Mal knew him so well. “Shut up. That’s not what I meant.” That was exactly what he meant. “H-He offered me money when he thought I was there to rob the place. Did everything he could to talk me out of it. Even when I said I was there to kill him, he still didn’t try to hurt me.”
Mal studied him, staring deep into Shiloh’s eyes like he was reading his mind. He used to find it disconcerting, but now, he just waited him out. Mal would always tell him what he was thinking. Unlike Micah, Mal was direct. No bullshit. No head games. He was smart, but he lacked the ability to understand nuance. He didn’t process emotions like other people, so he preferred directness. Too much emotion often confused him.
The human world at large often confounded Mal, so he spent much of his time alone, doing things that quieted his head. Dance. Music. Art. Shiloh used to think Mal was an alien from some far off planet, sent to study human behavior.
“So, you panicked, dropped the gun, and ran?” Mal finished. “And then Micah took you to the roof as punishment?”
Shiloh looked away from Mal’s intense gaze. “Well, not exactly. I mean, yeah, he took me to the roof, but I didn’t just run…not until...”
“What did you do, little brother?” Mal asked, amused.
Shiloh shook his head a little too quickly. “I didn’t do anything. It was all him.”
“Go on,” Mal said, leaning in, placing his elbow on the metal table and his chin on his palm. “What didhedo?”
Shiloh was suddenly boiling in his puffy jacket, perspiration rolling along his spine. “I—He grabbed my wrist. I thought he was going to take the gun, but, instead, he…”
“He…” Mal prompted.
“He kissed me,” he whispered.
Mal’s delighted giggle echoed through the room, earning a hard side-eye from the guard. “Well, that’s one way to thwart a criminal. And now, the baby's in love, huh?”
“I am not,” Shiloh muttered. “I don’t even know him.”
Mal smirked at him. “But you’d like to.” When Shiloh just continued to look at him, expression miserable, Mal’s smirk spread to a full grin. “You do, you like him.”
“So what if I do?” Shiloh muttered, picking at some kind of gummy adhesive on the side of the metal table.
Mal patted Shiloh’s hand quickly, retracting it before the guard could see. “It’s normal to have crushes at your age. As long as they’re not like the others.”
Shiloh flinched at Mal’s words. “He’s nothing like them,” he snapped, though he had zero evidence to support his defense.
Mal waved a hand, then gracefully tucked his hair behind one elfin ear. “Then what’s the problem?”
“Um, our psychotic brother?” Shiloh said, just a little too loudly, earning another look from the guard. He dropped his voice back to a whisper. “He wants me to get the gun back.”
“Wait, you reallydiddrop the gun?” Mal laughed, but it wasn’t mean like Micah. It was fond, like he missed how inept Shiloh was at everything. “Rookie mistake, doodlebug.”
Shiloh used to hate how Mal called him that. It was what their mother had called him when he was really little, before she went so far over the cuckoo’s nest she learned she couldn’t fly.
“I know,” Shiloh whined.
Mal stretched his arms overhead, joints cracking loudly, looking like a cat just waking from a nap in the sun. “On the bright side, it looks like you get to see your hero again.”
Shiloh couldn’t even get excited about that. “What if he wants me to try to kill him again?”
“Did heaskyou to try to kill him again?” Mal countered.
Shiloh stopped short, then shook his head. “No…”
“Then relax. He’s just fucking with you. If he wanted that kid dead, he’d be dead. And he definitely wouldn’t have sent you. No offense,” Mal said, inflection never changing. “He just wanted to humiliate you and hurt you. It seems he did both.”
Shiloh stared at his brother, who continued to gaze at him with a soft look. How was Mal so calm? How did he look so put together? Wasn’t he scared? Surely, prison had to be terrifying? Shiloh would never survive on the inside.
Suddenly, it felt like someone had a fist around both his lungs, squeezing until he couldn’t breathe. His words were thick as he blurted, “I need you to come home, Mal. I can’t—I can’t stand being there without you. He’s so much worse when you’re not around to play his stupid mind games with him. I miss you so much.”
“I miss you, too,” Mal assured him, though, once again, his tone implied otherwise. “It won’t be forever, doodlebug.” He reached across the table and grabbed one of Shiloh’s curls, pulling it, then watching it spring back into a coil. He batted at it once, then again, pleased. After a moment of staring, he seemed to remember he was having a conversation and that Shiloh was a person, not a toy. “He’ll get bored and he’ll find a way to get me out. I just have to bide my time.”
