Chapter Text
April 10, 2019
Brasília, Brazil
“I want to make it clear that I’m absolutely thrilled that I get to come visit you”—a soft voice fills the strange silence of Luciano Carriedo Silva’s relatively new Fiat Argo, speaking Portuguese with a strange accent—“but something tells me you have… I dunno… motives for calling me down to Brazil. This wasn’t unprompted, was it?” Jun Silva Wang glances at his brother from the stiff passenger seat of the small car.
“You said you were in Vegas for business matters, and I thought I’d call you down since you were already on this side of the Pacific,” the Brazilian replies weakly, gripping the steering wheel rather tightly.
“No, that’s not it,” Jun shakes his head, silky black hair shifting forward into his periphery as he refuses to break his gaze from his older brother. “What aren’t you telling me?” He leans back, trying to release some of his tension, but still absently fidgets with the ring on his finger as his leg rapidly bounces.
Luciano takes a deep breath, his dark brown eyes dimming as he turns the wheel ever so slightly. He takes the next exit, following the wide turn onto a new road. “Fine,” he sighs guiltily. “There were other reasons I flew you in… especially so short notice,” he confesses, glancing at the man at his side in brief intervals.
Jun props an elbow against the passenger window, watching quiet Brasília streets fly by. A shining gold watch slides up his wrist, resting against the stiff cuff of his white button-up. The golden time-piece catches the warm spring sun that breaks through the dusty windshield. “Dad’s here, isn’t he?” he deducts at last.
“He won’t leave!” Luciano exclaims, his shoulders falling as he refuses to take his tired gaze off the road ahead.
Jun sighs, closing his eyes in solemn defeat. “Betrayed by my own brother,” he sighs melodramatically, dropping his hands into his lap as he sits up. He shakes his head, unfastening his cufflinks, rolling his sleeves up.
The Macanese man probably has more wealth on him at this moment than Luciano has ever seen in his own bank account. While his brother looks like he has just left a business meeting, Luciano looks like he is ready for a vacation. The young man sits in khaki cargo shorts and a strangely patterned, oversized, bright blue button-up.
Jun stares at the Brazilian with distress as he pockets his cufflinks, shifting awkwardly in the warm leather seats. “You trapped me,” he mutters. “Why can’t you deal with him on your own?”
“I don’t actually know what happened,” Luciano begins slowly, his gaze narrowing as he tries to mentally map it out for himself. “But I think something happened at a European Union meeting.” He turns into a quiet residential neighborhood, glancing at his younger brother who stares back intently.
“So he’s said nothing about why he’s here?”
“Correct,” Luciano confirms. The car slows as he turns into a small parking lot, carefully steering around potholes and trees as he pulls into a parking space. “But I’m thinking that he’s hiding,” he explains.
Jun curses as Luciano puts the car in park, taking the keys from the ignition.
“And whatever he’s hiding from, I don’t wanna deal with it alone.” He pushes the driver’s door open, climbing out of the car. He slams the door shut, wandering around the back of the car, leaving the Macanese man to himself.
Jun sits in silence for a moment, taking a defeated deep breath before he pushes open the passenger door, stumbling weakly out of the car. He makes the mistake of resting an arm on top of the sleek, black car, immediately cursing, shaking his burning arm.
He looks up as Luciano slams the trunk, staring at him with mockery over the top of the car.
“Oh, shut up,” Jun mutters, throwing the door shut. He wanders to his brother’s side, taking his carry-on out of his hand.
Luciano fights his keys out of his pocket. With the hit of the lock button, the car responds with a sharp chirp. He fumbles for his house key, leading the way toward the apartment complex. “I don’t want you to think that I didn’t want to spend time with you. Once we get João out of my house, we should be free to do whatever we’d like.” He pulls open the door to the dim stairwell, holding it open for his brother to follow him in.
“I guess Dad’s been begging for a family reunion for a while now. Now he’s got it,” Jun comments thoughtfully.
“None of our siblings are here though,” Luciano mumbles.
“I know,” Jun laughs softly. “I don’t think they’d all show up for him anyway.”
“I don’t think any of them would show up for him.” The Brazilian considers it for a few moments more. “I do wish we could see them more often though.”
Jun lowers his gaze as he climbs the concrete stairs of the tight stairwell.
