It was the smell that drew her at first, the charcoal scent that only comes from the kind of barbeque where there is lots of good food and pink lemonade that gets your hands sticky and a beautiful blanket of stars up above. Already starting to feel her stomach growling, Nuke poked her head around the corner. No one was there. “Hello?” No answer. A duller person would’ve turned back, but not Nuke. She knew her family too well. She padded silently through the grassy meadow until she reached the overhang of trees that she knew very well sheltered the entrance of a cave. “I know you’re in there,” she said with a small smirk, already beginning to crawl through the small entrance. Once it widened, Nuke brushed the dirt off her casual jeans and stood up. “No,” a muffled voice replied. It sounded almost like…the speaker was talking through a mouthful of food. “I don’t have anything. Go away, Nuke.” Nuke rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything. At the end of the short tunnel, there was a small clearing, with light filtering in from a hole in the ceiling. Knowing that her brother couldn’t see her lurking in the shadows, she crept up quietly. Steak was sitting down, crouched over something indistinguishable. He continued to stuff things in his mouth and rapidly chew, eyes darting around his surroundings. Little brat. Steak was trying to eat everything before she reached him. Not about to let that happened, Nuke tackled Steak, knocking him over. The food lay undefended on the ground. “Ugh,” Steak grunted, trying to push Nuke off him. “Get—off.” His hands, pinned under Nuke’s bulk, stretched feebly for the forgotten piece of meat. Grinning, Nuke cuffed her step brother around the head. “Not a chance,” she said smugly, and then deftly plucked up the food. She began to rip off pieces and daintily chew them. “Not bad,” she said, cocking his head. “Not your best, either.” Steak scowled. “Then don’t eat it.” With the last word, he managed to push Nuke off with a heave, and then pounced on her. In the struggle, the piece of food went flying in the other direction. The two of them began to roll around on the ground, pushing dirt into each other’s hair and struggling to gain the upper hand. After a few minutes, though, they tired and finally stopped. Both lay on the ground and tried to gain their breath. The coveted meat was flung to the side, forgotten, as the two of them dissolved into laughter.

He is smoking a cigarette when she comes across him. The sky up above is cloudy. She thinks that it matches his eyes, not in color but in emptiness. She does not tell him. Instead, she takes his cigarette and takes a long drag. On the exhale, she says with her eyes closed, “Fuck.” “Fuck,” he agrees. They do not speak for a while. He stares off into the distance while she stares at the distance between their two hands. She estimates it is two inches. It doesn’t matter how close they are. She wants them to be closer. She can reach out and map his freckles like they are constellations, so why does it feel like they’re miles apart? She doesn’t really know how to say but fuck, you’re the goddamn most perfect think I’ve seen so she doesn’t. She opens her mouth and wants to swallow herself whole. He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. They are stormy looking, dark and impenetrable. She used to want to know every single thought that passed through his head. She’s long accepted that this isn’t going to be a reality. She can’t. They can’t. He reaches out to give her the cigarette again, and his fingers brush by her collarbones. His hands make her burn but at least she’s felt warmth. Instantly she feels her heart start to race. Tries to breath more slowly, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Can’t get enough air. Finally, she can’t stand it. “Do you ever think—?” She doesn’t elaborate. He understands anyway. There is a long pause before he answers. He takes another drag, doesn’t look at her. Finally, his voice low and barely discernable, he says, “Baby, it’s just you and me and an endless war.” In through the nose. Out through the mouth. The air tastes like hating yourself.