The moment I stepped into the living room, the air was thick with tension, a sharp rebuke slicing through the silence and setting my nerves on edge. "Ah! You freakin' imbecile!" The words, harsh and unyielding, hung heavy, a discordant note that made me pause, an instinctive reaction thinking perhaps I had walked into a personal storm. However, a swift survey of the room dispelled that notion; the vitriol wasn't aimed at me.
It struck me as amusing, the casual disregard for the absence of family, as if the solitude granted him a kingdom where his frustrations were the only subjects. I couldn't help but let a cheeky grin play across my lips, the situation unfolding into an unexpected moment of levity.
With a confidence born from years of camaraderie, I made my way towards the source of the outburst. Charles, oblivious to my approach, was ensconced in his digital world, fingers dancing a furious ballet across the keyboard, completely immersed in whatever virtual battle was unfolding before him. The faint, tinny echoes of his game filtered through his headset, a soundtrack to his intense concentration.
"Charles!" My voice boomed, a deliberate contrast to the focused silence, as I clasped his shoulders with exaggerated drama. The effect was instantaneous and exactly as intended. His reaction was a symphony of surprise, a near orchestral leap from his seat, headphones flung aside in a moment of pure, unadulterated shock. My laughter, genuine and unrestrained, filled the room, a shared moment of humour that momentarily lifted the weight from my shoulders.
"Luke!" His scolding morphed into a declaration of surprise, the initial annoyance quickly giving way to joy upon recognising me. Watching him clutch at his chest, the rapid rise and fall indicative of his startled state, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of affection for the scene. His wide grin, so reminiscent of the carefree moments of his youth, was infectious, drawing me further into the familiarity of our brotherhood. “I didn’t know you were coming to visit.”
My casual shrug was a thin veil over the complexity of emotions swirling within. "It was a last-minute plan," I said, words floating in the air like leaves carried by the wind, aimless and unanchored. Charles, ever the master of multi-tasking, split his attention between our conversation and the digital world laid out before him, fingers deftly closing tabs and silencing the virtual chaos that had consumed him moments before.
"Did Mum and Dad pick you up from the airport?" His question, innocent and routine, hinted at the normalcy of a life I felt I was slowly drifting away from. Opting for evasion, a tactic becoming all too familiar, I redirected the conversation towards safer waters. "I’m guessing you’re not supposed to be on there," I remarked, a nod towards the backpack slung carelessly beside the chair, an unspoken symbol of the everyday battles fought over screen time.
"Not unless it’s for school work," Charles admitted, a trace of resignation in his voice as he closed the last of his game screens, the final act of a well-rehearsed routine. His compliance, though reluctant, was a reminder of the simple rules that governed my life before the complexity of Guardians and Portals had taken hold.
Following Charles into the kitchen felt like stepping back in time, a return to the mundane yet comforting rituals of home life. He reached atop the fridge with a familiarity bred from countless similar acts of culinary defiance, retrieving biscuits from an old tin—a tin that held more than just treats, it held memories. "Want one?" he offered, his generosity as automatic as his earlier evasion of household rules. My acceptance was met with a grumble of approval from my stomach, a reminder of the simple pleasures that had become overshadowed by the weight of my responsibilities.
Leaning against the doorway, Charles's question about our parents' whereabouts echoed through the silent hall, a reminder of the conversation I had been dreading. "Yeah, about that," I stuttered, the words catching like thorns. This should be easy, I chided myself, Charles's nature as the family clown, his intelligence wrapped in a perpetual refusal to take life's dramas too seriously, should make this easier.
"I need to show you something, Charles," I declared, a seriousness creeping into my voice that felt foreign in the comfort of our kitchen. The crumbs from the biscuits, now scattered down my top, seemed a metaphor for the messy situation I was about to reveal.
“Oh, goodie. You’ve brought us presents!” Charles exclaimed, gleeful.
"You could call it that," I responded, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth despite the gravity of what lay ahead. Leading him into the study, the cleared wall awaiting us felt less like a preparation for a demonstration and more like a stage set for the unveiling of a new reality. This was more than a simple reveal; it was an invitation into the unknown, a step towards sharing the burdens and wonders that had become my new normal.
The weight of the moment settled on my shoulders as I stood there, pondering the best way to bridge the gap between his everyday reality and the unfathomable truths I was about to unveil. Opting against a preamble, I decided that the sheer spectacle of the Portal would speak volumes more than any introduction could. With a deep breath, I activated the Portal Key, and the once blank study wall burst into life, awash with the mesmerising dance of colours that heralded the opening of the Portal. It was a sight that never failed to stir a sense of wonder in me, yet now, it bore the weight of revelation.
“Whoa! What the heck is that?” Charles's reaction was immediate, his voice tinged with a mix of astonishment and disbelief. His eyes, wide with a childlike wonder I hadn't seen in him for years, were fixated on the vibrant spectacle before us.
