Chapter 34
Octavius Button was outside dreaming.
In the aftermath of finding out that their father was even more of a villain than they had initially thought, his siblings had all stormed back inside, while Octavius happily remained in the gardens. Even Evie and Anwar had left, so he was truly out here on his own.
The confrontation seemed pointless in the end.
It didn’t help any of them get any closer to any answers; it just made the reality of their lives even more depressing.
Still, it seemed everyone else preferred to be trapped inside the Manor, rather than staying out here where the ugly truth about their father and Perdita’s birth mom still floated about in the cold and bitter late-November air.
Better out here than in there, he thought.
At least out here there were no officers roaming around, watching him closely.
No siblings fighting. No annoyed guests who looked at him with accusatory glares, like they felt he was the one responsible for all of the day’s tragedies.
His mind flashed to Evie, who kept looking at him in the same way, like she could see into his corrupted soul.
Out here was safe. No one to judge him. Just himself and the small bottle of gin he’d stolen earlier. Octavius was now slumped over on a patch of damp grass by the tiles, still wet from the rainstorm last night, staring up at the darkening sky.
In the distance he could hear the sound of the horses neighing restlessly in the stables and then closer, the sound of footsteps on tile.
He looked up to see the harsh lines and unsentimental expression of his brother standing over him.
“Billy!” Octavius said.
“Octavius,” Bilal replied coldly, looking out into the large expanse of the Manor’s grounds. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a rolled-up joint and lighter.
Octavius couldn’t quite believe what he was witnessing.
“You’re staring,” Bilal said.
“You’re smoking.”
Bilal raised an eyebrow at Octavius. “Didn’t realize you were a nun.”
I assumed you were one, Octavius thought but didn’t say out loud.
“I’m not …,” he said, as he continued to stare at his brother in disbelief.
Bilal was the most health-conscious person he knew.
He had to be, for his career. That meant no excessive drinking, no illegal mood enhancers, and absolutely no smoking.
Octavius remembered that when they had both lived at the Manor, Bilal was up bright and early at 5:00 every morning doing drills and working out for hours before breakfast. He’d even made a point to have the same three meals every day, having perfectly calculated the optimum amount of protein, carbs, and fiber he needed.
He never deviated from his meal plans or schedule.
He used to care so much about himself and others.
There was a darkness at Bilal’s edges now, like there was a permanent thundercloud following him around.
He wondered what on earth had happened to his brother since he’d last seen him? He didn’t seem like himself at all. Maybe when Bilal broke his leg, he had also broken something inside of his personality too. The uptight bone perhaps.
“You’re still staring,” Bilal said.
“Since when did you smoke?”
“Since when did you care? Do you want a joint or something?”
“Actually, yes … if you happen to have another one on you.”
Bilal reached into his other pocket casually and produced a second one, passing it and the lighter on to his brother.
“Thanks,” Octavius said.
Bilal didn’t respond at first, just continued looking out into the gardens. “Why are you still out here? It’s been more than an hour, and it’s thirty-three degrees out. You’re not even wearing a proper sweater or a scarf,” he said.
“I don’t feel cold,” Octavius lied in the way he always did, fighting the urge to shiver when a cold breeze blew over him.
Bilal looked at him briefly like he could see right through his facade, but said nothing. Octavius smiled a little at the thought that his big brother had come out here just to check on him.
The pair occupied the outdoors, smoking together in blissful silence for a few moments, before Octavius went and ruined it.
“Remember when we used to be friends? This kind of reminds me of then.”
“Remember when you weren’t annoying?” Bilal replied dryly.
Octavius laughed. “I’m not sure a time like that has ever existed, which means you must have seen the appeal in my annoyingness at some point.”
Bilal ignored him, possibly because he knew the statement had some truth to it, but also because the fencer clearly did not like to dwell in the past.
Seeing them together now, it would be hard for anyone to believe that the pair used to be close.
