Chapter 31: XXVII

— RORI —

At two pm, my siblings and i begin the one and a half hour journey to the rehabilitation centre Teddy is staying in. We take two separate town cars and, unusually, the eldest five insist on travelling together, leaving me to be stuck with my twins and Uvaldo.

I assumed the nine of us would be meeting first before visiting Teddy in the afternoon, though that was not the case. Luckily, the centre has made an exception by allowing me to bring Zephaniah's cake with me so that the ten of us can celebrate his birthday together.

Though, i have to say, the last thing i feel like doing right now is celebrating.

The air is tense throughout the whole drive, though Uvaldo does his best to cheer the three of us up with his awful sense of humour, in the form of dad jokes. As much as he loves to bully his younger siblings when his older brothers aren't around, he does his best to look out for us in situations like this, and it is greatly appreciated.

It's only when i step out of the car and catch sight of the eldest two for the first time today that i realise how off things are.

For Yakov stands next to Zephaniah, a cigarette in his hand, just like the night he revealed to me that our brother is in rehab, and, a rare scene plays out in front of me as his older brother begins to scold him.

"Sei pazzo?" Zephaniah snarls, and i watch in astonishment as he removes the cigarette from Yakov's hand, tosses it on the ground, and stamps on it with his designer shoes. "Who do you think you are to smoke outside of a clinic like this?"

Yakov doesn't answer him, opting to glare at his brother through his peripheral vision instead.

"Rispondimi quando ti parlo, Maniaco," Zephaniah demands, after Yakov ignores him.

"L'unico maniaco qui sei tu, Stronzo," Yakov instantly retorts.

I can hardly believe the words coming out of my second eldest brother's mouth right now. It is as if he woke up and decided to act like one of us teenagers.

Everybody knows that when Zephaniah appears more responsible than Yakov, something is up.

I can't remember the last time it happened, but it is rare, simply because Yakov does not normally act in a way that is so ignorant or selfish.

The ironic thing is, Zephaniah conducts himself in such a way on a regular basis and expects the rest of us to turn a blind eye to it.

But God forbid if his perfect little brother has an off day.

"Happy birthday," i tell my eldest brother, as i approach the two of them.

Zephaniah regards me with a cold look, not even acknowledging the cake i am holding in my hands.

"Some birthday," he says with a scoff, before walking away from the two of us.

Oh.

"Yakov?" i turn to my second eldest brother in the hopes that he will greet me without the hostility that Zephaniah did, only he is playing with the lighter in his hands now.

Finally, he glances in my direction. He doesn't seem embarrassed by the fact i just witnessed him being scolded by our brother, but, rather, indifferent.

"Good afternoon, Rori," he greets me in his usual dignified fashion, though for once i can tell that he is doing so through a façade.

And then, without saying a word more, he pockets the lighter and strolls in the direction of the centre.

Quentin suddenly appears by my side, and i mistake him for Uvaldo at first.

My twins are growing.

"What's up with them?" he asks. "What did you say?"

"Why are you assuming their mood has something to do with me?" i ask, pointedly, and he is taken aback.

"I—i'm not," he denies. "Tensions are high, you know?"

"I know," i say, my tone softening. "The adults aren't acting like adults. Even Yakov. He was swearing at Zeph; talking back, as if he was Seamus."

"If the adults aren't acting like adults, don't treat them as such. They'll soon realise how stupid they're acting," Quentin suggests. "Especially Yakov."

"It's unfair to be mean to Yakov. He's not okay. And it's Zephaniah's birthday."

"I guess." Quentin shrugs in agreement.

"Birthdays are hard."

"They are."

"He doesn't usually spend it with us. Let alone spend it visiting his brother in rehab."

"I know."

"How are you feeling about it?" i ask him. "Visiting Teddy, i mean."

"Nervous," he admits. "I don't know how to act around him normally, let alone in a setting like this," he elaborates. "I don't think he will want us there."

"Nor do i."

"How are you feeling?" he asks me.

"Like i don't wanna be here," i answer, with a slight laugh. "It's absurd."

"It doesn't look too shabby, mind you," Quentin comments, as we make our way into the entrance of the centre, the rest of our brothers trailing behind us. "Not that i thought it would look like a prison, but it isn't exactly the type of place you picture to be so..."

"Serene?" i finish his sentence.

"Yes..." he agrees. "It's rather picturesque...The gardens seem to stretch for miles."

"I'm sure Teddy loves spending his time there," i say, sarcastically. "How on earth does he survive without his Xbox?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Quentin cracks a smile.

If the external environment pleasantly surprised us, the internal environment surely makes our jaws drop.

It is clear that our brothers must have chosen the best of the best for our brother, as, while one of the staff is showing us around, we discover that the residents are living better than we are, with access to various different therapies, a masseuse team, facilities such as an art studio, and the opportunity to care for horses as well as learn to ride them.