“That is a Portal,” I stated, the simplicity of the term belying the complexity of what it represented. It felt almost mundane to call it by its name, yet there was no other way to describe the gateway to worlds unknown that shimmered on the wall.
“That’s amazing,” Charles breathed out, his attention wholly captivated by the display. The soft sounds of awe that accompanied his observation of the energy swirls and the sparks they sent flying into the air were a testament to the Portal's inherent allure, its beauty undeniable even in the face of its daunting implications.
“That’s where Mum and Dad are,” I found myself saying, the words tumbling out in a rush. The reality of their location, so casually disclosed, hung between us, a palpable tension in the air.
“Huh?” The confusion that snapped Charles's gaze back to me was as clear as daylight, his wide eyes searching mine for clarity, for some semblance of sense in the midst of the extraordinary.
“And Jerome and Paul,” I added, feeling the need to include them in the revelation, to paint a fuller picture of the situation.
“Huh?” His repeated query was more than a question; it was a plea for understanding, for a foothold in the rapidly shifting ground of his world.
“I know it doesn’t really make much sense, but this device,” I said, holding up the Portal Key, an object so small and yet so pivotal, “opens a portal to a new world.” The significance of the Portal Key, its role as the bridge between our world and another, felt heavier in my hand than ever before.
“And that’s where Mum and Dad are?” Charles's skepticism was palpable, each word heavy with doubt. His skepticism served as a mirror to my own initial disbelief when I was first confronted with the reality of the Portal. Standing there, faced with his incredulity, I realised the enormity of what I was asking him to accept, to believe. It was a leap of faith that went beyond the physical realm we understood, into the very heart of what we considered possible.
“Here, let’s do an experiment,” I told him, playing to his love for the scientific method.
"Okay," he responded, a newfound enthusiasm lacing his voice, a testament to his innate love for understanding the world through evidence and experimentation.
"You get the laptop working, and I need to go through that Portal quickly and grab something," I instructed, laying out the plan with a simplicity that belied the complexity of what I was about to do. Charles's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary, a silent plea for caution that I understood all too well.
Leaving Charles to his tasks, I stepped into Clivilius, the familiar yet always changing landscape unfolding before me. The thought of Charles potentially following me didn't worry me; in fact, the idea seemed almost appealing. The simplicity of companionship in this bizarre new world was a comforting thought, yet the caution of pacing our revelations won the day. Sometimes, introducing someone to a new reality required a gentle hand.
"Are you ready to speak with Charles?" I asked Jerome, finding him in a moment of quiet solitude amidst the dust of Clivilius. His reaction, a swift rise to his feet, was marked by a readiness to act, a testament to his own sense of responsibility in our shared plight.
Jerome handed me the network cable, his movements deliberate, as we walked and talked. His question, "Are you really sure that we should do this? This place is dangerous, isn’t it?" was laced with genuine concern.
I paused, considering his words. "And Earth is a safe place?" I countered rhetorically, challenging the notion of safety in a world as unpredictable as our own. My response, though not entirely satisfying to Jerome, was meant to put things into perspective. The real clincher came with a more personal appeal, "Do you really want to be left here alone with Mum and Dad?" The suggestion of isolation, of being left to navigate this world without the camaraderie of siblings, struck the right chord.
Jerome's face, a canvas of emotions, briefly displayed panic before settling into resolved agreement. "You’re right," he conceded, the urgency of his conviction pushing us to bridge the physical and emotional distances that separated us from Charles. "Let’s bring Charles here too."
I couldn't help but smile at his conclusion, a knowing smile that spoke volumes of the unspoken bond between siblings. Our parents were indeed great, a constant in their lives filled with love and support. But the unique connection shared between siblings, with its blend of rivalry, camaraderie, and unbreakable bonds, held a different kind of magic. In this moment, in this strange new world, it was this bond that felt like the most powerful force of all.
The moment I stepped back into the study, the shift in atmosphere was palpable. My return was marked by a sense of urgency, a directness that didn't allow for any dilly-dallying. "Have you got it working yet?" I asked Charles, my tone laden with anticipation.
"Yep. It’s all good to go," Charles replied, his eagerness a mirror to my own. The simplicity of his response, the readiness with which he embraced this new venture, brought a momentary sense of calm to the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me.
Connecting the network cable, I instructed Charles to log in to whatever app he and Jerome used the most to talk to each other.
Charles looked at me, a bemused expression on his face. “Why would we use an app to talk to each other when we live in the same house?”
My rhetorical comeback, “I thought that’s how all kids operated these days?” was met with Charles's quick wit. “Don’t worry, I’m just messing with ya,” he joked, his wide grin serving as a brief respite from the whirlwind of events.
Within moments, the sound of Jerome’s voice echoed around the room. After initial greetings were done, I excused myself, allowing Charles time to talk with Jerome alone. It wasn’t just that I thought Jerome had a better relationship with Charles and could sweet-talk him into anything much better than I could, but the taste of the remaining biscuits in the tin beckoned me to devour them.
