Segment V: unedited

***

“Gideon?”

A banging noise pulled him from his studies. He was hunched over the old wooden desk by the window, lamp casting dim golden light over the pages of his textbook. His elbows scratched along the grain of the wood, shirt bunched underneath his armpits. His eyes were swollen and aching; Mozart was raging through his temples.

He leaned closer to the book, curving his shoulders in, trying to shrink into the tiny, precise notation of the text. He should have been focusing on physics, how the universe turned and revolved and compounded. But he couldn’t shake the noise, which rose up and seemed to rattle the walls around him.

“Gideon!” It was Keane’s voice – sharp and precise as the letters before his eyes. His fists crashed against the attic floor, where Gideon had curled the steps up neatly and locked the trapdoor shut. “C’mon, let down the stairs! I wanna show Lumi the cupola.”

Lumi. He was with Lumi – and he was bringing her to the attic. Gideon’s sanctuary. He groaned in irritation, trying to spark the flicker of fear, regret, and excitement that arose at her name. He shut his book and pulled off his glasses, stacking both side by side on the desk. Standing, he tugged his cowlick straight and smoothed the sides of his mangy hair.

It was a terrible idea to let them in. He hated Keane coming up as it was, but adding Lumi to the equation seemed unimaginably painful. There was something private, something beautifully secluded about his humble abode, and it was a hard thing to share. He wanted to hold the dim sunlight and the dust and the ancient history between his fingertips, and he didn’t want to let the stairs down to accommodate visitors.

“Gideon! Open the door!”

“I’m coming!” Annoyed, he stepped over a stray pile of books, catching the edge of his pants on a cover. He shook himself free and stooped down over the doors. The chain was slippery between his fingers, skidding over his palms and falling from his grasp. As he let down the door, a hand appeared to catch the edge, yanking it down more forcefully the necessary. There was a decisive bang as Keane secured the stairs on the floor.

“Finally.” His voice was clearer now, almost reprimanding. Sometimes he tried too hard to be the older one, the mature one – those first five minutes in the world weren’t enough for him. He aspired to be above everyone and everything, a majority which included his unfortunate younger twin.

There was murmuring from below, and then the stairs creaked. Gideon stepped back as someone began to climb up. The light caught upon flashes of blue and gold and white, and he knew it was Lumi. Her shoulders emerged first – neck swanlike, collarbones delicately exposed by a soft black sweater. It rose as she gripped the top of the steps, and slipped down over her shoulders as she stepped up and into the attic.

She caught sight of him immediately, and a dissatisfied smile flitted over her lips. She knew, and she remembered. Two weeks ago he had delivered a drunken boy to her doorstep, and she didn’t look apt to forgive him.  

“Hello, duplicate.” She said. Her eyes were molten in the light, turquoise agony as they pursued her surroundings. She skimmed the attic and returned to him, gaze sliding over the crumpled collar of his shirt, the roll of his pant legs. “Gideon, isn’t it?”

“You haven’t met him?” Keane vaulted up the steps and into the attic. His smile was wider than before, and his expression was territorial as he turned from his girlfriend to his twin. “I thought he gave you the messages I sent?” He stepped closer. Settled his hand on her hip, as comfortable as if it belonged there. “Remember?”

“We never exchanged names.” She smiled into his downturned face and shifted slightly out of his hands. Her next words were addressed to Gideon, which made his stomach twist. “I’m Lumi.”

“It’s Finnish for snow,” Keane said proudly. “She’s got a strong heritage. Isn’t that something?”

“Yeah.” His words fell from his lips, bricks to rebuild the wall that had been broken between them. His voice was heavy, unnaturally loud in the peace of the attic. “It’s something, all right.”

Lumi gave him another one of her smiles. Guarded, he realized. She was strange because she was guarded – which explained her careful movements, and her words, each spoken with infinite care.

“Gideon.” He started to stick out his hand, saw Keane’s hand on her waist, and thought the better of it. “It’s, ah, nice to officially meet you.”

“Right. Lovely.” Lumi turned to Keane. She titled her shoulders, so that her sweater slid further down her porcelain skin. Her hips were thick but her shoulder were slim, a fact that Keane seemed to appreciate. He raised his hand, as if to push her hair out of her eyes. Yet he retracted his grasp, choosing instead to rest it upon her bare skin.

Gideon looked at his shoes. It hurt, to realize yet again that his brother was better, stronger, more vivacious. He had everything that Gideon did not, and he seemed intent on making this as clear as possible. But as he was considering this, he thought of that night two weeks ago. Back then, when Keane had cupped her head, he had tried to hide her hair, spreading his thick fingers to encompass the chameleon hue. He didn’t like her hair, Gideon thought. His brother must not have liked to touch it, or to even see it.

