castle on a cloud, taj

"I don't read these books for that. It's handy for awkward silences," Tajvar retorted, but he hardly meant his words. Getting into everyone's heads, as Soraya put it, wasn't his intention. He wanted to know how people thought so he could put himself into their shoes -- literally. He had roles to play, faces to put on. "Or to get rid of pesky salesmen."

He pulled her along to the edge of the rink when she landed on the ice, taking advantage of the fact that she was entertained by the stunt. "If no one asks me out, then yes, we can go out," Tajvar said. The heels of his skates bumped against the wall, and he stopped moving, but kept his hands in his sister's. "Why don't you come stay?

"Permanently."

Tajvar smiled, only because he had more than enough to spare. For some reason, money wasn't too much of an issue for him; most of the time, he was able to afford more things than his peers could. Perhaps he was more prudent with what he had, or so he liked to believe -- engrossed in a book, Tajvar often forgot to eat.

His response to Soraya's question was again a smile. Rarely did he ask questions or say things he didn't mean, but doubting people was a natural thought process, so he made no comment and nodded when she agreed and beamed at him. He pulled her into a hug.

"Great. Cookies, next week."

"I'll go with you."

It was the right thing to say and the right thing to do. He'd help his sister out, lend her a hand when she needed it -- or even if she didn't. Packing wasn't easy, and when he did it alone, it wasn't easy. Even if Soraya insisted she was fine (and lifted crates like they were cotton), he wanted to help. He had to; otherwise he felt as if he hadn't played his role well.

"You probably could afford to not move some things -- the apartment isn't big. Enough for all," he paused, and pushed on, "three of us, though." Tajvar's gaze shifted, focusing on a seat in the distance. There was always room for family. "But first -- ingredients?"

He changed the topic, unwilling to dwell on his own worries. He could sort them out later, on his own.

"And keep the coffee table clean," Tajvar added, laughing slightly. He kept things orderly in his own apartment, but the television was hardly used, and as a result, the coffee table was almost always a mess. That was hardly the case for his own room, though: half of it was his collection of books and a few cell specimens he kept for the sake of keeping.

"No, I don't think I -- we do." Vocabulary adjustments had to be made for a house with two-and-a-half people (his brother hardly counted, he wasn't home often). "Just how much cookies are we making? A couple jars? Three? What about mom and father?"

Tajvar raised an eyebrow. He'd heard stories, but he supposed that he could keep the bathroom clean himself. He inhaled lightly, doing some mental calculations concerning the cookies and finally came to a good number. "How about a hundred and fifty? Classmates.

"We could make our own stash later."

Typical Tajvar.

Tajvar knew better than to argue with his sister. A dozen, a baker's dozen, whatever goes. He thought it didn't matter -- well, now he was proven wrong, but he ultimately had his agreement from Soraya. Concluding the topic with a nod, he then took out his phone and made a couple notes; missing a prior arrangement with family never was a good thing.

He glanced up from the LED screen to what sounded like a partially-eager voice, and the mention of his brother. Tajvar remained silent, but a sigh latched unto the back of his throat. She was right. Furniture; he had enough, but he didn't know if they had collections like he did, or if any of them enjoyed bringing friends over.

For an older brother, he sure didn't know a lot of things.

"He probably wouldn't be in most nights," said Tajvar, giving it some thought. "But we should have a bed, anyway -- it's a three-room apartment, and yes. Maybe. IKEA's fun regardless of whether you're buying."