One Night

One Cold, Summer Night

This one-shot is set the summer before The School Bully. Enjoy. (๑°꒵°๑)･*♡

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I couldn't sleep.

I always get nights like this so I wasn't particularly frustrated.

In the pitch dark, I stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the dull pain inside my elbow. My dad and step-mom were out on a date and probably wouldn't be back until dawn. Abby was already asleep next door because she had to wake up early for her morning practice, her Bluetooth speakers softly playing lofi piano music. Outside, the wind was howling, a storm brewing perhaps. This made me smile. I was looking forward to it. There was something soothing and calming about hearing the pitter patter of the rain drumming against the roof and window panes. And it meant I could finally sleep.

Then I heard a crash.

At first, I thought it was thunder. But I could have sworn I heard a muffled, drunken giggle follow it.

Throwing back the covers, I went to snatch my flannel robe off my chair and shrugged it on. It used to be my mom's. Abby and I had donated most of her stuff to charity when she died but we couldn't bear to part with some of her things, including her robes, because it felt as if she was hugging us with how soft and super warm they were. 

I exited my bedroom, taking a moment to peek into Abby's to check on her. She was still asleep and I closed the door gently. Then I went to the bedroom at the end of the hall. A bedroom that we were never allowed to enter, so forbidden our ears would sting after the bellowing abuse of its owner if we dare even peep.

I flipped the light switch on. The lamp by his window was on the floor but I didn't think it was broken. I pushed the door further open and saw movement from the bathroom. It was Rohan walking out, holding a disinfectant spray. 

Correction, it was Rohan weaving out of the bathroom, holding a disinfectant spray.

When he saw me, he stopped dead but his body swayed. I gave him a befuddled look. 

"What are you going to do with that?" I asked him, pointing at his hand.

He looked at the disinfectant on his hand as if he had no idea he was carrying it. Then light dawned and his gaze went to the lamp on the floor, saying, "I broke your lamp."

"No," I muttered slowly, bending to prop the lamp back up. "You didn't break it. You just knocked it while you were coming in through the window." I closed his window next. "And it's not my lamp. It's yours."

He shrugged. "Your dad bought it."

"Our dad bought it," I corrected. "But what were you going to do with the disinfectant spray?"

He blinked and looked at it again. "I don't know. I didn't have a broom."

I finally let out the laugh I was holding.

"You're an i***t drunk, Rohan."

"You're pretty when you laugh."

"And you're lucky you'll forget everything come morning," I said, fighting a blush. "I wonder... Christopher doesn't let you come home this drunk, does he? I'm impressed you got home in this state. And I should really give your friends some talking to. I like them bunches but alcohol is bad for the health, you know, and you're still a freshman. Shouldn't they at least stop you from drinking?"

He didn't answer. But he started swaying as he stood and I knew he was going to fall on his face if I didn't do something. Taking the disinfectant from his hand, I put it on the table and dragged his body to his bed where he fell, face first.

I let out a quick breath. For a fifteen-year-old, he was quite tall, though not as tall as the friends he hung out with. And he was heavy. Real heavy for little ol' me who had yet to have my growth spurt. Even Abby who was thirteen and only a year younger than me had already caught up to my height.  

I gave up on trying to pull the covers beneath him so I could tuck him in with them. I took his shoes off instead. He didn't look like it but he was a big eater too. He was just so lean, I wondered where his food went.

"You'll hate me even more if I stay," I muttered with a tiny smile. "So goodnight, Rohan."

I turned to switch off the lights. But just as my fingers reached it, I heard a thump behind me and I whirled around to see that Rohan had fallen to the floor, his bed covers sliding off the bed with him.

"Rohan?"

He was now crawling under his bed to pull his luggage out.

"What the heck are you doing?"

He unzipped it and started throwing random things inside. His pillows, his shoes, his laptop, his headphones. Anything and everything his hands could reach.

"Rohan." I tried to pull his arm back but he shrugged me off. I knelt beside him. "Honestly, you're such a moron. What are you doing? You're not leaving, are you?"

"I will be," he slurred. He was now trying to put the corner of his carpet inside his overflowed luggage. "I... might as well prepare."

"Stop packing," I ordered, slapping his hands. "You aren't going anywhere."

