d1 . pierce vanburen

[cass]

Pierce Vanburen
Sixteen
Male
Career
District One
Son of Priest
Twin to Prince

to be the level headed one, the calculated, the honor roll student. to be prompt and polite, cross your t's and dot your i's. to be the calm of your brother's storm, and to be known simply as "sensible." to be revered for your natural responsibility, to be reminded of the days when you were young and it was you who was outspoken and fun-loving. to wonder if your brother meant for this to become a competition, and to wonder if part of you hates him because he is winning.

Digging a hole and the walls are caving in
Behind me air's getting thin
But I'm trying, I'm breathing in
Come find me

[cass]

p i e r c e .

“Hey, I said I was sorry, alright.”

“Just tell me why.”

“He didn’t say why, Doug just said he wanted him instead.”

“I finished it, it’s written, it’s been done. It’s tomorrow.”

“I get it, and it’s a shit move on his side-”

“Just forget it, I doubt the guy will do a better job.”

“He thinks Prince-”

“Prince? As in Vanburen?”

“Yeah, your brother.”

“Okay. Good luck then.”

“I’m sure he didn’t know that he was your bro-”

“Prince will do a fine job.”

I would have done it better.

[cass]

p i e r c e .

They never said it; that he was winning. They didn’t need to. I could see it when I stopped being the first to get asked how my day had gone at dinner times. Suddenly dinner stopped being my favourite part of the day, and it turned into a nightmare that made my stomach hurt. Before Prince got his shit together and decided he wanted to be someone, it had always been me. They’d look at me, the pride of their lives, and they’d talk. Simple as that, I would get their attention first, whilst they were invested in what they were hearing, and then next they’d ask Prince -when he was actually there. Because let’s be honest, half the time he doesn’t even turn up, too busy to show his face.

But I’m the responsible one, the one with the good head on his shoulders, who doesn’t need sense whacked into him. They could trust me to run their business, and make sure their numbers were aligned, they could trust me to turn up on time, to always be there when they needed it. It was an iron will instilled into me since I was a young child. From the very beginning they had told me that they needed someone to be the leader, to be the one that would do what they say, someone who would listen and behave and be responsible.

I was all those things. I had spent my entire life building this image, to be seen by them, to be the son that they dreamed of. When they asked for someone to stand by them the pictures in the living room wall showed me. Father’s hand on my shoulder, mother’s face looking fondly in my direction. It had lasted until I turned twelve. No matter how hard I tried now, I was overshadowed, buried beneath the glow of a boy who had not even existed when I had glowed.

I think I hated him.

I think I hate myself more.

It’s a blow when they tell me that he’s going to do amazing things for the company, that he’s going to be the face of their family. It burns in my chest, a writhing ball of anger that simmers and suddenly my career training has over-paced my studies. “You’ve got to stop training so hard, Pierce, be more like your brother, focus on your studies.” Yes father. “We’re not like those careers, there’s more to this family then hitting people.” Yes mother. I’m swinging an axe again and again into a dummy until the scream inside my head has escaped my lips, and the echo of my anger fills the space around me and I can’t breathe.

When I get home I see him there, father’s talking to him and he laughs, and father’s reaching around and slapping him on the shoulder as he directs him into the house. There’s a smile on both their lips, I’m left standing in the fading light of an exhausting day, trying to catch up in a race that has already been won. Second place means second best, and second-best in the Vanburen household was forgotten.

There’s a cliff in my dreams, and I’m walking on the edge of it, loose rocks falling with each step I take. They clatter into the dark depths below, vanishing for view within moments. It’s a black pit that screams at me, daring me to dive in and just let go. I stare, it’s dizzying, and the walls are climbing up around me and I’m slipping, ready to stop, ready to give in.

“We don’t give up,” it’s my father’s voice, a stab into the darkness, a vivid, cruel reminder that I cannot fall down. It was a melody that was whispered into the night, my lullaby that told me to sleep, it was a promise that had been made since I had first learned how to stand. Vanburen’s don’t give up. So I stay fighting, pulling myself back from the edge, one agonizing step at a time. There’s hope, buried so far into the back of my heart, and I scramble to reach for it, to let it drive me onwards.

Another night falls, and I stand before a crowd, a party filled with laughter and fun, with faces that stare at my golden hair and blue eyes like I am a King. This was my birthright, and here I am fighting for something that should have never been fought over, and suddenly the shiny crown atop my head has fallen, and Prince walks into the room and I am no longer the King but the beggar at his feet. The sea of eyes that had followed me wherever I went, the people who had tripped over themselves to say my name and hear me speak faded away. Left behind as the crowd shifts like the seas change and I’m swept away.

Prince becomes the boat within the storm and they chase after him like drowning sailors. I’ll sink, drown myself before I let him save me.

[cass]

yes umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

OOF! Cass, this is brilliant. I love him so, so much!