every word.
I’m sorry father, I’ll do bette-
DON’T INTERRUPT ME. His father let out a rattling sigh in some attempt to reign in his anger, but his eyes still burned with ire.
You’re supposed to be better than this. How will you ever run the territory if you never learn? This is the future in your hands, not some damn game.
Basen’s eyes were glued to the pristinely polished shoes on his feet. He makes no move to defend himself because the man in front of him will only take it as an act of defiance. His bottom lip is held captive between his teeth, raw and chapped from all of his gnawing.
Get your shit together, Basen, or else you won’t get anywhere in life.
He’s broken out of his spiraling by the feeling of his blunt nails cutting crescent moons into the meat of his palms, droplets of blood pooling underneath them. By the time he escapes his mind, the wick’s flame has already begun to flicker, only lasting for a few seconds longer before it sinks into its own melted wax. He watches as the embers get engulfed by the wax, plunging him into the darkness of the night.
Multiple pops fill the empty silence as he reaches his arms above his head into a stretch, his muscles protest the movement after hours of inactivity. Basen makes up his mind to turn in for the night. After all, there’s no point in trying to continue his studies if his mind keeps wandering elsewhere.
All of his exhaustion hits the moment his body meets the mattress, immediately bringing comfort to his aching muscles and lulling him into a deep sleep.
-
“Go back to the streets, you bastard,” a boy not much older than him sneered, his lips curling with disgust. The boy in front of him was the son of the business associate that father was trying to reel into a deal. Basen isn’t sure if he’s allowed to even try to defend himself against the boy in fear of ruining things for his father.
Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes as the other children are quick to agree with the first. Father had brought him and Cale to the party, shoving them into preppy clothes, and set them free in the crowd to make new connections. A warm hand sweeps his bangs into place, fixing any stray strands after having tousled them.
“Go make friends,” his father smiles at him. Only him.
Father only spared a fleeting glance in Cale’s direction in a silent warning to behave himself before turning away and walking off to find the target of his business plans.
(Basen can’t forget the resigned look that flashed across Cale’s face before disappearing under a blank expression).
The mob of children had cornered him in the spot he had chosen to hide, jabbing at him with their cruel words and laughing as he began to cry.
“What’re you gonna do? Tell the count?” a stout boy leaned closer, his nasty breath tickling across Basen’s nose, “I bet he’s gonna throw you back to the sewers once he finally notices how useless you are.”
CRASH
Everyone jumped at the sound of glass shattering at their feet, sticky cider seeping into their shoes and plastering their socks against their toes.
“Oops. My bad,” Cale drawled, his voice bringing relief to Basen.
The first boy’s shoulders began to tremble with rage as the others continued to sputter in shock.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” the boy screeches, “DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE?”
Cale only raises an eyebrow at the boy’s tantrum, completely unbothered by the rising volume or the attention that’s being gathered. The boy storms towards the red head, raising his fists to threaten him, but the back of Cale’s hand meets his round cheek with a thunderous CRACK before he can ever think about striking.
That night, Cale is forced to stand in the corner of the dining room while his stomach grumbles after having gotten a thorough tongue lashing for his actions. Father was not pleased that his eldest son had made a fool of their name and stole away the chance of a valuable connection.
(Basen feels relief in knowing that he wouldn’t have to constantly see the menace because that family immediately cut ties after the squabble).
He approaches Cale’s lonely form, unsure of how to break the silence to thank the older boy for saving him. It’s Cale who breaks it with ease.
“Stop letting those bastards walk all over you,” his voice is hushed and he does not turn away from the wall, “You’re a Henituse for god’s sake. Hold your head higher, dumbass.”
Warmth curls in Basen’s chest as he takes in the other’s words, tears of gratitude and happiness forming at Cale’s acceptance.
“Thank you… hyung,” Basen’s voice is unsure when he speaks the last phrase, but he’s reassured when Cale grunts an acknowledgement in return.
Basen doesn’t know how long Cale ended up standing there since the maids had ushered him away to prepare for bed.
(Cale’s legs ache as his stomach continues to flip. The hunger has taken a turn for the worse, leaving him nauseous and dizzy, so he leans his forehead against the wall in an attempt to ground himself. He’s started to feel feverish from the lack of food and water, and he winces every time he shifts his weight from one side to the other, trying to alleviate some of the pain. A passing servant had turned off the lights in the room, not noticing that the young master was still standing in the corner. Cale waited for his father to come break his punishment, but the man never came. It’s Ron who rushes to his side after finally getting relieved from his job of assisting the patriarch in the office. His old butler smoothes a warm, gloved hand down his back before lifting him up into his sturdy arms and whisking him away to the second kitchen).
