Desmond
I filled two glasses with liquor while Solomon sat at the fireplace. I hadn't seen him in almost two centuries. Why would he want to see me now? I walked to the fireplace and handed him one glass.
"The last time I saw you was in 1864," I said as I took my seat. "What brings you here, Solomon?"
He chuckled softly and sipped from his glass without removing his eyes from the crackling fire.
"I missed my little brother," he said and produced that smug smile I hated.
"That is a lie, and who made you the senior brother?" I asked, irritated.
"But I am," he said, turning to face me.
"How do the humans say it?" I asked rhetorically. " Yes, by five minutes."
Solomon just chuckled and emptied his glass.
"Why are you here, Solomon?" I asked again.
"I was told you came back to Winekove," he confessed. " And came to make sure you did not get into any trouble."
It was my time to chuckle. Get me into trouble? First, who told him I was back in town? There could be only one person, Alfred. Anger flooded through my body, but I held myself together.
"Alfred told you," I realized.
"Yes," he accepted. "And where is he, by the way?".
"He is lucky not to be home right now," I growled.
"Calm down, Desmond, do not let your rage make you do something stupid."
"Oh, I will kill him," I confessed.
The door swung open, and Alfred stepped in. He smiled as he saw Solomon, but his face was horrified as he saw the rage in my eyes.
Realizing I had found out what he had done, he attempted to flee, but I sped to him. I grabbed him by the chin and broke his throat. He fell limply onto the porch.
I walked back in, exhaling profoundly, and all Solomon could do was shake his head. I hissed and walked back to my chair, emptying my glass.
"Sometimes, brother, I believe you have lost your humanity," he said calmly.
"I didn't kill him because it would not be nice on your arrival," I pointed out. " I wonder what is more humane than that, brother."
With that, I walked away from him towards the stairs. He appeared in front of me with his eyebrows furrowed in anger.
"I am not done talking to you, Desmond," he said.
"Oh, but I am, brother," I said, smiling and tapping his shoulder.
He held my hand and flung me back to the living room. I crashed on one of the bookshelves. I stood up, angered. My brother barely got angry, so I was surprised by his behavior. I stood up, zoomed, and broke a leg on the wooden stool in front of the fire.
I broke it into two and flung one piece at him. He dodged and caught it. I quickly ran and drove the other one just below his diaphragm. He groaned in pain.
"I wanted to stab you in the heart," I spat in his ear.
"Maybe you should have," he said.
I heard a cracking sound, and I fell to the ground; then everything went dark.
•••
I opened my eyes, and everything was bright. I quickly closed them again. I pushed myself to get up, and I felt a sharp pain in my neck. Everything that happened yesterday night came flooding back.
Solomon came home, and we fought thirty minutes later. As I sat up, Solomon appeared in front of me in black Denim.
"Sorry brother, I believe I lost my temper," he said gently while squatting in front of me
"No hard feelings?" he said, offering me his hand.
I looked at his hand for moments, then grabbed it. He dragged me up to my feet. I dusted myself and looked at his dress once more.
"Where are you going dressed like that?" I asked with a hint of sarcasm.
"Well, Desmond, I told you I came back to watch you," he said.
"I don't understand?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I am admitting myself into Winekove high," he said, strengthening his denim.