Rohan turned to me. I was determined to give him a piece of my mind because like hell he was going anywhere at this time of the night and at this inebriated state but when I caught his expression, my heart fell to my stomach and I forgot the words I wanted to say.

He looked... miserable.

Miserable and defeated.

"Do you want to leave, Rohan?" I whispered, afraid of his answer.

He stared at me for a long moment. Then I let out a quick sigh of relief when he slowly shook his head.

"Then don't leave," I begged.

"That's why I told you not to get too attached, Emilia." The anguish in his voice was painful to hear. "I told you... and Abigail..." he looked away but not before I saw the shimmer in his eyes.

Emilia and Abigail.

Never Emmy and Abby like everyone else called us.

That was how he was trying to establish distance and indifference. He never called our father Dad either. Only sir.

At first, I thought he did it out of spite. But eventually, it was all making sense to me. His attitude to the whole marriage deal between our parents. He never thought they'd make it through a year together. Now, they were celebrating their fifth marriage anniversary but despite that, he still thought they were a ticking timebomb.

It was annoying to be sure.

Now, it was just heartbreaking.

"Please stay with us, Rohan," I whispered. "Even if worse comes to worst... even if what you believed would happen will truly happen... I want you to stay with us."

"Why?"

"Because you're family." I hesitated once before saying. "You're our brother."

The muscle in the side of his jaw flexed and I realized he was angry.

"Brother... yeah... some f*****g brother I am," he muttered before lurching up. "I'm not your brother. Not your f*****g brother."

"Alright," I soothed, putting my hands on his shoulder so he'd sit down on his bed before he hurt himself. "Alright, Rohan."

"I hate you," he whispered as he buried his face into the palm of his hands. "I hate you so f*****g much."

I'd heard this over the years too much to let his words affect me. "No, you don't hate me."

"Yes, I hate you. I hate everything about you. And I f*****g hate how much you always think you're right about everything."

"Just shut up and go to sleep, Rohan," I murmured irritably, pushing him until he was lying on his back and covered him with his sheets. "Before I do something you'll regret." Like take a picture of his drunken state and send it to Christopher.

He opened bleary eyes to glare at me.

"I hate you. I don't trust you either."

That does it. I was going to get my phone and take a freaking picture.

But before I could leave, his fingers were around my wrist and he wasn't letting go. Giving up, I sat next to him on the bed and studied him. He was still glaring at me but I still ran my fingers through his dirty-blonde hair. I've always wanted to that ever since he started growing them out longer. And he was letting me. Drunk Rohan was letting me touch him and wasn't lashing out in anger.

His eyes started to close and his grip started to loosen. I kept it up until I thought I could escape. But his eyes suddenly opened again, surprising me. Looking at the ceiling, he started to look furious again.

"Sheesh, Rohan," I mumbled, patting his chest. "Just go to sleep. You're a terrible drunk and though I want to make fun of you, I just can't."

"All I do is make you cry," he started to mumble.

I blinked. "No, you don't."

"I always hear you crying."

Yeah, but that was for a entirely different reason, I thought, my hand clutching the inside of my elbow where I just had a blood transfusion that day. The sight of rain falling outside his window drew my gaze but I wasn't soothed. I wasn't calmed. Because I knew that I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.

"You'll all get tired of me," Rohan announced and my gaze went back to him. He was still angrily and stubbornly staring at the ceiling. "I won't change. Not for anyone. Not for you."

"Okay, Rohan."

His expression turned befuddled and he blinked slowly. "It's okay?"

I nodded. "If you want to stay a jerk, so be it. But I won't get tired of you, no matter what. I'll never leave you."

Rohan continued to stare at the ceiling for a long moment.

Then he slightly turned his head to the side to look at me with the saddest expression I'd ever seen.

"Don't ever trust me not to leave, Emilia. Because I will."

I smiled through the pain that clutched my chest that for once, wasn't caused by my disease. "Then I'll make you come back."

The corners of his lips lifted, like he found me funny. Then his eyes fluttered close and I knew he had finally fallen asleep. Touching his face, I repeated my vow once again.

"I'll make you come back, Rohan. Even if it's the last thing I'll ever do."