RP: Brotherly fighting
Who: Oliver and Logan Wood What: Logan is avoiding his brother When: Tuesday, April 25th Where: Some bar, Magical London Warnings: Language, violence
Logan had been avoiding Oliver, or, really, Logan seemed to have been avoiding the entire Wood family. Even the texts between the brothers seemed overly brief and with a longer response time than usual. So, Oliver tracked his baby brother to his favorite bar, hoping to at the very least talk to him and get some answers.
As luck would have it Logan was indeed out being social. Oliver smirked and strolled casually up to his baby brother.
"Hey you," he reached up to roughly ruffle Logan's hair. "You suck at answering texts."
***
Oliver was at least right that Logan had been MIA, but really, in his mind, it was for the best. Nothing that him and Oliver could talk about regarding Angus would end well. And then he'd be fighting with his brother just like he was fighting with his dad, and he didn't have the mental energy for it. His schedule had been all over, and with the first season of the show wrapping up, he had been incredibly busy. At right now, his primary focus was his job. Maybe that was shitty of him, but honestly, wasn't that how Oliver also operated? Quidditch was number one, and Logan was no different with his current acting career. Angus could shit on it all he wanted, but what Logan did was hard fucking work.
So when he came to his favorite bar for a drink and some chats with his favorite female bartender, the last thing he wanted was Oliver to show up. He didn't even need to turn around to know he was there, because he saw the look on Antoinette's - or Toni, as she was referred to by regulars - face.
"It's not that I suck," he said simply, shrugging his shoulders and shying away from Oliver's disaster hair making hand. "I just figured my lack of response would send a message. Clearly, I was mistaken."
***
"Oh don't be like that," Oliver's smirked turned into a grin. Logan was being dramatic and moody, as he was so apt to do when stressed. Sidling up to the bar, he smiled warmly at Toni with a request for a good, strong ale and another of whatever his brother was having. "You can't ignore people, not in this family. Pull that with mum and she'll hunt you down."
***
"Pretty sure I can pull whatever I want, Oliver," he said with an eye roll. Toni came back with a drink for the both of them, and Logan mumbled his thanks as he finished the one he already had, sliding it towards her to take.
"I tried your stupid plan at talking to Da and it was a disaster. So fucking cheers to that, mate." Logan wondered if Ollie had already talked to Angus. Probably.
***
Another warm smile to Toni - afterall he wasn't dead, he could still flirt - and a nod of thanks.
"Yeah, I heard." And Merlin had Oliver heard. Logan couldn't have been barely out the door before their mum owled, her letter stained with tears. Followed by a phone call from Da. Why was it Oliver's job to fix this mess? Wasn't Eddie the peacemaker? "I'm really sorry." A deep drink followed; what else could be done?
***
"Shit happens. Guess love is conditional and all that," Logan muttered with an apathetic shrug . What wasn't apparent, was how much it really fucking hurt. How much of a failure he felt like in the eyes of his parents.
"Should have just stayed in Quidditch," he finally admitted. He might as well be miserable in his career than hated by his family.
***
Oliver looked over at the broken soul of his little brother, surveying the quiet hurt etched on Logan's face. To the outside world he's might have looked apathetic, but subtle facial expressions might as well have been sobbing as far Oliver was concerned.
At the moment touching Logan would be a bad idea: he'd simply shrug off Oliver's hand and mutter about being fine. Trying to force him into a hug would cause the both of them to end up with bruises. Instead, Oliver heaved another sigh and leaned his back against the bar.
"Eh, well, considering you quit and you suck no one will let you come back." Oliver's devil-my-care tone took on a more subtle, sarcastic tone. "Guess you'll have to stick to what you do best. Pity."
***
Logan knew, deep down, that Oliver was just trying to make him feel better. But fuck, it wasn't working. He was just utterly miserable. At this point, there was no changing what he had done, and his father would always see him as some failure pansy ass son. There was no winning.
"Look, maybe you're trying to make me feel better, and maybe that was a joke, but just... please. Don't. You honestly don't have a single ounce of a clue how much this sucks, Oliver. Da has always been proud of you, even when you failed. If he looked at you the way he looked at me, it would destroy you." Sort of like it was doing to him.
***
Well, so much for that. Another deep sigh sounded from Oliver and he stared into his drink. For several long moments the brothers stood in silence until Oliver downed his drink and motioned for Toni. "Something a wee stronger than what we've got, hen, cheers." If Logan couldn't feel better then he was going to feel nothing at all.
Oliver studied his brother again, at a loss for what to say. "You know, I know Da loves us and I'm glad he was around when we were kids but..." The words hesitated in Oliver's mouth, unsure if he should continue on with this secret observation. "Sometimes," he threw caution to the wind. "Sometimes I think it might have been better that he hadn't retired and achieved the level of success he expects from us for himself."
