Nigel usually overslept of late.

They were still on break and while that would soon end in little over a week, he still had a mind to enjoy every extra hour of rest he could get. That was why he didn't really understand why it should be so abruptly interrupted.

By such violent means, no less.

"Alf, what the fuck?" he sat up with a jerk, cradling his jaw as the offending item fell to the sheets. It was a tennis ball and shouldn't have done so much damage but who knew what he'd done to the other for him to act with so much force packed behind his throw.

"Are you fucking dead?" he bit back, eyes heavy with dark circles and downright irritated. "Your phone's been ringing non-stop. Take care of it."

Nigel frowned at the sight of him turning his glower on the fingers of his right hand fiddling with the band on his other wrist. It slapped loudly against skin every time he let go and Nigel was just about to ask him what the matter was when his phone was ringing softly.

The band snapped again and he hurried to pick it at the tightening of his friend's expression.

"Hey, love," he called, a quiet smile of relief on his face at the thought they'd finally returned to their normal. "What's up?"

"Babes," her tone was so energetic it had his smile widening. "Just calling to check if we're still on for the picnicking?"

"Sure," Nigel took a quick glance at the clock that read a little past ten in the morning. "When do you want to meet?" There was dedicated fiddling on the other end, raising a barrage of noise, but he patiently waited.

"Is two fine for you?"

"’course, my love," he said. "See you then. Want me to bring anything over?"

"I've got it." More noise-raising tinkering. "I'll see you later, Nigel. Bye."

"Bye, Hayley."

Nigel turned to his friend who was still hurting away at his wrist, only seeming to have grown more irritated with the call that just took place right next to him. He stretched over and ripped the band out of his hand.

It gave way easily since he wasn't really anticipating his interference. The tight look he shot him was taken in stride so he ended up just glancing away and picking up a paper clip to fiddle with instead.

"Rough night?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Alfie responded reflexively.

Nigel's smile diminished at his rigid profile and the defensive lilt to his tone. "That's not what I asked?" he looked just as amused as he was suddenly worried.

"I slept well," he managed, stiff.

"You have dark circles," Nigel pointed out.

"Would you just fucking get off my case?" The paper clip he'd been doing his hardest to unfurl suddenly dug into the skin at his nail and the blood breaking from skin had some of his anger sobering up a bit as he tossed it aside. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Not for the next couple hours," he reassured. "Want to talk about it?"

"There's no it," the words were spat out forcefully.

"Are you sure?" he pressed.

Alfie shot a lackluster look over but Nigel was spared from the snide words on the tip of his tongue with the knock that started on his door and was followed by Wren poking his head in.

"Breakfast's ready," he informed.

"We're coming right behind you," Nigel reassured and turned to his friend.

"I'm not going anywhere," Alf said plainly, picking up a sticky paper to fold in two, then four.

"Alfred."

Nigel looked on awkwardly as his friend ignored the call and Wren was letting himself in with a frown. He shook his head at him, hinting that he'd take care of it and waited till he'd turned around before focusing on his friend.

"Not hungry?" he asked.

"Not really."

"You didn't have anything last night," he reminded.

"I did." He'd unfolded the paper to scratch something on it with his pen.

"Did you?" Nigel didn't really mean that as combative as it came across. He was just surprised to hear it.

"Sure did."

"Do I have to ask what it was first?" he asked, lip twitching.

"Just some of that cake you brought back." A pause, more scratching. "Didn't finish it though."

"And that's enough even this morning?" he pressed. Fleetingly, he wondered if this was how Saxon felt everytime he tried persuading him to eat something. Frustrated enough to wrong his stupid neck.

He didn't respond immediately but Nigel waited. "Do I have to?" he frowned.

"No," Nigel shrugged, getting off the bed and heading to the bathroom. "But you should."

"You're a pest," Alfie muttered but still stood and followed, leaning against the doorpost to wait as he brushed his teeth. They went down together or tried to since Nigel had to hold him to stop him from tumbling down the stairs with his knees buckling from lack of sleep.

"Trying to fall to your death?" he snorted and watched him use the railings for support in climbing down. "How long did you really sleep?"

"A while."

"A while?" he asked.

"Five."

"Five what?" Nigel snorted. "Minutes or hours?"

Alfie's lip twitched but he still didn't say anything. He appeared to know him well enough. He wouldn't even be this drained if he got up to an hour of sleep.

"Your insomnia?" he asked as they got closer to the landing.

"Not exactly," Alfie waved him off dismissively.

"The 'it' you don't want to talk about?" Nigel asked but didn't get a response with him blatantly ignoring him to help his parents finish setting up the table.

He greeted them mechanically, responding to their inquiries into how he spent his night as routinely as usual which meant short, straightforward replies that left no room to push the matter.

Topics bounced between he, Wren and how Paul's restaurant was, considering Alfie didn't seem to want any part of it and was focused on pushing his food around, deflecting when the topic happened to touch him.

Nigel finished his breakfast quickly and headed to the fridge to get whatever was left of the cake and paused, lip twitching, at the sight of the bite-sized triangle that stared back at him. He gingerly picked the saucer and headed back out, not surprised to see that Alfie had vanished into thin air.

"He went up already," Wren informed, following behind his dad with the dirty dishes and what was obviously Alfie's unfinished meal.

They quickly disappeared into the kitchen and while they bickered about the right way to load a dishwasher, he turned to his aunt who was fiddling with the stack of serviettes.

"Is he okay?" she asked when he lowered himself into the seat next to her.

