November 26, 2020—Tel-Aviv, Israel—The Next Day #14
“I’ve got two fucking days at home, Adrian!” Alon roared, his voice ricocheting down the stairwell. “Two fucking days before I go back! And even in that time, all I hear is you!”
Adrian froze mid-step, hand gripping the rusting railing.
Alon’s laugh was jagged, almost a choke.
“High school wasn’t enough? You think it was easy?
Everyone knew I was your brother. The gay brother’s kid.
They mocked me, they beat the shit out of me because you decided you weren’t gonna hide.
And I got the fire for it. I carried it.
” His fist slammed into the peeling plaster beside him, leaving a faint smear of dust on his knuckles.
“But I thought, okay, high school’s over. I’ll have the army. I’ll be my own man. Finally. Not in your fucking shadow.” His voice cracked into a half-sob, half-snarl. “But no. Even there. Even in the one place that was supposed to be mine, you’re still everywhere.”
Adrian tried to cut in, “What—” but Alon overrode him, louder, fiercer.
“I make Shayetet 13, the fucking elite naval commandos, and guess what?” Alon’s laugh was sharp, bitter.
“No one cares! You know what they say? ‘Oh, you mean like Adrian?’ I call Dad during my one fucking hour of phone time, after a week that nearly kills me, and what does he say? He doesn’t ask about me.
No, he doesn’t care about it. He says, ‘Oh yeah, Adrian did that too. He was great at it.’”
Alon’s breath hitched, his voice growing wilder, more frenzied.
“They came to my rank ceremony, Adrian. And guess what I heard the entire time? ‘Adrian finished his training with honors.’ ‘Adrian was number one.’ ‘Adrian aced every test.’ ‘Remember when Adrian was here? He was the best.’ Always you!”
Adrian swallowed, something thick and hot lodging in his throat. “You didn’t tell me you got your first ranks,” he said quietly.
Alon scoffed, eyes burning. “Yeah. Because I didn’t want you there.”
The words hit like a slap, but Adrian didn’t move.
“Everything in your life is so perfect,” Alon spat, voice dripping with resentment.
“You’re always the golden fucking boy. The one they worship.
The one who gets everything. The one who gets everything handed to him just by walking into a room.
And don’t you dare stand there and tell me that’s not true.
” He turned half away, then whipped back, the last confession ripping out of him.
“Everyone chooses you,” he said, the edge of his fury trembling into something else.
“Every person I’ve ever wanted… chose you. ”
His voice cracked on the last word, the confession slipping out before he could stop it.
He dropped his gaze, turning away sharply, like he could shove the feeling back down if he just didn’t look at Adrian.
A breath hitched in his throat—not quite a sob, but close—and then he blinked hard, jaw clenched, as if anger might save him from the softness that had just broken through.
Adrian felt his pulse pounding in his skull.
And then, something inside him snapped.
“Are you out of your mind?!” he burst. “I’m dying, Alon! Do you get that?!”
Silence slammed down between them, dense and suffocating in the familiar street where they’d grown up.
Adrian caught glimpses of neighbors behind half-drawn curtains, faces drawn to the spectacle of their Friday night shouting while the rest of the block shared Sabbath dinners in warm, hushed rooms.
Alon’s jaw tightened. His lips parted, but no words came.
And then—so quietly it was almost a whisper—he said, “Even with your fucking illness, I would still take your life over mine.”
Adrian’s stomach twisted.
“Shut your mouth.” His voice was barely above a growl. “Don’t say that bullshit.”
“Bullshit?” Alon let out a broken laugh, shaking his head.
“You have any idea what it’s like to live in your fucking shadow?
Have you ever—just once—asked what it’s like being me?
To never be enough? To never matter as much as you?
To live in your shadow and watch everyone fall over themselves to love you, to see you, and never once looking back to notice me? ”
Adrian didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
Because for the first time, he saw it—not just the anger, but the exhaustion, the helplessness, the weight Alon had been carrying for years.
“Adrian made it to commando. Adrian’s a lieutenant.
Adrian was number one.” Alon’s voice turned mocking, venomous.
“Adrian’s an amazing musician. Adrian is coming home.
Adrian is going back. Adrian is traveling the world.
Adrian has a special man in his life, so beautiful, so perfect.
Adrian is surfing, Adrian is jogging, Adrian is training, Adrian is so good at sports!
