Chapter 39: XXXV

— RORI —

Upon leaving the apartment, Yakov slows himself to a snail's pace to allow me to keep up with him.

We do not speak as we step into the elevator, the two of us notably exhausted when i yawn and he immediately does the same.

The corner of my lips turns upwards at the sight, not used to him letting his guard down. I truly can't remember the last time i saw Yakov yawn. He is almost robotic in that way — straight-faced and professional at all times — even in the presence of his family.

I don't recall him, at my age, being boyish in the way that Seamus and Quentin are. In fact, i wouldn't at all be surprised to hear that, as a child, he never whined, cried, or threw a tantrum.

I choose not to comment on the fact he yawned, especially since i am sure he believes i didn't see him do so, and instead remain silent.

As we make our way to the lobby and leave the building, he doesn't once stop, though generously slows his pace once more when he catches me struggling to keep up with his unreasonably long strides. However, i don't fail to notice the subtle but meaningful glance he spares Martin, and can only assume that an unpleasant conversation with my brother awaits the man in the future.

An umbrella appears above my head as soon as we set foot outside, and i glance up at my brother, baffled by his typical preparedness, but, as he places his hand on my back and directs me towards his Aston Martin, with an air of impatience rather than urgency, i don't have time to make some smart comment.

Despite the umbrella, the stormy weather that ensued earlier on has begun to lessen to a light drizzle.

"Just remember, your doorman is not the enemy," i tell him.

Yakov opens the passenger door for me, still generously holding his umbrella over my head as i step into the car, and his eyebrows frown in confusion when he registers my words.

"What are you referring to?" he asks, looking down at me through

narrowed eyes, as though i might be making some pop culture reference he has yet to come across and is waiting for me to explain to him.

It wouldn't be the first time such a scenario has took place.

"Can't you shut the door?" i snap at my brother, rather than thanking him, completely ignoring his question all the while. He fixes me with a pointed stare and equally unimpressed raise of his eyebrow, and i find myself gazing up at him with a sheepish look on my face, as i mutter an unconfident conciliatory "Please?"

Without a word, he closes the door and rounds the vehicle. I wait until he has pulled out of the parking space before i speak again.

"I was referring to the fact Martin allowed Teddy to enter the building and you aren't happy about it," i explain, facing him though he focuses on the road.

Yakov sighs slightly, turning the car with one swift movement. He glances at me when i continue to stare at him in a scrutinising manner, and rolls his eyes before he refocuses on the road.

"Martin should be the least of your worries," he says.

I go to respond, but realise his statement is incontestable. He has a point, after all. There is no need to insert myself in matters that do not involve me.

We fall into a silence that is almost ceremonial to the two of us, though the atmosphere is undeniably less tense than it was prior to me reuniting with Zephaniah, just a few hours ago.

I find myself deep in thought as i rest my head against the car window, content as my eyes intently track the droplets of rain making their way down the glass, and smile slightly when i remember that i used to do the same as a kid, treating it as if it were a race between each one.

Yakov's company offers me a comfort that only he, of all my many siblings, can provide. It is not a case of doubting what to expect when it comes to him. There is no lack of stability in any sense. He may express his disapproval bluntly and unsympathetically, but he is level-headed and judicious where the rest of us are not.

While his criticism of Zephaniah earlier on was harsh, it was by no means unwarranted. It is clear to me that, over the years, Yakov has paid close attention to the fact his older brother has had no true parental figure to rely on. At the end of the day, the two of them have only had each other for so long...

As Yakov pulls into the driveway around twenty minutes later, i catch sight of Xavi standing on the central balcony and do an alarmed double take. The soft glow of the room behind him adds to the already chilling image, as does the cigarette between his lips, as he looks down below him, tracking the car's every movement with a bored yet unrelenting stare.

Yakov haphazardly parks by the entrance of the mansion, and i turn to admonish him before he can so much as reach for his door handle.

"If you don't require to speak to Xavi, there's really no need for you to accompany me to the door," i insist, making an effort to keep my tone light.

