During that excessively long, quiet drive home, Stewart fell asleep. Much to his chagrin, this was not an uncommon occurrence. He was always well-rested from the drive, but he hated waking up having missed the actual journey.
He opened his eyes to the sight of Arthur pulling into their winding driveway. The rain stopped, but the looming figure of the mansion they called home still blotted out any potential sun.
“Ah, you woke up by yourself!” Arthur chattered while Stewart rubbed the excess sleep from his eyes, “I thought I’d have to shake you awake. Sleep well?”
Stewart ignored the question as Arthur shifted into park. He stepped out of the car and stretched his arms over his head.
“Mom and Dad home?”
“Nope. Business trip.” Arthur retrieved the now-empty travel mug from the cupholder. “They’ll be gone for a week or so. Martin’s home, though.”
He nodded. “I’ll say h-hi when I see him.”
Most likely, Stewart and Martin would exchange greetings and nothing more. Even though they were close in age (Martin only being two years younger than Stewart as opposed to Arthur, who was older by six years) they were not emotionally close. Stewart wasn’t sure if Martin hated him or was simply indifferent.
He wasn’t sure which would be worse.
Stewart shuffled inside. The place was dark and stuffy despite the spaciousness. It was hard to believe anyone lived there, let alone a whole family of five. Then again, the place was less of a home and more of a place to stay between school and business trips. It was empty more often than it was full.
For the moment, Stewart was happy to be home. Finally, he could change his socks! He wandered upstairs towards his bedroom, preparing to spend the remainder of the day in solitude.
His plan was quickly interrupted by someone waiting at his door. There was Martin, slouched over his phone on the floor and blocking Stewart from entry. He shot a glance up at Stewart before returning his attention to his phone.
Martin was sitting right in the way of his door and ignoring him, making it impossible for Stewart to give him the same treatment. He had no idea what Martin was doing, given how he generally avoided any contact with him whatsoever. What was his plan, here?
Stewart stood in front of Martin, waiting for him to move out of the way. His feet were clammy and they were starting to itch. Stewart cleared his throat.
Martin didn’t look up.
“Salutations.”
“Don’t talk to me.”
Stewart pressed on anyway. “You’re blocking my door.”
Then, in the most condescending tone Stewart ever heard, Martin replied “So?”
Stewart clicked his tongue in annoyance. They were at a standstill. Martin clearly had no intention of moving unless forced to.
“It was raining a lot earlier on the w…w-way back,” Stewart said conversationally, “my socks got pretty wet.”
“That so?” Martin replied, showing zero interest. “Sounds like a real problem for you.”
“Actually, it’s a problem for you!”
Before Martin could even ask what he was going on about, Stewart shoved his damp foot into his brother’s face. Martin fell back, gagging in disgust and trying to shove the foot away.
“Gross! Gross! Why would you do that? Get your nasty foot away from me!”
Martin was trying to wiggle his face away from the foot, but was keeping his frame pressed against the doorway.
“You’re in my way, Martin!” Stewart yelled, rubbing his musty sock into his brother’s cheek. “I could do this all day!”
Martin opened his mouth to shout back. It took all of Stewart’s willpower not to shove his sock in it. That would be taking it too far.
“You’re so immature! And gross! This is why you don’t have any friends!”
That almost stung. His toes got just a bit closer to Martin’s nose.
“How w…w…w… how would you even know that?”
“It doesn’t take a genius, stupid!” Martin was finally able to push the foot away and send Stewart sprawling on the floor. Martin scrambled up to his feet and glared at him. “Leave me alone!”
Martin stomped off in a huff. Little did he know, it was always Stewart’s intention to leave him alone. Not just him, but everyone else in the house, as well.
Stewart struggled out of his socks and threw himself facedown onto his bed. The true difference between his room at home and his room at the academy was simply location. Just like every dormitory he’d stayed in, this room didn’t feel like it was really his. It felt like his presence was a temporary thing. When he thought about it, he realized this summer break was going to be his longest stay at home in years.
