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On weekdays, after the final bell rang, Michael made an effort to hustle over to the junior high to pick up his siblings. He didn’t have a car yet, though if he managed to get in Father’s good graces this winter, it was a possibility. If not, well, he was saving up for one, because he wasn’t about to make Elizabeth and Evan walk through the snow every day for school. Not this year.
They knew to wait for him by now-- they’d been walking the same route together for two years when Michael finally had decided that meeting their father at the diner was out of the question. And he didn’t want them walking alone to meet him at his school even though they got out earlier, so it was nothing if not a surprise when his sister came racing through the crowd of high schoolers toward him one afternoon.
Elizabeth was out of breath, but as soon as she spotted him, she gripped his sleeve, trying to tug him back the way she’d come, strawberry blonde hair flying out over her shoulders. “Lizzy?” He pulled away, grabbing her hand instead and leaning down to look at her. “Elizabeth, what is it? What are you doing here?”
The first thing he noticed, with growing concern, was that Evan was nowhere to be found. His little sister looked fine, other than the fact that her cheeks were red from running, and she was still trying to catch her breath. “I- Evan- some boys at- at school-” she choked out, still trying to yank him down to the sidewalk. “C’mon, Mikey- hurry!”
Michael stiffened. If anything was ever wrong when it came to Evan, it only reminded him of when they were younger and he was a massive bully, the reason that his brother ever had problems at school or at home... Gripping Elizabeth’s hand, he set off at a run back the way she’d come, eventually letting her fall behind as he raced down the walkway.
Sneakers slamming into the pavement, wind roaring in his ears, he took the path he’d walked every day after school until he came up on the large tree in front of the junior high school. Most of the other kids were gone, but a couple older kids stood around a thick tree trunk, emptying an entire tube of tennis balls trying to hit a smaller boy perched in its branches.
...oh. Michael stopped, squaring his shoulders, and gave Elizabeth a moment to catch up before dropping his backpack to the grass and heading up to the bullies surrounding his brother. They were locked in some sort of chant-- “Come down, Crybaby! Come down, Crybaby!” Either they weren’t aware of how stupid they sounded, or they didn’t care.
Michael did, though. “Hey!” he shouted, in a voice he’d unwillingly picked up from Father when he was particularly upset. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The kids, a group of four pubescent junior-high boys, scrambled away at his shout, backing away in surprise as he stormed up to the base of the tree, narrowing his eyes. “Get away from my brother,” he snapped, curling his hands into fists.
Michael was older than them, and he’d shot up in size, and his siblings had mentioned more than once that he got a look on his face sometimes that looked disturbingly like their father’s, so any one of those factors could have been what scared off the bullies. Either way, they scattered, regrouping down the sidewalk and sparing no time hurrying away from Michael’s sharp glower. “Bloody morons,” he muttered as Elizabeth brushed past him, looking up at the tree and their brother sitting up on a branch out of reach. “Evan, they’re gone.”
The younger boy wavered for a moment, then started to climb down with slow, careful movements, until he was able to hop to the ground-- he landed with a quiet oof and stumbled forward, but Elizabeth was already there to steady her twin.
Michael exhaled, kneeling down in front of Evan. He was crying-- of course he was-- the strong cold breeze blowing his bangs away from his face. “You okay?” he asked, trying to lower his tone for his brother’s sake. Evan nodded silently, looking away, but Elizabeth didn’t look convinced, clutching his arm like a lifeline.
“Evan, we have to know,” she insisted in a hushed voice, looking a fraction paler than before. “Otherwise- otherwise Dad is going to be upset...” There was an undertone to her voice, adding what she chose not to say-- upset with Michael. Never with Evan or Elizabeth, just Michael, because Michael would never let them take the fall for something like this.
Michael glanced over his brother again-- huddled in a t-shirt and shorts against the cold (he must have woken up late), his short brown hair mussed up in the wind, hugging himself as silent tears continued to roll down his cheeks.
As he shrugged out of his own hoodie to wrap around Evan, Michael finally noticed what he’d been missing-- the younger boy was standing with the weight on his left leg, because his other knee was bruised and appeared to be swelling up, the dark contusions a stark contrast against his pale, cold skin.
“Crap,” he breathed, “what the-- Ev, what did they do?”
Evan’s lower lip trembled; fresh tears rolled down his face and Elizabeth, ever the helper, fumbled in her pale pink backpack for spare tissues. “Pushed me down in the hall,” he managed to stammer out, “then I ran here to get away.” Based on a few markings starting to show on his arms and cheek, the tennis balls hadn’t all missed him, either, but he’d gotten this from a fall?
Michael squeezed his eyes shut, fighting down anger; he couldn’t afford to be angry right now. This was fine, it was going to be just fine... Reaching out, he pulled Evan into a tight hug, and his brother buried his face in his shoulder, shivering. Elizabeth hung by his other side until he wrapped her in the hug, too, and though she hadn’t said a word, he had a feeling she was going through the same mixed emotions.