"Fine," he agrees, surprisingly quickly. "Only, do bare in mind what i said earlier on," he continues. "You were shot, Rori. You did not trip and sprain your ankle. It will take some time to overcome both the physical and mental challenges that result from such an injury. It is important that you are adequately supported in the coming weeks. Zephaniah and me may not be living under the same roof as you, but i trust you will contact either one of us should you feel the need to..."

"I get it, Yakov," i say, my tone unintentionally impatient, though i resonate with his need to feel useful all too well. "You guys are a phone call away."

The smile he gives me in response is minuscule and does not reach his eyes, making him appear all the more tired. With his head, he gestures for me to leave the car.

"You'd better head inside. I'll see you soon. Sleep well."

"Goodnight, Yakov," i respond, upon exiting the vehicle. "And good luck," i add in an amused tone of voice, before closing the door.

I instantaneously hear the sound of tires on gravel as i turn around, and i look up to the balcony with no sense of urgency.

Xavi is already staring down at me, indifferent as he removes the cigarette from his lips and releases a breath of smoke into the night air.

"How was your meal?" he calls to me.

"Michelin star worthy," i respond, quoting Zephaniah in a deadpan manner.

His eyebrow arches, ever so knowingly, and he signals with his head as he responds, "There's some soup awaiting you in the kitchen," before bringing the cigarette to his lips once more.

My eyebrows furrow in surprise, due to his generous gesture and overall preparedness, and confusion is evident in my tone as i murmur a dubious "Thanks..." in response.

Xavi's lips quirk with amusement and knowingness, and i stay put for a moment longer before making my way up the stone steps leading to the entrance of our home.

I head upstairs as soon as i finish eating a bowl of the tomato soup Xavi left for me, making a mental note to inform him that it tasted even better than last time, and quickly brush my teeth and wash my face before getting into bed. I feel myself quickly drift off, only, my half conscious brain is just about able to detect the door of my bedroom being opened slightly.

A disgruntled mewl escapes my lips, and i bunch my quilt cover into an iron grip with my fists, writhing slightly as my tired but alert mind prepares itself to take action. I hear the sound of someone shushing me, and then a kiss is placed on my forehead, so tender that i am instantly reassured, and my grip gradually loosens on the comforter.

"That's it," the voice soothes, as a hand caresses the top of my forehead and hair. "No need to wake now, is there?"

I don't even register that i somewhat defiantly mumble "I am awake" with eyelids that refuse to open, which is, of course, followed by a quiet huff of amusement.

"Sweet dreams, Sorellina."

— SUCKER PUNCH —

The last thing i expect upon stumbling into the kitchen at ten am is for the Taylor brothers to be there.

I am in the process of rubbing the sleep from my eyes when i glance up and make eye contact with Christian. His hands, which he previously held behind his back, fall to his sides at the sight of me, and his lips part ever so slightly, as if he hadn't expected to find me here either, despite it being my own house.

What surprises me the most, however, is the taut frown he wears. Even in our childhood, when he regarded me as nothing more than the Łabanowski's annoying little sister, he wasn't often frowning at me like he is right now. If anything, it has always been the other way around.

It is because of this staring match, as short as it may last, that i am slow in realising Christian's brother is standing right next to him, wearing a warm smile that completely contrasts the latter's sulky expression. It is almost comical, and yet seemingly deliberate on Alfonso's part, who clears his throat, as if to gain his brother's attention.

It is also at this moment, after quickly recovering from my shock, that i realise we are joined by my brothers, minus Zephaniah, Yakov, Xavi, and Teddy. The boys who are usually asleep at this time — assuming they do not have somewhere to be — appear disgruntled to say the least, with all but Wyatt still dressed in their pyjamas, even including early bird Quentin. Though, to be honest, the fact that they had the decency to put a shirt on in honour of our guests arrival, let alone leave their rooms, astonishes me.

Alfonso must sense my bewilderedness at the sight of he and his brother, as well as so many of my own, as his smile turns reassuring before he greets me.

"How you doin', Kid?" he asks me, his tone light. "Long time no see, eh?"

