by Nicola Haken
“I wouldn’t be talking to you if I was,” he said, cocky as ever.
“Right. So, um, Ty wants to know if you and Scott will come over tonight for his birthday. You don’t have to,” I said, half hoping he’d say no. “I mean if you’re busy, he’ll understand.”
“We’d love to. I can bring food. Does he like Chinese?”
“You don’t hav-”
“Just answer the question, Oliver.”
Smiling at his bossy voice, I answered, “Yes, he does.”
“Seven o’clock?”
“Perfect.”
“Did he like his Xbox?”
“Oh, he loved it. I think I’m in his good books for at least a month. Oh, and don’t forget to give that bottle of primer to your mum, and apologise for the wait. We were waiting for new stock.” As I finished talking, I heard someone call Seb’s name over the phone.
“That’s June. I’ve gotta go. My mum will be thrilled with the make-up by the way. Say happy birthday to Tyler for me.”
“I will.”
“Can’t wait to see you.”
“Me either.” And I meant it, really I did, I just wished it wasn’t in my house. I knew it was stupid and that Seb wouldn’t care, but as I made my way upstairs after hanging up the phone, past the peeling wallpaper and to the bathroom with the mouldy ceiling, I couldn’t help feeling…not good enough.
* * *
Claire let me leave work early today on account that I looked pale, or rather, paler than usual. I had to agree after studying my reflection in the mirror and I decided it was likely due to the fact I hadn’t been sleeping well lately thanks to my lumpy mattress, and also because I was getting a nasty cough. My throat had been itchy all day and my lungs burned if I inhaled too deeply.
Fantastic.
I could only hope it wouldn’t affect my performance at Glitter tomorrow night. Maybe it would enhance it, give my voice a sultry rasp. Every cloud, and all that jazz. Anyhow, I arrived home just after Tyler and found him already upstairs, plugging the Xbox into his TV.
“What’s the Wi-Fi password?” is how he greeted me.
“Hello to you, too,” I quipped, leaning against his bedroom doorframe. “It’s written on a piece of paper downstairs. Did you have a good day?” I didn’t give him a chance to answer because I noticed a missing button on his blazer. “What happened to your blazer?”
“Oh, soz. It came off while I were gettin’ my birthday beatings from Evan.”
“Birthday beatings?”
“Yeah. It’s tradition. When it’s someone’s birthday, you beat ‘em up.”
My eyes grew wide and my mouth fell open.
“Not like a proper beating. Chill, Olli. It’s just messin’ around init.”
Living with Tyler, I was thankful every single day that I wasn’t a teenager in 2016. I don’t think I’d have survived. “Take it off. I’ll sew one back on,” I said, holding out my hand. I still had my mum’s sewing box, filled with threads, buttons, and various niknaks, and I was a dab hand with a needle. I actually found sewing quite therapeutic and had been customising most of my own clothes since I was a teenager, seeing as men’s fashion tended to be drab and boring.
“Scott’s bringing his own controller tonight so we can play split screen on COD,” Tyler added, jumping onto his bed after hurling his blazer at me.
I didn’t know what ‘COD’ was, but I had enough nous to figure it was game related. “Awesome.” At least, I assumed it was awesome if the excitement in his voice was anything to go by. “Seb’s bringing Chinese with him.”
“Ah, text him and ask him to pick up some of that crispy seaweed. I love that sh-uh, stuff.”
With a raised eyebrow that I hoped looked reprimanding for his almost-slip-up, I said, “Sure. I’m going for a bath. The Wi-Fi password’s in the crap drawer in the kitchen.”
He nodded but didn’t reply, too engrossed in the TV and the setup instructions flashing across the screen. Closing his door, I made my way to the bathroom, the itch in my throat becoming less of an annoyance and more unbearable. I forced a cough in an effort to ease it but only made it worse. By the time I sank into the warm bath I’d run my muscles were aching too.
Oh God. I was definitely getting sick. Ugh.
