.Just Like Old Times.

The microwave beeped shrilly. Connor padded over to it, his socks slipping a little on the linoleum floor, and pulled out his steaming cup of coffee. He added a dollop of milk to the mug and carried it into the next room where he set it on a small table next to his favorite armchair. Sitting with a sigh of relief, he closed his eyes briefly. I’m so glad it’s Friday, he thought. Finally, a chance to relax. He picked up the book lying next to his coffee, opened to the bookmark, and settled in for a comfortable evening. The phone rang. Connor groaned, but dragged himself back out of the chair to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Connor! Connor, lissen, ya gotta get down here.” The voice on the other end was slightly slurred, and it sounded like the speaker was standing in the middle of a party. There were loud voices in the background and the bass beat of blaring music. Connor had to strain to make anything out.

“Sean?”

“Aye. Hey, Connor, you should be here. Everyone’s here. ‘Cept you. Hell, even my pal Seamus is here. I fuckin’ hate that guy. If he says one more thing to me tonight, I swear I’m gonna pound him.”

“Sean, are you at the pub again?” Connor shook his head. “Never mind, stupid question. Listen to me, Sean, leave Seamus alone. You already got in a couple of fights this week, you don’t need to add another one to the list.”

“No, I swear, I’m gonna take him out if he-” Sean broke off and started talking to someone near him. “Wait, did Seamus just--? Aw, no fucking way. I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna fucking pound him.”

“Sean. Sean! Leave him alone.” Connor gripped the phone tighter as his brother ignored him, continuing to talk to whoever was with him at the pub. “Sean, are you listening to me?” The call abruptly ended. “Aw, shit!” Connor slammed the phone down and ran for his shoes.

Five minutes later and slightly out of breath, he entered the local pub, O’Riley’s, and was greeted by the noisy cacophony of multiple conversations and loud music. He peered around the crowded, smoky room in search of his younger brother, and soon found him. Sean stood in the middle of a small ring of gawkers talking belligerently to a man Connor recognized as Seamus Flahrety. Connor couldn’t make out what they were saying over the loud music and noisy hum of the other bar activity, but Sean made a rude gesture. Seamus grabbed him roughly by the collar of his shirt and Sean stumbled. Before he could regain his balance, Seamus hit him in the stomach. Connor scowled, and shoved his way through the crowd, keeping an eye on his brother as he did. Sean had doubled over from the hit and was just straightening up, but Seamus didn’t give him the chance, and hit him again. Connor finally cleared the crowd and hurried over to the scene. He tapped Seamus on the shoulder, and punched him in the face when he turned.

Seamus lurched back and put a hand to his face, squinting to see who had hit him. “Oh, look, it’s the other one,” he said, his lip curling derisively. He looked over his shoulder and spoke to his friend Neil, who stood behind him. “Do you think it was the father or the mother who gave ‘em the ugly looks?”

Sean came to stand beside Connor as Neil laughed.

“Looks like their mom did it with a dog, probably ‘cause no one else would take her,” Neil said with a leer.

The two brothers exchanged looks.

“Well now, that wasn’t very nice, was it?” Sean asked.

“No,” Connor agreed. “We’re gonna have to make ‘em pay for that.” He met Sean’s grey eyes and grinned. Then they both dove at the men.

“Connor and Sean Kelley, if you trash my bar one more time—” Tom O’Riley started to shout, but he was too late. The pub erupted into chaos with some people fleeing, some joining in the fight, and others milling around, alternatively cheering on the combatants or yelling at them to stop.  By the time Tom enlisted some friends to help break up the fight, Sean was sitting on Seamus while Connor and Neil were grappling on the floor. Before Connor was pulled away, however, he managed to knock Neil out with the leg of a broken chair.

“Dammit, Sean, that’s the third time this month you’ve started a fight in here,” Tom snapped at the younger Kelley. “This is getting ridiculous. It’s not healthy to fight all the time.” Sean moved as if to take a step toward Seamus, who was just climbing to his feet, but Tom’s friend restrained him. Tom poked Connor in the chest. “And you. You’re supposed to be the cool-headed one. Why didn’t you stop this?”

Connor looked down. “I meant to, I really did. That’s why I came over. I guess I just snapped when I saw Sean get hit. Got carried away.” His eye hurt, and he knew it’d be black and blue by morning. He just wanted to get out of there and go home. But Tom wasn’t done yet.

“Carried away? Yeah, you could say that. Look at this mess.” His arm swept out, taking in the trashed room. “I expected better of you, Connor. I thought you were supposed to take care of Sean, stop him from getting into trouble, not encourage him.”

“Take care of me?” Sean interrupted. “I’m not a kid, you know.”

“Oh yeah? Well, maybe you should act like it for once.” Tom turned his attention back to Connor. “Why don’t you just go.”

“Listen, Tom, I’m sorry about this, I’ll—”

Tom held up a hand, cutting Connor off. “Just go.”

Connor sighed. “Come on, Sean.” He started for the door, but stopped when his brother didn’t follow. “Sean, let’s go.”

“But--”

Connor glared at him. “Now.”

