Crazy but Sweet, Sweet but Crazy

54: to become like the other

"Can you come home for family dinner? Tonight, 7pm. Dad wants you here."

Damn it. He should've blocked the boy's phone number too.

Drenched in sweat and panting, Landon ran into the dining room. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was 7:33.

The tables were set, with the goddamn crab as menu.

Elliot was standing in the dining room, his phone in hand, calling someone. Richard was in his seat, and was glancing at the clock.

When Landon had run into the dining room, Richard got up from his seat.

"What time is it, Elliot?"

Not meeting Landon's eyes, and tucking his phone back into his pocket, Elliot replied, "7:33."

"Did you tell your brother, that we're meeting at 7?"

Landon saw Elliot gulp, lower his eyes. "...I'm sorry. I should've reminded-"

The strike across Elliot's face came quick, and hard. It was with an open palm, not to leave any marks, but came in three strikes.

"What did I teach you, Elliot?" Returning to his seat, Richard sighed. "That in business, when you take charge of something- small or big- you take charge of it. No excuses. And that being early, is being on time."

Elliot's cheek was red. "I'm sorry," he said, his head lowered.

Hands balled into fists by his side, Landon stood stunned, like he'd been the one who'd been struck.

He was feeling something, but he didn't know what. All he knew was that blood seemed to have rushed to his head, like he was on a headstand. 

"Haven't seen you home for many days, son." Taking a sip of red wine from his glass, Richard only then acknowledged Landon, smiling faintly. "Have a seat."

Busily typing away on his laptop, Gerald was sitting in the living room. Landon tore his eyes away from the man, his lip curling in disgust, and took a seat.

"Your brother has something to say to you, Landon," Richard began, just as they'd finished their appetizer.

Landon couldn't finish the goddamn soup. He felt like puking, like he'd been sitting too long in a car.

Sitting next to Richard, Elliot had finished his bowl of soup. What a moron, he'd have to take indigestion pills later for sure.

"What is it?" Pulling out his lighter, Landon muttered, the cigarette dangling from between his teeth.

His life had taken quite a detour after Isabella had become a completely different person three years ago.

For a short while, he'd contemplated driving it back on track- as in, back to the track Richard had designated.

Business management had never been his cup of tea, and opening his eyes in the morning to put on the suit and 'Richard Lockwood's heir' persona had made him sympathize with a pig on its journey to becoming bacon.

Now, knowing what he knew, he wasn't sure if he could stomach it even a little.

"...Cigarettes are bad for you. So is alcohol," Elliot said, quietly.

Landon's hand holding the lighter, stopped. He looked at Elliot, wondering what alien language this moron had just uttered, then at Richard.

The placidity on his face frozen, Richard had stopped in his action of dipping his hands into the hand washing bowl of lemon water served for the crab meal.