(Cale feels so stupid for thinking the man would come back for him).
-
Basen remembers the scornful look that marred his father’s face when Cale’s tutors handed in their letters of resignation. One by one, they all refused to teach such a “vile menace” who had “zero hopes for the future.” Father stopped searching for replacements when the old history teacher, who was known for her patience, placed a sealed envelope on his desk. Cale had been 13 when father had fully given up all hope on him.
If looks could burn, his father would have set the walls of his office in flames with his unwavering glare. Basen jolted when his father’s eyes shifted to look at him instead, never softening even after meeting his eyes.
(He was scared to lose the fleeting warmth that the man had for him, so he worked harder in hopes of rekindling it into a brighter, stronger flame).
When he returned to his room, he found himself questioning whether the man actually saw him as a son or if he was just a replacement for the first one he had given up on.
-
With each passing year, the weight Basen had naively taken into his arms became heavier and heavier. He curses himself for believing that shouldering all the responsibilities would make the man love him more. Now he's stuck with cold, cutting words and never-ending expectations.
Cale has made a name for himself… the people of their territory refer to him as the trash of the count’s family. Everyone in the room tenses up whenever he walks in, barely breathing because they’re scared that they would somehow be the one to set him off.
(Their father has given up once more, opting to throw money at his eldest instead of trying rekindle what little embers were left).
Basen had returned from surveying their territory’s businesses when his brother had come stumbling through the door. The apples of his cheeks almost the same shade as his crimson hair and his reddish-brown eyes glazed over because of his intoxication.
Seeing his brother like this pissed him off. Basen couldn’t understand the temptation of alcohol. Why do people want to drown themselves in liquors until their minds become incapable of knowing right from wrong? It’s a stupid idea in his opinion. He didn’t understand why Cale was so dead set on drinking his life away. At the rate that he’s going, he might as well drink away their family’s funds as well. His mouth tastes bitter as his brain whispers wishes of having a brother who was more responsible like Eric Wheelman or Gilbert Chetter. A brother who was actually worth something.
He takes quick strides towards the dining room in hopes of escaping his brother’s presence, but Cale only falls into step with him, following him into the room.
The old butler’s son wheels out their meal with the help of the maids and then begins to fret over the stupid drunk once everything was set up. The dark haired chef presses his hands against his brother’s forehead, murmuring his concerns as Cale closes his eyes and leans into the touch.
(Jealousy corrodes away at the stoic mask that Basen has carefully crafted. He can’t stop his brain from imagining himself in place of the chef, forming a stronger imaginary bond between him and his brother).
Soon enough, the two are left alone in the room, the sound of clinking silverware doing nothing to dissolve Basen’s feeling of discomfort. His brother is none the wiser, drunk and without a care in the world. No expectations set for him because father probably believes he would end up dead in a ditch somewhere.
“...Hyung,” Basen’s voice comes out as a croak, the title is almost unfamiliar on his tongue.
“Mm?”
“Why…” His throat is dry as he forces his words out, “Why must you drink like this?”
Basen hopes that the bright boy he’s seen with the old butler still exists. He wishes that he could see at least a glimpse of the brother he once admired in the bumbling fool that sat in front of him.
“...Doesn’t hurt..” his brother mumbles, “Don… Don’t wanna hurr anymore…”
Anger bubbles beneath his skin, his frustration becoming fuel as he wracked his brain for a response. Doesn’t Cale know how much his drinking hurts others? Did Cale ever stop to think about him? Why did he have to throw everything away?
A small voice in his head whispers a mournful traitor, but Basen simply rises to his feet and leaves Cale alone in the dining room again.
(His steps falter and he takes one last glance over his shoulder… Cale looks so… fragile. Basen’s heart aches with the way his brother’s shoulders slump under the weight of the unknown, but he can’t stop the way his heart burns with betrayal).
(Because where was his brother… when he needed him the most? Why didn’t be come to save him like how he did before?)
-
The first time Cale gets into a bar fight has Basen rushing to his side the moment he walks through the front door. Dried blood trailed down from where his lip had been split and bruises painted the left side of his face from his cheek to his jaw. His knuckles were bruised and battered from the obvious fight.
“Hyung!” He cried out, “What happened?”
Cale continues to walk past him, completely ignoring him and opting to escape to his room. Basen’s hand shoots out to grasp at his brother’s wrist, keeping the older man from leaving him.
