Crazy but Sweet, Sweet but Crazy

31: the brothers

I almost couldn't recognize Landon Lockwood upon entering the house after jostling past Gerald at the front door.

Last seen in the public eye three years ago, Landon was a young man with an almost foolishly big smile on his face as he stood between Isabella and Richard, his hands on the shoulders of the shy, newly adopted Elliot.

The thirty one years old Landon swaying on his feet, reeking of an alcoholic and bearing bloodshot, glazed eyes, looked not three years older, but at least a decade more aged.

Now, he lay on the floor with a shell-shocked face, Elliot standing over him with a bloody fist.

I'd picked up the broken door knob from the floor for a reason.

Elliot's face and ribs had taken beatings before, but I'd noticed his knuckles were always clean.

I thought my assumption that Elliot simply couldn't fight back, had been correct. In the worst case scenario, I'd have to fight Landon off myself.

But I watched incredulously how- so easily- Landon lost his balance and fell to the floor at Elliot's one punch, how Landon's nose bled so heavily, and how even as Landon, after having recovered from his stunned state, couldn't escape as Elliot straddled and punched him three, four more times.

Elliot had chosen not to fight back.

To Landon's slight movements, Elliot limped over to my side, holding his side with a hand. He stood, putting his weight on one leg, between me and his brother.

Sprawled on the floor, Landon's glazed eyes slowly rolled over to Elliot.

"What did...our family do to you? What did we do that...that you're fucking with us like this?"

"I lived in the slums, spent most of the time in the orphanage, some days in my sick mother's house. Dad pulled me from that life. He was my savior, Landon."

Elliot's back was turned to me, but I could see the painful spasms of his body as he spoke. He wasn't in a state to stand.

Landon's eyes grew redder. "Then why-"

"That's why I didn't say anything even when I ended up in the hospital because Isabella tried to kill me with a spiked peanut butter sandwich.

"I didn't say anything even when dad brought me to dimly lit drinking places with rich men and women who liked having me pour their drinks and smiling for them, and wanted to be left alone with me in exchange for signing contracts with dad."

I felt like I'd been the one knocked down onto the floor. What?

"The thing you do. Smiling and trying to charm your way through." I felt sick. Oh my fuck.

"That's why I didn't say anything, even when dad brought me in front of the cameras and when we went back home, stopped smiling at me.

Elliot's voice was strained in pain. "Because he was my savior- I can't just sit in his house while he gets more people's blood on his hands. I have to stop him."

His jaw slightly slack, Landon took in Elliot's words, very still. Then, he said quietly, "You can only say that because you're not his biological son-"

"I am his biological son, Landon. And my mother-" Elliot's fingers, locked into a fist, was trembling. Sweat glistened on the nape of his neck and glided down under his shirt.

Without thinking, I found myself stretching out a hand, and clasping it over Elliot's. It was shaking, and damp with cold sweat. Almost as soon as I carefully put my hand over his, Elliot squeezed mine, hard.