Murder aside, the school year had been… uneventful. He didn’t reach out and make friends because his father explicitly said he didn’t need to. Mostly, he tried to lay low and stay out of trouble. Sometimes, though, that wasn’t always possible.
Especially when someone like Mobius von Rosen and his friends were involved.
Stewart had a strained relationship with Mobius and his little gang. Over the course of the year, though, the tensions that would have normally been put between him and the others were turned inwards on the group itself. That, of course, could all be chalked up to the appearance of one new girl.
There was nothing particularly special about the girl, Arabella Struck. She was smart, pretty, charming, and friendly. She was also just as adept at climbing the social ladder as the rest of them. A girl like that was a dime a dozen at the academy. What really made her stand out, though, was that she was at the center of everything that went wrong over the year.
Arabella herself did nothing to provoke this kind of reaction, and in fact it was the boys themselves that were volatile and ready to spill blood whenever they saw fit. If it wasn’t each other’s over her, it would be anyone’s over something else. Stewart didn’t doubt for a second that it could have easily been him they found rotting in that hedge maze instead of Alec Rafferty.
The current gossip was that Mobius, Alec, and Whitaker all held an interest in Arabella. Before the first snow of the year, a fight broke out between Alec and Whitaker when they were debating which of them had the right to ask Arabella to the academy social. Alec, abusing his power as someone from a more influential family than Whitaker, claimed it was his right to do so, and Whitaker murdered him in a jealous rage and hid his body right before a very convenient snowstorm hit.
People noticed the disappearance, and because of it the social was canceled altogether. It took until the snow completely melted in late February for the body to even be found, at which point the police investigation began. Stewart was questioned, but only once. Even though his relationship with Alec Rafferty was bad, he wasn’t the type to hurt anyone physically even if he thought they deserved it. He knew what it was like to be hurt. He would never inflict it upon another.
The mystery clouded the air for the remainder of the year until the climax of events revealed all. Arabella had a hunch, and she threw her accusation out. Not wanting to be caught and realizing he no longer stood a chance to be with the girl he loved, Whitaker instead chose to push her down the stairs and end her life. Of course, she survived to tell the tale, thanks to her boyfriend Mobius.
It was exactly the kind of contrived story that left Stewart unsatisfied and with a bad taste in his mouth. Because that’s all it was. A story. He didn’t personally know Whitaker, but he knew Alec and he knew Mobius. In fact, Stewart was the only one who knew how violent and dangerous Mobius could be.
Yes, he’d assured Arthur that everything was fine and settled, but he didn’t believe it for a second. The real killer was still out there, and he’d pinned it all on an innocent. Worse than that, he was still with Arabella. Who knows what he would do to her if she ever broke up with him?
Stewart was jarred from his thoughts by a short, polite knock on the door followed by a soft “Dinner’s ready.”
Arthur didn’t wait for Stewart to reply before leaving him alone again. Stewart pushed himself out of bed and shuffled out to the dining room. There was a waft of onions in the air, warm and filling all by itself.
The table was big enough for ten or more people, but tonight it only hosted three. He took a seat at the table, across from Martin and with Arthur at his left. On the plate in front of him was a butter-poached steak, blanched green beans, and a roll.
Martin was shoveling down food as fast as possible, most likely so he wouldn’t have to be in the same room as Stewart for very long. The only thing he was really succeeding in was worrying Arthur.
“Are you even chewing?” Arthur fretted. “Steak’s one of the biggest choking hazards, you know.”
Martin swallowed down a chunk of steak. It looked almost painful. “You worry too much.”
“Mom and Dad wouldn’t be h-happy with that kind of conduct,” Stewart chimed in, gesturing towards Martin with a skewered green bean, “it’s barbaric.”
Martin’s face reddened. That comment alone was enough to rile him up. “What do you know about the kind of conduct that would make them happy? You think it’s a coincidence they’re never home when you’re here? You’re an embarrassment and they hate even looking at you.”
“Martin!”
Stewart didn’t let it affect him. He wasn’t wrong. However, he didn’t reply to it. Martin didn’t say anything more, either. After his face returned to its original shade, there was something in the set of his mouth that looked like regret. Stewart knew from experience that was as close to an apology as he was going to get from him. He turned back to his food.