Long time no see indeed.

The last time i saw Alfonso, he was probably a little older than Vinnie. Not much has changed in his physical appearance, however, as, even though he is clearly older, he still wears the same boyish grin he did back then.

Being half-brothers, he and Christian have similar accents, though his is arguably more Canadian than the latter's, given he spent a good part of his life there. Alfonso also has a few unmistakable Italian features which he has inherited from his mother's side, such as his slightly darker hair and complexion.

Though they moved to a neighbouring country, the fact they are not from The US has always been something we could relate to. Christian had been the new boy at school prior to us moving here just a few months later, and, after the three of us joined his class in the third grade, our teacher, Mrs Rosenvelt, assigned him to be our 'buddy' for the week, i suppose as a way to help all of us assimilate.

Mrs Rosenvelt had conveniently decided to split the small class into tables of four upon our arrival, and so grouped the four of us together. Quentin spoke only a few sentences to Christian throughout our first day, shy as always and yet completely intrigued by what he had to say. Seamus was seated next to him, and, naturally, the first thing to leave his mouth was something blunt and insulting, suggesting the teacher must think Christian is some loner for having to be grouped with the new kids.

On the other hand, i didn't utter a single thing to Christian that entire day. He had taken to both of my brothers immediately, as everyone does, and yet merely looked me up and down as if i was unworthy of his attention. I wasn't necessarily interested in befriending him at that point anyway, but when he gave me one too many dirty looks and snickered after i mispronounced the word 'serendipitously' while reading out loud to the class, i knew where we stood.

We have come a long way since then, of course, and i am aware that both him laughing at me for mispronouncing something and me resenting him for it are such juvenile and trivial antics. Though, i must admit that, even now, my English is by no means perfect. I still do not use words like serendipitously in my everyday life, and certainly not in front of Christian, out of fear that he will remember my mispronunciation all those years ago and be even more amused by the fact i still fail to pronounce it correctly over seven years later...

I don't realise that i have left Alfonso without a response until he half-jokingly adds "You do remember me, don't you?"

By his side, Christian interjects in an exasperated manner. "Of course she remembers you. Except she is confused as to why the both of us are standing in her kitchen at ten o'clock in the morning, as was everybody else when we arrived ten minutes ago."

I dare say he looks a touch embarrassed when he says this. The unfamiliarity of it almost makes me crack a smile, not to mention the unfamiliarity of witnessing Christian interact with his sibling. Alfonso seems to pick up on my amusement, despite the fact i do my best to conceal it, and exaggeratingly rolls his eyes at his brother's rebuke.

"Well, for that i am sorry, Rori," he tells me in a sincere tone, before glancing around the room in a brief and disinterested manner as he adds, "and all...It's just that, in my opinion, ten am is a perfectly adequate time to pay someone a house visit."

At this, Wyatt joins in with a clipped "It might have been...had you given us notice beforehand, as opposed to showing up on our doorstep."

Christian nods his head in agreement while Alfonso raises his hands in a defensive manner.

"Hey, c'mon now. I wasn't expecting you to roll out the red carpet for us or anything. This was quite the spontaneous trip, i'll admit, but well overdue. Don't you think?" he reasons, but to no avail as Wyatt, the rest of my brothers, and Christian all continue to stare at him in a displeased manner.

When i realise that, similarly to the majority of my brothers, my hair is askew and i am clad in my pyjamas, my face no doubt puffy and my eyebags no doubt more prominent than ever, i, too, feel a little displeased by Alfonso's lack of communication.

I mean, it's not like Christian hasn't seen me in a worse state. I can vaguely remember him witnessing me throw up at Lindsay's party at the start of the school year, and, of course, i have definitely sported some, shall we say, interesting outfits in the past seven years. But that's not the point.

This is one of those social phenomenons i am simply not prepared to face. Seeing Christian at school, and parties, and Giulia's is fine, but in my own kitchen, when i am barely awake and when i cannot avoid him, is unappealing to say the least.

