My brother and I

"Thank you both for coming today."

the psychologist said, his voice steady and gentle, a warm contrast to the clinical surroundings of the office. He settled into his chair, observing the brothers with an attentive gaze, hoping to create a welcoming atmosphere.

"It’s not like we have a choice, doc." Lloyd replied, his tone dripping with casual defiance. He was sitting carelessly on the plush couch, his body slouched in a manner that conveyed his confidence.

One arm draped casually over the backrest, his fingers idly tapping against the leather as if to underline his relaxed demeanor. 

His right leg was tossed over the left, the posture exuding a sense of both commanding and dominance. The weight of his right calf rested heavily on his left thigh, creating an open, almost possessive stance.

Despite the seemingly nonchalant posture, there was an unspoken assertion of control in the way he occupied the space. He didn’t need to sit upright to assert his presence.

A quiet serenity enveloped him, tinged with arrogance, every slight movement marked by a subtle, effortless dominance.

"Yes. I know that it was your parents who forced you both to see a psychologist because your grades had started to deteriorate." said the psychologist.

Joshua, sitting beside his big brother, couldn’t help but feel a little stressed. He shifted slightly, the tension in his frame starkly contrasting with Lloyd's relaxed aura. "Not only that." Joshua chimed in, his voice quieter but tinged with frustration. "They think we are hiding secrets from them."

Lloyd’s lips curled into a slight smirk as he met the psychologist’s gaze directly. "Well, who doesn't hide secrets? A person without secrets isn't human, right?" He turned his head towards Joshua, his eyebrows raised in playful challenge. "Isn't it what I always tell you?"

Joshua simply nodded, a hint of resignation in his eyes. He had grown accustomed to Lloyd’s flippant attitude, though it often left him feeling both protective and exasperated.

The psychologist paused, allowing the silence to stretch as he considered their dynamic. After a moment, he responded.

"...Yes. Um, and that's why you're here in front of me. I am your psychologist. The person you can talk to about your problems and resentments. You can talk to me about any subject, remember?"

"Yes." Joshua replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

The psychologist leaned forward slightly, his expression earnest. "So, you mentioned feeling a lot of pressure at home, especially from your parents. Could you tell me more about what’s been going on?"

Joshua let out a long sigh, folding his arms across his chest as if trying to shield himself from the weight of the conversation. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes flickered toward the floor.

"Well... it's-" he began, but his words trailed off as his brother’s voice cut through the air.

"It’s complicated." Lloyd interjected sharply, running a hand through his short brown hair, his fingers catching briefly in the strands as if frustration itself was lodged in his scalp. His brows furrowed deeply, darkening his expression.

"Our parents are always so fucking demanding. Nothing is ever fucking good enough for them." His voice grew more bitter with each word, his teeth nearly gritting as he spoke. "I feel like we’re never allowed to just be ourselves."

Beside him, Joshua nodded, the agreement in his movement subtle but clear. His expression was softer, tinged with a resigned acceptance. "Yeah." he murmured. "It’s like they only care about appearances. But, well... it's no new. It always been this way."

The psychologist observed them carefully, noting the way their words echoed off each other, the same frustration shared but expressed in different tones.

He tapped his pen thoughtfully against his notepad before jotting something down, his glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose. Adjusting them, he glanced up.

"Hm." he mused, his tone measured. "It sounds like they place a lot of pressure on both of you to maintain... a certain image."

He paused briefly, reading their faces before continuing. "And, uh, how does that make you feel when you’re at home?"

Silence hung in the room, stretching uncomfortably. Lloyd turned his head slowly, his eyes locking onto Joshua’s. A wordless exchange passed between them.

Lloyd’s expression softened slightly as he broke the gaze, his hand moving to rest gently on Joshua’s thigh. His fingers caressed, then traced light, absent-minded circles, a gesture comforting but also possessive.

"Well," Lloyd began, his voice quieter now, almost tender, "Thank god I have my little brother with me." He glanced at Joshua, his lips curling into a faint, almost protective smile. "I mean, he's everything I have."

For a moment, Lloyd seemed lost in thought, his eyes lingering on his brother. Then, the anger resurfaced, cutting through the brief vulnerability.

"And honestly, it’s suffocating sometimes at home." The bitterness returned, though his hand stayed on Joshua's thigh, grounding them both in a way words couldn’t.

Lloyd’s hand lingered for a second longer, the touch heavy with unspoken meaning, before he finally pulled it away and looked back at the psychologist. His gaze was steady, though the tension in his body hadn’t eased.

The psychologist observed the shift in Lloyd’s demeanor, the way his protectiveness towards Joshua contrasted with the anger directed at their parents.

There was a tenderness between the brothers, even as the walls they’d built around themselves thickened. He made a note of the gesture, understanding the layers of emotion at play.

"Everything has to be perfect all the fucking time." Lloyd added, his voice rising with anger as he crossed one leg over the other, shifting restlessly on the couch. His frustration was palpable, his hands gripping the armrest with a tightness that belied his calm posture.