Martin slowed down his eating, and Arthur poured himself a glass of wine. The room was silent. The meal was delicious on the palette but sat like a rock in Stewart’s stomach.
Martin’s voice was barely a grumble, but in the quiet almost echoed. “I’d say trying to poke my eye out was pretty barbaric.”
“My foot was nowhere near your eye!”
“It was close enough!” Martin shouted back. The vitriol from before was gone, replaced with the simple ire of a sibling’s squabble. “What would you have done if it had?”
Stewart shrugged. “Get y…y-you an eyepatch?”
“You should let me poke your eye out,” Martin replied, mimicking jabbing him with his steak knife, “An eye for an eye, Stewart.”
“The saying is “an eye for an eye makes the wh-whole world blind”, Martin.” He replied smoothly.
“Speaking of senseless violence and whatnot,” Arthur interrupted loudly, “I had something I wanted to talk to you guys about.”
They both turned to Arthur, whose awkward segue was concerning.
“What is it? You look really serious right now.” Martin frowned, unable to stop the worry in his voice.
“Sorry.” Arthur sighed and drained his glass of what little wine remained. He poured himself some more. “This is just kind of a… serious and sensitive topic. Stewart, I don’t think you should go back to the academy.”
Martin, not fully understanding the gravity of the situation, burst out laughing. “Wow! Way to go, Stewart. Our family’s been going there since it was founded and you somehow wrecked that for all of us in a year. Generations of prestige flushed down the drain by just one person. Tell me, what’s your secret? How do you do it?”
Stewart scowled back at his brother, resisting the urge to throw his roll at him. “I didn’t do anything, Martin. I’m a perfect student unlike you.”
That was blatantly false. Arthur didn’t call him out on it even though they both knew the truth. Instead, Arthur waved his empty wine glass between them and shook his head.
“It has nothing to do with that. Actually, I don’t know if you should be going there, either, Martin.”
“What? Why?” Martin sounded confused and hurt. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“I know you didn’t! I just… I’d rather you guys not be somewhere you could go missing or get murdered so easily. That really scares me.”
Martin frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“People die all the time, Arthur,” Stewart added, waving his fears away dismissively, “I don’t think it matters where we are.”
Martin was glancing between the two of them, aware that there was a vital piece of information he was missing. “What happened? Who was murdered?”
He didn’t even think about hiding it. Martin would know soon enough eventually. It was a wonder it wasn’t already on the news.
“Alec R...R-Rafferty.”
At the name, Martin went pale. He looked like he was going to be sick.
Martin swallowed. When he spoke again, his voice was hushed and drained of all bite. “I’m friends with his sister.”
The table grew palpably quiet.
“Martin-”
“Can I be excused?”
“Yeah.” Arthur nodded. “Yeah, of course. You don’t even have to ask.”
Martin pushed himself away from the table and left without another word. Stewart and Arthur were once again left by themselves. The silence was hard to break, but neither of them was capable of leaving the scene like their younger brother had.
Arthur refilled his wine glass and held it out to Stewart like a peace offering. Stewart took it and drank. Arthur didn’t try to take the glass back and simply watched him. There was worry deep in his eyes. “I just want you to be somewhere safe.”
Stewart drained the glass and pushed it back to him. “I don’t think that’s possible, Arthur.”
Author's Note: Hello, again! We're getting a bit more into it this chapter. I'm going for a bit of a bleak tone to start us off but later on it should get a little lighter. It is going to continue being like this for at least another chapter, though. Also quick warning for content that will be occuring in chapter 3 (there will be a warning on the chapter itself as well) but that is the chapter where we should be getting our first bout of time travel- meaning that Stewart is going to die. This isn't the only time that's going it happen (and there will be warnings for the other times a death is graphically described) but it is going to be one of currently two times it happens by his own hand so it may be a tough read for some people. Anyway, thank you for reading up to this point! I hope you're enjoying the story so far!
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