***
Toni nodded at Oliver, but couldn't help but spare a glance at Logan. The two had known each other for a long time, and the concern was etched in her face as she went off to fetch the both of them shots of whiskey.
When she returned, Logan nodded too her, forcing a small smile as she walked way, spinning around the liquid as his brother spoke and unable to stop the sarcastic, dark laugh from escaping his lips at Oliver's words. "You know Da loves you? Must me fucking nice," he said bitterly, unable to stop himself from saying it.
"The problem isn't his success, it's the fact he can only legitimize success through what he's done with his own life. There's not changing his mind. There's no fixing this, Oliver. I'm just fucking done, okay?"
***
Closing his eyes, Oliver wished for patience, and downed the entire glass of whiskey.
"Logan, that's not my fault." Blowing up at him wouldn't solve any issues. "You know it's not. Do you have any idea how tiring it is to live up to his expectations?" The dark blue eyes widened with realization at what he'd just said, then muttered an apology. Another motion to Toni. "Just keep it coming." Then looked back at Logan.
When had Logan become such an island? At what point had his little brother slipped so far away that simply talking to him had become impossible? Fear clenched uncomfortably in Oliver's stomach; one of his biggest fears - losing a family member - was becoming a reality. He'd been so young when Da and uncle Adair stopped talking he could barely remember the man... But this was his little brother. The idea of losing him with the knowledge he still lived and thought nothing of him hurt more than a death.
***
"Did I say it was your fault?" Logan asked seriously, staring at Oliver. "I never once said this was your fault, Ollie. Not once, so stop trying to think of yourself as a victim right now. Trust me, trust me, I know it's fucking hard living up to those expectations. It's not fun, it's not easy, but you managed, and I didn't. It's like Highlander. There can only be one, right?" He wasn't even sure if his brother would get the reference, since it was a muggle one, but it didn't really matter, he supposed. Sighing, he shook his head, taking another shot as it came to him, knowing he was going to have to take a cab home at this rate.
"Why did you come here, Oliver?" he asked quietly, looking directly in front of him, instead of at his brother.
***
Oliver opened his mouth to argue, but instead chose silence and briefly wondered just what the highlands had to do with brotherly competition. Shaking his head (which swam thanks to his now third shot), Oliver stared down into the dark liquid of the fourth shot.
"Because I knew you were upset. Because it was my idea and it caused you to get hurt. And... I don't know." Why had he come? Because Oliver was always the hero? Because that sense of pride and stupid bravery of Gryffindors was very alive in him? "It had to be me," a grin broke through the serious look on his face. "Someone else might have gotten it wrong." And down went the fourth shot.
***
"Oliver, don't act so bloody self important," Logan said with an eye roll, downing his next shot in one go. His head was certainly swimming, which was causing her words to be a lot looser than perhaps they usually were. "Your idea or not, it was going to happen eventually. You just pushed the issue, is all. And it's not your fault Da is a fecking arse," he growled, motioning for another drink. He probably didn't need it, but he didn't fucking care.
"Should have just fucking dealt with being miserable. This is such shite. I can't bloody win no matter what, and I'm tired of being the odd child out. There's no fucking point anymore."
***
"Logan he'll come about!" Oliver practically yelled, wishing he could shake sense into his brother. "Fuck sake don't be so fatalistic. This isn't the end. You-you can't stop being part of this family." Despite the sick feeling creeping up his stomach, Oliver took another shot, and bravely reached out to grasp Logan by the shoulder.
"Please don't. I don't want you to go away." His deep voice broke, fear leaking between his words. How many times as children did Oliver wake Logan up if he fell asleep because he didn't want to be alone? Back then it took shaking his little brother to bring him back, but what would save their relationship this time?
***
Slamming his empty glass down Logan stared angrily at his brother and his outburst, his drunken side getting the better of him as he practically spat, "You don't fucking know that, Oliver! You don't know anything! Because you've never fucking been in this situation before! You've never felt how I feel right now!" And while he knew the last person he should be blaming was Oliver, he was the family member in front of him right now. "And why can't I? I stick around so I can continue to be a bloody disappointment? Wasted potential? An embarrassment? Seems like a wonderful existence, Ollie!"
The fear that shook through Oliver's voice registered within Logan, and a part of him was desperate to stop. To stop right now and apologize because he loved his brother more than most people in the world and he didn't want to hurt him. They had been through everything together. They had always been each other's support... But the rejected, upset, angry part of Logan was too strong right now, especially after the recent disaster with Angus.
"We don't always get what we want, Oliver," he said darkly, turning away as Toni gingerly set down another drink for him, a worried look on her face as she glanced between the two of them and walked away, not wanting to intrude.
