“Where do you want me to put this?” Isaias asked, holding the wrapped-up shallow bowl of leftover onions and cilantro, hesitantly opening the very sparkly fridge.

“Put that on the second shelf for me, thank you.”

Closing the fridge doors, it was practically dripping with the rainbow and glitter, hands splattered everywhere. One piece of paper had an orange blob with pink stripes, two large narrow eyes and what seemed to be whiskers coming off the page. 

“Need any help with the dishes?”

“Oh, no you don’t—” Maywa waved him off, smiling, “You go and sit, rest, it must have been a long journey. Trust me you got next week to make up for dirty dishes, honoured guest and all,” Sweeping up the bowls into soapy warm water.

“Gracias por la comida, tía.”

The sound of the tap running droned into his ears. The sun spilt onto the tiles, transparent stickers messily stuck onto the windows, the creatures seemed to be rainbow-filled dinosaurs, and the array of lit colours glittered near the garden’s threshold.

“So,” Maywa trailed off, the line of her shoulders quietly straightening out, “Tell me how things are going on with you, your studies, any new hobbies you’ve picked up recently? How about your friends — ?”

Isaias closed his eyes. The mangled tightness within his chest threatened to twist and cut. There wasn’t a point in being vague when the true questions hung between them. Wondering when she would release the question that tensed against her tongue, striking them both into suffocation. Hadn’t Isaias expected this? Should he break the ice that held them still?

When Isaias didn’t answer Maywa hastily continued, “It must’ve been hard to see them during your break — ” The sound of running water grated against his ears, “Your dad called by the way, mum too, of course — gave me a right surprise when her ID flashed my phone! We spoke for a while if you can believe that, busy than ever with things on her end and all.”

Jagged fingers curled against his lap, throat far too tight for comfort. Something twisted in his neck as wanting to spill out of his mouth yet it sat lodged down.

The sponge squeaked against the bowl, “Apparently she’s got something going on in the following weeks, didn’t get much into it during the call, oh, and — and, Andres — heard he began to join clubs again. Not surprised with all that energy he got,” Maywa softly laughed, it sounded wrong, “It just took him a bit of time— just a bit to get there again—”

"We don't have to talk about this, tía," Isaias whispered, the words practically wrenching out of him.

The sponge stuttered to a stilling stop, and Maywa's exhaled a wobbly breath. Back straightening as if it struggled to hold her, tension along the lines of shoulders. It all looks wrong, the way sunlight grazes her cheeks revealing the lost expression, far too bright eyes as she simply stares out the garden window. 

Isaias' nails bite into dry skin, tearing and scraping. There was a nod, and then a firmer one that followed. They both stayed in silence for a moment. The air tore open, a wound, barely even scabbed over and still far too raw, it bled out. Each second the air weighed him while bile rose, Isaias blinked, hand placed at his abdomen. The last plate clinked on the drying rack and Maywa turned to him, red eyes yet dry without tears, his aunt giving an encouraging tug at the corners of her lips. And clears her throat. 

"How is your body? Any pain?" Maywa asks, her voice soft and hoarse in the empty kitchen.

Isaias pulled his hand away. An arrow was released once more and it shot right through him, splintering into the chest. It lay heavy, another crushing layer.

He looked up into her eyes, "It's fine, I got checked before I left, and I'm fine." Isaias easily smiled. A lie. 

Lying always came naturally for Isaias.

Maywa’s eyes softened, "You need to take it easy, Isaias, you’ve only just been discharged. Don’t want you to push yourself too far.” Squeezing the towel in her hands, knuckles paling. 

His fists clenched, "I'm fine, te prometo." A softer smile plastered on his face.

It went quiet but he couldn't bear to look her in the eye, so his loose curls fell over his forehead, throat working as his nails clawed at his joggers.

"Okay." Maywa sighed, and stood straighter, “I got things to help you— or should I say make things easier for you. Did you bring the medicine prescribed for you? Anything missing or in need of anything?”

“Everything's in my bag, pretty much packed it all.”

“Okay, that's good, that's good.” Maywa nodded with firmer conviction, tossing the towel near the sink, “Why don’t we  get your things upstairs and start unpacking.”

Isaias nodded and rose, heading to gather his things. Slinging the duffle bag over his shoulder, with a grunt lifted his suitcase. Muscles burned as it nearly slipped out his straining hands, Isaias made quick work following behind his aunt. Isaias could feel the worried glances and didn't dare show his struggle even when the muscle of his thigh jolted. 

Large portraits of mountains and landscapes crowded the walls, otavaleño women danced, gathered together in an array of earthy colours, and woven tapestries hung on the walls. 

Socks met wooden hard floors, "You remember the room Jon tried to turn into a 'gaming' room—" A small smile flickered onto Isaias’ face, and Maywa matched the amused expression.

They turned to a narrow hall, more painting and tapestries against grassy green walls as a long rung lay down to the end. And toys littered all over. 

"Didn't even use it in the end. Just kept getting knocked out on the couch downstairs with the kids." Maywa chuckles, a smile working its way into her face as they go through the maze of toys, Isaias catches the sight of a tyrannosaurus rex wearing a bright pink cowboy hat.

Passing closed doors that Isaias knows they belong to cousins before stopping at the end of the corridor, to one door. Maywa opened it, going through.

