black sheep

‘Woah, Bessy.’ He softly pulled up the reins from his big draft horse mare, but she basically listened to his voice anyway. She came to a halt, her shood hooves clang loudly to the cobbled road, and his cargo came to a rattling stop. It was early in the morning. Very early. But he had to be early, because then the bakers still wanted his milk, fresh and ready. Also he would have to leave a few bottles by regulars houses. In a simple movement, he flung himself of his wagon en walked towards the big mare. He patted her on her neck, after which he undid the reins.

The sun was already out, but he still heard the rumbling and drunkard's songs coming from the bars. The people sounded exceptionally loud in the dawn, probably pissed out of their minds. He sighed and remembered the days when he was a boy, causing trouble until the early hours. He scrachted behind his ear for a moment, after which rolled the reins in even loops and hung them on the side of the wagon. He hitched the horse to the post he stood by and wanted to start unloading the cans, trying to drown out the barsongs.

But it wasn't just a bar song. No. The words - which were by the way wrong, half of the time - reached his ears, which he had to detangle from a, deeper, raspier voice that sung another song. He knew that song! And he knew that voice... Promptly, Thiago dropped slammed the can back in the back of the wagon and he found his way towards two men moving drunkenly down the street, swearing from left to right, singing that damned song.

He grabbed his little brother by the collar of his shirt, shoving the much older man away in the same motion and turned his brother towards him. The smell that greeted him was impressive, even for their standards. A disappointed look clouded Thiago's face. How could he? ‘‘What the fuck do you think you're doing? Eh?!’ Oh, if only Rafael could see him now, echoing the same words that were said to him every, single day. But now he understood why they were said. He was not mad at his little brother. He was worried. I mean, look at the state he was in! Thiago grabbed him by both his shoulders and looked up at him. They didn't look alike at all, but they were brothers, unfortunately. That meant he was his responsibility. Elliot came home like this more often than not. But tonight, Thaigo thought he was at home, stinking in his bed. How was he still out and about, when there was still so much work to do? Okay, maybe he was a little mad after all.  

Thiago could barely say his angry words, before a fist slammed into his nose. For a moment, he looked as dumbfounded as his stupid little brother, who was still trying to put two and two together. But Thiago's mind was racing. He should not be angry, Elliot was drunk. He didn't know what he was doing. Hell, he probably wouldn't remember, once he had slept the alcohol off. Thiago wiped the back of his hand down his nose, and immediately noticed the blood on it. That little dickhead. He decided that now he was allowed to be a little angry. The little shit had hit him!

Once he spotted the recognition in Eliiot's eyes, Thiago somehow got even madder. There he was, with that stupid grin on his face, looking awfully happy.  He wanted to wipe it off. And he was still thinking of liquor. Thiago decided to count to three, but he didn't get to two. ‘‘You little-’’ he started angrily. He tried to slam his brother into the nearest wall, looking out for his fists this time. His nose was still bleeding, and he looked the part of any other drunk street-fighter. He couldn't believe Elliot was throwing his life away like this. Sure, he didn't have to stay at the farm for the rest of his live. But Thiago also couldn't take care of him for the rest of his life. He argued with himself to scold him, even hitting him back, but what would it matter? He wouldn't remember. He would scold him in the morning, and that he would remember. ‘‘We are going home,’’ he said firmly. ‘‘So get your sorry ass together.’

If only their parents could see his little brother now. Perfect, little, Elliot. It was fine when they were younger. He was a child, a teenager. He didn't care much for a good-for-nothing baby. He only started to be funny when he started walking and riding, and Rafael and him pranked and teased him endlessly, with much dissaproval of their mother. But look at her wonderboy now, wobbling and slurring, not a thought behind those eyes. Oh, he should hate Elliot, but he never could.

Elliot didn't like his plan, of course. Thiago sighed impatiently when he started to struggle back. But Thiago simply grabbed him by one of his wrist, knowing he would overpower him easily. Especially in his drunken state. ‘‘Nope, we're gonna get you sobered up,’ he spoke annoyed. He had no time to argue with him, nor did he want to. He tried to yank his taller brother towards him, away from the wall and then twist his arm behind his back. He wanted to walk back to his wagon. Back to Bessy who still waited patiently, swishing her tail lazily to scare away the flies. He wanted to make this quick, because the town started to rouse, and he didn't like trouble. He clapped his left hand on the back of his brother's shoulder and started to push him towards their wagon.