I reckon the last time Christian spent time at our house was a little less than a year ago. Like me, my brothers do not tend to have friends round very often, if at all. This is due to multiple reasons, but it is also the preferred option to go to the friend's place as opposed to our own, or simply meet elsewhere, seeing as it is a chance to escape our many siblings. Even still, i don't typically run into Christian when he is over. He will be in one of the boys' rooms, or perhaps the living room, playing video games, or even the bar, where the boys seem to help themselves to beer and a game of pool, but very little do they bother the others in the house with their presence.

If Alfonso hadn't been standing here with him, i probably would have took one look at Christian and exited the kitchen via the other entryway.

Though, this has me realising something i had completely neglected to consider in my fresh from sleep state of mind.

"Are you here because of me?" i hate how vain the question makes me sound, though i know it is the case. "Because of what happened?" i add.

Once again, all eyes are on me. My own do not leave the two brothers in front of me, glancing between them in a knowing manner. Alfonso, for the first time this morning, snaps out of his teasing demeanour, taken aback by my words. I almost feel bad that i have greeted him so curtly after five years, especially since he has made an effort. Christian's stern expression softens a little at my query. Unlike his brother, he is unaffected by my willingness to be forthright.

"Yes," Alfonso admits, a little reluctant. "But when i said a visit was overdue, i meant it. There was no reason for me not to reach out to you guys sooner."

He makes the point to glance at each of us once more, his intent sincere, but, predictably, one of us can't help but be smart.

"Reach out to us or simply invite yourself to our house at as inhumane a time as this one?" Uvaldo asks.

"You should be so lucky as to be graced with my presence first thing in the morning, Uvaldo," Alfonso quips.

The glare Alfonso receives from Uvaldo says it all.

"I appreciate you guys for coming over..." i tell them, though do not glance in Christian's direction.

Alfonso's bright smile makes a reappearance at my words, and i once again ask myself how a man like him can possibly be friends with a brother like mine.

"Here that, Christian?" Alfonso says to his brother, somewhat goading him. "She appreciates us."

I dare to glance at Christian once more and am relieved only slightly, but relieved nonetheless, to see that he at least attempts to smile at me. It is at this moment i catch sight of his clothing. He wears a different colour of sweatpants, being black as opposed to grey, but is once again in his too-small Vancouver Canucks t-shirt, and i am suddenly reminded of the fact he was helping me with my Math homework not long before i was being rushed to hospital.

I am hit with a slight pang of guilt as i recall the lie i had told him following my phone call with Damiano, and wonder how much he knows now, in regards to what took place last weekend. He surely will know that Zephaniah shooting me was not intended, and thus he must have at least been informed of who Damiano is, but does he know the darker truth behind all that has occured?

Come to think of it, i am unsure whether such information is something Alfonso would be privy to.

"—brought you some Haree-bows," i hear Alfonso say, and i instinctively nod my head, as if to prove i have listened to his speech, despite having only just tuned in.

"Harry-bows," Christian corrects him, rolling his eyes as if it is a conversation they have had many times before.

Alfonso simply huffs in amusement. Luckily, he is not concerned with whether i am paying attention to what he is saying, as he busies himself with unloading a grocery bag onto our kitchen island; one that seems to have magically appeared only now.

My eyes widen as i watch him reveal one packet of Haribo after another — Haribo Starmix, Haribo Goldbears...sour Haribo, sweet Haribo, tangy Haribo, spicy Haribo — just about every possible variation and flavour there is.

"Oh, you—yup, you weren't joking," i comment, once i think he has unpacked the last of them, only for him to reach into the bag yet again. "Oh, there's more?" i ask, somewhat fearfully.

"Christ, Alfonso," Vinnie remarks, rubbing his forehead, as if pained by the sight before him. "What, are they being discontinued or something?"

"More importantly, why was i woken up for this?" Uvaldo grumbles, bumping into Wyatt as he makes his way to the fridge, resulting in the latter shooting him an uncharacteristically harsh glare.

"Couldn't you have at least brought us Trollis?" Seamus chimes in, as he disinterestedly taps away on his phone.

"There's no us," Alfonso corrects him. "I brought these for Rori."

