Our Ghost of a Brother

“He’s outside.”

“Has he been there long?”

“…We don’t know.”

The two sisters stood by the kitchen window, staring out into the backyard where Beckett stood—still as ever, hands in his pockets, mask on, scarf perfectly in place despite the mild breeze brooding in the backyard.

“Classic,” one muttered.

“He hasn’t changed,” the other added.

Their husbands leaned in behind them, equally confused.

“Why is he just… standing there?” one asked.

“He does that,” they both replied in unison.

Then: The Ghost Child

“He was always like this,” the older twin began, leaning against the counter. “Even as a kid.”

“He didn’t cry much,” the other added. “Didn’t talk much either.”

“First word?” one of the husbands asked.

They both shrugged.

“Probably ‘meh.’”

A pause.

“…You’re joking.”

They didn’t laugh.

“He’d just appear,” one sister continued. “No footsteps. No warning.”

“Scared the life out of Mom more than once,” the other said.

“Still does,” came a voice from the doorway.

Their mother entered, arms folded—but smiling faintly.

“He once stood behind me for ten minutes before saying anything,” she said. “I nearly called an exorcist.”

From outside, Beckett shifted slightly.

All four of them froze instinctively.

“…See?” one sister whispered

First Impressions: The Husbands’ Perspective

“I’ll be honest,” one husband said, clearing his throat. “When I first met him…”

“You thought he was dangerous,” the sisters finished.

“I thought he was a hitman.”

“Mob-affiliated,” the other husband added quickly. “At minimum probably asociated with Damien.”

They both nodded.

“He wore that same outfit,” one said. “Mask. Gloves. Chains. Didn’t speak.”

“He just looked at me,” the other added. “For, like, thirty seconds.”

The sisters laughed.

“That’s him being polite.”

Now: The Man He Became

The back door creaked open.

Beckett stepped inside quietly.

No announcement.

No greeting.

Just presence.

“…meh,” he said.

“Hi, Beck,” both sisters replied instantly.

Their husbands straightened slightly.

Even now, there was something about him.

Not threatening.

Not hostile.

Just… intense.

“You’ve been standing outside for twenty minutes,” one sister said.

“Forty-three,” Beckett corrected softly.

“…Of course you counted.”

He shrugged.

Understanding Him

“He’s not 100 percent totally distant,” one sister said, watching him grab a drink.

“He’s selective,” the other corrected.

Beckett sat down, already halfway through his soda.

“He listens to everything,” one added.

“Remembers more than he says,” the other finished.

Beckett didn’t deny it.

Enter the Twins

Two small figures appeared at the hallway entrance.

Peresphone.

Hades.

Silent.

Watching.

The husbands stiffened immediately.

“…They’re staring at us,” one whispered.

“They do that,” Beckett said calmly.

The twins stepped forward.

“Hello,” Peresphone said politely.

“We have evaluated you,” Hades added.

Silence.

“…And?” one husband asked carefully.

“You are acceptable,” Peresphone said.

“For now,” Hades finished.

The room went very, very quiet.

Fear… and Affection

“…They’re terrifying,” one husband muttered.

“Yes,” one sister said.

“We love them,” the other added immediately.

The twins tilted their heads.

“We are aware,” Peresphone said.

“We reciprocate,” Hades added.

That somehow made it worse.

And better.

The Sisters’ Truth

“He was always ours,” one sister said quietly, watching Beckett sit with the twins now beside him.

“He still is,” the other added.

Beckett didn’t speak.

But he didn’t leave either.

The twins leaned slightly against him.

Comfortable.

Familiar.

Safe.

What They All Realized

“He’s not easy,” one husband admitted.

“No,” one sister agreed.

“He’s not normal,” the other added.

“No,” their mother said from behind them.

A pause.

They all looked at Beckett—quiet, masked, surrounded by two equally unsettling children who clearly adored him.

“…But he’s family,” one husband said.

“More than that,” one sister replied.

“He’s ours.”

Beckett glanced up briefly.

Just for a moment.

Then back down.

But it was enough.

They saw it.

That quiet acknowledgment.

That subtle acceptance.

That was all they would ever get.

And it was more than enough.

Final Line

“He may be a ghost to the rest of the world,” one sister said softly.

“But to us?”

They both smiled faintly.

“He’s home.”

Final line:

“They’re not normal. They’re better. They’re ours.”