Evander had always been glad to have tradition to fall back on. His brother might be back from the dead - might be the closest family he had left, at least in theory - but it often felt, with how little they saw each other, that it almost didn't count.
Evander felt appropriately guilty about this, of course (how his brother felt, he could not fathom; Johnny likely did not despair over the prospect of not seeing him regularly) but they did not have their parents or even their sister to coax them together anymore. So: tradition. Because, without their parents to gather them together on Easter Sunday, the duty had fallen to him. Not that he begrudged this, because he had been wracking his brain for a good excuse to invite Johnny - Alfred - round, but could hardly arrange something like that without an excuse. Come for dinner, he could've said, a vague open invitation, but he would've felt like a fool and his brother never would have come. I'd like to hear how you're getting on, he could have said, only then John would know he worried about him, and (if he did not mock him for it) would only be awkward about that, and no doubt Evander would feel awkward too. Nor did he want to force the matter, didn't want to make it seem that he was obligating Alfred to see him or making a habit of it, to trying to meddle in his life -
So, Easter. Easter was the safest option.
Evander was beginning to feel that he oughtn't have bothered (with any of it, but especially not jotting down a carefully-ordered list of conversation topics to work through), because he may as well have been eating Easter dinner with a brick wall. Except a brick wall had rather more solid a presence than his brother, so a... passing cloud?
"I was asking how your London flat was holding up," Evander repeated dubiously, not because he knew anything about his brother's new accommodation, but because he had begun to wonder whether, after all this time, his brother still hadn’t fully regained the ability to use cutlery in the proper fashion again. He watched the mashed potatoes sliding on and off the end of Alfred's fork, trying not to ruminate on how (or what) he had eaten in the jungle. Perhaps he needed cutlery lessons. His brows beginning to knit together, Evander decided his concerned observations warranted an unexpected change of conversational plan. "Are you - quite well?"
Evander felt appropriately guilty about this, of course (how his brother felt, he could not fathom; Johnny likely did not despair over the prospect of not seeing him regularly) but they did not have their parents or even their sister to coax them together anymore. So: tradition. Because, without their parents to gather them together on Easter Sunday, the duty had fallen to him. Not that he begrudged this, because he had been wracking his brain for a good excuse to invite Johnny - Alfred - round, but could hardly arrange something like that without an excuse. Come for dinner, he could've said, a vague open invitation, but he would've felt like a fool and his brother never would have come. I'd like to hear how you're getting on, he could have said, only then John would know he worried about him, and (if he did not mock him for it) would only be awkward about that, and no doubt Evander would feel awkward too. Nor did he want to force the matter, didn't want to make it seem that he was obligating Alfred to see him or making a habit of it, to trying to meddle in his life -
So, Easter. Easter was the safest option.
Evander was beginning to feel that he oughtn't have bothered (with any of it, but especially not jotting down a carefully-ordered list of conversation topics to work through), because he may as well have been eating Easter dinner with a brick wall. Except a brick wall had rather more solid a presence than his brother, so a... passing cloud?
"I was asking how your London flat was holding up," Evander repeated dubiously, not because he knew anything about his brother's new accommodation, but because he had begun to wonder whether, after all this time, his brother still hadn’t fully regained the ability to use cutlery in the proper fashion again. He watched the mashed potatoes sliding on and off the end of Alfred's fork, trying not to ruminate on how (or what) he had eaten in the jungle. Perhaps he needed cutlery lessons. His brows beginning to knit together, Evander decided his concerned observations warranted an unexpected change of conversational plan. "Are you - quite well?"
