Chapter Six: Second Brother – The Quiet Light
779 Words
The hallway outside Finn’s lab smelled faintly of citrus and metal, like something perpetually being cleaned and something else forever being discovered. I pulled my hoodie sleeves down to my wrists as I waited, balancing on the edge of the waiting bench like a kid outside a principal’s office.
The receptionist—bright-eyed, perpetually curious—peeked up from her desk with a smile. “He’s in a meeting, but he’ll be out in a few. You want water, Miss Alina?”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
She nodded and went back to her typing, probably some new chemical inventory list or scheduling tweak. They were used to me here. Every week, like clockwork, I came. No one ever asked why I didn’t come with my parents or my twin. No one asked anything, actually. I liked that.
It only took a few more minutes before the door hissed open and Finn walked out, clipboard in hand, lab coat flapping gently. He spotted me immediately and lit up in that quiet way of his. Not a full smile—he was never the loud kind—but the corners of his mouth twitched upward, and his eyes warmed like sun through a window.
“You came early.”
I stood up. “Traffic was light. Or maybe the universe is being nice to me today.”
He ruffled my hair as I passed him. “Let’s not give the universe too much credit.”
Finn’s office was smaller than Elijah’s, more cluttered, full of notes and scribbled formulas. There was always the smell of coffee, and usually a few protein bar wrappers lying around. I took my usual spot on the couch while he poured me a glass of water.
“You look thinner.”
I flinched, barely. “It’s the hoodie.”
He didn’t argue. He rarely did. Just watched me from over the rim of his cup, quiet as always.
“How’s school?”
“Still second place.”
“You want first?”
I shrugged. “Amara gets it handed to her.”
Finn’s jaw ticked. “Still?”
“Still.”
He leaned back. “One day, people will see you properly.”
“They don’t have to. I’m not made for spotlights.”
“You’re made of something better.”
We sat in silence for a bit, and I could tell he was studying me. Not just how I looked, but how I sat, how I held the cup, how my shoulders sagged more than usual.
Finally, he said, “Something’s wrong.”
I looked up quickly. “What?”
He didn’t blink. “You’re quieter than usual. And you’ve always been quiet, but this feels... heavier.”
“Just tired.”
“School?”
“Home.”
He nodded, more to himself than me. “I figured.”
I looked down. I hated lying to him more than anyone.
He reached for his phone a few minutes later. “You mind if I step out for a second?”
“Go ahead.”
I didn’t ask who he was calling. I knew it would be Elijah. He wouldn’t tell him anything specific—he’d just ask him to keep an eye on me, maybe check in more often.
He thought he was being subtle.
Flashback: Age 9
I was nine years old the first time Finn showed me his lab. Back then it was smaller, crammed with strange machines and blinking lights. I’d gotten lost during a family event at his university and wandered in, wide-eyed.
“What’s this do?” I’d asked, pointing to a spinning blue thing.
“That keeps samples frozen,” he said, crouching beside me. “Like a super freezer.”
I’d laughed. “You’re like a wizard.”
He looked surprised. “Why?”
“Because you mix things and make stuff happen.”
He gave me a little grin. “Then I guess you’re my apprentice now.”
He let me wear a spare lab coat and drew a smiley face on my glove with a marker.
Back then, I believed magic was real, and Finn’s lab was the safest place in the world.
End of Flashback~
Now, a decade later, I still felt safer there than anywhere else.
He came back from his call and sat beside me, not pushing. Never pushing.
“I missed this,” I said.
“You were here last week.”
“I still missed it.”
He bumped my shoulder lightly. “You ever need more than once a week... you tell me.”
“I know.”
And I did.
But some things, I’d never say out loud.
- Writer
