Elliot tilted his head to one side as the minutes ticked by and he waited for some kind of sign that David knew he was there. He watched his brother squirm a few times, the angle of his head indicating that he was looking around, but not quite far enough to notice who was watching him. Elliot gripped the bench a little tighter with one hand, pressing the other fist beneath his nose in an effort to keep all of his emotions from bursting out. His eyes filled with moisture, he couldn't stop grinning.
Then David's eyes rested on his hand, and Elliot tilted his head to rest on the other shoulder. It was just like when they were kids. Elliot lurking in the shadows — except here he was out in the open — waiting to jump out from behind a door or some piece of furniture, yelling loud enough to get a girlish scream out of his little brother. Only this time, scaring David wasn't Elliot's intent.
He held his breath as David turned to look at him. David was a few years older, a few pounds thinner, a few years wearier. But the eyes were the same. Filled with that same boyhood innocence that painted him as a target for cruel people who sought to tear him down.
Elliot's jaw worked as he fought back the tears, the smile frozen on his face. In his mind's eye he witnessed David the boy, playing with him in the leaves their father had told them to rake up. He saw the teenage David, trying and failing to stand up to a bully who was giving him hell for the ghost stories he truly believed in. And he saw the David now, the man sitting in front of him, who had survived four years on his own.
David stuttered out a question, and Elliot made a noise that was equal parts laugh, snort, and strangled sob. "Of course you'd ask that. Do I look like a ghost? Do I feel like a ghost?" He put his hand on David's shoulder and gave it a little shake. "It's me, dude."