Chapter Text
You wake up to the most awful fluorescent lights your eyes have ever been set upon. It is, perhaps, the worst thing you could ever wake up to after blacking out just the night before. Or, maybe, the worst thing to wake up to was finding yourself in a hospital bed when— far as you can recall— you were just on your way home but the ten-year old stood in the middle of the room really takes the cake.
"Uh."
"Good to see you finally join us, sister."
Huh. You don't remember having this ten-year old as a brother. This boy sports a deep scowl and furrows his brows so hard you worry he might get wrinkles by the time he's fifteen. You'd like to think you'd be a good enough sister to remember worrying over a younger brother who looks like his blood is always boiling. Maybe you are? You're certainly worried now.
"Sorry? I think you have the wrong—"
"Honestly," he scoffs, and this time a mean smirk appears on his face, "if I were you, I wouldn't have bothered waking up. You know—"
He takes a few steps closer to the foot of your bed. The ugly fluorescent light above shines down on him like a bad spotlight but you can hardly see it now through the sunlight that was creeping in from the open window— with curtains billowing in the quiet wind. Was that where this boy had come from? This doesn't seem like a ground floor…
"— You've really outdone yourself. Are you satisfied now?" He tilts his head and it makes his smirk look a little bit meaner. "Are you proud of how utterly disastrous your "final performance" turned out to be? Who knows if father will even let you back in the manor at this point with how much of a disappointment this all turned out to be. Though—" he laughs— "I'm not surprised. Of course a failure like you would end up failing her own—"
"Excuse me—"
"You don't get to make excuses!"
"Oh."
"Did you know Drake hasn't even visited this hospital?" Somehow, his mouth curls at that, with eyes that narrow down on you with utter glee. "Even Grayson couldn't be bothered to enter your room. And father, well, I suppose I don't need to tell you—"
Just then, the door opens and a nurse comes rushing in with her hair in a disarray.
"Excuse me!" She exclaims, approaching the boy with a haggard wariness like how one would approach a snarling dog with a foaming maw. "Visitors aren't allowed in the room yet so please—!"
"I have every right to be here!" The boy shouts. "You—"
"DAMIAN!"
Someone else comes to the scene and you think, damn, maybe the ten-year old wasn't the worst thing to wake up to when you're hungover. One boy shouting is certainly better than two.
The newcomer is an older boy— a young man— who looks just as haggard as the nurse does. There are bags under his blue eyes and he is pale with worry. Or fear. You can't really tell. Though, what really takes you aback is his sharp jawline, wow.
In the next second, the man wrangles the kid into his arms and attempts to drag him out the room but the boy lashes out— squirming in his grip like hell, arms flailing and legs kicking, and looking just about ready to bite the man's arm.
"How'd you even— ugh, you aren't allowed in here, Damian. I'm really sorry about him—"
"R-right," the nurse stammers, making the wise decision of letting the man contain the feral kid for himself, "please. If you would—"
"Let go of me, Grayson! She deserves to face the consequences of her actions!"
"Can it, Damian! It can wait. She's still recoverin— I'm really sorry about this!"
They argue some more. It's loud. It's sorta funny— seeing them. The older one has the boy coralled into his grip like he's some sort of wild animal and the boy, in turn, does his best to slap his face away and drive his teeth into skin. The older one seems undeterred no matter how much teeth is being dug into his arms and how much fists land on his face. Likewise, the younger boy doesn't look to be letting up anytime soon and keeps being difficult. Even if they look nothing alike they sort of seem like…
"Are you two brothers?"
The whole room stills. And slowly, like in those horror films, their heads crane towards you. They're all wide eyed and slack-jawed and every millisecond more of stifling silence makes the air go tense.
"Ah, sorry," you chuckle, feeling an uneasy feeling brew in your stomach. "It's just— you two fight like siblings, so. I thought, well, you know…"
They say a name you didn't quite catch— maybe it was your name?
"—Do you know… who we are?" The young man asks, his voice oddly unsteady.
"Uh, sorry?" Did you know these people? They seem like the sort who would stand out to you enough to remember them. Maybe you met them when you were really wasted or something? That'd be embarrassing.
"I'm really sorry, I don't." You try to put on a polite smile.
"Have we met before?"
Then, in a near whisper, the man says: "we're your brothers."
The nurse quickly ushers the both of them out the room after that.
They leave quietly.