Kian

WITH A BLACK, puffy eye, wet hair, and a torn up shirt, I'm about 98% confident Adalyn and Sid Olsen aren't too happy to see their son at this moment.

Jonathan walks pass the dining room and goes straight into the kitchen. He ignores his mother and father’s questions, wondering what happened to him. He scoffs at their remarks and heads straight into the next room.

Adalyn excuses herself and marches off to the kitchen. It's silent between the rest of us as we hear an exchange of words between Jonathan and his mother. Their voices are muffled but it’s clear that she isn't too happy with her son’s condition.

Sid excuses himself too. The silence is broken once Giovanni coughs.

Giovanni whispers, “He’s usually not like this,” he's apologetically looking at me, raising his fork. “I'm sorry for that.”

“Is he okay?” I whisper, staring at the kitchen.

“He should be,” Giovanni breathes, “I've seen worse.”

Kian looks up from his food and raises an eyebrow. Though, he remains silent.

Jonathan walks out the kitchen, carrying a water bottle. He heads through the front, before shutting the door.

Adalyn and Sid closely follow, sitting back down. The rest of dinner is awkwardly silent. The only one making the noise is Colton with his loud chewing and swallowing.

After dinner, I thank the Olsens for hosting. Kian gives me a small nod before I shut the door. Holding onto Colton’s hand, I see Jonathan standing near their front lawn. He's leaning against their mailbox with his head hanging low.

I think about talking to him.

What do I say, though?

As I start to pull my brother closer to my side, I think about zipping past Jonathan.

But as I think about ignoring him, my parents’ voice echo in my ears. I remember all the times they’ve told me to be there for someone—be willing to lend a hand.

I blow out my cheeks.

I tell Colton to grab one last drink of Kian's lemonade before walking closer to Jonathan. The closer I get to him, the stronger the scent of alcohol comes off his breath.

“Did you eat dinner?” I whisper, tiptoeing, trying to get a better look at him.

He brings his head up, blinking.

I can see a couple moles on his cheeks and near the temples of his face. They are scattered across his cheekbones and nose, something Giovanni didn't have. It's probably one of the few things that set the twins apart.

Jonathan Olsen looks like a lost puppy. With his eyes squinting and his mouth slightly parted, Jonathan looks like the wind has taken the best of him, leaving him breathless and full of shame. It seems like he didn't know what to do next.

He's silent for a second, probably thinking of remaining quiet.

Jonathan drinks from his bottle before lifting his chin. He mutters, “A little, yeah. I had some pie.”

His voice is low, croaky.

Jonathan’s bruised eye is puffy and his lips are chapped. With dark circles under his eyes, it looks like he needed rest.

He sniffs—that’s when I notice the bridge of his nose is also bruised.

He turns his head sideways before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Are you okay, by any chance?” I ask as I scratch the back of my head. “Your eye–maybe–your eye…can you see?”

Jonathan only shrugs.

Can you see? What’s wrong with me?

He's silent again. A minute has gone by before I know I’m not going to get any answers.

Turning back to the house, I hear him sigh louder.

“I got into a fight.” His voice cracks as he says fight. I turn around to see him looking down at the ground. “I was outside of town, and I decided to get some drinks. And next thing you know it, some dude’s up in my business. And I didn't like that so I say something. He didn't like that so he swings at me. I…it sucks.”

Jonathan’s sipping the last of his water before shaking his head. “I don't even know why I was drinking. It just…sucks.”

We remain silent. Jonathan lowers his head, breathing out a small sigh. I play with the thought of saying more but I just didn’t know what to say.

I turn my heels and start walking back to the house. I turn my head to have one last look of Jonathan and he's staring at me. His pupils radiate a dark matter but gazing longer at his green eyes, I notice a little bit of light. For a second, it’s like I'm stargazing in what seems to be a universe hiding from anything burning with life.

“I hope you're okay,” I whisper before entering the house again.