Sean scowled, but went.

The tension between them on the walk home was almost palpable. Connor balled his hands into fists, angry at himself for getting carried away and furious at Sean for putting him into the situation in the first place. Tom was a friend, and knowing he had disappointed him was what got to Connor the most. Back in their small apartment, Connor caught Sean by the arm as he headed for his room. “Oh, no you don’t. Whatever possessed you to deliberately provoke Seamus like that? Didn’t the broken nose you got last time teach you anything? Can’t I leave you alone for one night without having to come and bail you out of trouble?”

Sean touched his crooked nose self-consciously. “Aw, come off of it. You were having fun too, and don’t try to deny that. You went for Neil on purpose, you didn’t have to fight him. We could have left after you punched Seamus and gotten away with it.”

Connor frowned. “Aye, I got carried away. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. But you, you go out looking for fights! I’m constantly forced to drop what I’m doing and pull you out of trouble.”

“You make it sound like I’m some little kid who needs to be minded constantly. I can take care of myself.”

“But you don’t, that’s just it!” Connor paced to the door and back. “If you don’t like being treated as a kid, then why don’t you grow up and act your age for once? You don’t take care of yourself, I do. Who around here has the job? Who pays the bills? Who pays for food? Who pulls your sorry little ass out of the fire every single time? Me, that’s who.” He stopped pacing and glared at Sean. “And I’m telling you now, I’m sick and tired of getting dragged into your fights. You can just deal with your problems on your own from here on out. I’m not going to help you anymore.”

Sean snorted. “Oh yeah, that’s a good one. You can never just stand by and do nothing. You won’t be able to, next time, just wait and see.”

“Don’t you understand what I’m trying to tell you?” Connor ran a hand through his hair. “There shouldn’t be a next time. This is getting ridiculous. Tom’s got a point. It’s not healthy. You’re gonna pick the wrong person one day and wind up in real trouble, not to mention the hospital again.”

Sean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, whatever. I have my reasons, and if you don’t understand them, that’s your problem. I’m going to bed.”

Connor stood in the narrow hallway for a few minutes after Sean left. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then stalked over to his now cold cup of coffee and picked it up roughly, sloshing some over the edge. Letting out a wordless growl, he carried the mug to the tiny kitchen and dumped the contents down the sink. He grabbed some paper towels off the roll and went back to the living room to clean up his mess. On his way out, he threw the soggy towels violently into the trash can and went to his room, slamming the door behind him. He has his reasons? What possible reasons could you have for fighting all the time?  He scowled at his reflection. He just didn’t understand his brother anymore. Shaking his head, he turned away from the mirror and went to bed.

The next morning, Connor woke to a pounding on the door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” He stumbled out of bed and made his way to the front door, blinking blearily. Opening the door, he saw his friend Shannon Fitzgerald standing on the stoop.

“Still asleep at this hour?” Shannon checked his watch. “It’s past noon, Connor.”

“Hey, I don’t get to sleep in during the week. Cut me some slack.” Connor opened the door wider, and Shannon stepped into his apartment.

Shannon glanced around. “Sean not here?”

Connor shrugged. “I dunno. We got in a big fight last night, he’s probably gone off somewhere to take it out on someone.” He headed down the hall to the kitchen, Shannon following behind.

“What did you two fight about?”

“Well, he called me from the pub last night saying something about beating up Seamus Flahrety, so I went down there, got dragged into it, then got yelled at by Tom. So when we got back here, I kinda went off on him. Told him to grow up and get a job, all that.” He turned on the coffeepot and leaned against the counter, facing Shannon. “Basically, I told him I wasn’t going to drag him out of trouble anymore. He always calls me right before he starts a fight or something. It’s like he’s—“ Connor paused as realization struck him. “It’s like he’s trying to get attention.” He sat down at the table across from Shannon. “That’s just it, Shannon. He’s doing this to himself to try to get attention. He’s just like a little kid.” Connor shook his head. “What an idiot.”

“But why would he be so desperate to get attention that he goes out and gets into fights all the time?” Shannon leaned back in his chair. “There must be more to it. There’s other, less painful, ways to call attention to yourself.”

Connor snorted. “How should I know? From what he said last night, he pretty much expects me to constantly be there to rescue him. But I’m not gonna do it anymore. He needs to learn that I won’t always be here to fix things.”

“So the next time he calls…”

“I won’t do anything about it. Exactly.”

The conversation moved on to other things, and Shannon left a few hours later. Connor had just sat down to watch some T.V. when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Connor, you have to help me out.”

Connor sighed. “What is it this time, Sean?”

“I ah, happened to run into some of Seamus’ friends at the bowling alley, and they um, took exception to some things that were said. I gave them the slip for the moment, but they’ll find me any minute. You’ve gotta come down and even things out.”

“Sean, I’m not going to do it. You got yourself into this situation, now get yourself out.” With that, Connor hung up the phone.

Around six o’clock, the door opened and Sean limped in. He had the beginnings of a black eye and cradled his left arm with his right. Dried blood ran down one side of his face from a cut on his forehead. His dark hair was rumpled, his clothes torn and dirty.

