[ WP ] `` I never truly knew what bittersweet meant until I met you . ''

`` I never really knew what bittersweet meant until I met you two! You guys just fight! All you do is fight and I ca n't take it no more!'' 
 
 His blue eyes are scared and searching. His black hair is disheveled, even with the grease in it. The boy suddenly looks a lot younger than his sixteen years. A lot older, too. He looks like he's seen everything. Like he's seen nothing. He shakes with anger? Fear? Sadness? A combination of all three? The dining room they're in suddenly seems like the only place in the world. Run down as it is, with a rickety wooden table, and scratched wooden chairs. 
 
 `` Rob-'' 
 
 `` No. I've heard it all! I feel like the rope in tug-o-war! I'm always in the middle. I ca n't choose sides no more.'' 
 
 The other boy sighs. He's twenty. He rubs his face. He never wanted to make him feel bad, not his little brother. He's usually so happy. Maybe that's why they never see him like this. He looks at Tom, younger still, the youngest of the three. A tender fourteen and a month. His eyes are filled with something. Regret? Guilt? He should n't have it. 
 
 Not as young as he is. 
 
 The sixteen year-old's eyes are filling with tears. The pressure he always feels, it's cracking him. He's the happy one. The fantastically pretty one. The glue. The dumber one, already dropped out of school, to pull in some money for the small family. But it do n't matter,'cause his heart is golden. When he laughs, everyone laughs. When he cries, nobody sees. His chest heaves, the sobs starting to come up. 
 
 `` I-I c-ca n't watch you two fight n-no more, Rich, Tom, please, d-do n't fight,'' his voice wavers. It's not quite as deep as it will be, just yet. He sits down on one of the chairs. Elbows on the table, he buries his face in his hands. He stifles sobs, now. Natural reaction. Whenever he cries, it's in the dead of the night into his pillow. Ca n't disturb his brothers. The other two sit, too. Rich pulls his crying brother into his lap, shushing him quietly. He wraps his arms tightly around him, rocks back and forth gently. 
 
 `` C'mon bud, you can cry loudly if you want,'' his voice barely breaks through the silence of the room. The other just shakes his head. His shoulders quake with his noiseless cries. Everything he's been holding back, all the anxiety, sadness, anger, is flooding out. Everything that's been dancing around his brain. Tormenting him. Every repressed shout, insult. Every single tear absorbed by his pillow. It pours out of him, as easily as his happiness does. His brother's shirt is wet. Tears and snot. 
 
 The youngest pulls his chair closer and rubs his brother's back. 
 
 Of all people, they would n't expect him to cry so damn *sadly*. They want him to stop, because his tears are driving them to the same place. 
 
 `` I'm so fuckin' sorry,'' the oldest laments quietly. His middle brother is still wailing inaudibly, but he talks anyway. Maybe the words will comfort. `` I'm not mom, I'm sure as hell not dad. Naw, dad was kinder, nicer. I know that. He never yelled at you Tom, he never yelled at *me*, and I've done things a lot worse than getting a C,'' his breathing rumbles. Tears are stinging at his eyes like mosquitos. `` And Robby, damn, I know he listened to you a helluva lot more. You called him daddy to the day he died, y'know why? Cause you were just that damn comforted by him. You went to him when everybody was callin' you stupid. Whenever you had a nightmare. Whenever, *whenever*, you felt bad you went to dad, and fuck I want to be that for you, baby. I-^I ^do n't ^know ^how ^Robby. You deserve it, fuck, you deserve more than anyone I've ever seen.'' 
 
 He's crying too, now. The guilt is up over his head. It fills his lungs. He *ca n't breathe*, he's so damn guilty. 
 
 `` If there's anyone most like dad, it's you Robby,'' he tilts the boy's head up so he looks at him. `` You listen, and take, and laugh. You look exactly like mom, but Robby, do n't you ever act like her. Do n't you ever drown yourself in booze like her, alright? Robby, you got ta stay as good as dad, I know I ca n't, I'm too goddamn mean, and Tom is Tom, Tom's a dreamer, but *you*. *You* are just like him. You got ta stay that way, you got ta, okay, promise me, Rob- Rob promise me,'' he's sobbing now. Rob just sits up a bit straighter and pulls his arms around his brother's neck. He hides his face in it. 
 
 `` I really miss dad,'' comes the hushed voice of the youngest brother. 
 
 Such a simple sentence, simple feeling. But boy, is it raw. The middle boy's cries suddenly become wails, loud ones. A fantastic affair. His breathes in, they're ragged. Rough. So deep they hurt. Like he's about to run out of air. They fuel so many damn sobs. We all know the sound, that repeated, knocking thing. When tears stream down your face, and you think it just about ca n't get any worse. When all you want to do is kneel down and pray for the pain to be over. His face is red from the effort of it. Blue eyes ringed red, all irritated. 
 
 `` I want daddy. I want daddy, I want daddy, I want daddy, I want daddy! I want daddy!'' 
 
 A guttural chant. So rough, wet. Words of a five year old, but it's *his* *name*. 
 
 `` I know baby, I know, *shh*.'' 
 
 The youngest brother's also pressed his face into his side. The oldest wonders why all of this had to happen. He kicks himself too. He's the one that looks like a near carbon copy of dad, just young. Why ca n't he be dad in his mind too? He'd know what to do. He'd be able to get his brothers to calm down. Hell, the man would get him to calm down. He was *that* person. 
 
 Soon though, they all do. The tears stop coming. The sadness, the *desperation* they feel for a way out, remains. But their eyes hurt. 
 
 `` Let's get to bed, alright?'' His kid brothers nod. 
 
 `` C-can I sleep with you Rich?'' Rob's wiping at his eyes as he says this. His usually handsome face is clouded by the patchy redness of his skin, the swell of his eyes. 
 
 `` Yeah, kid. You come along too, Tom.'' 
 
 The three quickly get ready for bed. 
 
 They settle down. 
 
 When they do this, the youngest is usually in the middle. Usually it's'cause he has a nightmare, and Rob just ca n't calm him down. So he brings him to that bed. 
 
 But tonight, the middle's the one in the middle. The other two know he needs it. The comfort of being a bit babied. Shushed and rocked to bed, pressed up against a solid chest. 
 
 And they settle down. 
 
 The youngest and oldest wrap their arms around their brother. Allow him to hide his face in the chest of the oldest. Rub his back, pet his hair. Hum softly. 
 
 `` ^We're ^not ^ gon na ^fight ^anymore ^Rob.'' 
 
 `` ^Okay,'' comes the broken whisper. 
 
 With that, the warmth of his brothers, their comforting hands, lull him to sleep. 
 
 His breathing is even and calm. The stress on his face disappears, the tension. He looks like a little kid again. Everyone does asleep. 
 
 The oldest waits for both to fall asleep. He thanks his lucky stars that he has the two and no one else. He thanks his lucky stars that his kid brother did n't hurt himself instead of telling them about all of those fucking feelings. He wishes for his dad. ^He ^prays ^he's ^looking ^out ^for ^him. 
 
 He falls asleep. 

