At the house
The clock struck 9 p.m. and the house felt unnervingly quiet. Michael could barely sit still, pacing back and forth as the thoughts ran through his mind.
Where is Noah? Why hasn't he come back yet?
He shot a glance at his mother, Lily, who was sitting in the living room, completely unfazed. She was flipping through a magazine, the soft rustle of pages filling the silence.
Michael couldn't hold it in any longer. "Are we seriously not going to look for Noah? It's 9 already." His voice cracked slightly with the worry building in his chest.
Lily didn't even glance up. "No, we aren't. Noah will come back when he's hungry. He's fine. It's just a tantrum."
Michael's frustration surged. He shook his head, trying to hold it together. "A tantrum? Mom, you literally told him you wished he was never born! How is that just a tantrum? Of course, he ran away!"
Lily didn't seem moved. She sighed, her tone dismissive. "You're being dramatic, Michael. You always side with him. Maybe if you weren't so soft on him, he wouldn't run off like that."
Michael's face flushed with anger. "I'm not being dramatic! You pushed him to this point, Mom. He's not some... random person! He's your son!"
Before Lily could respond, Harry, Michael's father, stormed into the room. His face was red with anger. "Michael! Don't you dare speak to your mother like that!"
Michael's breath hitched. The words Harry said next cut deep. "So what if your mother told him that? She's right. He's useless. That kid's a dead weight. It'll be a miracle if he even comes back."
Michael was left frozen, his throat tight with emotion. "How could you say that about your own son? " His voice shook with a mixture of disbelief and hurt. "How could you talk about him like that?"
Harry's expression darkened, his patience worn thin. "Enough, Michael," he spat, pointing toward the stairs. "Go to your room. We're handling this."
Michael's hands trembled as he turned toward the stairs, the weight of the conversation pressing down on him like a thousand bricks. He slammed his bedroom door behind him, his chest tightening. Why? Why do they hate him so much?
---
Downstairs, Henry lounged on the couch, his eyes half-lidded as he scrolled through his phone. He didn't even seem bothered by Noah's absence, as if nothing mattered.
Lily sat quietly, a disapproving look on her face. But it was Henry who spoke up next, his voice dripping with disdain. "Honestly, I'm glad Mom told him off. He needed to hear it. The kid's a fucking waste of space. I don't care if he never comes back."
Harry's laughter filled the room, rough and dismissive. "Exactly. Noah's been a problem from the start. Doesn't matter if he's gone."
Lily didn't say a word, her gaze distant, almost resigned.
Harry's hand balled into a fist, and in a fit of rage, he threw a glass across the room. It shattered against the wall, the sharp sound of it breaking the silence. He cursed under his breath. "FUCK, I swear, when I find that kid....I'll kill him"
Lily flinched but remained silent.
---
Upstairs, Michael was a mess. His hands gripped the railing of the stairs as he tried to steady his racing heart. He couldn't just let Noah be out there alone. He couldn't.
When he reached Henry's room, he knocked softly at first. No answer. He pushed the door open slowly, finding Henry lounging on his bed, grinning as if nothing mattered in the world.
"Don't you think we should look for him?" Michael asked, his voice soft but filled with concern.
Henry looked up at him, a cocky grin on his face. "Why should we? Noah's not our problem. He's your problem."
Michael frowned, a pang of confusion striking him. "He's our brother, Henry. We should care. He's still family."
Henry snorted, rolling his eyes. "You really don't get it, do you? Let me tell you something you don't know, Mike."
Michael stood there, waiting, completely unsure of where this conversation was headed.
"Noah's not our brother," Henry continued, his voice dropping to a mocking tone. "He's not even Dad's kid."
Michael's blood ran cold, and he stared at Henry, his mouth going dry. "What do you mean? That's... that's not possible."
Henry leaned in, his grin growing wider as he savored the moment. "It's the truth. Mom got pregnant with him after she married Dad. He's not Dad's kid. Never was."
Michael stood there, his mind blank. The words felt like a punch to the gut. His vision blurred for a moment, the room feeling smaller as the reality of what Henry had just said sank in. Noah's not Dad's kid?
"But… Why didn't anyone tell me?" Michael stammered, his thoughts spinning out of control. "Why didn't Noah—why didn't you—"
Henry's voice was cold, cutting through the confusion. "Does it really matter? He's never been one of us. He's always been the outsider."
Michael's hands clenched into fists, his chest tight. The weight of Henry's words settled heavily on him, and he suddenly felt like everything he had ever believed in had been shattered.
"But he's still our brother," Michael whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
Henry smirked and waved him off, turning back to his phone. "Whatever, kid. Go cry about it somewhere else."
Michael's heart raced, a storm of emotions swirling inside him. He backed away slowly, his legs heavy as he walked toward the door. Noah's not Dad's? The thought echoed in his head like a thousand jarring notes. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. How had he not known? Why hadn't Noah told him?
As he shut the door behind him, his world felt like it was slipping away. Everything he thought he knew—about his family, about Noah—felt like a lie.
---