Briar Hemming 🌗 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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adventureic2024-04-07 10:34 am
arietids) wrote in adventureic2024-04-07 10:34 am
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WHO: Briar & Bracken
WHEN: Backdated to Thursday, March 7.
WHERE: A campsite somewhere in Banff, AB.
WHAT:The Hemming twins go on a camping trip and talk about Brook, Keda, and ✨feelings✨
WARNINGS: The cut quote is in no way indicative of the tone of the whole log but I thought it was funny.
True to his word, Briar had let Bracken pick the day and location of their brotherly camping trip, and he's far from disappointed when they teleport to their destination in the Alberta Rockies. The spot is a tree-lined lake, particularly quiet this time of year, and while it doesn't scratch the itch of the homesickness he's been having for Wyoming lately, it's still incredibly beautiful and perfect for a nice evening outside. They set up camp before the sun sets, build a fire, and then Briar gets to cooking dinner. He knows at some point they'll have to talk about what he'd promised they'd talk about (mortality, a fun subject), but he's not going to be the one to bring it up.
"You want to tell me more about Brook?" It feels easier to ask that, out here. Even though it's early into the short trip Briar can feel he's already loosening up - as much as his apartment looks like the woods, it isn't, and being out in more remote nature like this is a balm that he hasn't had such easy access to in a while. "Is there anything I should know about her?"
"That you... should know?" Bracken quirks a brow as he looks up from the pointless blob he's taken to whittling while he whistles while he waits on Briar to work, like any good older brother is wont to do. "She's nine. What's that even mean."
Briar pauses in his work to make a face at Bracken, but only for a moment. "I don't know. What's important to her? What does she hate? I don't want to meet her and know literally nothing about her." There's a bit of apprehension sitting in the pit of his stomach when he thinks about meeting her. Preparing ahead of time will certainly help, right?
"There's no way in hell she doesn't have opinions about things."
Bracken's snort probably tells Briar everything he needs to know about his daughter's untold opinions ('untold' in number only — she's never held back). But realizing his brother meant general knowledge and not precautions, he's willing to step down from his defensive little soap box for a bit.
"She... hates when somebody else took out a library book she wanted 'n she treats their check-out limits like a challenge." His blob gets a curve carved out for its neck and his lips' corners curve into a smile. "Got a lecture ready to go if you put egg shells in the trash 'stead of compost, cares like hell about all that environmental stuff. Says she wants to either be a vet like her momma, or a doctor, or work for UKSA– like, British NASA? Couple weeks ago she wanted to be a goddamn F1 driver."
It takes a few more minutes of fussing and working before Briar seems content to leave the pot hanging over the fire to do its job, and he goes to seat himself next to Bracken, stretching out his legs. All the while he's been quiet, listening, thoughtful, but there's a small smile on his lips.
"Shit, I still can't believe you managed to make a smart kid. She sounds so… curious, about everything." And able to explore those things, unlike they were, but he's not going to say that. "You got to be involved with her since she was born?"
A second snort — this time in agreement because Bracken knows she got literally none of his brains and every day he thanks his and/or her lucky stars that's how it turned out. He flicks a woodchip in Briar's direction. "Francine called me up when Brook was two 'cause this kid I didn't know she had was gettin' crazy allergic reactions to some jewelry 'n she needed my family's medical history. Took another year to convince her 'n her husband why and that I wasn't some, y'know. Crazy guy. Or wannabe Unabomber. Or actual monster."
"Shit. Silver didn't do too much damage, though?" His brother shakes his head and Briar seemingly ignores the woodchip, but moments later does kick a little dirt at Bracken as he leans over to get himself a drink. "And yeah, can't imagine that conversation was an easy one to have."
Drink in hand he leans back, watching the small fire; there's a small frown he has to suppress from starting to think too much, but it proves to be a simple task, leaving him relatively impassive. "When I thought about seeing you again I never guessed there would be a nine year old, too."
