perceptive projection

My brother is funny. He is really like a little kid sometimes, so innocent.

I was working until one a.m. last night. By the time I came home, he was already asleep. When he woke up the next morning, the first thing he checked was whether I had come home. Ever since I moved to New York, I had never closed my bedroom door when I slept at night to make sure I could hear everything and would be able to wake up at strange sounds, even with my brother around, my bedroom door stayed open at night when I slept.  

How did I know he check on me first thing in the morning was because I heard a whisper of someone called me, "Cie," meaning sister in chinese. The way he called me when I am sleeping, in an uncertain whisper between wanting to wake me up but also the reluctance to wake me up because he knew how little sleep I get.

But it always managed to wake me up especially every since he lived with me in the States.  

So, I heard him, and moved to remove the big blanket, that had covered me from head to toe, enough so I could peer out to see him standing so still by the doorframe. A relief look washed over his face when he saw my head appeared from the blanket. I had a feeling he had been standing there for a while, willing the blanket to move to give sign that there was someone beneath it, since the blanket was so huge that you couldn't tell whether I was there or not. But I rarely moved when I sleep, hence he whispered to call to me. He didn't venture in to the bedroom, not many people dared to venture into my bedroom while I am in it. Open door or not. Except for my mom, but there was another history why she was intentionally pushing herself into my room, a symbol between us that she would forcefully push in no matter how hard I push her and everybody out from my life.

When I mumbled out to him to ask what did he want, he just grinned happily and shook his head. Then he couldn't contain himself and asked me what time I came home. After I answered in a second, longer sentence with clearer voice, he strolled away happy as if that he'd made sure that indeed I was home and that it was me.

Watching him, I shook my head, marvelling on how like a little boy he was still. But also touched.  

The reason I want to wait until summer, until when he is on his summer break and not around.