Seb and Scott showed up a couple of hours later. They were early and I hadn’t got around to putting the nice towels out in the bathroom yet. My mum always kept ‘guest’ towels in the wardrobe, which became regular towels after she died seeing as we never actually had any guests, but I’d planned to at least put out ones without holes before Seb arrived.
Armed with carrier bags of Chinese food, Seb leaned forward to kiss my lips when I opened my front door, but I turned my head to the side. “I’ve got a cough. Don’t want you to catch it,” I told him.
He pressed his lips to my cheek instead. “Wow. You’re really hot,” he noted.
Winking, I stepped aside to let him and Scott into the house. “So I’ve been told on numerous occasions.”
Smirking, he wandered inside and waited for me to close the door.
“Ty!” I called up the stairs. “Seb and Scott are here!”
Seconds later he came barrelling down the stairs, heading straight to Scott who handed him a present. “Happy birthday, mate.”
I cocked my head at Seb, signalling for him to follow me through the living room and into the kitchen, and on the way I heard Tyler yell, “Yes, lad! Ah mint! Cheers, Scott!”
“You didn’t have to buy him anything,” I said, taking the bags from Seb and placing them on the counter.
“Sure I did. It’s his birthday.”
“Well, thank you. Sounds like he likes it.” Reaching into the cupboard that had no door because it’d fallen off months ago, I pulled out four plates.
“It’s Fifa 16. Scott chose it.”
With an awkward smile, I turned to the cutlery drawer to grab some forks but Seb curled his fingers around my arm, pulling me back a step. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
“My throat’s itchy, and my chest-”
“No, I don’t mean that,” he interrupted. “I feel, well, it almost feels like you don’t want me here. You’re acting funny. Nervous almost. Have I done something to upset you?”
Damn. Now I really felt like shit and it had nothing to do with my scratchy throat or sore muscles. “No, no,” I said on a sigh. “Of course I want you here. I’m just…embarrassed, I guess,” I admitted, my gaze sweeping the torn linoleum floor.
“Embarrassed? Why?”
I stared at the bags of food on the counter because it was easier than looking into his eyes. “I don’t have the same things as you do. The nice house, the good neighbourhood, the big TV and comfy bed. Hell, I don’t even have a carpet in my living room because there’s always something more important that needs paying for first.”
“Well shit. There goes my plan to marry you for your money before slowly killing you off over a number of months by slipping undetectable traces of rat poison into your food.”
Huffing, I tilted my head to the side and glowered at him. “Will you be serious?”
“You’re right. Hiring a hit man is probably more feasible.”
Exhaling another deep sigh, I looked down to my chest. “I just didn’t want you coming here to change your impression of me. I didn’t want you to think I was, I don’t know, worthless, or that I don’t try my best for Ty.”
“Whoa…” Putting his finger under my chin, he lifted my head until I was forced to face him. “Do you really think so little of me?”
I shook my head.
“Oliver, I might have a nice house and a big TV and whatever else you mentioned, but I didn’t get those things on my own. I’ve got a huge support system. My parents helped me get my first house. They were always there when I fucked up and ran out of money. I share Scott with Lisa, not just in the time we spend with him but financially, too. You? You’ve raised Tyler alone. Alone, since you were practically a kid
yourself. Damn, Oliver, you work just as hard as I do. The only reason you don’t have the same nice things is because life isn’t fucking fair. It sure as shit isn’t because you don’t deserve them, or because you haven’t worked hard enough for them.”
“Seb, I-”
“Let me finish. I didn’t come here tonight to gawp at your fancy carpets or watch your impressive fifty-inch plasma. I came here to spend time with you. You. Because when we’re apart I miss you. I miss your smile. I miss your voice. I miss the way you look at me. I miss the way you make me feel like I’m important, how you make me feel like I’m hilarious when you scrunch your nose up and do that high-pitched chuckle, whereas everyone else just thinks I’m an idiot. I didn’t come here because I thought you were loaded, Oliver. I came here because…because I love you.”
Oh my God…
I sucked in a gasp, and for several seconds my breath refused to come back out again. “You…I mean I…” Words were surprisingly difficult to summon when breathing was all I could think about.