"Did you seriously only bring Haribos?" Christian asks his brother in an exasperated manner. "What's she to do with all of those?" he asks, gesturing to the abundant supply.

"Don't be ridiculous." his brother scoffs, proceeding to empty the last of the items, which consist of at least half a dozen packets of Takis and a few cans of Pringles.

"Alfonso," Wyatt sighs simultaneously as he says his name. "Rori is not able to eat this junk food right now."

"No, but she can in future," he points out, and this time it is he who appears tired due to everyone criticising him. "The snacks are not going to grow wings and fly away if she doesn't eat them right this minute, or am i wrong?"

Seamus snickers at this, and i step further into the room, giving Alfonso a conciliatory smile when he looks my way.

"Thank you, Alfonso. Really. I love flowers, but i am sick of seeing bouquets at the moment, since being in hospital. Now i have something to look forward to when i am better."

His expression warms as i express my gratitude.

"You're very welcome, Kid. Lord knows how such a polite young lady could possibly be related to these fools. You have your work cut out for you, i'm sure."

My smile broadens in response, and i face Christian as i somewhat pointedly add "Christian is also lucky to have such a brother."

"He is, isn't he?" Alfonso agrees, while looking down at the boy with a smug smirk on his face. "Shame he didn't inherit my dazzling charm."

I say look down as though he is much taller than the boy, but i am amazed by how close in height they are now. If Christian is at least six feet, Alfonso cannot be more than six-foot-three.

Christian simply sends his brother a sidelong glare in response to his taunt, and i grin at the two. Alfonso's smirk broadens.

"He has been in such a mood since last night, after i beat him at Mario Cart," the latter explains to me. "Your brother remains the only person i've lost to."

"Zephaniah?" i query, tilting my head slightly, as i quirk my eyebrows in bemusement at the thought of my eldest brother holding a gaming controller in his hands.

Alfonso chuckles at the assumption, sharing an amused look with my brothers.

"He wishes," he jokes, gesturing in Seamus's direction as he adds, "It was your beloved twin i was referring to."

"You're welcome," Seamus says in a sing-song manner, as he mockingly salutes him.

He doesn't seem to have looked up from his phone since i last glanced in his direction, and, as i acknowledge this, i allow my eyebrows to furrow and my mouth to frown — not just because my brothers' tendency to pay attention to their phones while they ignore present company aggravates me — because i recall the time Seamus was doing this and Zephaniah pointed out he had received a notification from a girl who's name he recognised and mistakenly suspected to be Lindsay, which i later realised must have been Annalise.

I don't know if Zephaniah later realised this was the case and that it was my best friend our brother was messaging as opposed to the girl whom i dislike above all else, but i doubt it. As far as i am aware, considering neither me or Seamus felt the need to make our siblings aware of what happened, he will not know.

If he did figure it out, he would have confronted Seamus with this knowledge at a later date, as a form of leverage, and so i wouldn't have found out from him either way. However, he is hardly concerned with learning the names of our friends and so this is highly unlikely also.

"Who is so important that you avoid looking up from your phone, Seamus?" i hear Alfonso ask him in what is clearly a mocking tone of voice. "From what i gather, you're quite the ladies' man."

Uvaldo, with a bowl of cereal in his hand, hooks his free arm around Seamus's neck, jostling him side to side as he decides it is worth contributing to the conversation now that he can make fun of his younger brother. "Aww...my baby bro, following in the footsteps of his elders," he mocks.

Uvaldo is only a couple of inches taller than his brother — if that — and is only slightly more built, but, either way, has over a decade's experience in tormenting his younger siblings and so has no trouble successfully headlocking him.

I won't deny that i feel satisfaction seeing Seamus be on the receiving end of such bullying from time to time, but Uvaldo's comment has me rolling my eyes.

"You are such children," i scoff. "How could any girl take one look at you and feel anything other than revolt."

"Well, why don't you ask your friend?"

