My brother

In the dark alley, there were dull thumps and muffled moans. "If you ever set foot on our territory again, you filthy elf, we'll gangbang you! Got it?" said the teenage orc menacingly, looming over me. "Yeah, I knew you freaks were into boys," I chuckled through the pain, and then I was punched in the stomach. I was bent over and couldn't breathe. My tongue is my enemy. "We've warned you," said the leader of the Red Bulls, as they proudly called themselves. And with a final kick, they proudly departed. "Weaklings. It's convenient and safe to beat one person with a crowd," I thought as I struggled to stand up. It's a good thing that the skateboard is intact, although I couldn't ride it anyway. What am I doing at the border of the Orc Quarter? I have a business here. I had to fix a skateboard for a guy. I brought it to his house. It's not his fault that he lives at the intersection of the Orc and Dwarf Quarters. And then there are the locals. I'm good at that. I can fix anything and build it out of shit and sticks. Not for free, of course. I especially like making skateboards. It's like a disease or a hobby for me. As I crawled past the windows of the slums, I caught a glimpse of myself. I couldn't help but smile at my reflection. I wanted to hug and cry. My lips were bruised, my face was covered in abrasions, my jeans were dirty, and my windbreaker's sleeve was torn. I imagined the scene that awaited me at home, and I felt like giving up. Just thinking about Nandel's sorrowful expression made me want to turn off the lights and drain the water. Then there's the moralizing, the whining about how I'm going to go downhill, get drunk, get into trouble, have unprotected se..., and so on. But then there's Vilindil, the pillar of strength in the Lairé family. A genius from the farm's fertilizer. He's five years younger than me, but he's in the same class. It's already difficult enough. And then there's this genius. My life has turned into a living hell. All these constant lamentations: "Look at how smart your brother is, but you're not." And what about me? He's not my brother at all. How can he be my brother when I'm black and he's blu... well, different? It's like I'm a normal dark elf, but I ended up in a moonlight family. You see, they decided to have a second child and didn't want to struggle with it. So they chose me. Now I'm stuck with it. Why me and not the moon, history is silent. That's how I was as a child: small, cute, black-bottomed, and red-eyed. It was a sight to behold. How could anyone pass up such a miracle? And they didn't. Now I have to suffer. It's already difficult enough. I know what it's like to be a drow in a school for light elves. I'll tell you, it's not pleasant. I've become accustomed to people pointing at me over the past thirty years. But the question, "Is it true that Vilindil is your brother?" has already become annoying. No, they're lying, the scoundrels. Spit in the eye of whoever said that. It's a shame, to be honest. However, no matter how difficult it was, I never had the desire to find my true creators. I wasn't a moron. What do I care about those who decided to make their lives easier by getting rid of me? I can just hear them lamenting about their difficult lives, the lack of funds to support me, and how they couldn't provide me with anything. If they had, they wouldn't have given birth to me. They wouldn't have heard about contraceptive methods. Or maybe it would have been something more interesting: We abandoned you to save your life. We were being pursued by a pack of assassins. In short, it would have boiled down to one thing: I was abandoned for my own good. Now, this good has been haunting me throughout my short life by elven standards. I don't remember how I made it to the door of my three-room apartment. I took a deep breath, like before jumping into the water. I opened the door and entered the hallway. "At home!" I shouted loudly and ran as fast as I could to my room. Well, to our room with Vilindil. Well, to the nursery, although I'm not a child anymore. "Why is it taking so long? Do you want to eat?" I heard Nandel's voice. "No, thanks. Maybe later, I replied, and slammed the door behind me." I shoved the skateboard under the bed. I quickly pulled my T-shirt over my head. My entire body ached. The door creaked open, and I flopped onto the bed, turning to the wall and pretending to be asleep. A moon elf, or tinde, as they're also known, entered the room. My brother. He had lilac hair, green eyes, and was short and thin, like all elven teenagers at the age of twenty-five. He looked at me intently, and I could feel his gaze on my skin. "You got into a fight again," Vilindil concluded. "None of your business," I muttered. He touched my shoulder and turned me around. He looked at me and sighed sadly when he saw the bruise forming on my cheekbone. "I'll distract your mother, and you can go to the bathroom," he suggested. "I don't need it, I replied, standing up. I can't stand being nice and proper. I didn't ask for pity. In the evening, during