Eternal Malediction

The wind at the top of the hill was stronger, brushing against their coats and carrying the faint scent of grass and distant smoke. Graham stood still for a moment, then walked over to a large flat rock and sat down. He didn't say anything — he just tilted his head slightly, implying Roy should sit too.

Roy hesitated, then dropped down beside him, elbows resting on his knees.

For a moment, neither spoke.

The hilltop stretched out around them, wide and open, the fields rolling gently into the distance. The cabin looked small from up here, almost toy‑like. London was a faint smudge on the horizon, its morning haze blending into the sky. The wind carried everything — the quiet, the warmth, the tension.

Then Graham exhaled softly. "Roy… when I looked into your background, I found your college records."

Roy blinked. "You looked into my background?"

Graham nodded, completely unapologetic. "A*AB. Pretty decent grades. I'm actually impressed."

Roy scoffed lightly. "Thanks… I guess."

"But when I searched further," Graham continued, "nothing came up. No secondary school records. No attendance reports. Nothing."

Roy's shoulders stiffened.

Graham glanced at him. "That was until I found one school you attended when you were nine or ten. With Kieran, Correct?"

Roy didn't answer. He didn't need to. Graham already knew.

"So I want to ask you," Graham said calmly, "how do you have such high grades when there's no record of your secondary stage?"

Roy looked away, jaw tightening. "I studied on my own, as I was home schooled."

Graham nodded slowly. "I figured. You're stubborn enough."

Roy huffed. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"A fact," Graham replied.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from NovelPhoenix. Please report it.

The wind rolled softly across the hill. Graham leaned back slightly, eyes on the horizon.

"You should be more open with people, Roy; talk to them about yourself. I don't really care about who you are or what you did during this time, but... people do want to know who you are and would like to get to know you, like me..."

Graham took a deep breath and then looked Roy in his eyes and said proudly. "For I am your big brother,"

Roy turned his head sharply, with a confused look. "Big brother?"

Graham shrugged as he scratched the back of his head while he said this to Roy. "Well… yeah. Because I see you as a little brother."

Roy stared at him, unsure how to react. Graham didn't look at him; he turned around to keep watching the fields below, voice steady.

"Roy, you have so many people around you," Graham said quietly. "And yet you choose not to let anyone know you."

Roy's chest tightened.

Graham continued, "I keep tabs on everyone I think is family."

Roy blinked. "Family?"

Graham nodded once. "And what I mean by that is…"

He turned his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ROY."

Roy froze.

Graham reached into his coat and pulled out a small rectangular object wrapped in old newspaper, tied with a thin string. He handed it over casually, like it wasn't a big deal.

Roy stared at it. "What's this?"

"Music," Graham said simply. "Music is life, Roy. You have to listen to it once in a while, or you'll never be happy. If you do not want to talk, just listen to this, and all your problems will flow away."

Roy raised an eyebrow. "Music?"

Graham raised his eyebrows, pointing at the box. "Open it."

Roy untied the string and peeled back the newspaper.

There was a Walkman; it was old and scratched, but it was working, and inside it was a cassette tape, and Roy's eyes narrowed. "This song… Let It Happen?"

Graham nodded. "Yeah."

Roy stared at him. "This came out in 2015."

Graham didn't blink. "Correct."

Roy looked around at the hill, at the sky, at the fields and at Graham. "We're in the 1980s."

"Correct."

Roy stared at the tape again. "So how the hell did you get this?"

Graham smirked; it wasn't wide and neither dramatic, just a tiny shift at the corner of his mouth.

"That," he said, "is a story for another day."

Roy's just watched Graham, trying to gain an understanding of who and what he really wants from him. Why did he wanted him to be his little brother, why does he want him to be his little brother, what made him think he is a little brother?

All of these questions swirled around in Roy Shyam's mind.

Graham leaned back on his hands, eyes on the horizon again. "But for now," he said softly, "just listen to it."

Roy looked at the Walkman in his hands.

Then at Graham.

Then back at the Walkman.

For the first time in a long time, Roy felt something warm settle in his chest, something he didn't know how to name.

He didn't say thank you.

He didn't need to, as Graham understood anyway.

They sat together on the hill, the wind brushing past them, the world quiet and wide beneath their feet.

And Roy realised something he hadn't expected:

He didn't mind having a big brother.

Not at all.

As he puts the headset on his head and presses play.