I'm sure Teddy is surviving just fine without his Xbox...only, i am met with a blank mind when i ask myself where he fits in here...

The residents also get the privilege of having their own room, which i soon learn upon being lead to Teddy's, and, once again, i am astonished when i see just how well their living conditions are.

The first thing i notice when walking into his room is that it is a far cry from his room at home, with a vase of Peace Lily by his bedside, as well as a sweet aroma of what must be Roses hitting my nostrils before i even set foot through the door.

The second thing i notice is that his bedroom is clean. And, having lived with him all of my life, i can confirm this is the first time i am able to see the floor of his living space.

And, lastly, i notice that there is a white board attached to the back of his door, containing a weekly schedule which has barely any room left to write on.

The room itself is, predictably, not large in size, but big enough to enjoy, nonetheless. And it's colour scheme consists of white as well as various different blues that one would find on a beach.

It is understated and, once again, nothing like his room at home, which consists of a rather dark colour scheme.

I can't imagine that he hates it, but i can't imagine that he loves it either.

It seems to me that it might be similar to staying in a hotel room, far away from home; comfy enough for the time being, but, as soon as the opportunity to go back home arises, it is will not be missed.

We are then lead to a room reserved for meetings like this one, which is designed to look as homey as possible, i suppose, with its colorful couches and bean bags.

Once again, a pleasant smell fills my nostrils as soon as i enter. Only, this time, it is just one vase i spot, sitting on the coffee table in the centre of the room, filled with a bouquet of Lavender.

On the coffee table, there is also an afternoon tea set up awaiting us, which reminds me of my trip to The Rooftop Cafe with Damiano. Though i'm sure nothing could beat the finger sandwiches i was served there...

"This is all a bit excessive," Vinnie says, as he looks around the room. "And where is Teddy, anyway?"

"He'll be here in a moment, i'm sure," Yakov answers.

I choose to sit in-between Wyatt and Vinnie, finding comfort in the fact that, unlike Zephaniah and Yakov, i can rely on them to behave as they normally do.

To the left of us, Uvaldo, Seamus, and Quentin inhabit the three bean bags, and Yakov and Xavi sit opposite us, leaving just one more couch by the doorway, which Zephaniah sits on.

Looking around at everyone's faces, i see the same gloomy expression.

"What happened?" a voice asks. "Did somebody die?"

My head shoots up in an instant at the sound of Teddy's voice, and there he stands in the entrance of the room.

He wears a loose-fitting, white linen shirt, paired with blue jeans and his favourite Nike sneakers; a gold chain hanging from his neck and a Cartier wristwatch to match.

My brother looks...healthy. In other words, the fact that he was admitted to rehab just three weeks ago is beyond me.

I immediately note that the dark circles under his eyes are not as prominent, and that his usually scruffy hair has been trimmed to look slightly neater.

What have they done to him?

His eyes find mine momentarily and he furrows his eyebrows, a foreign look passing through them before he averts his gaze elsewhere.

It's not as if i expect him to be happy with my presence.

My brother clears his throat, scratching his nose with the tip of his thumb. An awkward silence fills the air.

"I, uh...i can't say i was expecting to host you all today," he admits, rather bashfully.

Two months ago, my brother would have walked into the room like he owned it, avoiding making conversation with us because he was superior.

In his eyes, that is: he was above us.

That's how i perceived it, at least.

Like Seamus, and like many of my brothers, Teddy does not experience human emotions that the rest of us suffer from, such as being uncomfortable in the presence of others.

But this Teddy has walked into the room, made an attempt at some lame icebreaker, avoided eye contact with each and every one of us, and no longer juts his chin out with such arrogance.

"It's my birthday," is all Zephaniah says.

"Yeah, but it's a school day," Teddy reminds him.

"It's my birthday," Zephaniah repeats, not once bothering to glance up from his phone screen in the means to acknowledge our brother.

"I got you a gift, after all," Teddy says, finally walking into the room and sitting next to our eldest brother.

"Yeah. Real funny," Zephaniah retorts.

"Didn't Yakov give you it?" he asks.

"He was amused..." Zephaniah begins, sounding rather horrified.

"What was it?" Quentin asks, already appearing amused though he has no clue what to expect.

"A spoon with the words cereal killer engraved onto it," Yakov reveals, more than happy to provide him with the answer. "To make up for the fact Teddy had eaten just about every one of Zephaniah's cereals."

"I thought it was rather fitting," Teddy adds, with a proud smirk.

Zephaniah pins him with a steely glare.

"I thank you," he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

The room becomes silent once more.

My foot anxiously taps against the vinyl flooring, Teddy can't seem to sit still, Zephaniah pays no mind to any of us, and the only ones who truly appear relaxed are the three boys sitting on the bean bags.