***
Not expecting the sharp, jarring noise of glass on wood, Oliver jumped backward, startled from both sound and the venom in his brother's voice. They'd fought countless times over the years, hell they'd even left nasty bruises and hexes from their spats, but not like this; never once did Oliver question the fact things would go back to normal. But this time, the angry, wounded animal lashing out from years of pain and being pushed aside and told to suck it up wouldn't quietly go back in his cage. Oliver wondered if his little brother would ever resurface again.
The shaking hand that had reached out to grasp at Logan recoiled. Oliver's dark blue eyes stared at the younger version of himself in disbelief. How could Logan say these things? How could he give up on his family?
"Well fuck you." Oliver snapped, snatching the fresh drink from his brother's hand and downing it. The anger and sadness began to congeal in the pit of Oliver's stomach while the heat of frustration burned on his face, mocking Logan's voice. "You don't always get what you want, Logan."
***
Oliver's last words were like a smack in the face, and Logan stared at him with disbelief. "I DON'T ALWAYS GET WHAT I WANT? THAT'S FUCKING RICH, COMING FROM THE LIKES OF OLIVER BLOODY WOOD," he roared, this time, making the bar go quiet as they silently stared at the scene unraveling in front of them.
"OF COURSE I DON'T BLOODY GET WHAT I WANT, BECAUSE YOU BLOODY GET IT ALL, OLIVER." Shaking now, clearly hurt and upset and on the verge of actual tears, and as Oliver should know, unlike himself, Logan never cried, the younger brother slammed down his money. Taking a moment to look at Toni, his eyes apologetic as he turned his back on his brother.
"You should be happy, Oliver, really," he said as his voice shook with emotion, his entire frame tense. "Now there's not a little brother constantly in your way or fucking things up for you. It'll make your life easier."
He then walked towards the front door, knowing instantly that he regret that entire exchange. Wanting desperately to apologize, but he just couldn't.
***
The silence fell over the bar heavy like wet cotton, not a single patron ignored situation, ensnared by the drama unfolding between the two famous brothers. Somewhere in the distance a phone hovered above the crowd trying to capture the scene. Logan's rage rained down and reverberated in every corner of the pub.
Of course Oliver had always been the favorite; it was a sad fact that he wasn't entirely blind to but refused to acknowledge. It was easier to keep the peace in the family ranks and make it up to his little brother in other ways. Angus of course loved his children but the amount of his love varied by their success and their profession. He wasn't a malicious man, just one stuck in regret and impossible expectations of his children.
The roles were oddly reversed: Logan on the verge of tears while Oliver stared stony faced and unnaturally still, only moving when the younger brother moved to leave.
"Logan wait!" The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, suddenly aware of all the eyes on them. Funny how Oliver could perform in front of thousands of people but this intimate crowd made him want to hurl. "You can't fucking go." He whimpered, but Logan wasn't listening, which infuriated Oliver. "Don't you fucking go!" He reached out and yanked Logan back by the shoulder.
***
Logan was more than happy to ignore his brother, even as Oliver began yelling after him. It didn't stop his movement towards the door for one second. That was, until Oliver grabbed him and everything in Logan just came to a head. Turning around he swung at the other man, his only brother, hard, hitting him in the jaw. Pulling back from him he stared at his Oliver, his fists still clenched as a bar full of wide eyed patrons stared back at the two of them.
"You can't tell me what to do anymore, Oliver," he told him roughly, words hard, angry. "Not when you can't see where I'm coming from, why I'm angry. You just refuse to see things the way they really are. And you know what? I'm done with it. Just.. fucking done."
Turning to look at the other people in the bar, he knew he was going to hear about this from the producers and writers of the show. Fuck, he was in so much trouble.
"Shows over, folks. Sorry to interrupt your evening," he said, his voice respectful but short as he pushed his way out the door.
***
In all their years Oliver and Logan had never fought like this. They were brothers, and fighting a natural thing. But the punch that contained decades of resentment and feelings of inadequacy lifted Oliver off his feet and created little pops of lights in his eyes. That was the first indication something was seriously wrong.
He fell to the floor with a deafening crash, not having enough time to right himself from such a short distance fall. All the Quidditch training in the world couldn't prepare for a six for drop. The pain spread across his jaw slow, white hot and Oliver stared at the watery mosaic of Logan through tear-filled eyes.
Again the bar remained frozen, but the voices slowly began: softly before buzzing with raw energy, discussing the scene that had just played out when the bar door closed. Oliver felt dazed, drunk and embarrassed. Of course this would end up in the bloody papers. Fuck. Finally, Oliver stood from the floor, tossed several coins onto the counter without looking at what exactly he'd paid, and stalked outside wanting to put this behind him... At least until the papers released this story.