Pitbabe S2, Chapter 19 pg7

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 19 pg7

   “Spending all day thinking about your ex—where’s the calm in that?”

   “Someone who’s never had an ex sure loves lecturing others.”

   “Do you need to have cancer to treat it?”

   “If you could actually treat it, that’d be great. Usually, I just see your mouth moving.”

   I watched the two brothers trade barbs with straight faces, unsure what to do. Sometimes they’re so alike it’s almost eerie, especially when they refuse to back down like this. Both wield their calm demeanor as a weapon, their sharp tongues evenly matched, each as wickedly clever as the other. It left me, the bystander, too intimidated to jump in, afraid I’d end up as another opponent. And, of course, I’d never stand a chance against these two.

   Knowing I couldn’t stop their verbal sparring, I opted to quietly arrange the plants instead. I took the two pots from Jeff, scanning for a suitable spot. Looking up, I noticed some space left on the higher shelves. I’d need to nudge the existing pots closer together, but it shouldn’t mess up the look too much. If anything, it’s a bit too sparse up there anyway.

   With that thought, I started pushing the pots one by one, beginning with the one farthest from me, moving closer until I reached the one above Jeff’s head. I moved that pot slowly, just like the others before it, but suddenly Charlie whipped around and raised his hand above Jeff’s head. The next second, a pair of pruning shears fell from the shelf onto his palm instead of onto Jeff’s head.

   I froze, staring at the shears in Charlie’s hand, still catching my breath. The shears were small, sure, but they were heavy with a pointed tip. I don’t even want to think how many stitches Jeff would’ve needed if they’d hit his head from that height. If not for Charlie’s quick reflexes, Jeff would probably be bleeding by now.

   And the person who almost hurt Jeff was me. I moved the pot without noticing the pruning shears on it.

   “Close call,” Jeff said, blinking rapidly, as if just realizing how close he came to getting hurt. He seemed more shocked that Charlie caught it in time. “Pretty quick there, Charlie.”

   “Mhm,” Charlie replied calmly, placing the shears on the table with his usual composed demeanor. He probably knew what was going to happen before anyone else, so he wasn’t startled like the rest of us. That demeanor was just like Babe’s back in the day.

   “Sorry, Jeff,” I said, reaching out to pat his head, overwhelmed with guilt. Even now, I was still shaken, and it seemed I was the only one whose heart had dropped to my feet. These two brothers were acting completely normal. “I didn’t see it.”

   “It’s fine,” Jeff said with a kind smile. “You didn’t see it, right?”

   Jeff didn’t hold it against me, but I was so mad at myself I wanted to bash my head with those heavy shears to knock some sense into me. For Jeff, it might not be a big deal; he’d forget it in a few minutes. But I knew this would leave a nagging mark in my heart for days. It’s been like this for a while now. My heart is full of scratches that Jeff can’t see, but they sting every time I think about them.

   I know Jeff would be hurt if he knew I felt this way, but it’s hard to stop myself from thinking it. Each day, I feel more worthless. When I look in the mirror, I see just an old man cooking for the younger ones, stopping them when they get too wild, mediating when they fight. Especially when I’m with Jeff, I feel utterly incompetent. Jeff is good at everything. He takes care of himself well, and even when he can’t handle something, he has a capable, reliable older brother watching out for him.

   Charlie can discuss complex science stuff with Jeff that I don’t understand.

   Charlie helps solve math problems and sudoku, which is Jeff’s hobby.

   Charlie creates illusions to help Jeff understand a racer’s perception from the driver’s seat without needing to sit in the passenger seat like I did, which not only failed to help him understand the driver’s perspective but also made him nauseous.

   Charlie helped Jeff catch a former mechanic at the garage who was secretly stealing tools and car parts to sell, after I spent a whole week investigating and got nowhere.

   Charlie’s sharp instincts have helped Jeff time and again, like just minutes ago when I caused the incident, and Charlie, as usual, stepped in to protect him.

   I’m not jealous of Jeff and Charlie—that’s too ridiculous. I know they’re brothers with a bond stronger than many blood siblings. But I have to admit, honestly, I’m envious of Charlie. He’s good at everything, mature, decisive, and dependable. Meanwhile, I’m a guy twice his age who can’t even do half of what he does. It’s all because I’m ordinary. I’ve got nothing. I can’t help Jeff with anything, and more often than not, I just make things harder for him.

   If I had some kind of sense, it’d be nice. At least I could understand Jeff a bit more. When Jeff is hurting because of his own senses, I could comfort him as someone who’s navigating the same world, not just hugging him from the ordinary world and repeating, “It’s okay.” How could it be okay? Why do I always say such thoughtless things?

   I want to do more, get closer to Jeff, understand him, protect and care for him, be the first person he relies on no matter what happens.

   I want to be more special.

   I hate… how ordinary I am.

   

   CHRIS:

   “Hmm… what does everyone want to hear about today?”

   The sight of Charlie sitting at his desk with his phone and tripod has become so familiar to everyone in the lab. People say they can’t believe Charlie’s doing something like this, which makes sense. Even I, who hasn’t known him long, feel like I’m watching a monkey meditate or something. Not that Charlie’s bad at it—he’s actually amazing. He draws people in with his charming looks and personality, speaking casually while seamlessly weaving in what he wants to convey. It’s not forceful but clear enough to spark discussion. He does this at least once a week, and it’s become a weekly event people eagerly anticipate.

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