Cayn was wrapped up in love. He was mostly just that, walking around in the house they were born in, tall like he'd finished growing, shoulders satellites orbiting far from his torso. A dapper image of love, strung together and held out on narrow limbs. Powerful skeleton - for the heart's calcium cage - at home in the contemporary aesthetic with his disarray of hot, black hair and cold, brown eyes - they were a kind shape but they were a severe tone. The women who fell into him saw all these details of love, and mistook it for something available to them. That kind of love is addictive, even if you're just catching its reflection.<br/><br/>Today love looked furious, sitting in his sister's room. Yesterday had been a time of deceit. Adoration always comes with a collection of lies. He had hidden her phone, and she had to use the stationary computer and tablet, which let him see all her passwords over her shoulder. She'd been eager to log on lately, and he could guess the reason. Girl like to be be more acute about boys. Cayn had hated the implications because they were so foreign to him. He should perhaps have hated his premeditated game of breaking in to her digital life more.<br/><br/>If there had been traces of such bad conscience, they had been obliterated when he'd gone through the stolen phone - that he'd upgraded for her not too months ago - because of what he found. The boy's name was Albert, Al affectionately, and she'd known him for quite some time. Innocent at first, like the prelude to all great tragedies, and then barreling toward horrid with messages riddled little yellow faces and disproportionately drawn fruit. He had a headache, and the stress was giving Cayn the prettiest little red changed on his cheekbones.<br/><br/>He'd been waiting for her to come home. "Hey, sis!" he barked when he heard the door close. Mom and dad weren't going to be home for some time, which was exactly why today was perfect for inviting home boys, and for having confrontations about why boys should not be invited over. He didn't yell at her a lot, but this was a special occasion. Cayn had wanted to sit on her bed and be calm about it, but when she came in he stood and threw the phone on the bed instead. The messages she'd sent were on there, but he'd chosen to open up her calendar instead. It had been today's date, Albert's nickname, and an improvised heart, because her planning app did not permit cartoons.<br/><br/>"What is this?" he asked before pulling her inside and slaming the door closed. The old barrier tried to lock into place but ended up bouncing off the frame, shaking from the force. No matter. No one else was home anyway. Cayn towered over her, satellite shoulders hulking with disapproval. He stabbed two fingers in the direction of her tattle-tale device. "Who the fuck is Albert?" he demanded. He knew though, after some research. Albert was his own age, with a similar height. He liked to stay close to his family, judging by his media, and didn't live far from here.<br/><br/>"I think it's highly inappropriate to have him over when no one is here." Cayn had told her he'd be out with his friends, which had been the truth before all these new discoveries. "So, it's probably time you call him and tell him not to come."