I lived with my brother, a university drop-out, and essentially a failure in the eyes of society. He didn’t have a girlfriend; the sentence “I take care of my little sister” was a very good deterrent. He was rarely home, mostly because his job had odd hours. Sometimes, he was gone for days. We never talked about his job because we never talked about anything. In our little apartment, even when he was home and there was the smell of good food in the air, there was always something missing. But of course, we never talked about that. And though he never complained about anything, I knew I was the anchor slowing down his life.   

My brother was at home when I returned from school. He was sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through a magazine. A pie sat on the counter.

“Hey.” How was school? Words I never heard. Empty words, but still something to fill the silence.

“Hi.”  How was work? Words I never asked. Words I wanted to say, but couldn’t. He shifted his magazine, so his sleeve shifted down slightly. Enough for a large bandage that slithered down his wrist to show.

“What happened to your arm?” I asked, unsure of what his reaction would be. He didn’t like it when I pried too deeply.

“Work,” he said neutrally. Stop asking. So I changed the subject.

“What’s the pie for?”

“We’ve got a new neighbour. And he seems decent, so take the pie over to him. Thanks.”

The apartment next door cycled between long periods of inactivity and sporadic violence, depending on the resident. It had been empty for about half a year. I knocked on the door, and there was a scuffling on the other side, like a huge rodent. A teenage boy opened the door, and stared at me oddly.

“I live next door. My brother made this pie for you, as a welcome present. If there’s anything you need, just knock. I hope we can get along.” I the pie into his hands, and turned to go. He tapped my shoulder.

“Want to come in?” He was friendly, at least. “We can share the pie.”

The pie was the deciding factor; I loved my brother’s pies, but he rarely made them. I nodded, and followed him in. His apartment looked lived in, even though he had only moved in that morning.

“I’m Kim Jong In,” he said, placing the pie on his kitchen table. There were candy wrappers all over it, like a mural of plastic. “Just call me Kai.”

“I’m May.” Both my parents had been English enthusiasts, and I’d been born in America when there was a sudden and brief explosion in the popularity of “original” simplicity. We settled into a lull, as natural as the grooves on his table, as he carefully cut the slices of pie. The smell of something not quite home filled the air, lovely and calming. We ate, letting the sound of forks clinking and crumbs dropping fill the silence with a depth that normal conversation could not achieve. After I finished my slice, I leaned back in my seat and observed him discreetly.

“Is there something on my face?” he asked, catching me staring. I shook my head.

“It’s nice. Your face,” I said, and to my credit, I did not blush. A fact was a fact. Emotions did not need to get involved. He laughed, a rich sound that I was not accustomed to.

“I like your face too. Your eyes are really nice.” There was an undertone of sincerity that rippled through his voice. I lowered my eyes to the table, my dead black eyes. A pause. A shifting of the chairs that scraped across the floor. A kind of music in itself.

“Thanks.” It wasn’t a whisper, but it was quiet enough that he strained to hear it.

“Do you want some more pie?” He looked longingly at the pie, as though he needed my permission.

“Yes,” I said, a tiny smile breaking out. “I really like my brother’s pie.”

“Apple pie is the best.”

“Actually, I like strawberry pie the most.”

“Bring a strawberry pie over next time, and maybe you’ll change my mind.” An invitation into the surface swirls of his life. I pondered it, weighing his words in my mind like the fork in my hand.

“Sure.”

*A/N* There will be another chapter coming out tomorrow, but it's very very short. However, I feel that it really adds to the tone of the story, which is why I'm adding it as another chapter. As for this chapter, see if you can guess who the brother is ;) His identity won't be revealed any time soon. Thanks for reading.

- CiCi444