"If I don’t get the best grades, or even hint that I want to do something different with my fucking life, they just... you know." His words trailed off, the weight of his unspoken resentment hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

Joshua glanced down at his hands, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. "Yeah. For example, I love playing music, but to dad, it’s just a waste of time. It makes me feel like anything we care about is worthless."

The psychologist’s pen hovered over his notepad as he listened intently. He sensed the raw emotion in their voices, the way they teetered between anger and resignation. "Hm...he said, his voice gentle but probing it must be very frustrating. Have you ever tried talking to them about how this makes you feel?"

Lloyd’s response was immediate and sharp, his eyes narrowing with an air of disgust. "Are you fucking kidding?" he shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Of course we’ve tried."

His voice wavered between fury and exasperation, as if the very thought of their failed attempts at communication ignited something inside him. "But it always turns into a fucking lecture about how hard they’ve worked to give us this life and everything."

Joshua nodded, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah, they just don’t get it. It’s like they have to control everything."

Lloyd’s brown eyes darkened, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "Yet there’s so much things that they don't control." he muttered, the words slipping out as if they carried a hidden meaning.

His gaze flickered toward the window for a brief moment, as if seeking escape from the confines of the conversation, before settling back on the psychologist.

The psychologist remained silent for a beat, his eyes shifting between the two brothers as he let their words sink into the room. The air felt thick with unspoken thoughts, the tension between the brothers lingering just beneath the surface.

He leaned forward slightly, his tone soft but deliberate as he asked, "Okay... it sounds like there’s a lot of control and expectations indeed... but not much space for you to express yourselves. How does that affect your relationship with each other?"

Lloyd’s jaw tightened, his gaze sliding to Joshua, who sat beside him with a quiet, almost pensive look. The question lingered between them, the answer seemingly more complicated than Lloyd wanted to admit. He hesitated, his breath catching slightly before he spoke.

"We’re close. Very close." Lloyd finally admitted, though the words carried a weight that hinted at something more. "But sometimes it’s hard."

His voice cracked just slightly, a raw edge slipping through the cool exterior he usually maintained. "I get angry at Joshua because... he tends to give in to things more easily. He obeys them without saying anything, and it fucking kills me to see him bending over backwards for them."

The room seemed to shrink around them as Lloyd’s words hung in the air. Joshua kept his gaze lowered, the tension visible in his posture. After a few moments of silence, he looked up, meeting his brother’s eyes with a hint of sadness.

"I get that, Lloyd. But it's not that easy." Joshua’s voice was soft, almost pleading, as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

His fingers fiddled with the sleeve of his sweater, eyes cast downward, avoiding his brother’s gaze. "But I’m too scared of disappointing them sometimes. And I guess I’m scared that if we push too hard, we’ll lose their support completely."

Lloyd let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head as he waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, come on, Josh." he said, his voice sharp with irritation. "You have the right to be a man, you know? You know that you can say no sometimes, right? I mean, Jesus Christ, stop sucking their dicks."

Joshua flinched slightly at the vulgarity, his eyes snapping up to meet Lloyd’s. "Lloyd! They're our parents. I love them. Even if they're hard on us sometimes." His voice was filled with a quiet desperation, as though he was trying to convince himself.

Lloyd’s expression hardened. His eyes locked onto Joshua’s with a seriousness that cut through the tension in the room. "...Oh, no you don’t. You perfectly know that you don’t fucking love them, Josh." His voice was cold, resolute.

Joshua’s mouth opened, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. "I... I do, Lloyd." The hesitation in his voice was unmistakable.

Lloyd leaned in slightly, his gaze unwavering. "And I said you don’t. Stop lying to yourself. You perfectly know that you don't love them with the same love that we have for each other. I mean, you simply don’t have any love for them."

Joshua fell silent, his eyes dropping once more, but not before they met Lloyd’s with a sadness that hung heavy between them. He didn’t argue this time, just sat there, a storm of emotions brewing behind his downcast gaze.

The psychologist watched the exchange carefully, his pen hovering over the notepad but forgotten in his hand. The bond between the brothers was unmistakable, but so too was the tension, the raw honesty that had risen to the surface in this moment.

He cleared his throat gently, breaking the silence that had settled like a weight in the room. "What do you mean you don’t like your parents?" the psychologist asked, his voice calm, steady.

Lloyd turned his head toward the psychologist, his brow furrowing as he stared him down, an almost arrogant gleam flickering in his eyes. He waited a beat, then said, "Well, it's clear, isn't it? We don't like our parents."

The room went quiet again. Joshua remained silent, his hands folded tightly in his lap, while the psychologist continued to observe, his questioning look inviting more from Lloyd.

Lloyd’s jaw tightened as he noticed the psychologist’s expectant gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he snapped. "Is that a fucking crime?"

"No. It isn't, Lloyd. I'm just asking you, why?" The psychologist's voice remained calm, his question hanging in the air like a delicate thread.

Lloyd hesitated for a moment, his expression hardening. "...We don't need them." he muttered, his voice low and filled with conviction.

He glanced at Joshua briefly before continuing. "I can take care of Josh by myself. I can be the man of the house too."