"Soo..." Seamus begins, and i immediately pick up on his mocking tone of voice, having heard it every day since he could talk. "How's rehab?"

All eyes dart in my twin's direction — even Zephaniah looks up from his phone — and i raise my eyes to the ceiling at his typical, carefree nature.

"I enjoy not having to deal with my annoying, little siblings..." Teddy answers, with a seemingly pleasant smile, before turning to face Zephaniah. "As-well as my annoying, older siblings."

"Woah," Seamus says, mockingly placing a hand against his heart. "Why do i feel like that was aimed?" he jokes, and a few of us roll our eyes in unison.

"Look," Teddy begins, scratching his right eye this time, "i don't really feel comfortable talking about anything that concerns myself right now. I, uh...don't really wanna be here...in this room...or in rehab. But Yakov is forcing me to," he says, greeting our brother with a pointed look. "Thanks, Man."

Once again, the awkward silence returns to haunt us and a rare sighting appears in the form of a remorseful expression on Seamus's face.

"If it's any consolation, i'd rather be in here than back home," Seamus tells him. "I mean, you're living the dream from what i can tell...These people are waiting on you, hand and foot."

"Seamus," Wyatt says his name as he looks our brother in the eye, shakes his head once, and that alone is enough of a warning.

The eldest three seem to have fully checked out, and i internally thank my favourite brother for stepping in.

Now that i have time to analyse Teddy, i notice that his right leg has not stopped bouncing since he sat down, and i begin to wonder if it is doing so because he is feeling anxious by the current situation, or if it is the result of another reason...

Perhaps both.

As if looking for a distraction, my brother looks to the cake which now resides in my lap.

Before he can so much as open his mouth, i speak for the first time.

"I didn't know there would be food prepared, otherwise i wouldn't have brought this with me," i say, gesturing to the cake.

The boys glance at it with curiosity in their eyes, some of them only just noticing it now.

"I brought a candle...just a single candle. No number twenty-eight, or anything. I hope that's okay," i tell Zephaniah.

He regards me with the same stoic expression he has worn since we arrived.

"I don't need a candle. And i'm not hungry," he says, and the lack of emotion in his voice sends a chill down my spine.

"Okay," i say, my voice suddenly smaller than ever.

"Are you not going to thank your sister for baking you a goddamn cake?" Yakov asks him, his tone rather harsh.

Zephaniah lifts his head once more and greets me with a hostile smile that doesn't at all reach his eyes.

"Thank you, Rori."

"No problem," i answer instantly, not bothering to hide the disdain i feel towards him in this moment.

A clock ticks from somewhere in the room, and i hear the sound of gardeners mowing the lawn outside.

A conversation starter pops into my head at the thought of gardening.

"I see you've developed a love of flowers," i address Teddy, before adding "And is it you who keeps your room so clean?"

He nods, his mouth displaying a line.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, no, we have to keep our rooms clean. We also have to be awake by seven, every day, without fail," he tells me. "They're crazy about routine here...and flowers," he adds, scratching his forehead as if he is ashamed of the latter.

"Routine is good," i say, to avoid another silence. "It builds healthy habits, right?"

He nods once more.

"Yeah...i guess so."

"What do you get up to?" i continue. "In your free time, i mean. Have you made any friends?"

"Not exactly..." he says. "We're forced to socialise, all day, every day, so we're usually exhausted by the end of each one," he explains. "I normally just stay in my room and listen to music."

"What about the masseuse team?" Seamus teasingly asks. "You friends with them?"

Teddy nods, a devious smirk making its way onto his lips.

"Oh, yeah," he muses. "There's this one girl, Megan. Her hands work fucking wonders."

Seamus blinks, and then turns to face Yakov.

"I, too, have been known to dabble in the drug scene."

This makes Zephaniah snicker, despite his sudden attitude, and Seamus grins to himself when he notices.

"You sure you aren't hungry, Zeph?" Seamus asks him. "After all, how many days of the year do you get to eat a birthday cake made by your favourite siblings?"

Zephaniah glances between the three of us, with no noticeable change in his expression, but then he surprises me with his answer.

"Alright. I'll try some," he agrees.

"Don't sound too excited," Quentin jokes. "And just be glad you agreed. You don't wanna mess with Karma on your birthday."

"What time were you born?" i ask him, and Wyatt smiles as he takes the cake from my lap and places it on the coffee table.

Zephaniah raises a bemused eyebrow, but he doesn't hesitate to answer.

"I was born at midnight, exactly," he tells me. "Mother would remind me each time a new kid was born."

"She thought it meant something," Yakov adds, rolling his eyes. "She was always fixated on such superstitions."

"If you were born just a minute earlier, we would have been celebrating your birthday yesterday," Uvaldo points out. "That is pretty strange."

Wyatt has now placed the single candle onto our brother's cake, and Vinnie wordlessly hands him a lighter. Once Wyatt has lit the cake, he brings it over to Zephaniah, who places it onto his lap.