"Yeah," he said, knowing it would still worry her either way. "I'm sure he just needs a little more sleep."

They both knew he needed a lot more than sleep.

Nigel returned her small smile, trying his best not to bring his attention to her glazed eyes as he carried the saucer bearing the offending remains of his cake slice up the stairs.

He soon forgot about the petty anger in his heart, putting the plate away in the meantime at the sobs coming from the bathroom. "Alf?" he frowned at the sight of him hunched over his sink and trying to throw up.

Key word, trying.

Nigel could count on one hand the number of spoons of his already small breakfast he actually had so wasn't surprised to not actually see anything coming out. He was dry heaving at best, the only producing he was doing being the tears falling out his eyes with the effort.

He waited out with him and when he slumped tiredly, forehead leaning against the cool wall tiles, he pushed him to sit on the edge of his bathtub and handed him a scoop of water to deal with his mouth.

"What happened?" he asked after a short minute of watching him cup water into his mouth to rinse.

"Told you," he murmured, voice hoarse when he finally placed the bowl aside and scratched lazily at his wrist. "Not hungry."

"Don't play stupid," Nigel frowned. "You know well enough what I'm asking."

Red rimmed eyes flickered up to meet his gaze and when brown eyes seemed conflicted on whether to settle on irritation or not, Nigel felt his own gaze hardening when the image of Winnie's misting eyes popped up in the back of his head.

"Nothing happened," Alfie stuck to his gun, expression stoic.

"Right."

"It's not really any of your business, is it?" Alfie scowled, standing to run his hands under water in the sink. "Just leave it be."

Nigel said nothing for a while, quietly observing as he rinsed his hand over and over again, fingers carrying the water upward his wrist to cool at the scratches he'd picked red.

"Are you using the bathroom for much longer?" he asked.

"Give me ten minutes," he said quietly, tone dropping as his mood soured considerably. People were strange enough creatures but he felt he was the strangest one of all. He'd been the one clamouring for him to get off his back but now that he had, wished he could have pushed a little harder. Just a little harder. Maybe he'd have folded. Maybe not. Who fucking knew with him? So, he hated himself just that little bit more for it.

Nigel didn't speak of it again and stepped out, throwing the bite of velvet cake that instantly melted in his mouth while he was waiting. They didn't speak much afterwards and Nigel just hopped into the bathroom to get ready for his date.

He wouldn't describe the atmosphere between them as tense but it certainly wasn't ideal for them so Nigel just took the opportunity to get away to clear his head, dressing in a simple graphic tee and distressed jeans, a jean jumper stuffed in the crook of his arm.

He headed down and initially paid no mind to Alfie tagging not too far behind him until Winnie was stopping them both at the door.

"You're going out?" Winnie asked, curious.

Alfie managed a half-smile at the confounded expression Nigel wasn't even trying to hide. "Yeah," he said. "We're just heading down the block for an hour or two."

"Then have fun," Winnie said, the relief flooding her apparent at the fact that they were going together. "Stay safe. Don't forget to call if you need anything."

"Sure, mom," Alfie said then turned to arc a brow at his still frozen friend. "We'll be quick."

Nigel pursed his lips but didn't expose his lie. After a quick glance past the kitchen entrance at Paul and Wren who were thankfully no longer bickering but had instead decided to hand wash, he bid a quick goodbye to Winnie and then left with Alfie.

"Why would you spring up a lie like that on me?" Nigel frowned.

"Would you stop?" Alfie groaned, beyond tired as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "A little white lie never killed anyone."

"It's not little," Nigel said. "Aunt's not getting worried because she thinks you're going to be with me."

"Don't you think I know that?" he snorted. "You're simply amazing at keeping me in check. What reason would she have to be worried when you're around?"

Nigel would take the compliment if it wasn't for the absolutely deafening sarcasm. It was pushing past two already. He didn't have the time for this.

"You're not being fair," he said. "To her. She'll just get more worried if she finds out we're not together."

"Would you like to go back in to tell her?" he scoffed.

Nigel remained quiet. He wouldn't and Alfie fucking knew he wouldn't. What made it more infuriating was him playing on that until he just wanted to sock this inconsiderate idiot a punch.

"You all need to stop treating me like I'm twelve," he said.

"Aren't you?" Nigel sneered. He wasn't sure he could tell the difference.

"Ha. Ha."

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Not really any of your business," Alfie repeated, raising a hand to drag over his face.

"To drink?" he guessed. "Or smoke? Or. . .?"

"Just stick to what you usually do best," he waved him off dismissively, gaze indifferent.

"And what would that be?" Nigel sneered.

"Having my back," he said and the slight curl of his lip had Nigel's knuckles folding in tight with fury. "Of course I'll be grateful. Like always."

"You're annoying," Nigel said and he didn't mean the kind of annoying that you found in a friend just being their usual annoying selves. Right now, he found him really irritating to look at. "I hate being your friend. I really hate you."

"Alright," Alfie agreed, expression unchanging. "Guess I'll see you around then."

Nigel watched him go, throat tight. He'd played his own self. More than Saxon, more than anything, his friends were his life and he'd do anything to support them. It wasn't anything he tried to hide and it was something they knew well enough.

And whether knowingly or unknowingly, they played on that fact. Pushing the blame, using him to get out of a pickle.

He hated it.

But who made him be wired this way? Who made them mean the world to him?

Lip one grim line, he lifted his phone to call and ask his girlfriend where to meet up.