Brothers H.S M.S.

Chapter 7

The first thing Harry saw when he woke up was the sleeping girl. He couldn't handle the guilt that had been burning his insides since Marcel got mad at him last night, and now here he was.

The girl rolled over and slowly opened her eyes, smiling when she saw Harry lying by her side.

"Morning." She yawned and stretched her arms toward Harry, but he flinched away from her.

"Sorry." Harry knew how bad this must look. He'd appeared outside the girl's bedroom window in the middle of the night and they slept together, and now he's flinching away from her touch.

"It's fine. You want to tell me what happened last night? What brought you  here anyway." She rolled her eyes and laid back against her pillow, watching Harry carefully. She knew to watch him, she'd been on the wrong end of his anger before.

"I said something to Marcey...I think I made him mad." Was Harry's answer. The guilt from simply making Marcel mad was enough to drive him to run out in the middle of the night and into the arms of another girl. A girl by the name of Taylor.

Taylor was definitely Harry's go-to girl when he needed a break and to get laid. She was nice to him, which not all the girls he went with were. She also lived nearby, which made it easier for him to get to her.

Harry sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed, running his hands over his face, pushing his ever growing curls back.

"You're gonna need a trim soon." Taylor giggled from behind him, her fingers wrapping around the curls on the back of Harry's head. He slowly turned back around to face her and he reached out to brush his hand against her cheek.

"You gonna trim it, or what?" He laughed lightly, staring into the eyes of the girl he wasn't sure if he loved.

And Harry's eyes stared into Taylor's blue eyes for a while before his eyes searched her face, his gaze landing on the scar above her left eye from where he'd lost his temper two years ago and he threw a lamp at her. And his fingers lightly traced the scar as a sigh escaped his lips.

"I'm sorry." He whispered as Taylor's own eyes started to tear up.

"I've put you through crap, haven't I?" He asks her.

"I'd go through it all again." Taylor smiles and that's when Harry feels sick. He's fine with no-strings-attached. He's fine with f*cking without feelings. But the whole stick-together-through-whatever...he's not into.

So getting up and getting dressed and then leaving through Taylor's bedroom window seemed to be the best idea. Leaving behind the girl he'd slept with.

And when he crawled back into his mother's house, via the window in his bedroom, he wasn't prepared to be met with his angry mother who was waiting for him.

"Decided to finally come home?" Anne snapped the moment her oldest son set foot into his room.

"Yeah." He sighed, looking towards his door where a nervous looking Marcel stood.

"Where were you?" Anne's hands rubbed together as she carefully tried to keep her voice calm, because at the moment she wanted to scream at her son and cry because she simply didn't understand him.

Harry looked at his mother, then to his brother, and then to the wall before letting out a deep breath and letting the answer out.

"With a girl. I went out last night and spent the night with a girl." He hated the way it all sounded. He watched his twin's and mother's reactions carefully and saw disappointment in his mom's eyes and nothing in his brother's.

"What girl?" Anne asked and Harry knew not to tell who. His mother knew Taylor and Taylor's parents well and to Anne's knowledge Taylor was a perfect and respectable girl. Harry wasn't going to make his mother think any different of her.

"Just a girl. You don't know her." Lies.

And that was the conversation. It ended there and Harry went about his day feeling dirty for having lied to his mother and leaving Taylor the way he did. But he still felt the guilt from the night before and Marcel hasn't spoken to him.
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Marcel had never been a tattletale. He was always too close to his brother to betray him by telling someone about something he'd done wrong. But that didn't mean that he never felt like he should.

When he came out of school, he immediately smelt cigarette smoke and the closer he got to Harrys waiting car, the stronger it got. And when he climbed into the passenger seat, he was met with one of his worst nightmares: his brother smoking.

"Those things will kill you." Marcel said simply, his eyes not leaving the cancer stick that was burning away in his brother's mouth. Harry only rolled his eyes and pulled out of the school lot.

"No, they won't." He scoffed, one hand on the steering wheel and the other to hold the cigarette while he exhaled, out the window of course.

Marcel would sense the pent up anger inside his twin, and he suspected that last night might have had something to do with it. He hated to admit it, but there were times that Marcel felt like he was someone else and he was so easy to piss off that it made him unexplainably mad. And last night when Harry woke him up in the middle of his sleep, he felt mad and beyond pissed, which was something that normal Marcel never was at Harry. And Marcel also knew that Harry didn't take his twin's rejections easily. Which would explain Harry's attitude.

"Did I hurt you?" Marcel asked, eyes now fixed on the road and the car halted at a red light.

"You? Hurt me? You're funny, Marcey." Again, Marcel could hear the pained anger in Harry's sarcastic voice.

"I'm sorry." Was all Marcel said. Silence followed, but Marcel turned to see Harry now cigarette-free and glassy eyed as he stared at the road.

The two sat in silence until the light turned green and they continued homeward. But the awkwardness was getting to both boys.

"I didn't..." Harry started then cut himself off.

"I didn't mean to make you mad. Last night, you know." Harry sighed, refusing to look towards his brother.

"I know you didn't. I'm sorry I got mad. I don't know what came over me." Marcel admitted.

"An annoying brother." Harry laughed.

"You're not annoying." Marcel playfully punched at his twin's.

It was when the boys got home that they both began to worry. Their mom's car was already home which always meant something was wrong because she was home from work early.

"Why is mom's car-"

"I don't know." Harry answered the question before it had even been asked.