One Cold, Summer Night

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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 idiot 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.

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