The Foster Kid (Part 9) (A Foster The People Fan Fiction)

Siblings Conflict

Everyone else went back to their normal routines. Ryan just left for his forty eight hour shift with Gordon, as promised. Andy and his little troops are getting ready to take off back to London tonight. I see him once per year on average. Sometimes more, sometimes I don’t see him for more than a year.

            I was bored in the apartment. Stella and Riley went out to take Sam and her family out. Andy passed with the excuse of a headache. I stayed with him because I was honestly paranoid. I left mom when she had a headache and look what happened to her. She died. Right when I was about to need her the most. So I stayed to make sure that he won’t die on me, along with his wife and his daughter. I don’t want it to happen again. Not under my watch. I insisted in staying with him. I’m still having problems letting it go. Fuck me, right? One thing that will definitely stay forever the same is me being upside down on the couch. I still do that up until right this moment. But this place has been completely silent and it’s weird. It got so silent that I forgot Andy was still somewhere in here. Maybe he’s asleep… Or maybe… “Andy?”

            No answer.

            I mute the television and tried again, “Andy?”

            Still no response or even any sign of life.

            Fighting over the laziness in me, I decided to push myself up and strive to crawl towards wherever he was. “Andy? Hello?”

            It was so silent, I could hear ringing in my ears.

            I clutched on the doorknob tightly, getting ready to open it.

            Should I open it? What if I opened it and found him lying dead? What if I opened it and found him having an epileptic fit with foam coming out of his mouth? What if he simply wasn’t breathing anymore? What if he’s just gone? What if?

            I cracked a little opening. Don’t worry, he’s alive. I know that he’s alive by the smell of… What is this smell? The windows were open and I see smoke. The thing is, it doesn’t smell like cigarettes. I know what a cigarette smells like and what I’m smelling right now is a lot different. “What in the world are you doing?”

            Andy swiveled his head and shook it.

            “That doesn’t look like your usual cigarette to me. Andy, what the hell is that?”

            “What?”

            “That doesn’t look like an ordinary cigarette that’s slowly killing you from the inside to me.”

            “It’s not.” He replied like it was nothing,

            “What’s going on this time?” I leaned on the doorframe with my arms crossed, “Seriously, why do you have to smoke it all out? What’s nicotine going to solve?”           

            “Same question goes to you.” He scoffed, staring out at the opened window. “Why’d you smoke when you haven’t even reached eighteen yet?”

            I sighed, “Why are you doing this to me? I hate it when you do this to me.”

            “I hate it when you do this to me too. Smoking is bad and I know that. We’re all going to die in the end.”

            “Seriously, what’s the problem?” My voice grew a little more stern, “And put that thing off, you’re stinking the whole apartment.”