It's Not A Side Effect Of The Cocaine, I Am Thinking It Must Be Love

chapter two- sleep alone

By the time dinner rolled around, Pancho had made himself comfortable. We found a sleeping bag in my closet and rolled it out for him in my room, and he was borrowing some of my clothes even though they weren't his size. He seemed to be doing okay, all things considered. Bad Twin ordered a pizza for dinner. He made up for his habit of doing nothing at all by ordering food sometimes.

If Pancho hadn't been around, I would've done some knitting while we waited for the pizza, but I couldn't knit while he was in the house. Not even Bad Twin knew about my knitting, so Pancho sure as hell wouldn't be finding out about it. All I could do was sit in the living room with Pancho while Bad Twin watched some obnoxious movie. Even though it had only been a couple of hours, I could tell Pancho would be messing up my knitting schedule. Having him around in general was disrupting routine, and I couldn't decide if it was annoying and awkward or if having someone around who wasn't my brother was almost refreshing. I'd never been around Pancho for more than a few minutes of me selling him coke before, but it always seemed like maybe, if the situation was different, I would've wanted to spend time with him.

I glanced over at Pancho, who seemed preoccupied with picking loose threads out from his (my) shirt. It was surprising how well he was holding up, considering I'd chased him into a lake and his girlfriend dumped him in the same day. Although I felt bad for making him sleep on the ground, there was no way in hell we'd ever share a bed. As my thoughts turned towards the night, I realized I had left my fucking nightlight in. Along with the secrecy of my knitting, nobody could know I was afraid of the dark. Especially not Pancho. I snuck back into my bedroom, unplugged the nightlight from the wall, and stuck it in the drawer of my bedside table. If Pancho found out about my fucking nightlight, he'd never let me hear the end of it. I was a grown man using a nightlight, and as ridiculous and stupid as it was, there was nothing I could do.

As soon as I returned to the living room, pizza knocked on the door. I went to the door, paid the greasy-looking teenage who delivered it, and peeked inside the box to see what Bad Twin had ordered. I crinkled my nose at the sight of his usual mushrooms, pineapple, and anchovies. It was disgusting. I regretted not asking him to order something else for me, but it was too late for that. Sighing, I carried the pizza back to the kitchen and called for Pancho to come get a slice. Bad Twin ate the whole thing himself if nobody else snagged a slice.

Pancho sauntered into the kitchen wearing a sleazy expression, like "pizza" was lingo for something else. Sometimes it seemed like it was his life goal to turn anything he could into an innuendo. After putting a couple slices on his plate, he scowled, "Man, what the hell is even on this?"

"Mushrooms, pineapple, and anchovies," I explained, "Bad Twin's favorite. Sorry, man."

He took a bite, chewing as the disgusted look on his face turned thoughtful. He sniffed, eyed the pizza again, and then looked up at me, the smiling. "Dude," he said as he wiped a greasy hand on his leg, eyes wide with pleasant surprise, "Bedussey. This pizza is fucking amazing."

He shoved his piece at me, and I batted it away, even the thought of those anchovies coming anywhere near my mouth made my stomach churn.

"No, I'm serious. Try it." He tried to push the pizza into my face again.

"Pancho!" I hissed as I backed away, "I don't want any of your pizza! I've had this shit before." When he seemed disappointed, I sighed and offered him my toppings. He nodded, having just taken another bite, and picked the pineapple, anchovies, and mushrooms off of my slices and set them on his plate. He devoured the pizza, even with extra toppings.

My pizza was terrible, as it always was when I forgot to tell Bad Twin to order edible food. The cheese had that weird soggy texture it gets after all the toppings are picked off, and it was tinted with the taste of mushrooms, pineapple, and anchovies. I couldn't just not eat it; I was starved. I'd skipped lunch, and hadn't really had breakfast either, unless a cereal bar and cocaine could be counted as breakfast. Pancho was making bedroom eyes at Bad Twin's pizza box, the poor guy. There was no way Bad Twin would spare him even half a slice. I would have offered to get him something, but there wasn't much in the fridge. I needed to go for a grocery run, and what we did have to eat, Bad Twin had claimed as his own. That only reminded me that living with my weird-ass brother was annoying as fuck, and I needed to move out and get my own place. I was only living with him because when my ex broke up with me (which I still tried not to think about too much), he'd kicked me out and I'd had nowhere else to go. Bad Twin let me move in with him, and both of us thought it would be a temporary solution until I found my own place. But that had been a couple of years ago, and I'd never gotten around to finding an apartment or house of my own.