THINNER
by
Antigone
Chapter 29
The Chapters
“Hey,
bro.”
Joe
turned, startled, as Frank appeared in the doorway, a suitcase in one
hand, a nurse beside him.
“You
have half-an hour, then it’s dinner time Joe,” she said firmly. “It
is not optional.” She spun on her heel and made her way back down the
hall.
“She’s
happy,” Frank muttered, turning to his younger brother. “Can I come
in?” he asked, a little shyer than usual. Joe nodded, struggling to
remain aloof; he was still angry, but all he wanted to do was leap up,
throw his arms around his older brother, and beg to be taken home. But
the younger Hardy had never groveled to anyone before and wasn’t about
to start with his elder brother.
Frank
set the suitcase down on the floor at the end of the bed and took a seat
on the vacant twin opposite his brother. Joe noticed that the elder Hardy
had shadows under his eyes and his hair was unruly—not Frank’s usual
organized appearance.
“How’re
you doing?” Frank asked gently, worry darkening his brow, paling his
complexion.
“I
don’t belong here,” Joe said slowly. “And I don’t want to be
here. I want, need, out. Now.”
“We
can discuss it tonight,” the elder boy sighed and ran a hand through
his hair, reminding Joe of their father. “We have a family therapy
session at seven.”
“No
one told me.” Joe drew his thin legs up and crossed them beneath
himself. “But then again, no one consults me about anything anymore.”
The
remark was meant to sting, and both brothers knew it; an uncustomary
silence fell between them, until Frank looked at his younger brother, his
expression suddenly sad.
“Joe…I
know you’re mad. And I guess you have a right to be. From your point of
view, I went behind your back to tell a lie to your coach, I ratted you
out to Mom and Dad, I called an ambulance when you didn’t need it, and
I supported our parents in signing you in. Is that accurate?”
Joe
simply glared at his older brother.
“So
that’s accurate. Let me tell you my side: I saw you losing weight too
fast and in an unhealthy way. I saw your entire personality change
almost overnight—you began lying to me, to your friends, and to Mom and
Dad. You became withdrawn and began taking diet pills, skipping meals,
and isolating. You became irritable. You collapsed from
over-exercising, you had no sense of what you looked like, and where you
used to be upbeat and energetic and enthusiastic your pessimistic,
withdrawn, and…sad. Depressed, kiddo. I acted out of concern for you,
brother, nothing else. No malice or resentment was involved. I care
about you Joe, so much, more than anyone else. You know that, right?”
The
younger Hardy bit his lip and looked away, feeling himself blush, feeling
the steel grip he had on his own self-hatred waver a little. His brother
cared about him. He’d known it before he said it, but the little demon
voice that always accompanied him had been firm that it was a lie, had
hidden it under its constant ticker-tape of negative comments on Joe, his
appearance, his personality, and above all, his very self, who he was and
what he meant to others.
But
Frank had disproved that, had, in an uncustomary fashion, shown his
softer side, let Joe in on his fears and anxieties, and countered every
point Joe could have made out of anger.
Realizing
his brother was anxiously awaiting a response, the younger Hardy nodded
slowly.
“I
know,” he murmured. “I know that, Frank. I just—”
The
room swayed for Joe, turned sideways and slid toward the floor; seconds
later, his brother’s arms broke his fall off the edge of the bed,
steadied him against his brother’s sturdy chest, sat him up slowly and
pressed him close as the room kept moving.
“It’s
okay, I’ve got you, you’re okay,” the elder Hardy murmured, his
arms warm and strong, fighting off the constant cold of Joe’s frail
body, the periods of dizziness that left him disoriented. Joe reached up
and wrapped his arms around his brother’s torso, grateful for the
closeness.
“Oh,
Joe…what did you eat today? Anything?” Frank asked, his voice
betraying the strength of his body by trembling ever so slightly.
“Dinner…”
the younger Hardy murmured, “I’ll have dinner, Frank, I
will…promise…”
His
older brother’s hand smoothed his hair, moving along his scalp and
pushing the blonde locks off the pale forehead.
“I
can’t believe you anymore,” Frank finally said, his voice almost a
whisper, far more gentle than Joe thought words that hurt that badly
should be.
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The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.