When We Met

Thirty Four

|Martin|

The morning began with me lazing around my apartment and annoying my already annoyed sister. Now, I don't know what's up with her today, but as her twin brother, I really enjoy testing her patience like this. It's like our childhood days, when I'd deliberately break her favorite toy and throw it inside the dustbin. And when she'd start crying over it, I'd feel like a warrior. Stupid and childish, I know. But that's kinda similar to how twins are supposed to behave, right? I mean, if we'd simply comb each others' hair or play without fighting, that'd be highly abnormal.

So, after annoying Deborah by singing Ed Sheeran's Perfect at the top of my lungs, and that too in a very disturbing tune, I decide to lower down the level for her sanity and busy myself with the kitchen department. I prepare some scrambled eggs for her and brew two mugs of cold coffee; the Sunday breakfast she absolutely loves.

Since Cheryl told me that she'd be spending the weekend at Madeline's, I decided to give some of my time to Deborah. Lately, we've been busy with our own separate lives. She's been hanging out with Jace, while I've had my share with Cheryl. Between all of this, we didn't realise that we were jeopardising the time we used to spend with each other.

As if on cue, Deborah enters the kitchen in a zombie's avatar. Her hair is allover the place, toothpaste is smeared on her chin, she stinks of puke and sweat, and if I look closely, I can see the dried up tears on her cheeks.

Obviously, I freak out.

"Deborah, what the fuck?! What happened? What is going on? Did something hap–"

"Shut up!" She shouts. That is so unlike her. "My head hurts and I've puked my guts out. Please don't add on to my pile of worries."

"Okay. Okay, what? I dont wanna add on to your pile of worries, but have you taken a look at yourself in the mirror? And it's not about today, Deb. You've been like this for quite some time now. Moody, aggressive... Distant. And it kills me to know that I know nothing."

"Well, if you'd get your head out of your girlfriend's charm, you'd know better." She replies in a sarcastic tone, which hits a nerve.

I didn't know that my relationship with Cheryl was actually bothering my sister.

She must've seen the hurt on my face because she simply breaks down in front of me and apologises constantly.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. It came out wrong. I didn't mean to–"

"Deb, it's fine. Calm down. Come here, you idiot." I pull her into a warm, brotherly hug and wonder what the hell is wrong with her.

She takes her time to settle down and I pour her the coffee I brewed. She makes a face at the christmasy mug I got her last year.

"The sole sight of food makes me sick. Take it away." She says and I frown.

"You never reject the coffee I make you in the morning. What's going on, Deb? Is there something I should know?"

The moment I say this, she starts crying again. And I simply stand there like a clueless monkey, with the christmasy mug in my hand.

*******

Cheryl tries to pull me back from my rage as I punch the sick face of the guy in front of me. To be honest, this is the first time Cheryl's presence is doing nothing to calm me down. The mere thought of what he did to my sister drives my anger to another level altogether.

"Dylan, stop! You broke his nose!" Cheryl shouts as she literally comes in between us and hugs me tightly. She slowly pushes me back, my gaze focused on the crumpled face of someone who used to be my best friend.

Yes, past tense.

"I know I screwed up, man. I'm sorry. I just–"

"Shut the fuck up! What made you think that I wouldn't retaliate in the worst way possible after finding out that my best friend knocked up my sister and when she turned up to him,simply refused to take responsibility for his actions?! " I shout at the top of my lungs and literally feel Cheryl go under an attack of goosebumps.

I can't blame her because she has never seen this side of my face. Not even when shit went down with her stalker ex.

I rarely get this angry, let me assure you. But when I do, I remind people of The Hulk. Or worse.

"Dylan. Calm down. Please?" If possible, Cheryl tightens her grip around my waist and my arms pull her against me at their own will. She rubs my back in a soothing manner and it does make me feel much better. My breathing slows down to its normal pace and I let Jace thank his stars for Cheryl's fortunate presence.

Well, right after Deb literally broke down in front of me, with much difficulty, she told me that she is carrying Jace's baby (which explained a lot). I was worried about all this, yes. But I didn't lose my temper until she confessed that Jace refused to do anything about the mess he created for her. That he wants to be cut out of this situation completely, and that she must not say anything to me.

I know that I could feel all the blood rush to my head as I sprinted out of my apartment. It's a good thing that I ran into Cheryl midway and made sure that she accompanied me to the hell hole. Had it been any other way, I would've literally murdered Jace today. And gone to prison for it.

I look down at my bloody knuckles and unclench my fists, sucking in a quick breath as pain shoots through my veins.

"If you're done being the angriest Bruce Banner ever known to Marvel, can we get out of this place and do something about all the blood?" Cheryl asks sternly as she looks down at me with an unreadable expression.

I thought it impossible, but I think I've managed to piss off my girlfriend at its royalty.

So, instead of arguing, I nod my head lightly and get up. My eyes immediately land on Jace, who is leaning against the kitchen door with his arms folded in front of his chest. I walk up to him and look him dead in the eye.

"If you ever even consider coming close to my sister, I swear I'll make it my life's goal to ruin you completely. Stay the fuck away."

"Dylan–"

"Shut it, asshole. If you were that good a friend, or a boyfriend, you'd never ask Deborah to keep her problems to herself." I take Cheryl's hand in mine and get out of his stinking apartment.

******