My Choice (Third in the "Baby Brother Series)

Six

It did not quite make sense, granted none of this did. Tom sits in the chair by the couch and watches his brother interact with Andy. Bill leaned his head on his shoulder and slowly nibbles a slice of pizza. He grips the arm of the couch when a pinch reaches his temple and he drops the pizza on his lap. Andy moves the slice back to the box, and helps the other teen adjust so his head is leaned back against the couch.

"You okay, kiddo?" Tom asks, putting his beer down on the coffee table.

"No. My head is pounding," Billy slurs.

He can't verbalize it but Billy silently wishes that he could just be alone in his room while this happened. It humiliated him, how's he supposed to be intimidating when he could randomly have these fits. Billy felt bad for Andy, even when he knew in just five minutes the strange teen boy would be gone.

Billy could see Tom walk around to sit on his left, immediately grabbing his older brother's hand. Stay grounded, that's all he could say to himself. The young teen grows awfully still, staring straight before the ocean black fades across his dark eyes, he clambers into Tom's lap. It is a bizarre fearful gaze that spreads across his face, eyes wide staring into nothingness.

"It's okay, relax, I got you," Tom coos. Andy began to ponder if Billy always looked this fearful when this occurred. It happened in the car too, he could see him when he stepped out to confirm their identities. He relaxes in Tom's arms and lingers in his embrace a bit longer.

The teen often felt like a leech and hated how much time his older brother wasted on him. Tom could be out with girls and hanging at the wildest places but instead he opted to spend a weekend comforting his broken baby brother. Sickening.

Time and time again, Billy can feel the grasping pain of how much he takes from his brother. This felt like too much. Damn it! Why didn't I just call him when I was drunk in that cell that night, Billy curses to himself. Tom wouldn't have shouted his age. Tom would've silently brought him to the car or snuck him in. Things would've been different. Billy broke everything and that's a cross he feels must bear alone.

His trembling body slips back onto the couch, hair covering his face. You could see the sweat drip down his neck and drip off his hair.

"Wa..wat..water," Billy slurs.

"Sure, Andy go get him some water from the kitchen. Cups are in the cabinet next to the sink."

Tom's eyes watch Andy leave before falling back onto Billy. His hands tremble as he pushes back the loose wires, hair mixed in the mess the teen dare called hair. Looking up at the pages on the coffee table hidden partially underneath a pizza box, Billy reaches for his pen. The teen slowly lowers himself to the floor and pushes the boxes to the side.

"Billy, that can wait," Tom admonishes. "Look I allowed this for too long, I need to get you upstairs, these attacks are getting worse."

"I...wanna..fi.."

"I know," Tom's voice is low, softer than usual. He drops to the ground, this scared little boy. He knew what to do with this scared little boy. That look in his eyes brought him straight back to his brother wanting to write his name for the first time. "But how can you work when you can't even write?"

Billy looks down at the shaky messy handwriting on his paperwork. Tom slips an arm under him and raises him slowly from the floor. The pen lying forgotten. Damn it, Billy thought. I'm actually smart. And I could've fucking proved it. Tom clutches the stupid spider man back pack, forgetting Andy in the distance as they travel toward Bill's room.

His baby brother was lanky sure, but when he was in a dazed state, he weighed an extra ten pounds. Getting him to the stairs, Tom helps him take the first step. "Tom, can you just carry me? I don't care."