“Ah, home in time for dinner. How’d your day go?” Connor remarked from his spot on the couch. Sean didn’t respond, just limped slowly past the sofa toward the hall.

“Oh, I see. Rough day, huh?”

The slam of his brother’s door was the only answer Connor got. He sighed, turned the TV off, and went into the kitchen. He got ice out of the freezer and put it into a bag, wrapping a towel around it, then wet a washcloth and carried it all to Sean’s room. He pushed the door open without bothering to knock, and crossed to the bed where Sean lay, flopped on his back.

“Here. Better put this on that eye.” He held out the ice, but Sean ignored him. “Don’t be a dick, Sean. Take it and put it on your goddamned eye.”

Sullenly, his brother did so. “How could you do that to me?”

“What, let you deal with your own mess?” Connor dabbed at the cut on Sean’s forehead, and Sean twitched. “Hold still. I told you I wasn’t gonna help you anymore. I’m tired of being your backup whether I like it or not. And frankly, I’m not always going to be here. You need to learn to fend for yourself sometime.” He went into the bathroom and got a gauze pad, then returned. “Here. Put that over your cut, and don’t forget some antibiotic ointment or something. And keep icing that eye.” He stood up to leave. “Oh, there’s food in the fridge you can use to make yourself dinner. I think I’m going to try to get some work done in my room.” As he closed Sean’s door behind him, Connor smiled grimly to himself. Hopefully that will get the message across.

During the social brunch after Mass the next morning, Connor told Shannon how things went.

“So I think Sean might’ve finally gotten the point,” he concluded, taking a bite of his doughnut. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

“I still think there’s more to it than just attention-seeking.” Shannon took a sip from his Styrofoam cup. “When did he start doing this?”

“Let’s see, it must’ve been just after we moved here to the city. I never had to go get him out of trouble before.” He chuckled. “’Course, we were usually getting into trouble together back home.”

“And you don’t now?”

“No, we hardly do anything together now, I never have time.” Connor frowned. “That’s it. That’s why he’s doing this. Shannon, don’t you see? The fights, me coming to get him all the time—that’s all we ever do together anymore.” He shook his head. “My God, I’m an idiot. Here I’ve been thinking all along that he’s the one who changed, but it’s really been me. I never want to go out, I stay at home and read or do work. Damn, I’m boring.” He looked at Shannon. “I still think he needs to grow up some, but the least I can do is try to compromise with him, right? I need to come down to meet him sometimes.”

“So go back home and invite him to do something with you then. There’s a soccer match on tonight—Ireland vs. Portugal, and O’Reilly’s playing it in his pub.” Shannon drained his cup. “I bet Sean’ll jump at the offer.”

Connor nodded, and finished his doughnut. “You know, I think I’ll do just that.”

Back at their shared apartment, Connor went into his brother’s room to find him just getting out of the shower, a towel around his waist. An assortment of bruises mottled Sean’s fair skin, and his eye had blackened spectacularly.

“Don’t you look a sight,” Connor observed wryly.

Sean snorted. “Yeah, and I feel a whole hell of a lot worse.” He disappeared into the closet and emerged a few minutes later wearing jeans and a black t-shirt.

Connor leaned against the doorframe. “Have any plans for tonight?”

“Aye, I was thinking I might go out somewhere.” Sean picked up a small towel and rubbed his hair vigorously.

“Wanna come with me to O’Reilly’s and catch the Ireland-Portugal game?”

Sean’s hands froze, and he slowly lowered the towel. “Really?” He looked at Connor sharply, a grin beginning to tug at his lips. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Despite a slightly frosty welcome from Tom O’Reilly that night, the brothers settled down to watch the game with great enthusiasm. Soon they were laughing and joking as they sipped on their beer. Connor glanced at Sean. Just like old times.

“Aw, come on, Keane, I can’t believe you missed that shot! The net was wide open,” Sean groaned, watching the TV avidly. He poked Connor. “Did you see that? Wide open net and the guy misses.”

“I know.” Connor shook his head. Hearing the door open and close, he glanced over to see who had just come in and froze. “Great,” he muttered under his breath. “Seamus.”

Sean withdrew his attention from the game long enough to look over as well. Seeing Seamus, he tensed for a minute, then shrugged and turned back to the match. Connor, impressed, turned his back to Seamus and started comparing favorite players with his brother.

“You can’t mean to tell me that you think Alan Quinn is better than Robbie Keane?” Sean was saying incredulously when he was bumped roughly from behind. He twisted to see Seamus glaring at him. “It’s awfully crowded in here tonight, you may want to watch your step,” Sean remarked lightly. He faced Connor again. “Come on, Connor, Keane’s an amazing player. Quinn’s a newbie. No matter how much potential you claim he has, he’s not gonna be better than Keane anytime soon.”

Over Sean’s shoulder, Connor watched as Seamus slouched away looking a bit disappointed. Sean caught his attention again by poking him.

“Hey, look, Connor, the game’s back on.  Now let’s see who performs better, Quinn or Keane, huh?”

Connor grinned. “You’re on.”