Beyond Bloodline - Unbreakable Bonds

two

He woke up with a groan. While he'd very much have preferred to sleep into eternity, his headache became so palpable he had to force himself up. Glancing at the bedside table, Nigel sighed at the sight of the rounded pills and tall glass of water.

Paying it no mind, he advanced to the bathroom at the roiling state his stomach was in. Bending over the sink, he dry heaved for what felt like all of the morning before managing to upend the contents of his meagre dinner from last night.

After giving his face and mouth a good rinse, he stepped back out to down the medicine, gaze lighting on the bowl of soup that had been next to the glass. He picked it, ripping the sticky note off the body.

Heard soups are good for hangovers. Don't forget to microwave it.

Balling it in his fist, he tossed it aside before going to heat up the soup. While he waited, he retrieved his journal from where Saxon had hung up his satchel. When no words came after waiting a whole minute, he put it aside and took a look around the room he'd hardly step into of his own volition.

He'd used a cool blue hue and where Nigel had left his walls bare, he'd had his covered with paintings upon scenic sightings. It was no wonder he didn't like to come here at all. It provided too stark a contrast against his own room that was bare of any sort of extraneous appliance. The microwave dinged but Nigel soon lost interest at the sight of wafts of steam emerging from the soup and just let it be, walking the few meters to the fridge just adjacent and grabbing some chips and a couple of snack bars.

With that, he went to make himself comfortable in front of the television, passing time with a comedy that barely made his lips twitch. He turned to his cell phone when it started ringing.

"Aries," he called, picking the remote and switching through the channels. "What's up?"

"You called," was all he said.

"Forget it," Nigel snorted. He'd just been trying his luck. Aries was the last person he'd turn to for urgent help if he'd been in any real trouble.

"Okay," he acquiesced. "Let's talk some other time."

Nigel would have cursed at how quick he was to get away if he wasn't so worried. "You good?" He asked.

"Sure." Click.

Nigel sighed, sitting up from his slouched position at the sight of his call log and then paling at the name that might well have been in bold letters.

I like you.

The memory was like a fleeting whisper, endlessly mocking his incapability to hold onto restraint. "Damn it," he cursed under his breath. Why did it stop there? What came after that? He was so fucked. Tossing aside his cell phone, he bit angrily into a chocolate pretzel just as the door clicked open.

"You're up," Saxon said, shutting his door behind him and going to hang up his bag, expression hardening on seeing the bits of all types of wrappers and balled up papers littering his floor. "The bin's just behind the door."

Nigel switched from the news channel. It was more or less white noise at this point. Had she even responded?

"Are you listening to me?" The balled up sticky note hit Nigel's head with a soft thunk and fell to the couch after being sent in a sharp projectile by none other.

"Do you mind?" Nigel scowled, irritated. He'd just about grasped a reply in his memory.

"Can you at least pick up after yourself?" Saxon sighed. "This isn't your room."

Jaw clenching, Nigel stood rigidly to pick up the few wrappers he'd littered, fingers tightening around one when Saxon's voice, light with nonchalance, came from where he stood by the bed.