“It doesn’t help that we are all scattered across the world and travel is a bitch,” Luciano continues absently as he slows beside the front door of his apartment, fitting his key into the old lock, the fading finish testifying to the age of the building. He pushes the door open, pocketing his keys once more, squinting as he is immediately met by the faint smell of burnt food. “Welcome home,” he mumbles, stepping into the entry hall which is paired with the apartment’s small kitchen. He turns into the small space, staring around apprehensively, finding that nothing is running other than the fridge, and therefore, there is no need for anything to smell even remotely burnt. “He’s been up to something,” he mutters with a critical gaze.
“I’m going to drop my stuff in the guest bedroom,” Jun whispers, watching his brother start sifting through cupboards as if he were searching for a rodent.
“Sure,” Luciano mumbles, turning around, his white tennis shoes shifting against the off-white tile floors.
Jun crouches down, untying his dress shoes, fighting them off his feet.
“That’s if João hasn’t colonized it already.”
Jun shoots him an odd look as he stands upright, shoes in hand.
The Brazilian doesn’t look back at him as he darts for the fridge, rummaging around absently.
No pun intended, then? Jun stares back at him with silent amusement before stepping down the dim hall. He forgets how warm and inviting his brother’s home is. Why don’t I visit more often? It might be the 18,000 miles between them.
He wanders down the hall, eyeing the small yet welcoming rooms leading off of it until he reaches the small spare bedroom at the end of the hall. He silently rejoices in the fact the Portuguese man put nothing in the room. He sets his bag and shoes down, leaving the room just as quickly as he had claimed it. He wanders back through the home, stopping in the doorway of the living room, finding his Portuguese father in the window, watching the road below with careful, critical eyes.
“Hello,” Jun greets cautiously.
João Carriedo Silva looks up with empty eyes and a forced smile. “Hello, Jun,” he greets breathily. “I… I wasn’t expecting you to be here.” He tilts his head, staring at his son with mild intrigue. “What… are you doing here?”
“Luciano called me up so I could ask the same of you.”
The Brazilian, having heard the man’s voice, swings into the room on the doorframe, immediately running into Jun. He grunts, stumbling back a step.
“Oh, sorry,” Jun laughs, stepping into the room and out of the doorway.
Luciano pays the young man no mind, his rich brown eyes latching onto his father. “Were you eating my food?”
João glances at him, but only for the briefest moment before turning back to Jun. “I told him not to worry.”
“That almost guarantees you did something,” Jun reasons knowingly, shifting his weight. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Hold that thought,” Luciano cuts in, having other priorities. “Food.” His burning gaze remains locked on his father as he steps past his brother. “Where’s my food?”
“Well… technically… I didn’t do anything,” João dodges Jun’s accusations and continues to ignore his host entirely.
“My kitchen smells burnt,” the Brazilian refuses to let the concern go.
Jun glares at his brother, his golden eyes insisting he let the concern go before he casts his gaze back to their father. “Luca, we have a pretty good list of people he could be hiding from, right?”
Luciano turns back to the smaller man, his dark eyes suddenly clear and curious. “I mean… yeah. It doesn’t take much to start imagining—”
“What if we started calling people?”
Luciano smiles maliciously.
“We call them one by one until we find who he’s hiding from.”
“No!” João cries, holding a hand out as he shifts a step toward his sons.
Both boys grin as amusement burns in their eyes.
The man’s expression falls as he drops his hands back to his side. “Fine,” he whispers, his bright green eyes studying the hardwood floors. His hair shifts forward over his shoulders as he exhales defeatedly. “I’ll… I’ll tell you what happened.”
Luciano’s gaze narrows as he watches his father grow stern, reverent, and perhaps a bit anxious as well.
Jun steps forward, settling down on a soft, gray couch, tucking his legs underneath himself as he stares across the room at his father.
The Portuguese man sinks into a chair tucked in the corner behind him. He slides a hair tie off his wrist, fighting his hair up into a messy bun. “Something happened last night in Brussels,” he begins, leaning forward. He runs his hand along his chin as loose strands of hair swing forward into his periphery.
“So I was right,” Luciano breathes. “This was European Union related.”
João glares at him before dropping his gaze, nodding apprehensively. “You have to promise you won’t yell at me when you hear about this.”