In the midst of fleeing from Uvaldo's grip, not only do these words escape Seamus's mouth but the ceramic bowl of barely eaten cereal is knocked out of the former's hand, and it, along with the pretty Sicilian design, shatters into smithereens with a resounding smash when it reaches the tiled kitchen floor.

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows, each of us staring at the shattered bowl with wide eyes and open mouths, at the granola, which has also splattered everywhere, and at the milk which surrounds it and slowly spreads itself further.

Seamus and i seem to realise where we went wrong almost immediately, as our bewildered eyes meet. I wasn't thinking about the inevitable retort that would follow once i made such a comment, despite just having reminded myself that nobody else besides Quentin and our classmates know about the gossip surrounding him and Annalise, and, Seamus being Seamus, his first instinct was to stoop to the same level as me and blurt this out without considering the outcome.

Seamus shifts his gaze from mine a moment later, and i follow suit, and only then do i realise that the six pairs of eyes that were once staring at the fragments of bowl on the ground have since moved on as a result of the boys registering what was said.

Quentin stares across the room in Christian's direction, his expression blank and yet disappointment evident in his eyes, while Vinnie's mouth is still parted, and his eyebrows are raised, as he observes me and Seamus, just as confused as he is intrigued by what was said. Wyatt looks furious with Seamus, his expression more severe than i have seen in a long time, as though he has already reached numerous conclusions, and Uvaldo is the last of my brothers to divert his focus from the mess that he and his breakfast helped cause, blinking a few times before he pins Seamus with a look that is half judgemental and half impressed.

"Am i missing something?" Alfonso asks, breaking the silence as he glances around the room in evident confusion. "Why are we pretending as though a bowl full of cereal didn't just shatter across your floor?"

"We're not," Wyatt snappishly responds, his cool eyes not once leaving Seamus. The latter slowly turns his head to face our eldest present brother, and Wyatt's piercing glare somehow becomes more intense as they lock eyes. "Fetch a brush and pan and clean this mess up at once. You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

I find my own eyes widening at the harshness with which Wyatt delivers his words. So much for him never expressing anger towards his siblings. If looks could kill, Seamus would be slain on the spot.

Instead, Seamus scoffs, a humourless smile making its way onto his face as he reminds our brother, "It was Uvaldo who dropped the damn thing, and you're singling me out?"

Wyatt, with his dirty blond hair and green eyes, has never looked so much like our eldest brother in his life, as his mouth suddenly curves upwards to form a deceivingly pleasant smile that can only be compared to that of the latter's.

"Would you like to repeat what you so clearly failed to refrain yourself from saying a few moments ago?" Wyatt asks him.

Seamus's jaw clenches, and he is silent, until he eventually brings himself to respond with a begrudging "No."

"Ah, i thought so," Wyatt says, his tone clipped. "Clean it up," he orders once more, lazily lowering his eyes to the mess on the floor.

With a loud sigh, Seamus heads to the closet where we stash our cleaning supplies, returning with a brush and pan. The rest of us observe him with curious eyes as he immediately gets to work, and continue to observe him for some time. No doubt my brothers are experiencing the same sense of astonishment as i am at the sight of Seamus cleaning.

Uvaldo is particularly entertained by the situation, and points to a spot in front of him when their eyes meet.

"You missed a spot," he goads in a sing-song manner.

Seamus raises his arm to whack Uvaldo's leg with the brush, but the latter simply releases a hearty chuckle at his younger brother's disgruntlement.

"But you were joking, right Seamus?"

Everyone turns to face Alfonso when he asks this, including Seamus, who stops what he is doing. Then, when Seamus does not respond to his question, we return to staring at him. Alfonso, and all of my brothers besides Quentin, await his response with impatient expressions.

"Well, Seamus," Wyatt begins once more, seeming particularly exasperated, and my twin raises his eyes to the ceiling, as if garnering the strength to get through what he knows is coming. "That little throwaway comment of yours; was it your idea of a joke?"

Uvaldo snickers to himself, the only one not taking the situation remotely seriously.

"Of course it wasn't a joke," he interjects, only to be met with a sharp glare from Wyatt.

