Problem Children

Chapter Twenty Seven

"Wish I could stay longer," he whispered in her ear. Her face was buried in his shoulder as they embraced.

"I wish I could stay."

Malcolm took each step up the stairs with patience towards his little brother's room. Sleep had hardly paid him a visit last night and he was sure his brother was completely languid. Normally a Saturday was a banquet in the desert to the two boys but today was only a heartache.

The hallway was dark and cold from the distance to the vents at the front of the house. A silence fell over it as well. Only the running faucet in the kitchen made the slightest noise, with the occasional feminine sigh and juvenile cough. His path seemed to narrow the closer he came to the door.

"Is there any way I can write to you?"

"You know the address," he answered stepping away. "Course with the band gettin' bigger I don't suppose I'll be there forever."

"Has Angus' band kicked off?" the girl asked, her hazel eyes glistening. Malcolm cracked a sympathetic grin, tapping his fingers on her shoulders.

"Hasn't even started, tell ya' the truth," he chuckled. "He's still savin'. Hey, if he ever makes it big you ought to go see him. He'd like that." Hannah glanced down and murmured,

"I'd like it too."

At last he reached the end of the hall , Angus' door right across from his own. His fist rose up to knock, but hesitation held him back. What would he say to Angus? What would Angus say to him? He might not even be up for talking, especially if the fate of sleep spared him. One hand rested on the doorknob, the other hand rapping softly. With a turn of his wrist the door was open. Angus was still in his bed, one arm draped over the side while the other lay hidden. His eyes were closed, his hair a tangled mess, and his face no better. The tissues had continued to accumulate on the floor and there were now three glasses of water on his nightstand.

Malcolm didn't want to wake him up. Angus could be cranky with a full eight hours and he was not sticking around should he wake up with less. Turning on his heel he sneaked out of the room. "Mal..."

He turned to the croak behind him. Angus' red eyes were open and he shifted so both of his arms were visible. His curls fell in his face refusing to stay when he moved them. Surely their mother would have him get it cut. "Yeah?"

"Could you snag me a couple of smokes?"

Malcolm scoffed. "Does it look like I'm made of money?"

"No, go get some of Dad's."

"That's the worst idea, if I get caught I'm dead, if he notices they're missing, I'm dead. If he catches you you're dead."

"I'm dying right now without a smoke, Mal, this cold is killin' me."

"Which is why you shouldn't be smokin' at all," the older boy reasoned. Angus sighed and collapsed back on his bed. Malcolm's hands found his pockets and he raised an eyebrow at his brother. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to do one nice thing for him. Just one. Looking over his shoulder he saw no one listening and no one to cut the plan short. "Tell you what." Angus gave a sidelong glance. "I'll go down to the store an' get some for ya'. How's that?"

"What's the catch?"

"Nothin'. As long as you keep yer mouth shut, I think we'll both be okay." Angus closed his eyes.

"Sure."

"Anythin' specifc, or..."

"Whatever looks the best."