Shaking the dirt off his boot and at Briar, the bigger(, older, stronger, wiser, and far more handsomer) Hemming grunts — thoughtfully, if a grunt can be thoughtful, although if anyone can make that happen it's Bracken. "Didn't expect you to be mates with a Fae neither, so we're even." ("Even," Briar agrees unnecessarily.) And as his knife slows against the grain he has his own small frown, like he's working through a math problem.
He doesn't have much experience with Fae as a species, doubly so with their family structures; all he knows is Keda's mom sounds intense and he'd assume that's more of a universal experience than something exclusively Fae. "Can y'all have kids?"
Briar's eyes stray to the whittling Bracken is working on, still sort of mentally digesting the word "mates." It's not wrong, but it's not something he'd ever directly associated with him and Keda, partially because they'd been so hesitant to talk about his looming mortality. It felt presumptuous to use such a weighty word without that.
The question comes as a bit of a surprise, even though it probably shouldn't. He gives a one-shouldered shrug. "Probably? Keda doesn't really know either, but pretty sure her mom has had kids with all types."
Bracken realizes he doesn't actually know that much about Keda's wider family, but then again, she'd seemed to adopt the same kind of attitude he had — one that meant Not close and for good reason. His eyes wander up to his brother's and it's absolutely so he can try to tell if Briar evades the answer. "Talked about tryin'?"
Briar meets Bracken's gaze momentarily - the idea of children itself is not uncomfortable or complicated, at least not in passing, but everything surrounding it is. He hums, shrugs again, glances off as he answers after a long drink.
"Not in any serious way. There're other things to sort out first, you know? Talking about kids is jumping the gun. And for a long time I couldn't imagine myself wanting any anyways."
"Shit, can't imagine why." Bracken's words drip with so much sarcasm that they could melt the snow around them as he returns his gaze to his blob-that's-slow-becoming-something-like-a-bird. His blob needs more precision, he decides, and abandons the knife (responsibly! in its sheath!) in favour of an extended forefinger claw. "You said there's a house. In LA, so concrete far as the eye can see — babies love concrete. Sounds like y'all're set."
Though Briar's initial response is a quiet huff at Bracken's sarcasm, he does fall silent for a short while as he thinks. He sets his drink aside and stands momentarily, fusses with the stew that's cooking, and then sits back down with a heavy exhale. Bracken's weird sort-of bird is as good a place as any to focus his own gaze.
"Fuck you, our house is nice, even if it's in fucking LA. We have so many plants. And a pool." An argument he never, ever thought he'd be having with Bracken, who's busy pantomiming We have so many plants. And a pool. without raising his head. "And… who talks about kids when you can barely talk about the whole 'hey, I'm going to die way before you, what do you want to do about that'? It's… that would've felt like forcing her into a decision or something. Putting more pressure on it."
"'Cause you ain't had any time to go over that yet. Maybe in the next fifteen." Briar immediately scowls. Perhaps the phrasing isn't the most fair of Bracken but he can't imagine a topic that wouldn't be covered when you're with someone for so long. And! And!! They seem pretty attached at the hip! So it's not like they spent half the year apart, either! So!
"Not a simple conversation to have," Briar snaps, but he smooths over his tone as he continues even though it's still somewhat strained.
"After I got shot she was a mess, and I just… I didn't want to do that to her again. But we've talked about it now. We haven't sorted it out enough that I think a kid conversation makes sense yet but… we're staying together, regardless of how we try to tackle the lifespan thing." Which, in retrospect, is sort of a "duh" resolution, but Briar had been so hesitant to assume anything given that Nazikeda was the one, in his mind, getting the short end of the stick.
"I'm sure you very maturely would have had this conversation a year in," he adds, deeply sarcastic.
