DIGI FICTION

 Two Brothers

Jorge was already out of breath as he ran toward his destination, his chest tightening

with every step as panic and urgency pushed him forward. The sound of his phone call

still rang in his ears, Diego’s voice sharp and impatient, telling him it was time and that

he needed to get there now. Jorge tried to explain that he was packing and on his way,

but Diego cut him off, his frustration finally spilling over. He reminded Jorge that Jorge

hadn’t been there when their father was sick, that everyone else had stayed, and that

whether Jorge meant to or not, his absence had already caused damage. Jorge insisted

he understood and promised he was coming, but his reassurance felt thin even to

himself.

By the time Jorge finally reached home, he was gasping for air, his body bent forward as

he tried to steady his breathing. Diego stood waiting near the ground in front of the

porch, his posture rigid and his face already hardened by grief. Jorge tried to explain,

stumbling over his words as he blamed traffic and the miles of backed-up cars that had

forced him to abandon his vehicle. Before he could finish, Diego delivered the words that

shattered everything: their father was dead. Inside the house, their mother’s cries echoed

through the walls, a sound that cut deeper than any accusation. Jorge broke down

instantly, repeating that he had tried, that he really had, but Diego’s grief transformed

into fury. He called Jorge a failure, a piece of shit, reminding him that this was the one

moment he needed to show up and he hadn’t.

When Jorge tried to defend himself, Diego snapped, asking mockingly whether “trying”

was supposed to be enough. His anger exploded into violence as he punched Jorge

hard in the left cheek, sending him collapsing sideways onto the ground. Diego

unleashed years of resentment, shouting that everyone else had been there for days,

standing around their dying father, holding his hand, watching the fear in his eyes as he

searched the room for Jorge. Their father had been calling out in Spanish, asking where

his son was, desperate and afraid, unable to see Diego even as Diego stood right beside

him like a devoted son. Diego reminded Jorge that everyone had made sacrifices, that

no one wanted to be there—but they stayed anyway.

Jorge shouted back that their father had been his too, that Diego wasn’t the only one

suffering, but the words sounded weak against Diego’s bitterness. Diego mocked him

for the man he had become, preparing to strike him again, when a small voice

interrupted them. Mariano, Diego’s young son, stood watching, confused and frightened

by the sound of the fight. Jorge immediately softened, lying to protect him, saying they

were just joking around like brothers do. Diego played along, dismissing the situation

and ordering Mariano back inside in a firm, commanding voice. Only when the boy

disappeared did Diego’s anger finally drain, replaced by exhaustion.

Diego exhaled heavily, shaking his head as he helped Jorge up from the ground. He

tossed him a can of cold beer, which Jorge pressed against his bruised cheek, the sting

grounding him in the moment. Diego spoke quietly now, admitting that he truly believed

their father was getting better after that night—but he had been wrong. He asked Jorge if

he remembered what their father had said, and Jorge answered honestly that he could

never forget.

The memory flooded back to a night filled with tension disguised as humor, where the

brothers and their father, Victor, sat around a chessboard. Diego rushed Jorge to make a

move, mocking his slowness, while Victor joked crudely and encouraged them to play.

Diego eventually checkmated Jorge and teased him mercilessly, joking that Jorge would

be written out of the will. The banter escalated into familiar insults about basketball,

chess, and Jorge’s gambling troubles until Victor intervened, defending Jorge with dry

humor. When money was demanded, Victor offered to cover Jorge’s debt and asked him

to fetch his wallet.

It was then that Jorge found the note hidden, suspicious, and unsettling. Diego

snatched it before Jorge could read it, and the horror on Diego’s face revealed the truth

before the words were spoken. Victor had cancer. Jorge was stunned, desperate for

confirmation, while Victor brushed it off casually, insisting it was none of their business.

Diego exploded, furious that their father had kept something so serious from them and

from their mother. Victor insisted it was his decision and that knowing changed nothing.

The conversation turned heavier as Victor admitted he had refused treatment, chemo,

radiation, all of it, because it was too expensive and, in his mind, pointless. Diego

begged, offering to pay, shouting that money didn’t matter, but Victor’s pride refused to

let his son sacrifice himself. The argument reached its breaking point when Diego

angrily swept the chess pieces off the table, calling his father a coward. Victor’s

authority cut through the chaos when he ordered both sons to sit down. He listened as

they pleaded with him to fight, not just for himself, but for their family and their blood.

Victor finally relented, agreeing only to think about it, which brought a wave of relief over

Diego. But later, in private, Victor admitted to Jorge that he would likely do whatever it

took to keep their mother off his back. He spoke calmly about death, about being

reduced to a name carved in stone, and about legacy, the only thing people truly leave

behind. He warned Jorge that neither he nor Diego was strong enough to handle loss

alone and begged him to take care of his brother, reminding him that the bond between

siblings mattered more than anything. His final plea was simple but heavy: be brothers,

before it was too late.

Back in the present, Jorge explained that this had been his father’s last request before

he returned to basketball, to be brothers while there was still time. Diego admitted

quietly that their father had said the same thing to him. After a long pause, Diego stood

and extended his hand, asking if they were together through thick and thin. Jorge

ignored the hand and instead pulled him into a tight embrace, and Diego hugged him

back without resistance. The anger, the regret, and the years of distance finally

dissolved in that moment.

When they pulled apart, Diego reminded Jorge that the family was waiting inside. Jorge

nodded, wiped his face, and walked toward the door, finally ready to face what he had

avoided, longer alone.