And I wasn’t disappointed. Each new biscuit that crumbled inside my mouth tasted even better than the last. Before long, I realised that once again, another day was passing by where I hadn’t eaten properly.
"Hey, Luke!" Charles's voice, vibrant and tinged with excitement, summoned me from the cozy confines of the study. With the biscuit tin cradled in my arms, I hastened towards the source of the call, eager and slightly amused. As I entered the room, a half-chewed biscuit escaped its confines, dribbling clumsily from the corners of my mouth. The taste of chocolate chips still melting on my tongue, I managed a muffled, “Yeah?”
Charles, his eyes alight with a mix of determination and an almost childlike wonder, rose to his feet. “I’m ready to enter Clivilius,” he announced with a firmness that belied his usually playful demeanour. At his words, a broad smile erupted across my face, spreading warmth and pride through my chest. Well done, Jerome, I thought, silently applauding his effectiveness.
“So, what do I do?” Charles's question, laced with a slight shrug, betrayed his uncertainty. He gestured towards the Portal, its colourful swirls dancing like a living abstract painting, captivating yet mysterious. “Do I just walk into that?”
Distractedly, I reached into the biscuit tin, my fingers brushing against the remaining treats as I selected another. “Yep,” I answered, voice muffled by the fresh crunch of biscuit between my teeth.
Taking a deep breath, Charles braced himself, his shoulders squared yet his eyes betraying a hint of apprehension. “Okay,” he exhaled, taking a tentative step forward, his gaze fixed on the swirling vortex that promised a journey to Clivilius.
“Charles, wait!” My voice, louder than intended, echoed sharply in the room, halting him mid-step and eliciting a startled jump. The sudden interruption drew a confused, “What is it?” from Jerome, his voice emanating from the laptop with a mix of concern and curiosity.
I glanced down at the half-eaten biscuit in my hand, its sweetness a stark contrast to the gravity of the moment. Then, looking back at Charles, a curious idea sparked in my mind, lighting up a path to a new plan. “I need Charles to help me first,” I announced, more to myself than to the awaiting audience.
“Help with what?” Jerome's voice, now tinged with frustration, demanded clarity.
Squatting in front of the laptop, I leaned in close. “Hey, Jerome, can you go and get some empty shopping trolleys for me? I’ll bring them in here, and Charles can help me finish bringing all that food storage into Clivilius.” The words spilled out, framing a task that seemed mundane yet essential.
Charles turned to me, his expression a mix of surprise and mild annoyance. “You’re going to make me do work already?” he gawked, disbelief colouring his tone.
“Better get used to it, little brother,” I said, the affection clear in my voice. I slapped him across the shoulder playfully, a gesture meant to reassure as much as to motivate. “You wait here; I’ll grab a few trolleys for us.”
"You and I make a great team, Charles," I remarked, the words floating between us like a shared secret as we unloaded another batch of toilet paper into the waiting trolley. The activity, mundane in any other context, felt charged with an underlying excitement given our current venture. A sense of camaraderie, thick and palpable, enveloped us, binding our fates together in this bizarre, yet thrilling, undertaking.
“I can’t believe any of this feels normal already,” Charles mused, his voice a blend of wonder and disbelief. He paused, a pack of toilet paper in hand, his gaze lost somewhere between the reality of our actions and the surrealism of our situation. “I kinda feel like I’m having some sort of vivid dream, and any minute now I’m going to wake up and find Mum standing over me, glaring as she demands I get up for seminary again.”
The image he painted was so vivid, so ordinary in its domesticity, that it momentarily grounded me back to our less adventurous, pre-Clivilius life. “She can do that tomorrow,” I quipped, the humour light and teasing. Our laughter mingled, an easy, lighthearted chuckle that briefly dispelled the finality of our task.
“Don’t jinx me, Luke,” Charles laughed in response, his eyes sparkling with mirth and a hint of mischief.
In the midst of grabbing another pack of loo paper from the top of the cupboard, my fingers brushing against the rough packaging, a sudden idea gripped me. It was as if a light had flicked on in a previously dark room, illuminating a path I hadn't seen before. “Charles, I think I have a much better use for you,” I declared, my voice infused with a newfound purpose.
“Oh no,” Charles muttered playfully, the words dripping with a feigned dread that couldn't quite mask his underlying curiosity. His expression, a mixture of amusement and faux apprehension, was priceless. “Can’t I just go to Clivilius already?”
“Nope,” I asserted, my grin broadening at his mock despair. The prospect of this new diversion, whatever it might be, sparked an unspoken challenge between us, a silent acknowledgment of the adventures and trials that lay ahead. “Follow me.” My voice was the beacon, leading us away from the routine task at hand towards something unknown, something new.
Charles, with a mixture of curiosity and resignation, trailed behind me. The air between us crackled with anticipation, the mundane world of toilet paper and seminary mornings fading into the background as we ventured towards the next chapter.