That they had each been the first person the other had come out to.
Octavius remembered the summer it had happened, several years ago, when they both still sported their rose-tinted glasses.
They were in the attic watching old Buffy the Vampire Slayer episodes, as they often did during their late-night sibling meetups, but this time it was just the two of them.
Bilal had admitted quietly that he found the character Spike aesthetically pleasing.
Octavius had looked at him in disgust and stated that Xander was obviously hotter.
They’d argued a little before agreeing to disagree, but Bilal’s prepubescent shoulders finally relaxed now that they had a massive weight off of them.
He’d smiled at Octavius, who smiled at him back. They had an understanding.
So much had changed since then.
“How’s your leg?” Octavius asked as he took a longer hit.
“Broken,” Bilal muttered.
“As are your spirits, I see,” Octavius said.
He could feel Billy glaring, sending daggers his way.
“You’re not funny. That’s probably why we don’t speak anymore.”
Octavius rolled his eyes.
They both knew why they didn’t talk anymore, and it was definitely not humor related. Their reason for no longer talking was something that they never acknowledged. Acknowledging it would make it real and heavy. Though not acknowledging it seemed to have had the same effect.
So really, what was the point? To protect their secret, Octavius supposed. The only secret they had between each other, one that no one else alive—but Henry—knew.
Keeping it quiet was an unspoken rule between them, but today Octavius was feeling careless and didn’t mind breaking the rules.
“Do you ever think about … it?” he asked.
He could see Bilal stiffen a little at the mention. Hesitance. “No.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then why ask?”
Octavius shrugged. “I don’t know.” He took another hit of the joint and exhaled this time through his nose, plumes of smoke ribboning out into the bleak air.
It made him cough a little, choking on the fumes as he said, “Henry called to tell me once that Dad still pays … paid, I guess? … their family a bonus, you know? Fifty thousand dollars a year. Just to not ask questions. How fucked up is that?”
“Very. It’s what bad people do,” Bilal said, and shrugged as he inhaled more toxins.
“You think you’re a bad person?” Octavius asked, surprised.
Bilal just gave him a sideways glance.
In the distance, Octavius could still hear the rattling and cries coming out from the stables.
Someone should really check on those horses, he thought.
“I guess I am grateful to Dad in some ways for what he did. I suppose neither of us would have had careers at all if it came out that we—”
“Can you keep your voice down?” Bilal whispered angrily.
“My bad … What I meant to say was that neither of us would have had careers if it came out that we were both … criminal masterminds,” Octavius finished with a grin.
Bilal looked murderous. “You see, this … this is why we don’t speak,” he said, moving away from his brother now.
“Aw, don’t be like that, Billy!” Octavius said.
“Like what? You don’t take anything seriously and I’m sick of it.
Sick of you and your shield of wit. You can’t sarcasm your way out of consequences, Octavius.
One day, it will all catch up to you and you will be left with nothing but your empty, empty heart,” Bilal said, his voice thundering.
The fencer was breathless and staring down at Octavius with a look that could only be described as unrelenting sorrow.
Octavius didn’t react at first, just looked up neutrally as though the words had washed over him, going into one ear and right through the other.
Then suddenly, he fell back onto the grass, dramatically clutching his chest as he did.
“Lover boy is rubbing off on you, Billy. Look at all those metaphors you used. I’m very impressed,” Octavius said, practically giggling with glee like a toddler.
Bilal shook his head and tossed his unfinished joint into one of the rosebushes.
“Goodbye, Tavi,” he said, wincing as he limped back across the black-and-white-checkered patio and vanished into the Manor once again, taking all of their secrets back inside with him, leaving Octavius alone outside in the dark, bitter cold of the evening.
Just how he liked it.
In the distance, the death bell chimed and Octavius closed his eyes one last time, ignoring the flashing images that permeated his every waking thought.
His blood … his screams … the sound of his body hitting the ground.
Over and over and over again.