3.1 | What we Fake

7. What brothers are for

It was somewhere early in the morning and Liam probably had just an hour of sleep when he began tossing in his bed, crumpling his sheets with the movement. The room was dark and it was supposed to be autumn, the best time of the year but he was drenched in sweat as he tried to go back to sleep. 

He could not sleep and instead, sat up. Tired and drained to the bone from the previous night and a hangover coming in slowly, he groaned and settled at the edge of the bed, feet dangling from the high bed. 

Groggy eyed, he rubbed a hand over his tired face. He sat, legs dangling over the edge and eyes shut for a moment until everything from the previous night came rushing to him. 

Goddamn it, what had he done?

Everything was messed up, his life was never going to be the same. He blew a frustrated sigh and tugged on his hair in frustration. The memories of last night brought him back to life. 

Oh dear, what will he tell Emily if she remembered the events of the previous night? 

He was so fucked up, but then for a split second, he brought his fingers to his lips and he could still feel her kissing him but that last for but a moment, before he smacked himself, bringing himself to the present. 

Liam knew what would fix him up. A cold shower was what he needed to clear his brain and so, he stumbled his way in the early morning towards the bathroom. He dropped clothing all across the bathroom floor as he stepped into the shower and set to the coldest level it could go. 

Liam winced as the water hit his back, it was colder than he had anticipated but he needed it. He squeezed his eyes shut in agony, it was better when he hadn't kissed her. At least he didn't know how kissing her would be like; now, he could not stop thinking about her. 

Emily. 

Why did she just have to be so perfect effortlessly? It just wasn't fair how she could make him weak in the knees with a smile and not even know that she was doing things to him. 

He watched the glass of the bathroom get fogged up and he wished that he could hide in that fog and not face her. He did not know what he'd do if she remembered. He began thinking what he would do if she really did remember. 

He was floating in daydreams soon, he'd pack his bags and leave. Yes, that would be the best thing he could do. 

She'd know that he was in love with her and then, it would be worse than feeling like he was in love with someone he'd not have a chance with. She'd never look at him the same way again, there would always be a sad tone to his name. He didn't want that. 

He did not want to be pitied. 

The sudden banging on a door made him jump out of his skin and he roared, "Jesus!" 

But there was no response after a while and he realised that whoever it was had probably left realizing that it was occupied. He hurried outside with a white towel around his waist and water still glistening on his pale skin. 

On finding no one in his room, Liam put on some clothes and opened the door but before he could take a step out, he looked at the floor in horror. The white tile floor of the hall was covered in something clear and gross. He heard someone else throwing up from his brother's bedroom opposite to his and he squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to calm down. 

But he couldn't do it. 

"CHRIS!"

~*~

"That is why buddy, you don't drink so much," Liam scolded as he rubbed his hand up and down Chris' back as he threw up. Liam turned away and gagged.