The Fallen King | ✓

Chapter 7

~Chapter 7~

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"For fucks sake Harper! Get your lazy ass up right now!" I heard Zack scream through my front door. I tried and muffle the sound by shoving my head under my pillow but his shouts still penetrated through and into my helpless ears.

When I didn't respond, he pounded on my door harder. "That's it. Harper, I'm going to count to ten and if you don't open this bloody door I'll knock it down myself and spray you with the weird can of spray cheese I bought on my way over."

I knew him going to the gym regularly would bite me in the ass one day. Knowing he actually could break my door down, or at least dent it, I got up slowly and waltzed towards my front door. I really didn't want to have to call the door guy again; it was so expensive.

"Why'd you buy a can of spray cheese?" I asked as I casually opened the door to my irritated-looking older brother who seemed startled by my sudden appearance.

Zack was a tall guy, so much so that he cast a shadow over me as he stood in the doorway. I knew he'd been going to the gym more as well over the last few years because the slightly lanky figure I remembered from our teenage years was no longer in sight. In his place stood a slightly bulky, pale-blond, six foot three, grey-blue eyed, tanned idiot who I called my brother.

I hadn't seen him in person in six months and it was clear he'd been taking advantage of the home gym as well as the very temperamental British sun. Regardless of his mildly orange — he'd call it 'golden' — appearance, I still missed him a lot and the sight of him brought a smile to my face.

Composing himself quickly, he shrugged as he walked inside, his hands tucked into his jean pockets. "Dunno. I saw it on my way over and thought it looked funny."

I snorted as I shut my door and walked past him towards the kitchen for some much needed breakfast. "Only you, Zack. Only you... anyway, why the hell were you banging on my apartment door at six in the morning?"

I saw his grin from the corner of my eye as he made large strides to catch up to me. "Well my flight landed at one in the morning and I didn't want to disturb you that late but I couldn't sleep — jet lag— so I thought I'd come see you now. You should be grateful I waited until six."

"Of course I am. What an honour," I stated dryly, putting bread in the toaster. "Want a coffee?"

He nodded, slinging his backpack over one of the kitchen chairs and moving to perch on the barstool near where I was standing by my coffee maker. "At least grab the mugs you lazy shit. They're in the cabinet over there."

Groaning, he complied, stomping over the the cabinet like a child and I laughed as I grabbed the butter from the fridge. "This is slave labour I tell you, Harps. I thought I was your guest," he gasped over dramatically, handing me two mugs.

I scoffed as the toast popped up from my toaster. "You also showed up over twelve hours early. I thought I was going to meet you for dinner with your mates at seven."

He started washing the apple he had grabbed from the fruit bowl on the counter, paying close attention to make sure everything was clean so it took him a little while to respond to me. "Change of plans. They were irritating me."

"What did they do this time?" I asked amused, handing him his coffee.

He paused, tapping his fingers on the white marble island in thought. "Nothing new. Just being idiots like usual."