"Z-Dawg?" he sends all three of us an unimpressed look.

"That wasn't agreed upon," i reassure him.

"You shouldn't have baked me a cake," he tells us, almost scoldingly. "I'm not a child."

"I wasn't aware cakes were designed for just children," i say.

"I can't promise i'll like it." he ignores me. "I'm not much of a fan."

"It doesn't matter if you like the fucking cake, Birthday Boy," Vinnie finally speaks. "It's the thought that counts, after all. And if you don't like it, we surely will."

"Make a wish," Teddy mocks, elbowing his brother's side.

"Absolutely not," our brother says, shaking his head, and he blows out the candle before anyone else can make fun of him.

The younger boys mockingly cheer for him, and i note that Zephaniah's expression drops once more, as he glances in the direction of Yakov and Xavi.

For a moment, it is as if my eldest brother has left the room. Only, he is still very much here in his physical form.

Does he really dislike cake that much?

Forgive me for assuming my brother would give us a different reaction when he found out that we baked him a birthday cake.

I was used to Zephaniah acting so moody as a teenager, but not so much in his adult years.

I assumed that he might make fun of us — mainly me — for deciding to bake him a cake.

But i did not plan for him to act as though his birthday in itself is an offensive matter, and that my kind gesture was worthless.

...As i am observing my eldest brother, my eyes then drift to Teddy, focusing on his arms.

The shirt he wears is long-sleeved, and i cannot see through it. But my mind recalls Yakov telling me that he discovered Teddy was harming himself, and i can't help but wonder how.

Teddy folds his arms across his chest and i glance up, locking eyes with him.

I have always hated making eye contact with him, because of the way a single glare could make me feel as though i did not matter.

And right now, it is no easier. Except, for what feels like the first time, it is not some cruel amusement his eyes hold, nor is it hatred.

I recognise the look in his eyes so well though, for it is the same way that i look at him: filled with emotions of guilt, remorse, and uneasiness.

I won't have the chance to speak to him alone today, i am assuming. And i don't think i am ready to either.

I am scared of him. And, if what Uvaldo said was true, he is scared of himself also. And me.

I observe his arm muscles, internally shivering when i remember the sheer strength of his hands, wrapped around my neck, constricting my airways.

He is surely more muscular since i last saw him, and i imagine he is spending every waking minute at the gym here — assuming they have one. By the time he is Zephaniah's age, i imagine that he will be stronger than most of my brothers.

Even at my age, Teddy was spending a ridiculous amount of his time at the gym. And if he wasn't at the gym, he was playing soccer.

In his Sophomore year, we barely spoke to each other. Less than our usual four sentences, that is. I'm sure it comes as no surprise that we got on best at the ages of fifteen and thirteen.

"Zeph."

Wyatt's voice successfully pulls me away from my thoughts.

"Would you like to cut the cake?"

I glance at my eldest brother, who looks at Wyatt, and then me for a moment, before his eyes land on his brother once more.

"Of course," Zephaniah responds, monotonously, and he takes a knife from the box of cutlery in the centre of the coffee table.

It isn't a sharp knife, designed to cut a four-tier cake, but a blunt butter knife. Nevertheless, my brother manages to cut himself a thin slice.

He takes a fork next and tries a bite.

"Not bad," he tells us, popping a slice with a strawberry into his mouth.

"On a scale of one to ten?" Seamus asks him.

"Six," he responds.

"Well, considering Zephaniah's strong dislike for birthday cake and for his younger siblings, as of this moment, six out of ten doesn't sound too bad," Vinnie muses, causing the former to roll his eyes.

"Why are you in such a mood today?" Quentin asks, glaring at our eldest brother, and then Yakov, and then Xavi. "The three of you, that is," he adds. "Xavi hasn't so much as spoken one word since we got here and Rori caught the two of you arguing in the parking lot." he gestures to the eldest two, who share a knowing look with one another.

"What's going on?" Uvaldo asks, when the boys do not respond to Quentin's query.

Yakov and Xavi face Zephaniah with a pointed look, as if urging him to do the talking.

And our brother sighs, shaking his head at them, as if to sarcastically say, "Thanks for having my back."

His eyes find mine initially, and he looks rather intrigued, or focused, as if he is anticipating my reaction to his next words.

And then he turns to face Quentin once more, taking a deep breath before he answers him.

"I'm going to be leaving the state for a while," he reveals. "Perhaps the country..." he turns to face me once more. "I don't know when i'll be back."

(Edited)

A/N: I really don't have anything to comment on but thanks again, Mels, for reassuring me xoxo. Honestly, birthdays are cursed.

UPDATE: When editing this chapter for grammatical errors, the comments on the A/N disappeared entirely, even though i changed nothing in it...so i promise i wasn't ignored.