Adrian’s heart was broken! Adrian is dying—poor, poor Adrian, dying of the same thing that took his mother—”
“Alon, STOP—”
“And even then, when you were a mess, when you couldn’t eat or speak or sleep without breaking, Dean was there every day for you!
Every fucking day and night, he was at that house after you.
Held you when you cried. Slept beside you so you wouldn’t wake up alone.
” He let out a sob that was masked as a laugh.
“Can’t you see a pattern here? I’m invisible. ”
“Alon…” Adrian’s voice faltered, unsure. “What—”
“You know what I think?”
Adrian’s stomach coiled with unease. “What?”
Alon’s voice dropped, quieter, more dangerous. “That even when you’re dying, your life is still fucking perfect. Even when everything should be falling apart, you still have everything.”
Adrian felt his breath stutter, his skin prickling, his heart aching in ways he couldn’t name.
“You think it was easy?” Adrian’s voice cracked, shaking with something raw. “Do you have any idea—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Alon interrupted with a bitter smirk. “I remember. I remember when things weren’t perfect for you. But, of course, even when something bad happens, everything just falls back into place.”
Adrian’s fists curled at his sides. His lungs burned. But beneath the anger, something shifted.
Because for the first time, he realized—
Alon wasn’t just angry at him.
He was hurting.
“Alon…” Adrian’s voice wavered, brittle as autumn leaves before they crumble.
“You got out,” Alon whispered, his face twisted.
“You left this place behind. You got to start over. You moved in with Dean—” his voice caught hard on the name, as if saying it cut him open.
“So not only did you have it all back then, now you’ve got a fucking American boyfriend too.
And you still act like you don’t understand.
Like you didn’t take something from me.. .”
Adrian stared at him, speechless. His little brother—his Alon—stood before him, a storm unraveling, years of anger, hurt, loneliness spilling out all at once.
His hands trembled at his sides. Adrian knew that look, the tears threatening to fall.
But they weren’t tears of sorrow. They were furious, resentful, the kind that sting because they’ve been held back too long.
And yet… what he said—about Adrian, about Logan, about Dean—wasn’t making sense. He spoke like he had been keeping score, like Adrian had stolen something from him without ever realizing it.
Oh, shit.
“And you flying away, off you go—”
“To have treatments!” Adrian snapped, voice sharper than he intended. His body ached from just speaking. “I’m not going on a fucking vacation!”
“Every fucking person alive is fighting for you to live. And you—” Alon’s voice dropped to something venomous, something broken. “You just want to be left alone and die.”
“Alon…” Adrian whispered. His hands clenched into fists. “Why didn’t you ever say something?”
“To whom?” Alon’s laugh was hollow, bitter.
“To Mom? To Dad? Dad doesn’t even see me.
When he looks at me, all he sees is you.
Every time he talks to me, it starts with you and somehow ends with you.
Even when I’m doing well, it’s never just mine—it’s always compared to you.
Always, Adrian, Adrian, Adrian.” He took a step back, shaking his head.
“You are the star of that house. And me? I am just the echo, the spare, the one who came after you.”
Adrian felt his heart crack; the pain was not just physical anymore. It ran deeper than that, into places he didn’t even know existed. His little brother—his baby brother—had been drowning all this time, and Adrian never noticed.
“Why didn’t you come to me?” His voice was hoarse now, barely above a whisper. “Why, instead of being such an asshole, instead of mocking me, why didn’t you just come to me? I never knew, Alon. I had no fucking clue.” He exhaled shakily. “I wasn’t home much, but—”
“Yeah, because ‘kind-hearted Adrian’ was always working to help Mom and Dad—”
“Go to hell,” Adrian spat, voice cracking.
“You think I wanted that? You think I chose to work instead of being a normal teenager? Dad was about to lose the house, Alon! And then what? You were, what, thirteen? You wanted to live on the fucking streets?” His breath shuddered, his ribs a cage of fire.
“Believe me, I would rather have gone to school. I would rather have had a childhood.” He swallowed hard.
“You don’t know shit about what I had to do to make sure you never had to worry about any of it. ”
Alon’s anger flickered, like a candle caught in the wind. His shoulders slumped, the fight starting to drain from him.
“I’m sorry,” Adrian said, softer now, voice laced with regret. “I had no idea you felt that way. I should’ve. But I didn’t. And I’m sorry.”
Alon didn’t answer right away. But he looked at him—really looked—and though his gaze still held pain, it wasn’t the same kind. It wasn’t sharp and fresh anymore. It was older, quieter. Bruised, not bleeding.