Of course he would keep complaining. Thiago had to keep a firm hold on him, because he still swerved and struggled while walking. But he didn't fight back as hard as he would have expected. And it was because of that damned animal. That he was worried about. ‘‘Oh, is he now?’‘ Thiago scoffed back at him. He wouldn't be surprised he rode him all the way up here, leaving him somewhere and than left him to roam the streets. He also wouldn't be surprised the animal found his way home himself. Horses did. But that beast wasn't a horse, and it was as stupid as it's owner. ‘‘He is probably smarter than you and went home,’’ Thiago assured him. It was like talking to a toddler.

He released Elliot his wrist when they arrived at the wagon and he pushed him towards it. He realized now it was still stored to the brim with fresh milk. It would go sour if he didn't sell it today. It would be worthless tomorrow. He wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve, and grunted by the look of the blood smudging his shirt. Groaning he grabbed the back of the wagon and leaned forwards on his arms, head bent down and let the blood drip down on the cobbled streets. He weighed down his options. He should take care of Elliot and bring him home. But he also needed to fulfill his promises, or otherwise he would lose customers. He blew his nose once, and then looked up and squeezed his nostrils together. He turned to Elliot. ‘‘But first: Stay. Put.’’

And he acted like a toddler. Thiago just looked mad at him when he made faces, and slowly shook his head. It wasn't even remotely funny. ‘Dickhead,’ he muttered under his breath, while he looked up and waited a minute for his bloody nose to stop.

Thiago wiped the rest of the blood of his face as well as he could. He had the look half decent. Then he looked at Elliot, saying he would stay put. Thiago rolled his eyes. ‘‘I mean it,’’ he warned him. ‘‘Just sit down and wait. That's not too hard, is it, Ellie?’’ Thiago rolled up his sleeves and started unhauling the milk churns from the back of the wagon. The bakers used it to make buttery cakes and pasties, which were usually what rich folk ate up at the higher rings. But the people at the port also liked some fresh milk in the morning or in their tea. So he sold large churns to merchants as well. He sighed and started walking down to the back of the bakery, fearing that Elliot would be long gone when he returned. If he was lucky, he would have fallen asleep.  

Thiago knew he was probably making a mistake. It was stupid to trust his little brother, especially in a state like he was in now. But he was already here, he had done the work, and now he only had to collect the money. So when the baker greeted him, he gave him a rare smile and started loading in everything he wanted, while the baker chatted cheerily.

Thiago made a few trips back and forth, noticing Elliot had indeed left. He wasn't surprised, but he still grunted. Stupid shit couldn't listen for just one minute. Thiago went back again to the baker for the next churns, and then he was called to the front of the shop. A young man needed him. His brother. Oh no. The cheery baker looked a lot grumpier already. Oh no .. Thiago apologized in advance, but he felt the storm coming. When they both arrived behind the counter of the shop, Elliot was gone, again, and so were a few of the good man's bakings.

And now the baker was mad too. Thiago cursed under his breath and tried to calm the man down. He apologized for Elliot's behaviour, promising it was not a scheme they were playing. He even tried to explain the situation, that he was drunk and not thinking, like as Elliot ever thought, and he would cover the money. This seemed to calm the baker down. He named his price and Thiago had to swallow that bitter pill. That was outrageous. How was he going to cough up that kind of money? They eventually settled on the price by giving him a massive discount on his order, and by the end of the exchange, Thiago felt like he was the one being robbed.

‘‘I'm going to kill him,’’ he said to himself when he finally exited the shop from the back. He walked back to his wagon and there he was; smug looking and stuffing rich smelling pasties in his face. Thiago balled his hands into fists and sped towards his brother. He snatched whatever he was eating out of his hand and seriously considered to hit him. ‘‘You are going to back me back for this,’’ he snarled to him. He stormed towards Bessy and grabbed the reins again, attaching them to her bit. They would have to finish his round together now. Thiago took a bite from the pastry he had snatched from Elliot's hand and oh my god, it was the most delicious food he had had in a very long time. Fucking Elliot wouldn't even remember the taste the next day.

The eclair was divine. In a few, quick bites, he had finished what his brother had left. But he almost choked on the last piece when Elliot started to speak again. Even?! Thiago slammed his hand on the box of wagon. ‘‘No, we are not!’’ He had risen his voice now and looked back at Elliot, who was already asleep. The nerve on that kid. What would he have done if he hadn't found him? Sleep in the gutter and get robbed probably. Thiago walked over to him and kicked against his feet. ‘‘Get up,’’ he demanded him. He was not going to carry him. Not in a thousand years. If he wanted to be a big boy, he could drag his own sorry ass in the wagon. Thiago was already wat to soft on him. He had hit him, then robbed him, and now he had decided to just close his eyes and sleep his troubles away.