"Deflector array's lookin' mighty fine." Bracken bites back, shearing off the edge of a wing when he digs too deep into the wood. He can tell resentment's bubbling up but doesn't know why — or hasn't thought to wonder why. "Congrats on your forever, though." (More accurately Briar's forever and Keda's for-now, but even with his mild dose of attitude he knows he'd be a proper asshole to weaponize that fact.)
Briar holds back the 'nerd' on the tip of his tongue, distracted by his twin's apparent agitation as he maims his poor whittled bird. Bracken likes Keda, so that's not the issue here, but he doesn't want to make so many assumptions. So he might as well just ask.
"What's your problem?"
Briar's owed the truth but unfortunately, the truth is petty and childish.
"I am happy for you, how you're in it for good. I just..." He runs his thumb along the gouge, not sure how to say You couldn't tolerate me in a way that won't get them back on the bad terms they'd started from. "You barely stood by me a year, then not long after you decided you can live with somebody else for another one-fifty." It's been gnawing at him in fits and starts since they reunited. "I spent long enough thinkin' it was me that drove you away. So I get to feel a certain kinda way about it."
Primed for an argument, Bracken's words instead make Briar deflate a little, shoulders sinking down even as his brows remain knit. "It wasn't you. It was... everything." He's quiet a moment, trying to find words that he's never attempted to articulate; he knows the feelings because he'd stewed in them for so long, but even with Keda he's avoided saying much about how he actually felt when he left.
"Fuck, I just... hated everything and I hated myself, and I couldn't stand that I couldn't fix things for you. And then I took it out on you because you were there." All that guilt and anger is welling up in him again, so he stands to fuss with their dinner, which is, annoyingly, nearly done. Why the hell does he have to talk about feelings so much recently? "I missed you every day. Why do you think I'm so fucking impatient for us to be us again?"
Bracken only watches Briar mess with their food because there's no way his brother would want eye contact right now, not while both emoting and acknowledging that he's capable of emoting in the first place.
Most of the time—like now—he struggles to fit Briar back into the space he'd occupied before they'd parted ways, and he wonders if it's his own reticence keeping them apart.
No, he's sure it is. And knowing he's responsible for keeping his counterpart at arm's length makes him want to run back to North Dakota so he doesn't have to deal with shit ever again.
"I know." He drops the bird-blob in his lap so he can scrub his hands over his face (claw retracted he can stay unmutilated), trying and failing to massage away the tension encroaching behind his eyes. "We both got fucked, ain't neither of our faults. But 'being us' is different now, I can't..." compete? contribute? "I ain't on your level anymore."
There is an uncomfortable tightness in Briar's chest as Bracken speaks to his back; there would be more relief if his brother's tone were more aggravated or hostile, but it's painfully direct. This feels too much like the conversation he'd had with Nazikeda, arguing that she is enough but not enough, just like Bracken is enough but not. It had somehow never occurred to him that fitting the two of them into his life together would be difficult, because he'd simply been focused on wanting them both there.
He keeps his back to Bracken for longer than is necessary, trying to pull all of the bad feelings into a tight ball that he can push down before he goes to sit. It almost works, but it feels a little difficult to breathe. He has to do his best to not sound angry because he's not angry. Not at Bracken, anyways. Even settled in next to his twin, he keeps his eyes on the fire.
"It'd be different with or without Keda. We're… we've changed. And I don't expect me leaving to stop being an issue just because we're together again. But… you don't suddenly not have a place because she's there. She… the only reason she and I even talked about this was because I'm… happier, now. And it changed things enough that we couldn't keep ignoring it."
"Not just Keda." Truth be told, she's made it easier for Bracken to slide back in when he feels safe to, like a destabilized Briar trying to find balance when the two of them are in the same room gives Bracken a little more leeway to explore their reboot dynamic. "I don't want you to always have to look after me this way. Like, I don't care if you're fine apologizing for my mistakes, it's me who doesn't feel good when I keep saying the wrong shit and you've always gotta swoop in to save my ass. Reminds me how you grew up 'n got a life while I hunted for rock bottom, and I'm tired of knowin' I fell short."