dinner, our friendly family of Lire gathered around the table. Meneldil, the head of the family, a humble office worker, an elf with short blue hair and green eyes, sat at the head of the table and looked around at us. "How was your day?" he asked. It's another fucked-up tradition in our family. Asking and answering this idiotic question. "Everything's fine at school. I got a perfect score on my chemistry lab," Vilindil replied. "Good job," Lairé Sr. smiled. "Kampin," he said to me. I hate my name. Whoever thought of giving a drow a light-elf name. When I'm an adult, in about seventy years, I'll have a cool dark-elf name like Belgos or Malaggar. "It's fine," I muttered. He took my chin and made me look at him. He immediately noticed the bruise under my eye and the split lip. "I see that's not entirely true," he remarked. "So what's the matter? If you're in trouble, I need to know." "No problem. We just didn't agree on the main trends and features of modern poetry in the Silver Age," I said. I was shocked by what I had just said. There was a brief pause at the table. "Who didn't agree with you?" the head of the family asked. "With the orcs," I replied. "He went to the Orc Quarter again!" Nandel, a red-haired blue-eyed elf, was startled. "Where else can I find orcs to talk to about the great and eternal?" I chuckled. "Why do you get into trouble all the time? You're always looking for trouble. Why can't you behave like Vilindil? You're skipping school and doing poorly in class. You're going to get kicked out!" the elf said angrily. "Now she's going to be like this all evening," I thought with annoyance. After dinner, she continued to complain in the living room long after I had gone to my room. "I don't understand why he can't be at least a little grateful for the shelter and family he's been given. Why did we even take him in," she said, thinking I couldn't hear her from the other room. "Don't say that. We've raised him that way," Meneldil retorted. "Drow can't be raised any other way. They just don't know how to be anything else," she persisted. I was lying on my bed, facing the wall. No, I'm not offended, I'm not an object of admiration and imitation. But I didn't ask to adopt myself. They would have chosen another object for upbringing, so that their beloved child would not be bored. He came into the room and sat next to me on the bed. "Don't be mad at your mother. She's just upset. And she's worried about you. Even more than she is about me. She loves you anyway," he said. "Yeah, he loves it like a dog loves a stick," I said. "Don't say that. And your father loves you, and I love you too. I don't have another brother," he said. I sighed heavily. I remembered how, when I was very young, I scared him into convulsions at night when he asked me to come over. I couldn't sleep. So I went up to him and looked at him with burning scarlet eyes. He didn't know that Drow eyes glow in the dark and we see as if it were daytime. He was yelling at the whole apartment then. He scared the ancestors a lot. After that, Vilindil himself came to me and climbed into my bed at night if he had a terrible dream or was freezing. I still remember the shuddering touch of his cold feet. "Okay, no offense," I replied, unable to bear his compassionate gaze any longer. The next morning, we were going to school. I was strictly forbidden to ride my skateboard there. I often clung to trucks and pickups, and they would take me for a ride. When I got caught, my mom was furious. They almost confiscated my skateboard. I promised her that I would never do that again. Now, as the most responsible elf, I had to ride the school bus. Before the first lesson, the sleepy students were trying to open their eyes. Then our class representative entered. "We've got a new girl," she announced. "That's a relief," I thought glumly. The new girl was a little girl with golden curls and blue eyes, a light elf. She was an excellent student, an activist, and everything else. She sat at the desk behind me and my brother, who had been called to the teacher's office for some reason. It was probably to receive another commendation or certificate for participating in another Olympiad or scientific conference. The entire wall above his desk was covered with them, like wallpaper. Above my desk, there were a couple of certificates for physical education and a cup for the same reason. "Hi, I'm Milda Anamilet," she introduced herself. "Campin Lairé," I replied with a sour expression. "Is it true that you are Vilindil's brother Lairé?" she asked rhetorically. "No. I'm his sister, an active lesbian. If you don't want to be the object of my attention, leave me alone," I snapped. I was fed up. The girl froze, staring at me with unblinking eyes. "She was stunned by how..." I thought to myself. She calmed down when my brother returned. He immediately realized that her dazed expression was my doing, and he gave me a disapproving look. The girls in our school immediately took care of her. "Don't pay attention to Campin. He's a bully and a fighter", they said. "That's