“Please, hyung,” he implored, “Talk to me.”
Cale pries his hand off his wrist, his touch ever so soft in comparison to the cold, distant look in his eyes.
Basen gets no response.
His brother staggers off to his room with his butler and chef in tow, shutting the door with a deafening click. Basen knows he has no place beyond the door, so he remains stuck where Cale had left him.
His father comes storming past him, flinging open the door and slamming it shut behind him. Only his father’s shouting can be heard from behind the door.
(Cale makes no attempts to defend himself again).
-
It’s pure coincidence when Basen stumbles across his brother getting beaten down in a fight. A portly man absolutely whaling down on his brother, but the redhead just… takes it. He’s frozen where he stands as Cale makes no move to defend himself, allowing the man to beat him with unbridled fury.
The man leaves Cale in a bloodied heap against the wall and Basen finally finds the strength to go to his brother’s side. His heart slams against his ribcage as if it’s about to burst through his chest, and it’s hard to breathe as he looks at Cale’s prone form.
He watches Cale with unblinking eyes, scared that he would disappear the moment he blinked. Cale looks up at him with a wince, his right eye almost completely swollen shut from the abuse, but what he does next will forever be burnt into Basen’s mind.
Cale smiles. His teeth bloodied as red tinged saliva dribbles out from the side of his mouth, but this… this is the happiest Basen has seen his brother.
There’s tears streaming down the younger’s face as he collapses onto his knees in front of the disheveled man.
“Hyung…” He whimpers, “Hyung, why are you doing this?”
Cale lets out a wet laugh, reaching up with crooked fingers to weakly wipe away at Basen’s tears. Basen reaches up to hold his brother’s hand against his face, tears streaming down as he takes deep, shuddering breaths.
(Basen sees the same boy who told him to stand proud so many years ago, the same boy who became a scapegoat for his sake).
This time, too, Basen gets no answer.
(Deep inside, he knows why).
-
Basen is 15 when he feels like the ground has been ripped out from under his feet.
He’s 15 when he becomes the eldest son in the Henituse family.
It’s pouring when the funeral is held and he feels as though this was another one of his brother’s shitty acts. It’s too cliché… it can’t be real.
Only Basen, his brother’s butler, and the young chef attend Cale’s funeral. Their father had spewed some bullshit excuse about having to meet an important associate for a deal that could change their lives.
But isn’t this life changing?
Cale Henituse was dead and that’s still not enough to make the man look his way?
His fingers are ice cold around the handle of his umbrella and he’s unable to turn away from the ivory white slab.
Here lies Cale Henituse
XXXX ~ XXXX
A son and a brother
Basen lets out a hysterical laugh that shoves past the thick lump in his throat. This must be some sick joke his father is pulling.
“That’s it?”
The butler and chef turn to look at him, but they don’t give him any response.
“That’s all you put for your own son?” Basen’s vision blurs with ht tears, his heart breaking for his older brother.
The man had called Basen into his office to announce his brother’s death like some sort of business loss. There were no tears on his face. His face wasn’t even red from previously shed tears. Basen knew the man hadn’t cried at all.
Cale had drank himself into another stupor and began picking fights with the locals again, when he came face to face with someone new. His brother has always chased death with a grin, hoping that the next fight would be the one to put him out of his misery.
This time, his wish came true.
“Hyung… Why’d you do it?”
The ground dug into his knees as the rain seeped into the fabric of his pants, his umbrella long forgotten on the ground, but his head still dry. His brother’s butler had stepped in to hold an umbrella over Basen.
“Hyung, you fucking traitor,” his voice is raw and cracked around the edges, “Why’d you leave me?”
He thinks back to all the times his brother had acted out to steal the attention away from him as a small mercy. How he tirelessly performed in front of the crowd, playing into the role that was assigned to him.
“I fucking hate you, hyung,” His cold dingers rip at the grass that surrounds the grave, “I hate you so much… for making me take all the work…”
“I bet you’re not even sorry for leaving me…” A sorrow filled smile graces his lips as hot tears roll down the round of his cheeks, “It hurt too much didn’t it, hyung…”
“You stupid piece of trash… I bet you’re laughing at this sad excuse of a funeral right now.”
Basen scrubs at his face with his soaked sleeves, but the tears don’t slow down.
“You’re a Henituse… dumbass. Hold your head high,” he chokes out, his fingers tracing the engraved name, “I still love you, hyung, thank you. I’m sorry.”