“We can’t tell Dad,” she whispered, as though reading his mind, and pulled out of the hug after a few seconds. “Right?”
“He’s out of town, anyways,” Michael muttered. “Doubt he’d be much help.” Rubbing Evan’s back in attempt to soothe him, he racked his brain for some sort of solution. Getting him taken care of was a must, but they couldn’t very well go to the hospital without invoking Father’s wrath. And he wasn’t even around to help, so...
“-hey, do you think Uncle Henry's around?” he suddenly asked, glancing at Elizabeth again, whose green eyes flicked to his and widened. “We could try going to his house.”
His sister lit up at the idea, bouncing up on her toes in excitement. “Yeah, Charlie said to tell you that we’re allowed to come whenever.”
Michael wrinkled his nose. “Whenever?” Henry was great, but coming over often was a thing of the past, not something they could risk. He wouldn’t know how to keep his mouth shut if he saw Michael’s bruises and cuts half the time, and if he said anything to Father, Father would then take it out on them, and that was the last thing he needed. “I, uh... I dunno about that, Liz, but now seems like a pretty good idea. What do you think, Evan?”
Evan shrugged half-heartedly, his tears still soaking the back of Michael’s shirt. “If Dad won’t be angry,” he whispered.
“Then it’s settled.” Trying to keep spirits up, he let go of Evan, turning around and holding his arms out for his brother to climb on. “C’mon, I’ll carry you there.”
The ten-year-old gingerly stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Michael’s shoulders so he could scoop him up in a piggyback. Even so, it was hard to miss his wince of pain, and every careful movement his brother made sent a pang through him. Scooping up his backpack on one wrist, Elizabeth grabbed Evan’s, and they set off down the sidewalk together.
It was chilly, the mid-fall breeze sharp and biting through their clothing. The sidewalk was empty up ahead as they detoured down a dirt path to the next neighborhood over. It was a fifteen-minute walk to Henry’s, but a full thirty to their own house, so Michael supposed it was just another reason why going to Uncle Henry was a good idea today.
Evan’s knee hadn’t appeared to stopped swelling, and the bruises were darker, worsening... but it was fine, because as long as they got to Henry, he would be able to help take care of him. Everything was okay. At least, he had to make it look that way, had to keep spirits up, had to hide the fact that nothing was ever okay.
Elizabeth’s spirits seemed higher, at least, and as she skipped ahead, she called back, “Hey, Mikey? Are you gonna beat up those boys?”
He snorted. I wish. “Probably not, but I’ll go to the principal about them, at least.”
“Boring,” she singsonged, and Evan giggled through tears, his face still buried against Michael’s shoulder. “What if they call Dad?”
“Then I’ll deal with it.” Michael shrugged, readjusting his grip so Evan wouldn’t slip off. “No worries.”
At least his sister seemed content with that. Evan, watching his twin take the lead and shivering in Michael’s hoodie, spoke up at last with his own question. “Mike?”
“What’s up?”
“Do you think...” Evan seemed to rethink his words, slumping down further. “Do you think they’re right f- for calling me crybaby?”
Michael swallowed. “No. Why do you ask?”
“Because everyone says it.” His voice was choked with tears again. “Maybe I am. Dad says- Dad says I cry too much...”
The statement alone was annoying, because what kind of father said those things and made no effort to fix it? Evan had always cried a lot, something that hadn’t quite gone away, because how could it when they lived like they did? Just like Elizabeth had a way of hiding behind masks, lying and pretending better than any actor, and like Michael was too hotheaded and quick to emotion, anger or fear, and couldn’t control a darn thing that came out of his mouth, especially if he was defending someone.
Because they were Aftons. They were defective.
It was something he knew with all his heart, but not something he would tell his siblings. Clearing his throat, he decidedly answered, “Since when are we listening to what Father says?”
Evan was silent for a moment, but he could tell that the younger boy was surprised. “Um... we- we usually do. He’s our dad.”
“We listen to what he tells us to do.” Michael kept walking, crunching through stray leaves on the path. Elizabeth had raced ahead, singing something to herself, so it was just them two in the quiet, rustling leaves and his footsteps and the occasional sniffle from Evan as he attempted to calm himself down. “I’ve already told you not to listen to what he says about us.”
He knew it wasn’t that simple. How long had he been a bully, messing with the twins and hanging out with other delinquents in hopes of looking good in Father’s eyes? He was old enough now to know better, but still... Michael was hoping he could make a difference for his siblings, before they fell into the habits he had.
When Evan couldn’t respond to that, he continued, scuffing the edge of his sneaker on the sidewalk. “I don’t think you’re a crybaby, Ev. Neither does Lizzy, or Charlie, or Uncle Henry.”
His brother’s small voice was choked up when he spoke. “Shouldn’t I stop crying?”
“You don’t cry that much,” Michael insisted, “not like you used to, anyways. And even then... look, Evan, it’s okay. Those other kids are just jerks. You...” He sighed. How to put this? “...Mum used to say that you cried because you had a lot of emotions. You just need a way to express them.”