right, be afraid of me," I thought, still having fun. During the break, she and my brother were sitting on a cot in the hallway, talking. My brother was explaining something to her, using a lot of hand gestures. "I've found a kindred spirit," I chuckled. After that, they didn't leave each other's side for a week. They just talked and talked. He told his parents about her in admiration, and he was terribly embarrassed when I hinted that he just liked her. They sat together on the school bus, went to movies, exhibitions, and concerts. "He's attracted to women, and he's growing up," I chuckled. It's a good thing it's women. I had my suspicions about him. The others showed some interest in the elves: they'd pull their hair or hit them with a textbook. But this one was stuck in his books, oblivious to everything else. Although I wasn't popular with the girls because I was dark. They shied away from me like I had bubonic plague. But it was for the best. There was nothing to talk about with them. I didn't understand fashion for women. I dressed like a thug: jeans, sneakers, a windbreaker, and a T-shirt with all sorts of weird stuff. I couldn't stand snotty TV shows and books about poor Love. I preferred horror and action movies. I read comics in the same vein. Vilyandil was a different story. He was the complete opposite of me. He dressed like a gentleman, wearing a classic shirt, tie, jacket, and trousers. The classic style of a school nerd. Books about knights without fear or reproach and magic. I loved fairy tales, in general. And his subtle body language and cute face were attractive for their neatness. That's what got him into some kind of trouble. There was a case with him once. My stupid person was walking from the store with a bag and the crows were counting around. I noticed him from afar then. I was riding a board nearby. I see some kind of sleek elven mug behind him. He stopped him and started asking him what he was interested in, talking about art. Vilindil wasn't interested in any of that, and he didn't have any special talents, but he enjoyed going to exhibitions and museums, and he dragged me along with him. The goblin immediately took advantage of this, saying it was good that the younger generation was interested in more than just computer games. He then pulled him off the road. Just then, my turn came up. I jumped off the board right in front of his face and explained to him in simple terms who he was and where he came from. I threatened to call the police. The bohemian asshole immediately retreated with a look of deep offense. Vilindil sulked for a long time. I didn't explain to him then what this guy could have done to him under the guise of his sensitive nature. People like him would forgive themselves for any dirty perversion that we dark ones couldn't even imagine in our worst nightmares. I'm not a freak either. And I often hang out at gyms. I'm not going to be a jock, of course. The constitution is not the same. Elves generally have big problems with brutality. Orcs or dwarves— yes. Tough, serious, strong, pumped-up guys almost from birth. Alpha males are immediately visible. And give everything nice to our elven ladies. They like guys who can be confused with a woman. And they either pity them or pity themselves for getting involved with them. All these "bunnies," "dolls," and "cuties." It makes me want to vomit. It's a good thing I don't hear such things about myself. I'd kill them. I struggled with my studies. My brother once offered to help me, but his explanations didn't make sense to me. He even left his notebook open for me to copy from. However, I never took advantage of this opportunity. My pride wouldn't allow me to do so. As a result, he received a perfect score for the same assignment, while I barely managed to pass with a C. His parents expected him to attend a prestigious university, while I aspired to complete a technical degree and find employment in a factory. My brother says he'll help me if I'm successful. We've already made plans. Vilindil will graduate from university and become a manager, and I'll be his assistant, working as an auto mechanic in his company's fleet and as a driver. It's a convenient and interesting job. I spend all my free time away from school, lessons, and listening to moralizing, in the garage. Together with the family old bucket, or rather, the car is not the first freshness. I have a workshop there. And if it weren't for my secret intervention, it would have fallen apart a long time ago. Here I'm twisting the nuts on my board, and some goblin is arguing. He needs to fix his bike. The pedal constantly flies off. Well, why not help a good goblin for a penny. I reached into my storage. In the box, there was nothing but. All the dumps were explored along and across. So the spare parts for me were mostly free. The breakdown seems not critical - loose fixing bolt on the crank. Replace the bolt, until the square carriage turned into a round one. Change the grease - and done. After the repair, it is necessary to check the bike in the case. I