And because he's a big and mature adult man who needs to displace his emotions when they're getting the better of him, he whips his carving over the fire so it can disappear into a snowbank. "That's what I meant by different levels: you're happy 'n stable and I'm... the way I always been" (read: a disappointment,) "and I get to be reminded every time you cover for me."
Despite his desire to always take care of Bracken, to always fix things for him, Briar has never really thought of it as an obligation because his brother was lacking in some way. They are different, and have different strengths, and even separate from that, Briar wants to do it. It may feel like a burden sometimes, but it's self-imposed. It feels so condescending to say that though, leaving him without the right words.
"You don't…" he stops abruptly, abandons that train of thought because it likely won't do any good anyways.
He watches the arc of the carving, watches where it hits the snow before finally turning to look at his brother. His breath still feels a little tight as he reaches out to take a hold of Bracken's forearm. The contact is reassuring, and he's hoping it'll ground him enough that he can get out what he needs to say.
"I stumbled into some kind of stability. But… just because I'm good at bullshitting words that seem right doesn't mean I 'grew up' or whatever the hell." Slowly, Briar shakes his head, letting out a heavy sigh that hitches oddly for a moment, uncomfortably and almost painfully. He wishes he had something to throw himself. "I can ignore it most of the time, but I feel fucking horrible that Keda loves me. And that sure doesn't make it feel like I'm all that different from how I used to be, either."
Of everything that should reassure Bracken (and to be fair — the hand on his arm, which he leans into, helps), the most reassuring thing is somehow hearing that his brother just might still be as fucked up as he is. It's unsettling to think of someone not being in the best place as a reassurance—you never wish it for the people you love—but it's like a little mark of validation, that if their wounds still fester after this many years, at least it seems they're more alike than he's been giving them credit for. Like the root of the problem was something that came even before they did.
Honestly, it pisses him off too, but what can he do about that?
"Maybe you should stop hatin' yourself," Bracken grumbles as if the fix would ever be that easy.
"Shut the fuck up," is Briar's initial response, devoid of any sort of bite as he keeps his hand locked around Bracken's forearm. What his brother is sorting through now he's known; even though they've changed and grown, they both suffer still from their upbringing and their separation, and likely will for a long time to come. He can't blame him for thinking otherwise, though. Briar puts on a decent enough show of being put together, even when he's still got plenty of pieces to pick up himself.
"Don't hate myself much anymore. It's just… good things don't feel deserved." He shakes his head, short and sharp. "That's beside the point, though. I just… I don't think we're on different levels. We're just different from one another. Like we've always been."
"But you reckon we ain't so different that we can't get back to something like before." Bracken asks it even though his inflection doesn't end on a question mark. Really, he's looking for affirmation — something to hold onto past when Briar lets go of his arm, because if anything binds them together aside from genetics and a few decades-old rodeo titles it's apparently the mutual belief that they haven't earned 'good things' and probably never will.
"We can get back to something like before," Briar repeats, squeezing Bracken's forearm as he does so. He's certain of this for many reasons, and it's clear in the near tone of command in his voice. They have to be able to get back to something more familiar, or he's never going to be able to let it go. He knows it will be different, but that's only the natural way of things, something he has to keep telling himself to keep the lingering guilt of leaving at bay. They are older, changed. And it's good. Their relationship with one another will be good, too.
Of the two of them, Briar's never shied from being confident about what they were capable of and Bracken never had cause to doubt his brother was right. Well, not until the end — but they've been over it: they were young, wounded, ill-prepared. And now Bracken listens to those same statements and finds himself ready to believe again because they're both out from under their former pack's thumb and they've found ways to keep going in their own rights.
He doesn't say anything for a while but he does press into his brother's arm and shoulder with his own, trusting and with more force than he needs because he's still the older, bigger, and more annoying twin. "Okay," he finally agrees and somehow it's lighter than anything else he's mumbled all day. "Good."