Raising my hand to his cheek, I stroked along the stubble on Seb’s jaw with my thumb. His brown eyes were slightly narrowed, oozing sincerity, staring into mine with so much passion, desire…acceptance. He loved me, me, and everything I had to offer…as little as that was.
As I pulled his face closer to mine, nose to nose, an ache ballooned deep in my chest. A pull. A harsh, fast throb that spread into my belly, and I knew exactly what that feeling was. “I love you too,” I whispered into his mouth.
Grinning against my lips, his hands flew into my hair and his tongue darted out, teasing the seam of my smile.
“My c-cough,” I protested, chuckling, trying to push him away.
He kept my head in place with his hands. “Worth the risk,” he practically growled, crashing his mouth to mine with so much force I stumbled back a step, hitting my bum off the counter.
“Ugh, for God’s sake…”
At Tyler’s interruption, Seb backed away with a smirk on his face.
“I came in to see if we could have tea before my sixteenth birthday. Not sure I want it now.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, trying not to laugh. “Go on. We’ll be through in a sec.”
Scrunching his nose, Tyler turned around and skulked back off into the living room.
“Busted,” Seb muttered, sniggering as he picked up the bags of food, which were probably warm as opposed to hot right now.
Laughing, I grabbed the plates and a handful of forks, and followed the man I loved into the living room to celebrate my brother’s birthday with what felt like my family.
Life was fucking perfect.
* * *
The next morning life had become decidedly less perfect. It felt like my throat had doubled in size, I couldn’t talk without coughing, and the muscles in my stomach felt like I’d been doing sit ups for ten hours straight. I wondered if the huge bruise below my ribs had anything to do with that, or at least contributed. It had appeared a couple of days ago from nowhere, but it wasn’t unusual for me to knock into things at the salon, especially when lifting or manoeuvring stock, so I decided that’s what must’ve happened.
Still, as craptastic as I felt, the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Seb’s face lying next to me, his hair messed up from sleeping, and a silvery line of drool stuck to the corner of his lips, and the world became perfect all over again.
“I should probably lie because you’re feeling insecure but I’m not going to,” Seb began, arching his back and groaning. “This is the most uncomfortable bed in the fucking world. I’m sure one of these springs tried to remove a kidney through my arse hole during the night.”
I started to laugh, which morphed into a coughing fit, and I covered my face with a pillow so I didn’t spray germs all over him.
“Have you taken anything for that?” he asked, reaching over to rub my back. Such a simple gesture, but it felt so good. I felt loved, cared for.
Once I’d got the cough under control, I lowered the pillow and shook my head. “I’m never ill. I don’t have anything in.”
“Right. I’ll take a shower and go out and get you something. I’m gonna take care of you today.”
“I’ll be fine,” I insisted, shaking my head again. “It’s your weekend with Scott. You’re not wasting it…” I broke off to cough again. “Fannying around after me.”
“The lads won’t be awake before two, and when they are they’ll be glued to the Xbox until dark. You’ll do as you’re told.”
Offering a weak, grateful smile, I muttered, “Yes, sir.”
There was no way I’d have been able to perform at the bar tonight, and I didn’t have the energy to worry about the cash I’d miss out on. A day in bed being waited on by my handsome trucker sounded like the only thing I was capable of, and so I decided I’d call Rhys and ask him to let Gary – the manager at Glitter – know I needed to cancel my act, while Seb went to the shop.
“Oh, dear God,” I grumbled, rolling into the foetal position as Seb crawled out of bed. “I think I’m dying.”
“Hey, I told you I love you last night. I expect at least a fifty-year return on my investment. No dying allowed.”
“Fifty?” Wow. Although said in jest, the thought excited me. Imagining all those years with Seb, all the possibilities, the things I’d learn about him, the places we’d see together. It made my stomach flutter.
And then I started coughing and the moment was ruined.
“Stop talking,” Seb ordered. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”
Nodding, I coughed and saluted him at the same time.
Ugh.
