Brother, Sit Down

Brother, Sit Down
Kael

I don’t give him time to overthink it. That’s the trick with Cage. If you let him stand still too long, he builds walls out of silence and regret and whatever fresh hell his brain decides he deserves today. So I grab him and haul him down the hallway like I’ve got somewhere to be, and he’s already late.
“Hey,” he snaps, trying to pull free. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Kidnapping,” I say cheerfully. “Relax, it’s emotional, not violent.”
“That’s not better.”
“It is for me.”
He stops walking entirely, boots scraping against stone. I keep moving, which means he stumbles forward a step and glares at me like he’s deciding whether to stab me or tolerate me.
“Kael,” he says tightly. “What do you want?”
I turn then and really look at him. He’s wound tight, shoulders hunched, jaw locked, one hand hovering near his side like he expects pain to come from nowhere. His eye is still raw, the stitching harsh and ugly in the low light. He looks like someone bracing for punishment. And something in my chest twists.
“I want you to stop looking like you’re about to bolt,” I say quietly. “And I want you to trust me for ten minutes.”
His expression hardens. “I don’t do blind trust.”
“Good,” I reply. “Neither do I. Come on.”
This time, he walks. I walk him to the room he claimed last night. The one he decided he needed to use to have space from the rest of us. I know he felt like he didn't deserve to be in her space yet, and that's half the problem here. His room is sparse, barely touched, The bed is neatly made like he expected there to be room inspections and grading on his tidiness. I kick the door shut behind us and flop back onto the bed, boots still on, hands laced behind my head.
“Sit,” I tell him.
“No.”
I sigh and sit up, planting my feet on the floor. “Mate, I didn’t drag you all the way up here to murder you or confess a crush. Just sit.”
He hesitates, then perches on the edge of the bed like it might explode. There it is. The distance. That little devil on his shoulder that I need to flick off and away from him. I dig into my pocket slowly so he doesn’t think I’m pulling a weapon. The leather is warm from my body, edges worn smooth from decades of being held and carried and loved... I pass it to him. He frowns, takes it automatically, then stills.
“What’s this?”
“An eye patch.”
“I know what it is,” he says. “I meant… why?”
I exhale slowly. This is the part I don’t joke my way through. This is where I need to let my own walls down so he can see behind my mask and decide it's worth letting go of his too.
“It was my dad’s,” I say.
His hands pause.
“When I was real young, there was a territory war. A messy one. Everyone thought it’d be settled in a week.” I huff a breath. “It wasn’t. A bear shifter caught him off guard and took his eye clean out before Mum slayed the bastard.”
Cage’s fingers tighten on the leather.
“Mum made this,” I continue. “Sat at the kitchen table for hours, stitching it herself. Dad hated glamours. Said this reminded him he was still alive and still standing.”
I swallow.
“He wore it every day until he died.”
The room goes very quiet for a moment, and I lose myself in the memories I have of him.
“When he passed, Mum kept it. Just… carried it with her. Like if she held it close enough, she could still feel him.” I rub a hand over my face, suddenly tired in a way that has nothing to do with war. “Before we came here, she gave it to me.”
Cage finally looks up at me, and I give him a half smile.
“She said it looked like someone else might need it more than she does.”
His breath shudders. It's barely noticeable unless you’re looking for it.
“I think,” I say softly, “she was telling me that some people don’t need fixing. They need proof they’re allowed to survive what happened to them.”
He runs his thumb along the stitching, reverent now.
“I don’t hate you,” I add, meeting his gaze. “I never really did. I was angry, sure. Protective, definitely, but hate? No.”
He scoffs weakly. “You should.”
“Maybe,” I shrug. “But I get it. You didn’t grow up like I did. You didn’t have a mum who stitched your dad back together and told you monsters could still love. That wasn’t your fault.”
Silence stretches between us and I let out a heavy sigh.
“You can have it now,” I say. “What we have... With Allison... With us... But you’ve got to stop punishing yourself long enough to reach for it.”
His voice comes out rough. “I don’t know how.”
“That’s fine,” I say. “None of us did at first.”
He looks down again, shoulders sagging.
“I want it,” he admits quietly. “What you guys have with her. I just… I don’t feel like I deserve it.”
I don’t hesitate. I reach out and smack his back once, solid and grounding.
“And that,” I say, “is how you know you do.”
He blinks at me.
“People who do awful shit and never question it?” I continue. “They sleep easy. They don’t wonder. You’re here, tearing yourself apart because you care. That counts for something.”
His jaw trembles.
“You’ve got to give yourself a chance,” I add. “Bare yourself a little. To her. To us. Let some light in.”
He swallows hard.
“My mother,” he says suddenly. “She wanted to call me Christopher.”
I freeze. “What?”
He looks embarrassed and vulnerable. “That was the name she picked.”
Something warm blooms in my chest.
“Well,” I say, smiling despite myself, “shit. Christopher, huh? That’s a good name.”
A tear slips down his cheek, and he doesn’t bother to wipe it away. That's how I know Mumma would be proud of me right now. His walls are down; he'll open up a little more. He'll see that he deserves this eventually.
I clap my hands together once and stand. “Alright, Christopher. Emotional breakthrough achieved.”
He huffs a laugh, and I throw an arm around his shoulders. He runs his fingers along the leather once more before he nods and slips the patch over his eye. My heart pangs for a moment as I remember how much that meant to my dad and now, how much I hope it will mean to him.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go spy on our girl.”
He doesn’t pull away this time; he lets me keep my arm wrapped around his shoulder while we head back out. I think we'll be alright.