WHEN: Backdated to Thursday, March 7.
WHERE: A campsite somewhere in Banff, AB.
WHAT:The Hemming twins go on a camping trip and talk about Brook, Keda, and ✨feelings✨
WARNINGS: The cut quote is in no way indicative of the tone of the whole log but I thought it was funny.
True to his word, Briar had let Bracken pick the day and location of their brotherly camping trip, and he's far from disappointed when they teleport to their destination in the Alberta Rockies. The spot is a tree-lined lake, particularly quiet this time of year, and while it doesn't scratch the itch of the homesickness he's been having for Wyoming lately, it's still incredibly beautiful and perfect for a nice evening outside. They set up camp before the sun sets, build a fire, and then Briar gets to cooking dinner. He knows at some point they'll have to talk about what he'd promised they'd talk about (mortality, a fun subject), but he's not going to be the one to bring it up.
"You want to tell me more about Brook?" It feels easier to ask that, out here. Even though it's early into the short trip Briar can feel he's already loosening up - as much as his apartment looks like the woods, it isn't, and being out in more remote nature like this is a balm that he hasn't had such easy access to in a while. "Is there anything I should know about her?"
"That you... should know?" Bracken quirks a brow as he looks up from the pointless blob he's taken to whittling while he whistles while he waits on Briar to work, like any good older brother is wont to do. "She's nine. What's that even mean."
Briar pauses in his work to make a face at Bracken, but only for a moment. "I don't know. What's important to her? What does she hate? I don't want to meet her and know literally nothing about her." There's a bit of apprehension sitting in the pit of his stomach when he thinks about meeting her. Preparing ahead of time will certainly help, right?
"There's no way in hell she doesn't have opinions about things."
Bracken's snort probably tells Briar everything he needs to know about his daughter's untold opinions ('untold' in number only — she's never held back). But realizing his brother meant general knowledge and not precautions, he's willing to step down from his defensive little soap box for a bit.
"She... hates when somebody else took out a library book she wanted 'n she treats their check-out limits like a challenge." His blob gets a curve carved out for its neck and his lips' corners curve into a smile. "Got a lecture ready to go if you put egg shells in the trash 'stead of compost, cares like hell about all that environmental stuff. Says she wants to either be a vet like her momma, or a doctor, or work for UKSA– like, British NASA? Couple weeks ago she wanted to be a goddamn F1 driver."
It takes a few more minutes of fussing and working before Briar seems content to leave the pot hanging over the fire to do its job, and he goes to seat himself next to Bracken, stretching out his legs. All the while he's been quiet, listening, thoughtful, but there's a small smile on his lips.
"Shit, I still can't believe you managed to make a smart kid. She sounds so… curious, about everything." And able to explore those things, unlike they were, but he's not going to say that. "You got to be involved with her since she was born?"
A second snort — this time in agreement because Bracken knows she got literally none of his brains and every day he thanks his and/or her lucky stars that's how it turned out. He flicks a woodchip in Briar's direction. "Francine called me up when Brook was two 'cause this kid I didn't know she had was gettin' crazy allergic reactions to some jewelry 'n she needed my family's medical history. Took another year to convince her 'n her husband why and that I wasn't some, y'know. Crazy guy. Or wannabe Unabomber. Or actual monster."
"Shit. Silver didn't do too much damage, though?" His brother shakes his head and Briar seemingly ignores the woodchip, but moments later does kick a little dirt at Bracken as he leans over to get himself a drink. "And yeah, can't imagine that conversation was an easy one to have."
Drink in hand he leans back, watching the small fire; there's a small frown he has to suppress from starting to think too much, but it proves to be a simple task, leaving him relatively impassive. "When I thought about seeing you again I never guessed there would be a nine year old, too."
