I had to choke down the words nestling on the tip of my tongue: “Lucky you.” Unlike Alfred, most of the students of Welkin, myself included, never got to see their parents after their fifth birthday. The law made it mandatory that broken children had to stay with their parents until they turned five-year-old, after which there were institutions that would take care of them. Welkin was one among many, but it was arguably the best.
“I remember your brother,” I said. The teachers said I, too, had a brother, but he was not my brother in the sense that Matthew was Alfred’s brother. For one thing, Ian Kirkland was older than me. I had no memory of him, or of my parents. “His name is Matthew.” Matthew looked just like Alfred. He was Alfred’s complete self in the sense that Alfred was his broken self.
“I took him to the Music Room, and he taught me how to play the C-scale,” Alfred sighed, closing his eyes. “He taught me how to play a song called Greensleeves.” Blinking, he opened his eyes again and looked straight at me. “I’d like to play it for you tomorrow.”
Pleased, I smiled and said, “Okay. Tomorrow.” Then Alfred closed his eyes, mumbling how sleepy he was, and I took it as my cue to leave.
Alfred was playing Greensleeves and I was his private audience when Lovino broke into the Music Room with terror in his eyes, panting out the words that Lili had collapsed in the middle of her lessons, and that Nurse Eliza wanted us to accompany Vash to the Wards.
“He broke down just like that,” Lovino said, eyes wide. “He just fell onto his knees when doctor Rod came into our room to tell him the news and fetch him.”
“Oh,” I let out, feeling stricken myself. I remembered Vash’s fierce expression, his expression that never quite relaxed except when he was in Lili’s company. “Oh. Vash.”
Boys In Summer Are Ephemeral 1d/?
“I remember your brother,” I said. The teachers said I, too, had a brother, but he was not my brother in the sense that Matthew was Alfred’s brother. For one thing, Ian Kirkland was older than me. I had no memory of him, or of my parents. “His name is Matthew.” Matthew looked just like Alfred. He was Alfred’s complete self in the sense that Alfred was his broken self.
“I took him to the Music Room, and he taught me how to play the C-scale,” Alfred sighed, closing his eyes. “He taught me how to play a song called Greensleeves.” Blinking, he opened his eyes again and looked straight at me. “I’d like to play it for you tomorrow.”
Pleased, I smiled and said, “Okay. Tomorrow.” Then Alfred closed his eyes, mumbling how sleepy he was, and I took it as my cue to leave.
Alfred was playing Greensleeves and I was his private audience when Lovino broke into the Music Room with terror in his eyes, panting out the words that Lili had collapsed in the middle of her lessons, and that Nurse Eliza wanted us to accompany Vash to the Wards.
“He broke down just like that,” Lovino said, eyes wide. “He just fell onto his knees when doctor Rod came into our room to tell him the news and fetch him.”
“Oh,” I let out, feeling stricken myself. I remembered Vash’s fierce expression, his expression that never quite relaxed except when he was in Lili’s company. “Oh. Vash.”
XXX