Evan perked up at that. They didn’t talk about Mum a lot. Or ever, really. “She said that?” he whispered hopefully.
“Yep.” Michael smiled faintly. “So don’t worry about it, Evan. Those jerks need to learn to mind their own business.”
After a moment, Evan relaxed, resting his head against Michael’s shoulder again. “Thanks, Mikey.” He wasn’t crying anymore, and Michael let his own shoulders slump slightly in relief. There was only so much he could say when things were like this, after all, when every word he told them could be easily turned around by Father.
Elizabeth paused up ahead to wait for them, then smiled sweetly up at Michael. “Can we get ice cream?”
“Now? It’s freezing, Liz...” She scowled up at him, but her cheeks were rosy from the cold and she was burrowed into her jacket, too. “Maybe Uncle Henry will make hot cocoa.”
“Yes, please,” Evan added softly, and Michael could hear the smile in his brother’s voice and smiled, too. Even Elizabeth wasn’t immune, her tight features relaxing as she went back to skipping along.
The rest of the walk to Henry’s went just fine, and to all of their relief, he was home-- Charlie had just gotten back, too, and she flung open the door and practically dragged them over the threshold, shouting for her dad. Henry came in, took one look at them, at Evan, and ushered them into the kitchen.
“He’ll be just fine,” Henry assured Michael once his siblings were out of earshot, having wrapped up the younger boy’s knee and set him in the kitchen with-- naturally-- a mug of hot cocoa. Elizabeth and Charlie were already chattering away with their own mugs, and everything was a lot more relaxed. “Should be walking again in a few days-- it doesn’t look too bad, but better safe than sorry.”
Michael looked away-- keeping Evan out of school was just asking for trouble from Father, but then, he didn’t want his brother to have to go to school like this, either. “Okay... thanks, Uncle Henry.”
Maybe if he hadn’t said anything, it would have slipped past Henry’s notice, but instead, the man looked him over at the tone of his voice and sighed. “Will is still out of town, huh? He hasn’t said much about this new location he’s starting up...”
Michael shrugged. “He’s busy.”
“Do you all need to sleep over?” Henry put a hand to his head. “Or should I call your dad... it doesn’t feel right to send you home like this.”
Bad idea, bad idea. “Nope, we’re fine,” he quickly answered, holding up his hands. “Father should be back in a few days, anyways.” Hopefully not. “By then, Evan will have healed. Don’t need to worry him about it.” Not that he would worry. Just another excuse to get mad.
Henry wavered then, looking uncertain. He had that look again-- concern, like he was getting the feeling that things weren’t all well in the Afton family, like he had noticed their father’s... questionable parenting. But he never did, because William was his best friend, and if he had hid his tendencies for this long, Henry would never figure him out.
(Michael still hoped, sometimes, on the bad days, that Uncle Henry would figure it out, would put the pieces together and call the police or do something to get him and his siblings out of this nightmare.)
Finally, Henry conceded, “I’ll give you kids a ride back to the house, if you’re sure. I’m... sure William knew that you were capable of looking after your siblings, or he wouldn’t have left.” Michael nodded, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “And you- you know you can call me, or come over, whenever you need anything, right?”
He hadn’t known, really. Michael wanted to deal with these problems himself. Getting other people involved was never really the answer. But... Henry did sound genuine, like he might be helpful if he ever were to find out the truth... so maybe he would keep that in mind in case he ever had to send Elizabeth and Evan somewhere safe. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “I know.”
All that really mattered was that Evan was taken care of, and that they had a ride home (and hot cocoa, that helped), and that Father wouldn’t have to know that this ever happened. It was as much as he could ask for.
Elizabeth raced to the door the moment Henry dropped them off, calling a “thanks, Uncle Henry!” over her shoulder as she hurried inside out of the cold. Michael stayed behind to help Evan out of the car, and Henry stopped him before he could walk down the path to the house, too.
“Mike-” Henry sighed, a weary smile creasing deep worry lines in his face. “I’m glad you all decided to come to me about this... I know Will can be difficult sometimes, so...” Michael held his breath-- he wasn’t saying what he thought, what he hoped, but he couldn’t stop feeling hopeful anyways. “...I suppose I’m just glad to know that you feel comfortable coming to me. Our door is always open, you know.”
“Yeah... of course.” Michael was used to hiding his disappointment, but this time, he swore Henry could see right through him. “Thanks, Uncle Henry. Really.”
He leaned down to scoop Evan off the backseat, and shutting the door behind him, Michael carried his brother to the front door. He heard the car pull away moments later, but... that was fine. They were going to be okay.
In a year, he would graduate, and he could get his siblings out of here, by himself. For now, everything was fine. As though reading his thoughts, Evan held tighter, a tiny smile tugging at his lips.
He allowed himself a smile, too. Hope. There was still hope, at least.