took my work seriously, without half-hearted. I do charge for this after all. And I gave a month's guarantee, although they never came back. I took my bike out and decided to test it in a place where I could speed up, where the elves didn't go. So I took off towards the border of the Orc Quarter. The bike rode smoothly and didn't creak, which made me very pleased. Then I saw the orc who had been harassing me earlier shaking some goblins in an alleyway. "Hey, you Red Goats! Try to catch me!!!" I shouted, gave them the finger, and hit the gas. Those stupid ones, of course, rushed after me, abandoning their victim. Well, who's faster: me on a bike or them on their crooked ones. To be honest, the orcs are no good at athletics. I returned home about an hour later, after returning the vehicle to its rightful owner and receiving the agreed-upon fee. After a week of friendship between Vilindil and Melda, he decided to invite her to visit us. Nandel made everything. Our elven Romeo dressed up as if for a parade and rushed to meet her. I flatly refused to participate in this snotty outrage and rushed off to skate. I saw them when I pulled up to the roadway. They were standing on the other side of the road. And Vilindil, seeing me, waved his hand to get my attention. His girlfriend was dressed like a princess. It was like a wedding. I snorted in displeasure, although they looked very harmonious. Then the light turned green, and people started crossing to the other side. I decided to wait until the crowd thinned out. My brother hurried over to me. Suddenly, a SUV came around the corner and sped towards the crosswalk. A police car followed closely behind, sirens wailing. Everything happened so quickly that no one had time to react. Elves and goblins were scattered like pins in a pinball machine. My bro managed to push Melda out from under the wheels of the car, but he did it himself. He was thrown aside like a rag doll and slammed against the asphalt. I stood there and couldn't see anything around me. Just his body sprawled on the road. The sirens of the arriving ambulance howled. The doctors bustled around him. "No," I thought, dropping the board, and rushed to him. I was eager to get into the car they loaded him into. But I was dragged away by someone from the medical staff. "Where are you going?!" he shouted at me. "Let me in! My brother's in there!" I shouted in desperation. "Have you seen yourself in the mirror? You're not his brother. Get out of the way," the elf said, pushing me aside. Suddenly, a hand rested on my shoulder. I looked around. In front of me stood a light elf, slightly younger than my guardian. He had dark blond hair and blue eyes. "Do you know him?" He nodded in the direction of the ambulance. I could only nod in agreement. It was only then that I noticed the orc I had gotten into trouble with being dragged out of the ill-fated jeep. "Come on," the elf said, and led me to his car. I put a flashing light on the roof. I gave my name and address. I was in a nightmare all the way. I could still see Vilindil's still body. Why didn't I do anything? Why did I stand there like a statue? As if there was anything I could have done. "Yes, it would be better if it were me and not him. If something happened to me, no one would be particularly upset," I thought, staring out the car window with a blank gaze. "Are you really his brother?" The elf asked doubtfully. I nodded. Nandel answered the doorbell, dressed up for the occasion. "Hello, my name is Anorhen Rudre. I'm a police officer," the elf said, showing his identification. She looked at me in fright. "What has he done?" she asked. Her eyes were full of reproach. "He didn't do anything," the policeman replied. I entered the apartment, walked into the living room, listening to the fragments of their conversation. "Vilindil Lairé, is your son? I'm very sorry... He was in an accident," the elf said. Then I heard the sound of a body falling. I rushed into the hallway and saw an unconscious elf. Then there were phone calls to his father's work, and a trip to the hospital where Vilindil was taken. They were taken to the chief physician's office, where they were informed that he had died without regaining consciousness in the ambulance. I went into the room in a trance. I lay down on my bed and turned to the wall. I closed my eyes. I imagined that he would come into the room again and touch my shoulder. He would turn me around and look into my eyes with a smile. But it would never happen. It would never happen again. There was a void inside me that grew larger with each passing minute. I heard the sound of the door opening. Nandel came in and sat on the edge of my bed. "Forgive me. I was a bad mother and I was punished for it. He loved you very much and always dreamed of being like you since childhood. And I was afraid that he too... Now he is not..." she said, sobbing. I did not answer, giving her the opportunity to cry if it helped in any way. After that, everything was a blur. I did not remember how the funeral procession arrived at the cemetery. As