Nigel, for the life of him, could never have fathomed what sort of ditch he was walking into. Paul and Winona were great people, thousand times better than Rob and Nadine could ever hope to be; only problem being the screaming match Alfie took upon himself to engage them in every once in a while, sending his head pounding to no end. They were not home at the moment, so Alfie had set his sights on Wren who'd been tasked to watch over him.

Of course, that translated to him being stopped from running out to get a drink. Or fix, their house having long since be cleared up and leaving him with nothing to turn to. If Winona was like a mother hen when it came to monitoring her son, then Wren was like a hawk who didn't let up a single inch.

Too many similar arguments had taken place over the past few weeks he'd been here and he was more than content to stay away and let them go at it as long as they wanted. Pursing his lips at the migraine-inducing battle occuring a few meters away, he switched his phone with which he was texting his girlfriend to his other hand, the meal in front of him forgotten as he rotated his right wrist.

It'd been aching since that basketball game and he'd intended to check it out at a hospital but somehow always ended up putting it behind him.

He was so distracted by the raised voices to his side, Alfie colorfully screaming for him to get his grimy fingers away from him when he lightly slapped him upside his head, he didn't notice the question he'd left hanging until an incoming video call was ringing.

"Nigel," Wren called, looking frustrated to no end, hands resting on his hips as he turned to him. "Can't you advise your friend to get his shit together?"

Nigel blinked, then arched a brow as though to ask if he really meant what he thought he meant.

Wren gave an adamant nod, expression a startling meld of helplessness and frustration.

So Nigel thought it was worth a shot, shifting his gaze so he was staring straight at his friend. "Don't do drugs," he summarized Wren's lengthy speech from so many days on end quite concisely.

Alfie rolled his eyes before coming to plop himself just adjacent and grabbing the unfinished food.

Nigel shrugged at Wren as though to say he'd tried before standing up and heading back to Alfie's room.

Wren's soft voice faded to a whisper as he got farther and farther.

"Would you fucking get off my case?" Alfie exploded before he could confine himself to the safety of the room. "It's none of your damn business. Just go back to sticking your nose in your stupid research."

He rushed to pick up the call, leaning his back against the door and rotating his wrist again. "Hey, love," he smiled when her cheery voice broke through the lines, asking what had happened. "Just Alfie being Alfie. What were we saying?"

"I was winning you over to catch a movie with me in the cinema," she muttered. "Change your mind yet?"

"Too crowded," he said, lip quirking slightly at the sight of her pouting in the bottom right of his screen.

"It's worth it," she protested.

"You want to best a sea of people just to watch a bunch of talking cars," he stated, breaking out in cold sweat when his wrist gave off a loud pop and only hurt a lot more. "Sorry, Hun. I like you a lot. Really, I do, but even that's a hard pass from me."

"It's entertaining," she huffed.

"We've been entertained more than just a couple of times with it already," he said, walking over so he could see his wrist properly under the light from the side lamp. It looked a little limp. He should really go to the hospital.

"Are you okay?" she suddenly asked. "You look a little pale."

"I'm alright," he reassured, not wanting to worry her. "Let's meet up first and then we can decide what to watch if we absolutely have to go to the cinema."

"Sure!" she was all for it, bounding over to her wardrobe. "Let's coordinate outfits?"

Nigel went along with her, gaze soft as she turned her camera around so he could get a good glimpse of her wardrobe and the choices she was pointing out. In the end, she settled for white jeans and a bottle green chiffon top with short, puffy sleeves and drawstrings where the front came together.

He pulled out one of his only white shirts that had a hint of green on it. It was a simple long-sleeved collar shirt but some time ago, Saxon had taken it upon himself to embroider a twirling vine of green along the wrist cuffs. He claimed it added a touch of personality. It did, but the memory just made him frown.

He pushed it to the back of his mind and headed out once he was fully dressed. Of course, in the end, the cinemas were much too crowded and they ended up winding up in her house. Anything was a good ending to a Friday night so long as it ended with her.

She had the movie on her laptop and still insisted on watching her premium choice.

Nigel would rather be gutted inside out. He'd rather anything else at this point. The first two times were quite alright but given the next couple, he'd long since given up. He didn't really understand her recent fascination with it anyway.

In the end, they decided to settle a choice the old fashioned way.

"Rock, paper, scissors?" she echoed and then her eyes were twinkling in what looked a lot like mischief. "Sure! Best of three?"

She looked a little too excited as he nodded, giving her his full attention.

"On scissors," he reminded and let her call. He fell on rock and she, scissors, cutely blinking her eyes as she quickly spread out her fingers to paper. He stared at her, speechless. "We might as well just watch Cars."

"You're the best," she landed a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek before skipping over to the kitchen to get treats for the movie.

Nigel watched her go, a faint smile turning up on his lips. Perhaps he wouldn't mind being tortured with this multiple times if things always panned out like this.

She was still scooping the popcorn into a glass bowl nearly twice the size of her face when her phone started ringing loudly on the centerpiece. "Could you help me get it, babe?" she called, voice muffled and Nigel glanced up in time to see her stuffing her cheeks until she resembled a hamster. "Tell whoever it is I'll return the call later!"