The psychologist leaned forward slightly, studying Lloyd with quiet interest. "Because you are the big brother," he said, his voice soft, yet probing, "and Joshua is younger than you, so you think you can take care of him alone? Is that why you are saying you don’t need your parents?"

Lloyd’s eyes flashed with defiance, his posture straightening as he sat up taller on the couch. "Of fucking course." he shot back, his voice sharp, filled with an almost arrogant certainty.

He straightened up in his seat, puffing his chest out slightly, his fingers drumming against the armrest as if in a subtle display of dominance. "I'm 24 years old, I'm a big guy now. That means, I can be in my father's shoes." Said Lloyd.

There was a brief pause as Lloyd’s words seemed to settle in the room. His tone carried a mixture of pride and resentment, as though he both resented the role his father played and yearned to fill it.

Joshua remained silent beside him, his gaze flicking between his brother and the psychologist, the tension in the room growing thicker with each passing moment.

The psychologist watched Lloyd carefully, his face thoughtful as he considered his next question. "And what does being in your father’s shoes mean to you, Lloyd? What would that look like for you and Joshua?"

Lloyd hesitated, his jaw tightening as he considered the psychologist’s question. His fingers stopped drumming against the armrest, and he turned to glance at Joshua, as if weighing how much to say.

"Well, that's simple. It means I’d protect him. Make sure he doesn’t get hurt by... uh, them, or anyone else." Lloyd finally said, his voice lower, more measured. "I wouldn’t push him the way they do. I wouldn’t control his every fucking move. He’d be free to live his life without all the bullshit expectations."

Joshua shifted uncomfortably, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "Lloyd..." he began softly, but his brother cut him off.

"No, Josh. You know it’s true." Lloyd turned to face him fully, his eyes intense. "You don’t have to keep pretending that they fucking care about what we want. They don’t. All they care about is their perfect little family image."

Joshua looked down at his lap, his hands twisting together nervously. He didn’t speak, but the tension in his body said enough.

The psychologist took a deep breath, leaning back slightly as he observed the dynamic between the two brothers. "Lloyd," he said carefully, "I hear that you want to protect your little brother. But stepping into your father’s shoes... do you think that would really allow both of you to be free? Or would it just be replacing one form of control with another?"

Lloyd’s eyes narrowed at the suggestion, a flicker of anger passing over his face. "The fuck are you talking about?" he demanded, his voice sharp. "I wouldn’t control him. I’d let him live his life the way he wants. Just like I said. Were you listening?"

"I was listening. And that’s admirable," the psychologist responded, his tone steady, "but sometimes protecting someone too much can also be a form of control, even if that’s not what you intend, Lloyd."

"Lloyd... I know you want to protect me," Joshua said softly, his eyes still cast downward. "And I appreciate that, I really do. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to carry everything."

"Shut up." Lloyd’s voice came out low and cold, his own gaze now turned downward, fists clenched on his lap.

"Lloyd! I want to protect you too, I-" Joshua’s voice grew more urgent, but he was cut off mid-sentence.

"I said shut up!" Lloyd snapped, turning to face Joshua, his frustration boiling over. His eyes were hard, burning with a mix of anger.

"I'm your big brother. If dad and mum doesn't want to protect us, then I have to. I don’t fucking care if it means I’m controlling you. What even is that, huh? Am I controlling your movements? Your mouth when you speak? What control are you even talking about?!" His words came fast, heated, as if he was daring anyone to challenge him.

The tension in the room thickened, the air becoming almost suffocating. The psychologist, sensing things spiraling, cleared his throat gently before speaking. "Lloyd, calm down. I’m here to help you make sense of all this, to-"

But Lloyd cut him off sharply. "It’s you!" He pointed an accusatory finger at the psychologist, his voice rising with barely contained rage. "You’re the one trying to control us! You’re trying to get inside our heads, trying to tear us apart, aren’t you?!"

Lloyd stood up abruptly, his movements sharp and agitated, his hand gesturing wildly as he glared at the psychologist. Joshua, still seated, looked up at his brother with wide eyes, caught between fear and helplessness.

"No, of course not, Lloyd," the psychologist said, his voice steady, though concern flickered in his eyes. "Please, sit down. Take a deep breath. I'm not trying to separate you-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Lloyd’s voice roared through the small room. He took a step toward the psychologist, eyes blazing with a mix of fury and defiance. "You will never, ever come between me and my brother. You’re fucking useless to us. Do you fucking hear me? Fucking useless."

Joshua flinched at the intensity of Lloyd’s outburst, but before he could react, Lloyd grabbed his arm, pulling him up from his seat. "Come on, Josh. We’re leaving." His tone, although gentle, left no room for argument, the authority of a big brother determined to protect what was his.

Lloyd pushed open the door with a sharp movement, but before they exited, he turned back one last time, his face twisted in a sneer. "See you, doctor," he said. "As usual, I fucking hated this session." Without waiting for a response, he marched out, Joshua in tow.

The door slammed shut behind them, the sound echoing in the now silent room. The psychologist let out a long, weary sigh, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his temples.

He reached for the glass of water on his desk, gulping it down in one quick motion, the cool liquid doing little to ease the tension that still lingered in the air.