Shaking the dirt off his boot and at Briar, the bigger(, older, stronger, wiser, and far more handsomer) Hemming grunts — thoughtfully, if a grunt can be thoughtful, although if anyone can make that happen it's Bracken. "Didn't expect you to be mates with a Fae neither, so we're even." ("Even," Briar agrees unnecessarily.) And as his knife slows against the grain he has his own small frown, like he's working through a math problem.
He doesn't have much experience with Fae as a species, doubly so with their family structures; all he knows is Keda's mom sounds intense and he'd assume that's more of a universal experience than something exclusively Fae. "Can y'all have kids?"
Briar's eyes stray to the whittling Bracken is working on, still sort of mentally digesting the word "mates." It's not wrong, but it's not something he'd ever directly associated with him and Keda, partially because they'd been so hesitant to talk about his looming mortality. It felt presumptuous to use such a weighty word without that.
The question comes as a bit of a surprise, even though it probably shouldn't. He gives a one-shouldered shrug. "Probably? Keda doesn't really know either, but pretty sure her mom has had kids with all types."
Bracken realizes he doesn't actually know that much about Keda's wider family, but then again, she'd seemed to adopt the same kind of attitude he had — one that meant Not close and for good reason. His eyes wander up to his brother's and it's absolutely so he can try to tell if Briar evades the answer. "Talked about tryin'?"
Briar meets Bracken's gaze momentarily - the idea of children itself is not uncomfortable or complicated, at least not in passing, but everything surrounding it is. He hums, shrugs again, glances off as he answers after a long drink.
"Not in any serious way. There're other things to sort out first, you know? Talking about kids is jumping the gun. And for a long time I couldn't imagine myself wanting any anyways."
"Shit, can't imagine why." Bracken's words drip with so much sarcasm that they could melt the snow around them as he returns his gaze to his blob-that's-slow-becoming-something-like-a-bird. His blob needs more precision, he decides, and abandons the knife (responsibly! in its sheath!) in favour of an extended forefinger claw. "You said there's a house. In LA, so concrete far as the eye can see — babies love concrete. Sounds like y'all're set."
Though Briar's initial response is a quiet huff at Bracken's sarcasm, he does fall silent for a short while as he thinks. He sets his drink aside and stands momentarily, fusses with the stew that's cooking, and then sits back down with a heavy exhale. Bracken's weird sort-of bird is as good a place as any to focus his own gaze.
"Fuck you, our house is nice, even if it's in fucking LA. We have so many plants. And a pool." An argument he never, ever thought he'd be having with Bracken, who's busy pantomiming We have so many plants. And a pool. without raising his head. "And… who talks about kids when you can barely talk about the whole 'hey, I'm going to die way before you, what do you want to do about that'? It's… that would've felt like forcing her into a decision or something. Putting more pressure on it."
"'Cause you ain't had any time to go over that yet. Maybe in the next fifteen." Briar immediately scowls. Perhaps the phrasing isn't the most fair of Bracken but he can't imagine a topic that wouldn't be covered when you're with someone for so long. And! And!! They seem pretty attached at the hip! So it's not like they spent half the year apart, either! So!
"Not a simple conversation to have," Briar snaps, but he smooths over his tone as he continues even though it's still somewhat strained.
"After I got shot she was a mess, and I just… I didn't want to do that to her again. But we've talked about it now. We haven't sorted it out enough that I think a kid conversation makes sense yet but… we're staying together, regardless of how we try to tackle the lifespan thing." Which, in retrospect, is sort of a "duh" resolution, but Briar had been so hesitant to assume anything given that Nazikeda was the one, in his mind, getting the short end of the stick.
"I'm sure you very maturely would have had this conversation a year in," he adds, deeply sarcastic.
"Deflector array's lookin' mighty fine." Bracken bites back, shearing off the edge of a wing when he digs too deep into the wood. He can tell resentment's bubbling up but doesn't know why — or hasn't thought to wonder why. "Congrats on your forever, though." (More accurately Briar's forever and Keda's for-now, but even with his mild dose of attitude he knows he'd be a proper asshole to weaponize that fact.)
