homecoming | adroxis family

He felt his head falling too late to really catch it, his elbow slipped down instead to brace himself against the wooden desk. The soft yellow light from the desk lamp drew a warm circle around where he sat in the administration office of Adroxis Ammunitions. The warehouse was quiet.

How long had he been sitting there, he wondered, ached for a sign, but all there was was the quiet tick of the clock on the wall above the couch across from him. There was no other sound, everyone else having gone home ages ago while he'd sat bent over the month-end reports.

He had years of that ahead of him, the thought was depressing. Night reached for a cigarette, a bad habit that had formed quickly over the last couple of years. He dropped his hand a moment later. He'd been trying to quit.

Night rested his chin in his hand and gazed out the muton window to his right instead. The street below was empty and he knew that no one at home was waiting up for him or wondering where he was. He kept long odd hours and was barely around anyway. If he died it would most likely take his family a day or two to start searching for him. It was his own fault, he worked too much but there wasn't an alternative. Eve and him had to do it all and since he'd shirked the reports last month, it was definitely his turn.

Still, he decided to call it and made his way out of the factory slowly, tugging on various doors to make sure everything was locked tight. Then, on his walk home, he forgot himself and there was a cigarette between his fingers again. There was a slight breeze wafting through Nine but sweat slipped down his back in the summer air all the same. It always felt a little bit like a walk of shame, going home.

He didn't really like being there, having his sibling's eyes on him and if not theirs, then his great-grandfather's staring at him from over the stairs in the entrance hall. It was a portrait taken when Babe Adroxis had gotten victor. Night had always wondered about the man in the photo, if all of the grandeur had been his intention.

He chose the kitchen entrance instead, the portrait was creepy at night.

Night stubbed his cigarette out on the back steps and slipped the butt into his pocket to dispose of later. Nicotine stained his fingers and he couldn't keep the stale smell of smoke away but it was easy enough to lie to a family that never really looked.

There was no reason to expect anyone to still be awake but Night knew he wasn't the only one who kept odd hours, his siblings had all begun working as well. He could feel the way that they drifted apart and while pieces of him panicked and wanted to try and scrape them all back together, he knew it would never happen. It'd never stick, the childhood he remembered was long gone.

There was Hal though, his little brother, stood in front of the fridge. Night wondered if his brother was growing centimetres daily, he already seemed taller than he remembered. How long had it been though since he and Hal had crossed paths? They were both the type to keep to themselves.

Hal seemed to realize he was not alone before Night could announce himself, his little brother's hand was on his gun within moments. Night simply stared, the gun beneath his jacket untouched, he'd take another bullet for a sibling any day.

"It's just me Hal," Night said, voice slightly rough from hours of sitting in silence, "If you wanted to eat, I could make something."

How long had it been since he'd hung out with Hal, let alone spoken to him? Days at the very least. The offer was genuine but would most likely be rejected, Night had grown so distant from his siblings in the past few years, they might as well be strangers.