were the tears of the parents and many of the audience. Sad speeches from our homeroom teacher about how wonderful and brilliant he was. That this is a huge loss for our school. I didn't remember what he was wearing then, or how they closed the coffin lid and hammered in the nails. How the coffin was lowered into a deep pit. How they covered it with earth. I stood for a long time at the fresh grave with his portrait, until Meneldil led me away. I did not cry then or after. And my dreams turned into nightmares. I entered my room and took off my black jacket. Now it's just mine. How often I've dreamed of having my own room, just for myself. A door with signs that say, "Don't enter, you might get fucked," "No Trespassing," "Beware, Drow." Well, here it is. I stared at his desk, his laptop, the framed certificates on the walls, and the family photo. And the one where it was just the two of us, small and smiling. He was sitting on my back, his arms wrapped around my neck, and he was laughing. And then I broke down. Tears streamed down my cheeks. Nothing could replace him, nothing could fill the void with the pain of loss. It was filled with darkness. The inner dark elf was breaking free, no longer held back by Lire's upbringing, or Vilindil's kindness and care. Evil, treacherous, and dangerous. "They can't be anything else," I suddenly remembered Nandel's words. I had no intention of being anything else. Well, thank you for reminding me of my own dark self. So dark that it couldn't be darker. As for that Jeep. The orc decided to show his coolness by stealing a car parked near the police station. He stole it, but the police didn't doze off and immediately got on his tail. As a result, several victims suffered fractures and injuries of varying severity. And only my brother died that day. The elf he saved got off with bruises. When I returned to school a couple of days after the funeral, I was greeted with a somber silence. They probably thought I would drop out, but I didn't. Vilindil would definitely disapprove. I sat down at my desk, but I wasn't paying attention to the lesson. I didn't care about anything. During break, Melda approached me, her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, he died because of me," she said, sobbing. I looked at her, and she recoiled in fear. Apparently, I was a scary sight. "He died because of that freak," I said and walked away. The next day, she sat at my desk, but I was indifferent to that as well. The orc named Gorem was soon released from custody on his own recognizance. I don't know how much his old man paid for it, but it became clear that our humane court would decide to spare the poor, underage orc, who was charged with stealing someone else's property, causing harm to several individuals of varying severity, and unintentionally killing someone, which was later changed to manslaughter. It was a serious charge. He was facing a potential sentence of up to fifty years in prison. However, I had no intention of sparing him. I went into the garage and got my skateboard, a decent piece of iron, and started beating it into the board. This would naturally make it heavier and less fast. But I had no intention of running away this time. I rode my skateboard into the Orc Quarter and saw Gorem coming out of a shop. He stopped and looked at me. I don't know what instinct told him that he was about to get his ass kicked. Apparently, the drow's eyes glowed not only in the dark, but also when we were filled with anger. He started running. No, not towards me, but away from me. But my skateboard, propelled by my hand through the air, was faster, hitting him on the skull. He was alive. It was a pity. A red haze appeared before my eyes. I walked towards him, picking up my skateboard. The first blow to his groin made him double over. I kicked and punched him with my skateboard, turning his hateful face into a bloody mess. Surprisingly, no one intervened or stood up for him. They seemed to believe that I had the right to do so. I didn't hear the car stop behind me, and I was grabbed in a chokehold. "Stop, Kamping! This won't bring Vilindil back!" I heard Anorhen's voice close to my ear. It was only then that I came to my senses. I looked at Gorem, or rather at what I had made of him, and my hair stood on end. He held out his broken-fingered hand, trying to protect himself from my uncontrollable blind rage, and he croaked something through his bloodied and broken lips. It took me a moment to understand what he was saying: "Don't kill me." Anorhen took me home and asked my parents to keep me inside for a couple of days. I refused to see a psychologist. I didn't see the point. A couple of days later, my father and I were fixing our car when a shadow blocked the door to our garage. A huge orc stood in the doorway. I knew him. Anyone who didn't know him didn't live long. It was Skarok, the leader of the Red Varg gang. They were a serious bunch, and Gorem was his son. Skarok entered the garage, dragging his son by the scruff of the neck. Gorem didn't even try to resist. I