"So we sort of left the idea in the end. We all used it as an extra room for everyone, mostly storage and stuff but—”

The room stood tall and wide, light coming through the cracked open. windows that were lined with a shy shade of caramel. A long bed lay next to the window facing the garden. Dressed in white bedding linen, a plump cushion stationed on the two thick stacked pillows and one tall bottle green nightstand, sat on it was a glass lamp, its tainted bright colours rested across a hazel rug stretched on the floor. Isaias swallowed. 

“—Obviously, we got wind that you’ll be coming here, we made it into a proper room.”

He turned to Maywa with a teasing grin, ”Bet Cams used this room all the time, didn’t she?

Maywa rolled her eyes, “Oh, pretty much lived here, that woman. Simply can’t go a day without me, and you know, yoga and whatnot.” She waved away. 

"I wanted to bring more things in here,” Maywa sai, and took a glance at his suitcase, ”We thought you’d bring more stuff with you…” Trailing off, Isaias' hand tightened against the handles.

"Oh! And Carmen basically told me to tell you, that the view up here is, how did she put it? And I quote, 'Everything'."

A laugh rumbled out of him, he shook his head and took a real look around.

"Nah, tía, this is great. Really." Isaias said, rolling his suitcase forward to the bed, turning with an assuring warm smile.

"Oh." She breathed out relieved, touching her golden beaded necklace, a habit when she got worked up about something. "Good, I really wanted you to feel at home as soon as you got here. You couldn't believe how many things were stuffed in here, dios mío! Don’t even get me started on all the crap Cams decided to bring over. She had this whole monster freak out when I started to touch her things, you should’ve seen it, we had to practically wrestle!" Maywa laughed.

A soft snicker left him, imagining a fiery Carmen coming into a stuffy room like a cyclone as Maywa and her wrestled onto the floor, screeching. Isaias’ shoulders seemed to soften in tension, a small feeling that his aunt wanted to redesign the entirety of the room if it didn't make him feel at home. But this was the closest thing that felt like home. 

"Okay, so here goes the clothes, I made space for shoes at the bottom, ” Maywa gestured to the oak wardrobe across from him, and a long white drawer, “At the top of the drawer, put any things you want, treat it as a vanity of sorts.” Just sitting next to another wide window sat a white desk with a yellow chair, the desk painted at the bottom with bright flowers, no doubt by his aunt. 

The room felt empty, like it was waiting for him to fill it out but it was too big for him. 

Taking in a breath, gripping at the handle,  Isaias slid his suitcase in front of the drawer.

Maywa shook her head fondly, "Que estoy pensando, I'm sure you have your way of doing things." And turned to the door, "I’ll leave you to it, shall I? Everyone will be coming home soon, better get things finished downstairs. Call me if you need anything, alright?”

“Yea’, will do,” Isaias hesitated, “When exactly will they be coming?” Dread coiling within his stomach.

Maywa flipped her phone over, “Suyana is usually picked up first, along with the twins, it should be around five-ish, and Asto is coming in late due to practise,” She hummed, picking up an old box from the floor and gathering it in her arms, “Should be a full house it an hour or two.”

"That's great, I'll see them soon." Isaias smiled, his aunt simply grinned and disappeared through the door.

Isaias’ stomach dropped, letting his smile slip off his face. Realising a heavy breath stuck at his chest and scooted back to lean against the bed, arms dropping over his knees as he simply let go. Not even the first day in and everything overwhelmed him. It all made him feel…like his own lungs lacked breath. Isaias aggressively ruffled his curls, muttering incoherent curses and glanced at the duffle bag at the tip of his trainers. Hesitating, he grunted and stretched to drag it between his legs. 

Secured, even if the feeling was fleeting. It happened so fast yet nothing was so painfully slow. It wasn’t the departure from the train, not the looks of his family, all accusations and shock, the fury and dismay. Or the way his younger brother, Andres, head bowed towards his shoes the entire way, fists clenched beside him. Nor his father’s looming broad shoulders, face stony, eyes holding the storm. Isaias didn’t remember the goodbyes and didn't allow himself to. Curt and short, cold and suffocating, he couldn’t breathe most of the time.

Earphones tangled into his fingers. 

Ian had tried. Chatty, softening the air with his dad jokes and goofy smile. Stating that a new scene would be just the thing for him. Isaias’ father did not appreciate the sentiment. The cord curled around his knuckles, leaving dented marks. 

Bringing it up against his eyebrow. 

Not enough. He couldn’t have prepared enough for this. 

And then there was the problem with his cousin. Isaias grimaced, fighting a wince. 

Isaias and Asto weren’t particularly friends. Had they been once? Sure. Till they decidedly weren't. 

Cousins were curious like that, a spat here and there, maybe even an explosion and you stick right back. Not Isaias and Asto. An animosity of six years, Isaias never forgot it and neither did Asto. Once a year of family gatherings or special events that had them in the same vicinity, filled with bared teeth and venom. It made family time all the more memorable. Doesn’t help that they both have similar interests. At some points facing each other in basketball competitions. None of the meetings went particularly well.

Isaias took another breath, nudged an earpiece into his ear and finally began to open the drawers. And hoped this meeting would at least be as peaceful as it possibly could.