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Mark hadn’t figured coming home would be like this.
He hadn’t expected his siblings and Emma to be 5 years older.
He hadn’t expected to have 6 new faces to get used to.
Certainly he hadn’t expected the newfound tension between his little brothers, or between Julian and him!
At first Jules had seemed happy enough to have him back. Emma wouldn’t get tired of talking about how brave Julian had been, hunting down the killer that had shed both fey and Shadowhunters’ blood, how determined he was to get Mark back, how cunning Jules had been when bargaining with the fair folk. How Julian had risked bleeding to death just to rescue him. Mark had been both alarmed and pleased. The kid had grown up into a fiercely loyal and very responsible young man. Five years ago he had been worried sick that Julian wouldn’t manage to take care of the younger ones, but as it turned out he needn’t have worried. As it turned out, Julian didn’t seem to need him anymore. His younger brother had become a composed, closed-off young man. He was friendly enough, but also aloof, keeping his thoughts to himself and his poker face firmly in check.
Dru and Tavvy and even Livvy habitual shouted for him or Emma when they needed something, when five years ago they would have called for him or Helen. Ty seemed to be the only exception. Mark found himself irrationally jealous of these little changes. What hurt most though was that Julian himself no longer turned to him when he needed something. If anything, he turned to Emma.
Jules and she had always been inseparable; though since they had become parabatai the closeness between them had taken on an alarming intensity. They had also developed a self-sufficient demeanor that rivaled the twins’. As long as they had each other, everyone else seemed redundant. Mark could hardly blame Emma’s boyfriend Dominic or her new best friend Cristina for getting a bit (or, in Dominic’s case, a lot) jealous every once in a while.
“You’ve been staring at me for the past 10 minutes,” Julian’s voice broke through his musings. Theoretically they both were on kitchen duty, but Mark had completed his task of setting the table within 2 minutes while Julian slaved away on the stove on his own. Mark had offered to help him, but Julian had waved him away with a smile, claiming he had it coved. This had left him sitting around uselessly – as was becoming a habit.
“I still can’t believe how much you’ve grown.” It was true enough. Julian was looking more and more like the young version of their late father with each passing day. The spoon currently stirring the noodles stopped. Julian shot him a long look he couldn’t interpret. It was frustrating! He had always been able to tell what was going on with the kid before.
Tentatively, he sharpened his fey senses, trying to pick up on his brother’s mood. Mark had to admit it was a neat trick that came in handy quite often. Slowly a cobalt blue corona started to flare up around the shape of Julian’s body - his aura. The light dimmed a bit, the air cooled slightly. A salty tang blossomed in his mouth, as if he had swallowed sea water – or tears. Julian was sad.
“Well, we all have to grow up eventually,” Jules told him lightly. “At least now you can’t call me a pipsqueak anymore.” Indeed, as Jules was already a full inch taller than him.
“Hasn’t anyone told you that you’re supposed to be my little brother?,” Mark grumbled with mock-chagrin. The taste of tears in his mouth got stronger; the aura a little darker. If he hadn’t already been hyperaware of Jules, he would have missed the haunted look that crossed his eyes. Mark was flabbergasted. “What? What is it?”
Julian muttered something under his breath, turning back to the stove.
“I didn’t quite catch that.”
“I said I haven’t been anyone’s ‘little’ brother’ for these last five years.” Julian ground out through gritted teeth.
Anger, hurt, despair as sharp as a seraph blade – the emotions were rolling off of him in waves, washing over Mark like a riptide. The older Blackthorn shook his head in bewilderment. “You were such a sweet child. What happened to you?”
