Volume X: The Industry of Chemical Artistry - or - The Age of Rockism

5. Take You Down With Me

My older brother, Roger, he was a joke. He wasn’t really a joke though, he was responsible, had direction, became something - he was everything I wasn’t. I was the fuck up - I was the failure. And he was the saint. He was Daddy’s pride and fucking joy. Good for him.

I was sleeping, minding my own business, when he came in and tore me out of bed. Literally. I found myself on the floor, fortunately alone. That would’ve been another lecture.

“Morning,” he muttered, seating himself on the empty bed. I crept up from the floor, sneaking back onto the bed, as far away from him as I could get, dragging my blanket with me.

“Can I fucking help you? Lost? The door’s that way.”

“I came over to talk.”

“Why? I don’t want to talk to you.”

He sighed. “Deac...”

“Get out,” I muttered, putting my head under a pillow. I could feel his weight shift on the bed. I could feel him getting closer. He was trying to piss me off. That’s what older brothers do.

“Come on, stop acting like a toddler.”

“Fuck you, how’s that for a toddler’s vocabulary?”

He sighed again, picking me up and carrying me into the bathroom. I kicked and fought the whole way. He knelt down, pulled me out of the blanket and dropped me into the bathtub - coincidentally full of cold water. He must’ve been here for a while preparing all this.

“Awake now?” he asked happily.

“You fucking bastard, get the fuck out of my apartment. Now!” I got to my feet, teeth chattering, wringing water out of my clothes. He just smiled, seating himself on the toilet, sure to put the lid down before doing so. He looked around the place a little more.

“So, who do you fuck to live here rent free?”

“It’s none of your fucking business now, is it?”

“I’m your brother.”

“You’re not my father. Get. Out.” I climbed out of the tub, shoving past him and into my room to find dry clothes. He got up and followed me as I did so. I stormed past him again, locking myself in the bathroom, sure to slam the door in his face. I heard the force of his body slam against it.

“Open this door, Deacon.”

“Fuck you, Roger.”

“Open up!” he commanded.

“Roger, I’m changing, fuck off.”

Taking a moment to think logically, he found himself a seat on the bed and decided to wait. When I was dried off, I opened the door and stormed into the room at him.

“All better?” he questioned, a stupid little grin on his face.

“Fuck you. Didn’t I tell you to get out?”

“What happened to you? We used to be so close.”

“Yeah, when we were both like, 7. What do you want, Roger?”

“Why didn’t you come to my graduation?”

“I was busy.”

“Doing what?” He smiled wickedly. “Or should I say, who?”

“Roger, I don’t have time for this bullshit. Either tell me what’s up or get out.”

He nodded, bored already. He could only play so long before he was just sick of it. I wasn’t up for his games. He didn’t want to be here too much either.