The Last Architects

Chapter Six.

 "I've missed you, my little brother. How have you been?" Cameron gave me an affectionate hug, to which I melted into after a moment.

"Fine, just studying and stuff. You?" I leaned back, getting a better look at the man who was more my father figure than my actual dad.

"Oh, absolutely great! I have been studying art with much rigor since I got to the U.S. but you must tell me how you are settling here, I did choose this job to be closer to you after all." I scoffed when he ruffled my hair. I was taller than him yet he insisted on treating me like a twelve year old when he got all sentimental.

"Mm, the teachers are what I expected... Jane is close too so that's nice, ahh..." I followed him as he walked down the street, "my roommate is absolutely horrible. I don't know how I've survived with his need to get physical."

"Physical?" He looked alarmed, "he isn't trying anything-"

"No, no. He is smaller, dainty and pathetic. He couldn't even if he tried. But we argue and he always surprises me with hitting or bloody doors."

"Oh dear... Have you requested a room change?" When I nodded he sighed. "Unfortunately they don't take male complaints as seriously as females. I'll see if I can do anything."

"Thank you, Cameron. I really appreciate that." I adjusted my glasses and he smiled warmly.

"Drinks are on me tonight, I hear the band playing is delightful."

I knew I had struck gold with Cameron as my brother, he never ceased to lighten up my mood. Though I was worried for him... "How is the case going?" I asked and his mood darkened. 

"Thankfully I have proof I didn't hurt him or anything, but the court is ruling heavily in his favor." He murmured.

"... I'm sorry he did that to you... Those are some sick allegations." I could only imagine how hard it was for Cameron, his own boyfriend turning around to sue him for money by lying no less. 'rape, physical abuse, emotional abuse,' all things Cameron was incapable of, and that I knew for a fact, as the little brother he raised.

. . .

Opening the door I walked over to the slumbering lump that was Ema on the floor, distaste growing as I stared at him, his pile of things at his feet. God, he was such a mess. With little care I kicked his arm that had crossed the red tape back onto his side, turning as I began to take off my coat only for my foot to be yanked out from under me, causing me to fall face first to the floor.

This time I couldn't even see even after my vision blurred from hitting the floor, my glasses having fallen off, and the warm liquid running down my nose angered me even further.

Turning sharply, I grabbed whatever part of Ema that I could reach, pulling him closer. "What the actual fuck, twink?! There are sharp corners here, want a murder case on your hands?!" I felt his hair, tangling my fingers in it to hold him in place, even as he squirmed around with a whine, yet I could only try and find his face through the blurry lump that he was. Till he settled on my lap, facing me, grabbing my shirt collar.

"You kicked me first! And I was asleep! What you did was far more of a dickhead move- let go of my hair!!"

"Let go of my collar! And where are my glasses, if they are broken because of you, I- mm." I tightened my grip on his hair at the thought of it.

He let out a sharp breath when his head tilted back, pulling me closer still. "You first. And I could give a shit about your stupid glasses. I hope they're broken." ... He hadn't just spat on my face. But when I felt it drip down my cheek, all my anger management classes went to shit.