"Last time i checked, your name wasn't Seamus," he points out in a scathing tone, immediately refocusing on the latter. "Well?" he prompts.

It is clear Seamus has grown tired of Wyatt's pestering, as he rolls his eyes and promptly responds with "All i said was 'why don't you ask your friend?' Why do you assume i am at fault in some way when you know absolutely nothing."

"Perhaps, and i don't know for sure, but maybe because you're you," Vinnie chimes in. He stands at Wyatt's side with his arms folded, and appears neither frustrated or amused by the conversation.

Seamus flashes him a contemptuous smile in response.

"This is old news," he declares. "And it doesn't concern any of you."

Uvaldo releases a mockingly dramatic gasp at his brother's words.

"You mean to tell us you did do something?" he further provokes.

"Shut up, Val," Seamus retorts.

"Very original," Uvaldo mutters.

"Oh, for goodness sake," Quentin begins, clearly just as sick of their squabbling as i am. "About a month ago, Seamus made out with Rori's best friend."

This time, we turn our heads at the sound of a genuine gasp which comes from Alfonso.

"No..." he says, his tone evidently surprised, accompanied by a look of betrayal on my behalf. You would think my brother had once again beaten him in a game of Mario Cart. "Seamus..." he then faces Christian. "Did you know about this?"

Seamus rolls his eyes, and Christian makes eye contact with the latter as he nods his head.

"Of course," he tells his brother.

Alfonso clicks his tongue in disapproval.

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Why would i tell you?" Christian counters.

"Because we're brothers," Alfonso says, as if baffled by Christian's ignorance.

"And you are friends with my brother," Seamus points out. "And don't tell me you wouldn't run and tell him like the little gossip you are."

Alfonso smiles slightly at this.

"Zephaniah would only laugh at what an idiot you have been," he insists.

"Zephaniah is in no position to laugh at other people's idiotic tendencies," Seamus argues.

Alfonso nods.

"You have a point."

"Seamus, only you would be so careless as to get involved with your sister's friend," Vinnie remarks. "And more importantly, this friend is an even bigger idiot to get involved with you. I don't know, it doesn't seem genuine."

"It's not like she stopped being friends with Rori and started dating me. We made out, like, one time, and...and we had been drinking, so—"

"Oh, you had been drinking?" Uvaldo laughs at his admission. "Anything else you want to tell us while you're at it, or shall we wait for Xavi to come home?"

"That's enough, Val," Wyatt interjects in a pointed manner. "Why don't you help your brother clean up the rest of this mess, hm?" When Wyatt is met with only an incredulous glare in response, he raises his eyebrows and adds "I do not know why you are still standing there, looking every bit the fool that you are. That was not a request."

I face Quentin, who reciprocates my dumbfounded expression with one that is similarly impressed.

While i understand that Wyatt is automatically in charge when he is present and his elder siblings are not, i have never known him to exert authority over us in such a manner as they would.

But then again, it is not often that my brothers are destroying expensive kitchenware and exposing themselves for making dumb decisions all the while.

"You heard him, Val," Seamus chides, with a newfound smugness at the sight of his brother's displeasure. "Get to work."

Uvaldo steps towards Seamus in a way that is deliberately imposing and sends him a vicious glare as he barges past him, as if daring him to say another word, only, this naturally entertains the latter all the more . He returns from the closet with a mop in his hands, and my lips twitch slightly as i notice Wyatt's hand reach for his forehead as a result of his brothers continuing to bicker, all while doing a poor job of cleaning the floor.

The boys are just finishing up by the time the unmistakable sound of our doorbell alerts us that someone is on the property. Occasionally, one of us would ring the bell in the event that we had forgotten our keys, but since Xavi had a new system installed which allows us to unlock the door using our respective finger prints, there is no need for us to do so anymore.

Nowadays, we associate the sound of the doorbell with a large delivery, and that is about it. With that being said, we are always made aware ahead of time that we should be expecting to hear it ring.

"Should we be expecting company?" Alfonso asks, his eyebrows furrowed in a curious manner as he glances around the room in search of a response.