I spent the entire day in bed, only getting up to pee, and to soak in the bath that Seb ran for me. It’d been like I’d hired a private nurse to come and take care of me, only this nurse offered cuddles and back rubs too. He returned from the shop with a bag loaded with cough syrup, throat lozenges, paracetamol, and ibuprofen. He made me chicken soup for lunch, which I couldn’t even force down out of politeness because the thought of it made me gag, so he went back downstairs and swapped it for tomato instead. He kept the glass next to my bed topped up with water, opened my window when I became too hot, closed it when I was cold. He’d been sweet and attentive all day and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t play up to my role as patient a little because I’d enjoyed the extra attention.
I didn’t remember falling asleep, so I had no idea what time it was when the sound of repetitive banging woke me up. Thud. Thud. Thud. Over and over again. I knew, at least, that evening had arrived as car lights from the street swept across the ceiling.
Shortly after, I heard Seb whisper-yell, “Knock it off, lads! Oliver’s resting!” right before he snuck his head around my door.
“What the hell is that?” I asked, scrambling into a sitting position. The movement disturbed something in my chest, making me cough, and each violent hack felt like a thousand razor blades were slicing into my throat.
“They’re doing the water bottle flip.” Seb rolled his eyes and crawled onto the mattress next to me.
Whoever invented that stupid sodding game had a lot to answer for. Tyler had been obsessed with trying to flip a water bottle, with the aim of getting it to land in an upright position, since he saw it on YouTube a couple of months back. What a pointless waste of time and energy. It made no sense to me at all, yet it kept Tyler, and seemingly millions of other YouTube subscribers, entertained for hours.
“I think we should get you to the walk-in centre.” Seb’s arm stretched out and he placed the back of his hand flush against my forehead. His touch felt like ice against my burning skin. It was heavenly, and I curled my fingers around his wrist, dragging his hand down to my cheek. “You’re wheezing. This is more than just a cough, and I don’t think we should wait until the doctors opens on Monday.”
I pulled his palm against my bare chest, relishing the coolness. “Ugh. You wait…” Fucking cough. “…Ages at those places.”
“I don’
t care. You’re getting worse by the hour.” He stood from the bed, slipping out of the weak grip I had on his arm, and walked over to my wardrobe, pulling out a simple pair of joggers and a T-shirt. “Put these on. I’ll go tell the boys what’s happening.”
“I’m not leaving the house in those,” I protested, the croak in my voice betraying my conviction.
“You’re not going to a fashion show, Oliver.” He gave me a stern, authoritative glare. “And you’re not well enough to argue with me. Get dressed.”
Swinging my legs off the edge of the bed, I leaned forward and winced from the pain in my ribs. “Yes, Dad.”
* * *
To my pleasant surprise, we were in and out of the walk-in centre in under ninety minutes. Diagnosed with a chest infection and armed with a seven-day course of antibiotics and steroids, Seb drove me back home and marched me straight up to bed again, where I remained until Monday morning. He stayed the whole weekend, only leaving to take Scott back to his mum’s on Sunday afternoon, until he had to go to work today. He took care of Ty, too. He made his meals, took him into town to meet a friend after Scott had left, and then picked him up again afterwards. He even helped Ty with his homework, which led me to learn something knew about him – Seb was good at maths. Me? I still used my fingers to add up. From the confines of my bedroom, which was beginning to feel like a prison cell, I heard the pair of them laughing together on Sunday night. I didn’t know what they were talking about, but I enjoyed hearing them get along.
I’d worried, at first, that starting a relationship was selfish, that perhaps it would take attention away from Tyler when he needed me. Now, I was beginning to see that Seb had been good for both of us. He made me happy, and being happy made me a better brother. The world didn’t seem so dismal with Seb in it. Life wasn’t so scary. Problems and worries that used to fester and swell in my mind dissolved into nothingness once I’d shared them with him, leaving more room in my head to concentrate on the important things…like my brother. He was a good influence on Tyler, too, as was Scott. Tyler had been different since they’d come into our lives. Calmer. He’d been happier, as well. Ty and I had been alone for so long, and it’d never entered my head before that maybe he’d been craving something more just like I had. Support. People. A family.
