When I Was Whole (And When I Fell Apart)

15 - Quinze

"Hello," Laurence greeted from his place on the table.

        "Hi," Elisabeth said back, seemingly unsure of what to say. "...Laurence."

        The air between them was suffocating, Laurence avoiding small talk in favor of resting both hands placidly onto the sides of his mug. Steam curled up from the black coffee swirling inside, warming the tips of his fingers in the early winter chill. The air smelled of finely ground coffee beans, freshly brewed as he poured himself another cup.

The city was on the cusp of waking, between that limbo of midnight and early dawn; it would have been pleasant, with the beginnings of warmth rising on the horizon, the rays of light dotting the kitchen in streaks of orange and gold.

        That was, until his sister decided to walk in and ruin his morning.

        "You're early," Elisabeth called from the counter, gesturing to him sitting at the table. They hadn't spoken alone since she'd arrived, and the tension from the previous days hadn't dissipated in the slightest. "You usually sleep in. Normally Arthur's up at this time."

        Laurence narrowed his eyes, voice bitter. "If you only know me by my sleeping schedule," he began, not bothering to hide the irritation in his tone, "then there's a lot you're missing out on."

        Elisabeth peered away, gripping the sleeve of her shirt while shifting from foot to foot. Growing up, it was a habit that had grown increasingly more frequent, in the way she tightened her grip to calm her growing nerves. Laurence could see how she bit her lower lip to keep the anxiety from reaching her face, and he had to keep a disgustingly triumphant smile from tugging at his lips.

        "No need to be so annoyed with me right off the bat," she sighed, releasing a deep exhale. "It's only six in the morning."

        He rolled his eyes and grabbed his mug, taking a tentative sip. The coffee felt acidic on his tongue; he hadn't bothered to add any sugar, even as the taste made him instinctively recoil. "Don't pretend to care about me. You don't know what goes on here."

        She didn't reply. Laurence was thankful for that if nothing else.

        He stood up, walked over to the jar of coffee beans, and scooped some into the awaiting grinder. The silence was suffocating between them, Elisabeth picking at her plain breakfast of eggs and some sad-looking Eggo waffles as he desperately tried to avoid eye contact.

        "How's Stanford?" Laurence asked if only to break the awkward tension between them. "I mean, you took the scholarship. Sounds like a ton of pressure, y'know."

        "I mean, I guess," Elisabeth shrugged nonchalantly, stabbing her soggy waffle with a fork. "Stanford's fine, for the most part. The first few weeks of the semester were hard, but I like to think I'm getting used to the coursework. Not as bad as I thought it'd be for an Ivy."

        "Oh yeah, of course you're alright," Laurence scoffed, taking the used coffee filter from inside the machine and tossing it into the trash. "What, is it any harder than, I don't know, running the student council? Being president of the debate team? Joining track? Winning the science olympiad?" He popped a piece of stale bread into the toaster oven, not bothering to lift his gaze. "You tell me what the hell you were doing in high school."

        "Awfully specific there," She deadpanned, putting the waffle in her mouth and chewing slowly. "I'm fine. I'm home now, why do we have to talk about school?"

        Laurence laughed dryly. "Yeah, home. Even when you were here it's not like you were ever around." He glared at her, flecks of ground coffee swirling about as he detached the box from the bottom of the grinder, popping open the lid. "Ever thought about us, huh?"