"I'm not sure why you're saying we, as if you are in any way included in this household," Vinnie points out.

Alfonso rolls his eyes.

"I'll take that as a no," he mutters.

When the doorbell sounds again a moment later, Alfonso walks out of the room and heads in the direction of the foyer without another word, leaving only the smell of his aromatic cologne behind him.

The sigh that escapes Wyatt's lips is weary, as though our older brother's friend is yet another idiot sibling he has to deal with, and he immediately follows after him. As a result, i, too, follow behind, after exchanging a brief glance with Christian, who does the same. Naturally, the other boys do so also, perked up slightly at the prospect of drama.

"Wait a minute, Alfonso," Wyatt says once we reach the foyer.

At Wyatt's command, Alfonso stops in his tracks, standing directly in front of the main entrance. He turns slightly, and his eyes quickly pass over the six of us with a hint of amusement, as though he has realised only now that everyone followed him here like some herd of sheep.

"What exactly am i waiting for?" he asks, in a somewhat brusque manner.

"At least check to see who it is before you think about answering the door," Wyatt admonishes him. "It could be literally anyone; Xavi leaves the gate open during the day."

Alfonso clicks his tongue for a second time, as if to express his disagreement.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," he says. "It's a gated community, after all. So what if your gate is open; it's not going to be just anyone."

"Yes, okay, not that i needed to be reminded of this, but you are right. Even still, i ask that you check who it is before opening the door," Wyatt's tone is much less hostile this time around, though he sends Alfonso a meaningful look.

Having rung the doorbell twice, the person opts for knocking this time, clearly assuming the former will not get them anywhere.

"Just answer the door, already," Seamus complains, impatient as always.

Alfonso, who is still guarding the door as though it is his own, ignores Seamus, and instead appeases Wyatt by looking through the door viewer. He turns back to face us not even a few seconds later, appearing confused by whoever he saw and displeased all the same.

"Well?" Vinnie prompts, with a raised eyebrow. He is leaning sideways against a nearby wall, occupying his usual nonchalant stance, being his arms folded across his chest.

"I've not a clue who he is," Alfonso says. "He doesn't seem like the murderous type, at least."

Wyatt sighs and moves Alfonso out of the way so he can see for himself, muttering something unintelligible under his breath which i can only assume to be profanity.

As Wyatt looks through the door viewer, he seems to examine whoever is on the other side much more diligently than Alfonso had, only, as he turns to face us once more, he does so with an expression that is no less confused than the one the latter wore a few moments ago.

"Well?" Quentin prompts this time. "Have the two of you scrutinised this man's appearance enough, or shall we all take a turn?"

Seamus casts his twin a sidelong glance.

"Why are we all gathering by the door, anyway?" Uvaldo points out. "You do realise how strange that makes us seem?"

I cast Uvaldo a sidelong glance.

"Either answer the door or leave it and lead him to believe no one is home, but, either way, hurry up and make a decision," Vinnie adds.

Alfonso suddenly looks to Wyatt, and then, without another word, he reaches for the door handle, unlocking the door and opening it in quick succession, as if we hadn't just spent a good minute contemplating the task.

He does not fully open the door, but holds onto it, possessively, as though preparing to slam it shut at any moment. I assume Wyatt is also visible to the man, considering he is standing directly beside Alfonso, but the rest of us remain at a distance and so cannot see anything beyond the open door.

"Can i help you?" i hear Alfonso ask, his tone clipped.

"I'm sorry..." i hear the man say, and i narrow my eyes when i hear that his accent is not North American, once again exchanging a brief look with Quentin, who stands to my left and wears an expression of scepticism that is identical to mine. "Have i got the wrong house?"

My eyes widen when i realise his accent is one i am familiar with — one i have recently heard from someone else — and so it comes as no surprise that when Alfonso asks him "That depends. Who are you?" his response is as follows...

"Eden...Eden Łabanowski."

A/N: At long last, we meet the reputable Eden...Well, not yet. As always, i have to leave you guys on a cliff-hanger, but, hey, Alfonso is pretty cool, right?