“Thank you.”

Mille didn’t know exactly what Arthur was thanking her for but she had a pretty good idea. She curled up, her arms tightening around the elder boy as she snugged deeper into the warmth and security he provided her with. Cuddling with Lilly never felt this good. Cuddling with Lilly would never beat cuddles and hugs from her brother. There was just something about being held close to a member of the opposite sex. Mille couldn’t pinpoint what it was but she knew she’d missed her brother’s hugs and snuggles. Arthur would protect her. He always did.

“You don’t have to say more.”

“I want to Mille. I need to. It was selfish of me to think that just celebrating your birthday with you was enough. You need me just as much as I need you. How long did we cry for?”

“Two hours and three seconds.”

“I missed you. I missed the way you’d always know what cheered me up the best when I was down. I missed coming home and driving you insane stealing hugs. I missed the way your hair smelled. I missed how you’d laugh with me over rough drafts. How you’d always know exactly what I wanted to say when I was struggling. How you’d always accept me without question. It never mattered to you who wronged me. Just that they wronged me.”

“I’m listening.”

“I want to be able to be Artie again. It took me six years to learn how to forget. Six years Mille. I’ve forgotten who I am. Who my little sister is.”

The grief apparent in Arthur’s voice reminded Mille of the days where they could do no more then hold each other in silence because the anxiety was just too much to take. There weren’t any words that held the ability to describe the depression that filled those days. They dripped with depression and anxiety. The sound of tears morphed into the music they listened to. It wasn’t a choice they really made, it just happened. It was the tune of their childhood; the only thing that held back the darkness that tried so hard to seize them in its cold clammy hands.

“I’ve forgotten who I wanted to be when I was young. I’ve forgotten who you wanted me to be. I’ve lost myself in my fame. I’ve tried to forget my childhood.”

“Arthur, you only think that you’ve forgotten who you are. You know who you are, you just don’t realize it. You’ve survived the demonic childhood we’ve had and now you’re stronger then ever. You’re here now. You can’t get sidetracked in what people have given you. They’ve given you fame. It’s your job to use it to educate everyone else.”

“You don’t understand what it’s like to know that you’ve purposefully banished your memories from your mind in order to be mentally stable.”

“You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to ban memories in order to stay sane. But I can say that you’re more sane then I am. I’m half insane. Most of the time I don’t feel like I’m in my right mind Artie. You’re at least sane.”

“I’m not as sane as you think I am.”

“It doesn’t matter how sane you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re insane. I’m insane but I’m still here. I’m still alive. You still remember our pact?”

“Yeah, that’s one thing I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good, I’m still holding you accountable to it.”

“Both of us or neither of us.”

“What happens to one happens to both.”

The two siblings smiled for the first time in a long while. Their eyes were red and puffy and the tears had stained their faces but they had found some sense of peace for the first time in six years. Mille had forgotten just as much as Arthur had about the joy of having a family. Family can be a good thing. Family can be a bad thing. It all depends on who your family is. They both had many questions to ask each other, many stories to listen to, but for now they were content in the unknown.

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They were content with just having each other.

———————————

“What kind of storm is this? All rain and thunder. No winds.”

“Artie, we’re landlocked. We won’t be having the same kind of storms here as we would back at the Bay.”

“A storm’s a storm. It doesn’t change.”

“And here I thought you had grown-up.”

“I can throw all the tantrums I want over storms. You can’t stop me. You’re just a small little sister unable to do anything to her dear older brother.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

The weather was throwing a tantrum. The air outside buzzed with life even though there were no strong winds to carry it. Thin whips of electricity spilt the sky, almost as if the sky was trying to divide the dark heavy clouds and drive them away. Raindrops crashed into the window planes and the roof creating a steady drumming that faded into the background. The thunder echoed throughout the woods in a big booming voice. It must have been calling for something or someone.

Knock. Knock.

The sound of knuckles on wood were lost in the angry rain and laughing siblings.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

It was another rhythmic sound. It hit the weathered oak door in time with the raindrops that barreled into the four walls.

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock. Knock-knock.

Misery was shut out of the cabin. The biting static feeling that the air carried swirled through the cracks and crevices in the house but it was held at bay. When the winds left it carried laughter dancing with flour and egg shells. The warm wood had glowed in the late afternoon sun when Arthur and Mille first arrived; now it was glowing with life. A weak, gentle light shone curiously through the windows near the front door illuminating the soggy man that stood at the door, hand raised to continue knocking.

He could make out the shrieks of laughter and the pleads for mercy. The sound was foreign to him. It felt like he was invading someone else’s family. Someone else’s complete and whole family.

“Mille, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“I swear there’s a sound missing in the cacophony of the storm.”

“Cacophony?”

“Storms are always cacophonous.”

“Harmonious.”

“Cacophonous.”

“Melodious.”

“Cacophonous.”

“Orchestral.”

“Cacophonous.”

“Arthur. A storm is not cacophonous. The family is cacophonous.”

“Our family are people. They are most definitely not sounds.”

“It’s the sounds they make.”

“Oh.”

The conversation grew clearer to the man on the doorstep, the voices familiar echos. The warm orange light that spilled from the doorway felt out of place as it contended with the lightening whips through a brighter and steadier illumination.

“I don’t suppose you won’t want to come in?”

Arthur poised the question to the half-drowned man whose hand was raised to knock again. The dark gray eyes of the man were unfocused, his arm was shaking. Ill-fitting clothes clung tightly to the body of the man for once since the rain was sticking as close to him as the way his stomach clung to his spine.

“I suppose so.”

The horse whisper of the man’s voice seemed to unaccustomed to speaking. It was soft. Softer then that of a father who came home late from work to find his kids asleep who lovingly whispers “I love you” and leaves a gentle kiss on their foreheads. The kind of kiss that melts all worries and fears away.

Three words.

They weren’t the three the two siblings yearned to hear.

Nonetheless, those three words the man had uttered seemed to be what the thunder was calling for. The angry rain turned docile. The storm had heard what those present had not. It knew.