Julian paused. A small smile grazed his lips; a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I really was, wasn’t I?” The smile vanished. “Then my older brother and sister were taken away from me. My father was turned into a monster I had to slay to protect my younger brother, who now hates me for it.” He threw the spoon into the sink and whirled around. "I also had a best friend who would drop by for sleepovers and helped me play silly pranks like dyeing the cat blue. Then her parents were murdered and the Clave would have taken her from me as well if I hadn’t made her my parabatai!” Now he was almost shouting. His cool facade cracked and spilled forth 5 years worth of pain. “I hate to break it to you Mark, but your little brother is gone! He died 5 years ago in a war! There’s just a pretend father of four with an uncle whose health is rapidly decreasing and a bunch of strangers who think they know it all!”
Mark was too shocked to say anything as Julian shouldered past him, fleeing from the room, from him and from the huge responsibilities threatening to crush him. He let his little brother go, concentrating on saving their burnt dinner, though he had lost his appetite.
***
Dinner wasn’t doing much to improve his mood. Julian had excused himself, claiming he wasn’t hungry. Emma kept shooting him imploring looks, but kept quiet otherwise. The three Rosales seemed happily ignorant, though Cristina kept glancing between him, Emma and the empty chair besides her. Tavvy was displeased with his brother’s absence. He ate little, complaining loudly about the food, banging his cutlery against his plate and glass and wouldn’t sit tight for 2 minutes straight, much to everyone’s displeasure. Dru tried to humor him, which worked to some degree, but did nothing to decrease the noise level. Mark still preferred them to a horde of brawling drunken fairy hunters. Ty, however, got annoyed pretty quickly and left the table as soon as he was finished.
After the meal he pulled Emma and Livia aside, pleading with them to take over kitchen duty so he could check on Jules. They agreed quicker than he had anticipated, which only confirmed his suspicion that they knew something was up. With a promise to make it up to them, he hurried from the room and went to find Julian.
***
He found the kid asleep on his bed. The room was chilly. Jules had left the window open and a cool breeze rolled in from the ocean. His brother hadn’t even bothered to cover himself with a blanket. Mark gently unfurled his curled up body to get a better look at him. Julian’s skin was cold from the night air and the boy shivered in his sleep. There were dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks still held the tell-tale signs of dried tears.
Mark gulped. Julian rarely cried. If he did, things were usually going to hell in a hand-basket, like the time his mother had died.
The blond looked around for a blanket and became even more alert when he noticed an almost empty pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. Since when did Julian smoke?!
Finally he spotted a blanket on the overflowing couch. He snatched the blue thing and tucked it around Jules, then reached over him to close the window. His brother gave a faint whimper. The distressed sound tore at Mark’s heart. He pushed a wavy lock of hair out of the kid’s face and took the icy hands in his own to warm them. Julian’s palms were rough from the turpentine and weapons he worked with on a daily basis. Those long slender fingers now easily matched his own. The Blackthorn brothers didn’t look alike much in coloring, but the family resemblance was prominent in their lanky built. Mark was a bit concerned how skinny Julian’s wrists looked. Bordering on being underweight was a default standard for Blackthorns. They could eat a ton of food without gaining a pound. Many people thought it was cool. Truth be told, two weeks without much appetite made them look anorexic. It was the reason their late mother used to be worried sick when one of them got ill.
Jules made another pained noise, fingers clasping around Mark’s own hands. He squeezed back, letting him know he was here. He wouldn’t go anywhere. Julian’s grip tightened and his eyelids started moving restlessly. The kid was having a nightmare. Suddenly he bolted upright, almost knocking his brother off the bed. He was panting, eyes darting around wildly.
“Hey, hey,” Mark grabbed him firmly by the shoulders as Julian fought to break free. “It’s alright, it’s just me.”
His brother stopped struggling when he recognized his voice, but his eyes were still wide with fear.
“Bad dream?”
“No, it was real.” Julian breathed. His hand wandered to Mark’s face, cupping his cheeks. “I can’t lose you again.”
Mark couldn’t hold back any longer. He crushed his little brother against him, rocking them both back and forth. “Shhhh, it’s alright. I’m here. I’m right here, Jules. I’m not leaving you – never again.”