Jack supposed he should have expected this. James was emotional and passionate, if not always logical or reasonable. He was moved by his heart, not his head and that was often reflected in the choices that he made. In a way, this was another relief. If James had done everything right, tried to convince him that he was getting his life together, Jack always would have had a suspicion that there was something coming next. A request, a demand, something needed from him. This was proof that everything before him was honest. Well, riddled with poor attempts at lies and contradictions, but with a sincerity behind it that said he was trying, in some twisted way, to fix his mistakes.Â
He looked back at his empty glass, eyes rolling. This was going to be a long road, he could already tell. He could only hope that he would not be forced to watch this spiral downward. A wave at the bartender and the empty glass disappeared to be shortly replaced with a full one. He was still not looking at James as the words fell like stones around them. âYou came to remind me that you exist and you are still alive, just to tell me to forget you. Your logic is as unfailing as ever.â His voice was back a dry, even tone. He knew that if he wasnât careful in both his words and tone, this conversation would take an even steeper dive than it had already, and Jack was not prepared for that at the moment.Â
He went so far as to let a humorless laugh escape. Ever the hothead, James. He really hadnât changed that much, bouncing from extreme to extreme. But Jack hadnât changed much either, and he went on sitting still and letting James continue on in all his passion. âAnd you came here to tell me all of this to keep me from worrying?â There was a bitter sort of amusement in his tone when he spoke. This twisted and flawed logic was exactly what he should have expected, yet here he was feeling something twist in his chest with each word. He shut his eyes, but did not flinch at the shattering glass. He was feeling that old, deadly calm fall over him; the one he got with every fight with James. Of course it had always infuriated his brother, that he could remain so calm in the face of chaos. James thought it was because he simply didnât feel, didnât care. Jack didnât think he would ever know how wrong he was about that. He felt enough that he did not dare to express it. There was no telling how it might come out should he allow it to escape.Â
Jack still did not look at James. He swallowed, nodding at the bartender who was giving him an uncomfortable look. The bar had gone silent, which meant word of this fight would get back to the house before the night was over. Well, it wasnât as though the gossip wouldnât get around quickly anyway. He forced himself to take a deep breath, remind himself that this was James. Raw, unplanned, James. He picked a piece of glass which had managed to bounce on to the bar up, flicking it with two fingers towards the trash can. âYou may go on insisting I am not your brother, and you may continue to âfuck your life awayâ as you say. It will not change the fact that you are my brother, and when you are ready, I will be here.â
James had once been dominated by his emotions, he still was to an extent... albeit, in a different way. Years prior, he had been a slave to the whims of the moment. Fury and morose aloofness walked hand in hand in accordance with the situation, spouts of fiery emotion prone to burning hot and fast, burning out just as quickly. These days James was still vulnerable to bouts of emotional weakness, however he had learned to master his temper thanks the realisation that his instability tended to parallel his volatile and potentially harmful powers.
âyour logic is as unfailing as everâ
The comment struck home deep in Jamesâ chest, driving him to the edge of his albeit limited patience. those cold blue eyes of his brother - not even willing to look him in the eye in that moment as they rolled derisively - soundly shoved him over that aforementioned edge. James had not seen his brother in years, the man as close to a stranger as any heâd ever met... and yet he dismissed him like a child. That familiar anger came on hot and fast, bubbling, boiling. Threatening to overtake him entirely.
James forced his gaze away from his idol, from his guardian... though heâd never admit to those descriptions of his brother. Seeing himself in the reflection of the mirror by the bar, he saw his eyes had flared a deep and unnatural magenta. His voice, sounding cold and distant even to his own ears growled, âLeave.â and just like that... they did. As if some silent alarm had sounded, each and every single resident of the bar simply stood and filed out in an eerily ordered fashion, faces blank and distant. Enthralled. Such was the horror of Jamesâ volatile power. He found he wasnât even vaguely surprised to see his brother still standing there as he turned back to him.
âDid it ever cross your domesticated, cowardly mind that maybe I donât even want you here?â James hissed, seething. Those twisting emotions raging to the surface as he squared off to his taller sibling. His voice grew cold, quiet, losing none of the fury. âWe were alone. You, me and our mistakes. Mistakes you let me make.â It was a fallacy, a cowardâs withdrawal from his own failings. James found he didnât care. He met those cold eyes and for the first time in his thirty three years, felt hatred. Hatred for things that werenât Jackâs fault. Hatred for their isolation. Hatred for...
âI am not a child anymore, Jack.â James said softly, barely a whisper as he turned away. Finally withering under that stare, under that judgement, though his older brother would never make such things obvious. âAnd when I say I donât want you to be there for me, I mean it.â