Briar holds back the 'nerd' on the tip of his tongue, distracted by his twin's apparent agitation as he maims his poor whittled bird. Bracken likes Keda, so that's not the issue here, but he doesn't want to make so many assumptions. So he might as well just ask.
"What's your problem?"
Briar's owed the truth but unfortunately, the truth is petty and childish.
"I am happy for you, how you're in it for good. I just..." He runs his thumb along the gouge, not sure how to say You couldn't tolerate me in a way that won't get them back on the bad terms they'd started from. "You barely stood by me a year, then not long after you decided you can live with somebody else for another one-fifty." It's been gnawing at him in fits and starts since they reunited. "I spent long enough thinkin' it was me that drove you away. So I get to feel a certain kinda way about it."
Primed for an argument, Bracken's words instead make Briar deflate a little, shoulders sinking down even as his brows remain knit. "It wasn't you. It was... everything." He's quiet a moment, trying to find words that he's never attempted to articulate; he knows the feelings because he'd stewed in them for so long, but even with Keda he's avoided saying much about how he actually felt when he left.
"Fuck, I just... hated everything and I hated myself, and I couldn't stand that I couldn't fix things for you. And then I took it out on you because you were there." All that guilt and anger is welling up in him again, so he stands to fuss with their dinner, which is, annoyingly, nearly done. Why the hell does he have to talk about feelings so much recently? "I missed you every day. Why do you think I'm so fucking impatient for us to be us again?"
Bracken only watches Briar mess with their food because there's no way his brother would want eye contact right now, not while both emoting and acknowledging that he's capable of emoting in the first place.
Most of the time—like now—he struggles to fit Briar back into the space he'd occupied before they'd parted ways, and he wonders if it's his own reticence keeping them apart.
No, he's sure it is. And knowing he's responsible for keeping his counterpart at arm's length makes him want to run back to North Dakota so he doesn't have to deal with shit ever again.
"I know." He drops the bird-blob in his lap so he can scrub his hands over his face (claw retracted he can stay unmutilated), trying and failing to massage away the tension encroaching behind his eyes. "We both got fucked, ain't neither of our faults. But 'being us' is different now, I can't..." compete? contribute? "I ain't on your level anymore."
There is an uncomfortable tightness in Briar's chest as Bracken speaks to his back; there would be more relief if his brother's tone were more aggravated or hostile, but it's painfully direct. This feels too much like the conversation he'd had with Nazikeda, arguing that she is enough but not enough, just like Bracken is enough but not. It had somehow never occurred to him that fitting the two of them into his life together would be difficult, because he'd simply been focused on wanting them both there.
He keeps his back to Bracken for longer than is necessary, trying to pull all of the bad feelings into a tight ball that he can push down before he goes to sit. It almost works, but it feels a little difficult to breathe. He has to do his best to not sound angry because he's not angry. Not at Bracken, anyways. Even settled in next to his twin, he keeps his eyes on the fire.
"It'd be different with or without Keda. We're… we've changed. And I don't expect me leaving to stop being an issue just because we're together again. But… you don't suddenly not have a place because she's there. She… the only reason she and I even talked about this was because I'm… happier, now. And it changed things enough that we couldn't keep ignoring it."
"Not just Keda." Truth be told, she's made it easier for Bracken to slide back in when he feels safe to, like a destabilized Briar trying to find balance when the two of them are in the same room gives Bracken a little more leeway to explore their reboot dynamic. "I don't want you to always have to look after me this way. Like, I don't care if you're fine apologizing for my mistakes, it's me who doesn't feel good when I keep saying the wrong shit and you've always gotta swoop in to save my ass. Reminds me how you grew up 'n got a life while I hunted for rock bottom, and I'm tired of knowin' I fell short."