instinctively grabbed a tire iron, even though I knew it was useless. "You're the father of the guy my son killed. Vilindil, I think?" he asked his father. "Yes, I am Vilindil Lairé's father," he confirmed. The orc turned his keen gaze on me. "Here," he said, pushing Goreme forward so that he stumbled and fell. The marks of my art were still visible on his face. "You do whatever you want with him. If you want to kill him, I'll make sure that no one finds his body. Death for death!" he said, and his grief trembled like an aspen leaf, and he howled plaintively. He knew perfectly well that the one who had disgraced the family was not a tenant. Especially the family of Skarok's position. That he bought him out of jail only to pay off his debt and clear his name in a way that wasn't pleasant for his son, letting him know that he didn't care about his skin. And that if an orc promised something, they would do it no matter what. Meneldil was taken aback by the offer. But I was excited. "You want to get off easy. Let him live and suffer. As a form of suffering, let him become an exemplary student and graduate from school with honors. I'll check," I said. Goreme stared at me in disbelief, then turned pleading eyes to his father. For some reason, I found it unpleasant to remember what I had done to him. "Good. I'll keep an eye on it," said Skarok, and dragged his wayward child away. Thirty years have passed. I was standing at the gates of the orc school, watching the last bell ring, smoking a cigarette. The principal was standing on the school steps, with Gorem next to him in his classic, oversized suit. The principal was extolling the virtues of the exceptional student graduating today, presenting him with a certificate and a red diploma. The orcs were glaring at him in disapproval. It was unheard of. A nerd in an orc school. His reputation was in tatters. Skarok applauded and said from the podium that he was proud of his son's achievements. The orcish genius himself was ready to sink through the ground with shame. As I watched, I wondered what would have happened if I had killed him back then. Anorhen was right: even if I had killed the entire Orkish Quarter, it wouldn't have brought Vilindil back from the grave. Now, before I do anything, I often imagine how my brother would feel about it. It helps me avoid making mistakes. I suppose he's still looking out for me, wherever he is. I can't do without his protection. I was slowly walking along the sidewalk when I noticed a car pulling up next to me. Anorhen opened the passenger door, inviting me to get in. "Soon everyone will think I'm in trouble with the law," I chuckled, looking at the policeman. He just smiled back. "What about college admission?" he asked, knowing that I was planning to go to polytechnic college to study automotive repair. "It's fine. I got in," I replied. He stopped the car near the city cemetery. We stood for a while at Vilindil's grave, and then he drove me home. My phone rang. It was Nandel, or my mother. " Campin, I'm going to be late at work today. Can you heat up my lunch?" she asked. "Yes, Mom. Don't worry," I replied. —"I'll be waiting for you at the police station when you graduate from college," the elf said before I left his car. Working as a mechanic for the police department's fleet is just as good as any other job, if not more prestigious. I saw a girl's silhouette in a light summer dress from afar, and I almost howled with frustration. Since my brother's death, Meld had been constantly hovering over me, helping me with my schoolwork and taking care of me, as she put it, even though I hadn't asked her to. When she saw me, she gave me a stern look and headed in my direction. "Have you forgotten that we're going to our house for a visit today?" she scolded me. "What's the occasion?" I asked in surprise. "It's in honor of my successful admission to the University of Finance. I have to introduce my parents to my boyfriend," she said, looking at me with her big blue eyes. "With whom??? When did I become your boyfriend?" I wondered. Before I could react, she was dragging me towards a nearby taxi. She lived in a royal mansion. Her father was a former military man, with all the consequences that entailed. And he was suspiciously calm about who I was and what I was going to study. Yes, life has its own surprises. "Listen, I don't know why you're interested in me. I'm not rich or a prince. I'm a mess. I'll ruin your life. Vilindil would be a better match for you as a boyfriend," I said, asking to be let go after a meal with her, during which I felt uncomfortable. "Vilindil was too perfect for this world. And you're really a fool if you still haven't figured out that I need one. Someone like you," she said softly, and coming up to me, she put her arms around my neck, pulling me to her. I looked at her like a rabbit at a boa constrictor. When he felt her kiss on his lips, he forgot about everything. That's how I got into trouble. Again. And then I felt a hand on my shoulder. A light, weightless, approving touch. Thank you, my brother.