He took a peek at the screen and felt his lip curl up in a sneer at the sight of the name flashing on the screen. Declan. He remembered their last and only encounter all too well.

"Hayley—"

"Hayley's busy," he related flippantly as he stared at the person in question. At the rate she was going with the popcorn, she'd no sooner have to gnaw on the raw stuff while she watched her movie.

"Who the fuck—"

"Take the hint," he mocked, the words falling easily from his lips. "She just doesn't want to talk to you." He cut before he could hear anything else and placed the phone next to him on the couch. Reconsidering, he pulled it up again and promptly dragged him into her blacklist.

Was he being incredibly petty? Sure.

Was it endlessly satisfying, though? Damn right it was.

"Who was it?" she asked, tottering over with the bowl which could hardly even be described as half full.

"Spam call," he fibbed without batting a lash. "Blocked it for you already."

She nodded and pressed play on the film she'd already slotted in. He glanced away after the opening, eyes already hurting as they came to rest upon her legs where they were propped atop the centerpiece.

"The paint is chipping," he observed. It was the one he'd done for her.

"Uh huh," she replied absentmindedly, already invested in the scenes that were rolling so familiarly Nigel could nearly recite the lines himself.

"I'll redo it for you," he got up and disappeared down the hallway, soon returning with her remover, nail file and another nail polish.

Hayley didn't really have the heart to dissuade him so just let him be, turning her attention back to the film despite the bold color he'd chosen.

Nigel carefully dabbed coat after coat of burnt orange that set off her pale skin too well. He was much slower because of his wrist but managed to actually keep it within the necessary boundary.

He admired his work for a while before getting his phone out to snap a couple of pictures. He finished and began putting his phone away, only to see she had basically nodded off in sleep, hugging the more or less empty popcorn bowl.

He went upstairs to get a pillow and her blanket before returning to lie her on the couch, properly arranging the pillow under her neck so she didn't have to wake up with any aches and then covering her. He was tidying up the floor after turning off the droning movie when his phone rang, leaving his lips thinning at the ID that flashed across his phone screen.

He did nothing, just letting it ring. It stopped, only to start up a second time, sending Hayley stirring. He frowned deeper before snatching the phone and walking off.

It'd been over three weeks since they'd talked last and Nigel wasn't really in any mood to deal with all the emotions within him. There was hate and resentment, yes, at doing so much and lowering himself so cheaply only to learn it wasn't really necessary after all. Then there was the conflict that he hated the most. Even more, he hated that it was even there in the first place and that he felt it understandable since this was one person who understood him far better than he did himself.

He picked the call and placed it against his ear, waiting. What he didn't expect for the blubbering mess that filled his eardrums, threatening their ability to receive sounds. "Sax?" he frowned. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know," he sobbed and Nigel felt his headache returning full force.

"Saxon," he called, tired. He'd envisioned their next conversation many times but it was a far cry from whatever this was. "Give me something to work with, will you? Where are you?"

"Hospital," his voice was quiet and void of any lasting emotion. Numb, if numb were to be a sound.

"What happened now?" he asked, rubbing between his brows. "Did you fall sick again?"

"There's nothing wrong with me," he broke down again and Nigel let him try to get it all out first.

"Just spit it out," he encouraged. "Tell me which hospital it is first." He did and Nigel walked back in to write a warm note for his snoozing girlfriend before setting off to the hospital he conveyed.

"It's mom and dad," he finally managed when Nigel was already halfway across the city to his destination.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Nigel scowled.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I was confused. I didn't know who else to call."

"Whatever," he said, tone short. "So, what happened to them? Are they dead or something?"

Saxon let out a strangled noise from the back of his throat before dissolving into tears again.

Nigel was just on the verge of cutting the call.

"It was a multiple collision," he finally found it in him to impart minutes later. "Dad didn't make it."

"Oh?" Nigel said and Saxon would be deaf to miss the thorough elation in his tone.

He regretted making the call.

"Look, Sax," Nigel continued at the silence that filled the phone lines. "If there was anyone who wants them wiped off the face of the earth, then it's me. You know better than to look with me for sympathy where it concerns them. I'm only not setting off fireworks out of consideration for you."

"Thank you so much, Nigel," he scoffed.

"Should I head back the same way I came?" he snorted.

"No," Saxon promptly deflated. "Sorry."

"I'll be there in five minutes at most," he cut the call and shoved it in his pocket, resting his head against the cool glass of the bus window. His heart messily jumped from one emotion to the next and he tried to focus on one, just one.

He'd much rather go without interacting with Saxon in the short-term but also detested the worry that filled him at the thought of something happening to him in his pain. He should hate him and shouldn't care one bit but he was almost helpless to it all.

It was only a short three over weeks since he'd last seen him and Saxon had grown increasingly pallid, heavy eyebags sunken underneath eyes he kept rubbing over and over again.

Saxon had anticipated any kind of meeting with his brother and gone through many conversations in his mind, preparing a long list of things and sorry's he'd say. He hadn't dared to hope with the sudden call he'd placed but felt his emotions climbing when he picked.

Now standing in front of him, in a shirt embroidered with his own touch that only seemed to prick at his heart, he found himself face-to-face with endless indifference and knew no matter what he had to say, the other wouldn't care for it.

—

g'night❤️