And because he's a big and mature adult man who needs to displace his emotions when they're getting the better of him, he whips his carving over the fire so it can disappear into a snowbank. "That's what I meant by different levels: you're happy 'n stable and I'm... the way I always been" (read: a disappointment,) "and I get to be reminded every time you cover for me."
Despite his desire to always take care of Bracken, to always fix things for him, Briar has never really thought of it as an obligation because his brother was lacking in some way. They are different, and have different strengths, and even separate from that, Briar wants to do it. It may feel like a burden sometimes, but it's self-imposed. It feels so condescending to say that though, leaving him without the right words.
"You don't…" he stops abruptly, abandons that train of thought because it likely won't do any good anyways.
He watches the arc of the carving, watches where it hits the snow before finally turning to look at his brother. His breath still feels a little tight as he reaches out to take a hold of Bracken's forearm. The contact is reassuring, and he's hoping it'll ground him enough that he can get out what he needs to say.
"I stumbled into some kind of stability. But… just because I'm good at bullshitting words that seem right doesn't mean I 'grew up' or whatever the hell." Slowly, Briar shakes his head, letting out a heavy sigh that hitches oddly for a moment, uncomfortably and almost painfully. He wishes he had something to throw himself. "I can ignore it most of the time, but I feel fucking horrible that Keda loves me. And that sure doesn't make it feel like I'm all that different from how I used to be, either."
Of everything that should reassure Bracken (and to be fair — the hand on his arm, which he leans into, helps), the most reassuring thing is somehow hearing that his brother just might still be as fucked up as he is. It's unsettling to think of someone not being in the best place as a reassurance—you never wish it for the people you love—but it's like a little mark of validation, that if their wounds still fester after this many years, at least it seems they're more alike than he's been giving them credit for. Like the root of the problem was something that came even before they did.
Honestly, it pisses him off too, but what can he do about that?
"Maybe you should stop hatin' yourself," Bracken grumbles as if the fix would ever be that easy.
"Shut the fuck up," is Briar's initial response, devoid of any sort of bite as he keeps his hand locked around Bracken's forearm. What his brother is sorting through now he's known; even though they've changed and grown, they both suffer still from their upbringing and their separation, and likely will for a long time to come. He can't blame him for thinking otherwise, though. Briar puts on a decent enough show of being put together, even when he's still got plenty of pieces to pick up himself.
"Don't hate myself much anymore. It's just… good things don't feel deserved." He shakes his head, short and sharp. "That's beside the point, though. I just… I don't think we're on different levels. We're just different from one another. Like we've always been."
"But you reckon we ain't so different that we can't get back to something like before." Bracken asks it even though his inflection doesn't end on a question mark. Really, he's looking for affirmation — something to hold onto past when Briar lets go of his arm, because if anything binds them together aside from genetics and a few decades-old rodeo titles it's apparently the mutual belief that they haven't earned 'good things' and probably never will.
"We can get back to something like before," Briar repeats, squeezing Bracken's forearm as he does so. He's certain of this for many reasons, and it's clear in the near tone of command in his voice. They have to be able to get back to something more familiar, or he's never going to be able to let it go. He knows it will be different, but that's only the natural way of things, something he has to keep telling himself to keep the lingering guilt of leaving at bay. They are older, changed. And it's good. Their relationship with one another will be good, too.
Of the two of them, Briar's never shied from being confident about what they were capable of and Bracken never had cause to doubt his brother was right. Well, not until the end — but they've been over it: they were young, wounded, ill-prepared. And now Bracken listens to those same statements and finds himself ready to believe again because they're both out from under their former pack's thumb and they've found ways to keep going in their own rights.
He doesn't say anything for a while but he does press into his brother's arm and shoulder with his own, trusting and with more force than he needs because he's still the older, bigger, and more annoying twin. "Okay," he finally agrees and somehow it's lighter than anything else he's mumbled all day. "Good."
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