Nothing More

12:08 am. Or so the digital clock blinked innocently on the drawer. Of course, Nelo couldn’t be sure if that was the right time. For all he know, he could have adjusted the time five minutes or so at one point. But that didn’t matter, really. Either way, he was now considered an adult in the eyes of the law. In his opinion, he had become an adult long ago.



Roughly stuffing in the duffel bag as many of his belongings as he can, he tried not to look at the other bed in the room. If he did, however, he would have noticed that the figure under the cover stirred lightly.



When he was feeling content, he swung the bag on his shoulders and turned to leave. That was, until the small figure that was his brother sat up on his bed, rubbing his eyes with one of his small hands, the other tightly clutching the small plushie he had given him on his last birthday.



Guilt made its way to Nelo’s chest, but he pushed it away. He was sick of all of this, and he wanted out. He wanted nothing more to do with this family, nothing at all.



“Where are you going, brother?” Calix asked innocently, his voice still carrying traces of sleep.

For a moment, Nelo hesitated. He gently dropped the bag and hugged his little brother. This, he hoped, would be the last time he would see him. He would not leave him just like that. “I’m going somewhere Calix. Be a good boy now.”



Calix expression didn’t change much. His seven year old mind not quite grasping what Nelo meant. “Okay,” he said. “Just don’t stay out too late, brother.” He reprimanded. 



Sweet sweet little Calix. Nelo thought.



“I won’t.” And he gently laid his brother back to bed. “Sleep now.” And he kissed his forehead the way a mother, a father, and a brother should.



“Mmm…’kay… good night…. I love you brother…” Calix whispered before a yawn, the end coming out as nothing more than muffled incoherence, but Nelo understood it anyway. 



He picked up his duffel bag and proceeded the door. He had to leave. He had to leave. 



The man that he had once proudly called his father was now an insufferable bastard. He still did work, but no longer as enthusiastically as before. He worked just well enough to stay on the job to earn for his nightly booze. Nelo once again asked himself where had his father gone to. Nelo witnessed firsthand how his father had fallen from grace. And he couldn’t take it.



Because Nelo loved his father. His father had doted on him, treated him with a gentle yet firm hand in the first eleven years of his life. He loved the man who worked hard, earned hard and spent Sunday afternoons playing catch with his child, and promised still to take him on a fishing trip for vacation. It was impossible not to love that kind of a father. But now Nelo started hating him and he hated himself for it because he knew, how he knew, that it was all that woman’s fault, and yet he couldn’t freakin’ stop. So he had to leave. Because he wanted to keep loving his father.



Calix. He thought. Calix had been one of the reasons he hesitated before. That little brother who looked up to him and held his hands when he shook in anger. That child had been his anchor, kept him grounded and sane with his innocence.



But Calix hadn’t known the man their father was before, and so he wouldn’t understand. He just wouldn’t understand.