He shied from change, from diversity. Strange that Lumi was still standing here in his attic, when she harbored a major flaw. It was one that Keane did not overlook in many people. She was a deviation. He hated deviation. He was military because he was routine, and anything outside of this was firmly shunned.

What was he doing with Lumi? Why was he so interested in something that he clearly hated?

“Gideon.” Keane snapped his fingers.

He realized he had been staring, and his cheeks turned red. “What?” He said quickly. “The cupola? You wanted to see it?”

“My girlfriend wanted to see it, yes.” His brother narrowed his eyes. He waved his hands, motioning around the attic. “I never know which door it is?”

“Yeah. Uhm, over here. The one over here.” Gideon started moving, grateful for a distraction. The heat had settled in his neck, uncomfortably warm against his starched shirt. “Follow me.”

The door to the cupola was leaning against the far wall, half-hidden by a vanity with a cracked mirror, a stack of shredded sofa cushions, and a minefield of old hat boxes. Gideon kicked things out of his way, feeling precious belongings crumple beneath his shoes. It pained him, but he wanted to remain indifferent. Keane had to see that he was stronger – that he was immune to the feelings of insecurity, of rivalry and fear and hopelessness. He twisted the knob and pulled the door open, sending a cloud of grey dust drifting towards Lumi.

Surprisingly, she didn’t seem to mind. She stepped into the cloud, letting it settle on her hair and sweater. A faint, even grimace glowed through the dim. For a moment he wished she would meet his eyes. That she would tell him she hated Keane, and she hated constantly feeling inferior who collected rules and regulations like pocket lint.

Instead, there was Keane. He had turned to survey the attic, but when he saw her, he made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. With a grunt, he grabbed her hand and yanked her through the cloud.

“C’mon,” he said. “There’s so much more to see from the roof.”

Gideon followed them up the stairs. Wind howled through the splintered wooden beams, and the stairs creaked precariously beneath his feet. The steps wound up into a closeted room, with a roof that arched upward and pointed like a church steeple. Four windows, as long and narrow as the walls themselves, faced Louisiana from the north, south, east, and west.

“This is lovely.” Lumi had extricated herself from Keane’s grasp, and she was leaning on the windowpane, fingers splayed against the glass. Her solemn expression had been replaced by one of light curiosity as she stared, taking in the barren surroundings.

Gideon, ignoring his brother, stepped up beside her. This close he could smell the peroxide of her hair and the icy smell of her skin, crisp as falling snowflakes. She smelled like purity and smiled like sunshine, and for a moment he forgot to remember where they were standing.

“Town is that way.” He edged closer. His sleeve brushed her sweater as he pointed, the hammering of his pulse making his hands tremble. “And over there – that’s the old Catholic church. Everyone goes there when they die. I mean,” he fumbled, “they have the biggest graveyard in Avenida. So naturally…”

“…they die there. Christened in the church and buried in the backyard.” Lumi considered this, lips moving long after she had finished talking. She traced the windowsill with her pointer finger, still staring absently. “Such a small, small world.”

“Too small.” Gideon whispered. The words crept out of his mouth and fell into the space between them, surprising them both. He wished he could snatch them back but they were said, and done, and he was too far gone to reel himself back in.

The air between them seemed to quiver, trembling as madly as his hands, which he had been forced to stuff back into his pockets. They were on the cusp of something great – something terrible – and he had the unfortunate urge to pull himself back from the ledge. Jumping was impossible. But Lumi was not unforgettable. She had chameleon hair and a shifting smile, and the kind of balanced hourglass grace that Keane didn’t seem to understand.

Even now he was barging between them, poking his head towards the windows like he was trying to make out the distant horizon. His eyes were narrowed, and Gideon knew that, as usual, he wasn’t seeing the dilapidated buildings or broken dreams. He was witnessing the conjunction of the stars and sky, of the universe wheeling back to revolve around him. He was seeing ships, flagging white sails turned away, and a future where he was supremely infinite.

The moment was broken by lightning, which corroded through the sky and illuminated the grey world around them. The bolts broke the clouds open and flung their decaying stuffing into the sinking sun, which flashed sporadically between the roaring awakenings of thunder.

“Time to go home,” Keane said abruptly. He wheeled away, pinching his girlfriend’s wrists between his big hands. He tugged her down the stairs before Gideon had the chance to inhale, leaving him lonely and speechless in the cupola.

He listened to their receding footsteps until rain began to bleed from the sky. When the front door gargled, he drew closer to the windows and watched as two figures dashed into the drizzle. They pressed together and then pulled apart, melting into Keane’s crimson truck.

His brother was taking her away.

But for one distinct, quiet moment, Lumi had become someone else. She had revealed a graceless smile and a childlike curiosity. And, like Gideon, there were two jagged halves to her personality – the half that loved Keane, and the half that hated him.