drum roll, please~

—

Her eyes moved over him in the same manner that had always made him feel so small —still did. Then her lips were curling as though she'd caught a whiff of something unpleasant. "That's not really any of your business," she said, sharp dark eyes like glaciers of ice.

"It's my business if he's ignoring me," he said, calmly.

"He is?" her eyes were suddenly sparkling as if she'd won a lottery and Nigel felt a lurch of disgust at the pure elation that streaked across her eyes.

"Not anymore," he said, not stopping his sneer. "Can't bear to see it? He's not you."

She clicked her tongue non-committally in sudden disinterest and went back to perusing the screen of her laptop.

Nigel glanced at the sumptuous dinner in front of him, feeling his appetite declining into the negatives. Why was he even doing this to himself? He should just take his dinner and go upstairs.

"What did you guys argue about?" he still couldn't help but ask. He knew his twin well enough. All of a sudden, the person he'd always known like the back of his hand suddenly became someone unfamiliar. Rather than continue living in ignorance, he'd rather find out why so he could at least try to avoid it next time.

She cursed under her breath, abandoning her laptop to stare at him in irritation. "You," she said, disdain flowing from her every pore.

Nigel's brow furrowed. Long as he'd known him, Saxon had never outrightly spoken against them, willing to do anything to preserve the much flagrant notion of peace. What exactly had ticked him off? And why now?

"Disrupting our damn lives," she cursed more colorfully as she reached for the glass and red wine that had remained at her side all this while. "Turning my own son against me."

Nigel watched her fill the glass to quarter then quietly swirl and raise it to her lips. This was his own mother. "You speak like I'm not also your son," he said, heart numb as he popped a fry in his mouth.

Her eyes filled with amusement as she carefully finished her sip before replacing it in front of her. "You're really not," she said, shoulder rounding in a half shrug as he raised his confused gaze to her.

"What?" his mind went blank and the fries lost their taste, making him feel like he was gnawing on wax.

"You've always been quite dense," she remarked but offered no further explanation to her off-the-cuff comments.

Not that Nigel needed the explanation from her to buttress her statement. He wasn't stupid. He just didn't want to believe it. "That's not funny," he said, eyes hot with angry tears.

"Use your own fucking head," her words barreled out like explosives. "What kind of mother would hate her own son? You'd have figured it out earlier if you'd so much as opened your eyes to the hints I'd been dropping."

"Hints?" Nigel scoffed, wanting to scream at her but only having the strength for a short, depreciating bark of laughter. "Who drops hints like you do? Neglecting me? You might as well just have told me outright!"

"You think I wanted to take over someone's own reject?" she scowled, brows drawn fiercely together and face taut with barely repressed fury. "My child was out there and Rob thought it'd be heartbreaking taking you back after only welcoming you home with open arms. He pitied you."

It hadn't seemed like it then and now, Nigel just had one massive headache. "So, what?" he said, tone bitter. "You thought you'd just do some charity?" He'd rather they never had picked him up in the first place or better yet, that they'd just returned him— to the hospital to finish his recuperating, by the roadside, literally anywhere else would be better than with them. Perhaps he'd still be bemoaning a miserable fate but he'd take that over growing up in their disregard.

"Yes!" she all but screamed, like that was such a hard thing to understand. Or appreciate. "And I regret it with every breath I take. You turned out to be such a piece of shit."

"Right," he said , sneering. "I'm always to blame. Maybe consider how you were blind enough to not thoroughly check and take back someone else's kid."

Her nose flared with anger but she managed to collect herself, grabbing her wine glass stiffly and taking a gulp to assuage the vein pulsing madly at her temple. "After a while, maybe I grew a little bit of pity," she snickered. "You ought to be grateful. If it weren't for our help, you'd probably be dead someplace."

At this point, Nigel felt that even death was sweet relief as opposed to what he was put through in the name of being worth their while.

"Was it fun?" he asked after a while, tone hoarse. "Watching me go to any lengths just to get your approval? Did you get a good laugh?"

"I did," she smiled, eyes seven parts crazed and three parts mocking. "You turned yourself into such an exemplary model, using Saxon as a benchmark and doing your best to surpass him if that'd get Rob and I to notice you."

Nigel blinked, lips pressed so tightly together they hurt. He hated her. He hated her so much. He didn't think he'd ever hated anyone so thoroughly. He wanted to just take the useless kitchen knife lying askance on the table and plunge it in her abdomen. Let's see if she'd still be able to pull that smirk.

"Rob's one-track minded and only has his mind usually on work so he didn't," she said, squinting lazily as she refilled her glass and began swirling again. "I noticed though." Her gaze hardly left his, as though she was thriving from the pain flashing across his eyes. "I remember thinking, this kid definitely needs validation so bad."

Nigel swallowed and hated himself even more when he tasted his tears.

"There was only one thing I wanted to say to you in times like that," she said. "Do you want to hear it?"

Nigel didn't respond, eyes finding his hands that had begun to tremble lightly from where it was resting on the table, absentmindedly fiddling with a bunch of paper napkins. He brought it to hide under the table.

Nadine carried on anyway despite his silence, too absorbed in finally being able to let out all the resentment in her heart. "Saxon's my son. You're not," she stated cruelly. "There's no comparison. Get it?"

"Saxon's my brother," he said, but he couldn't feel the words. They felt detached from his being, his sense of self.

"Sure," she said with a light snort, taking another sip of wine before staring straight at him. Or rather, his neck. "You must really like that."

Nigel frowned, confused and followed her gaze, only to turn hot all over, his whole body starting to tremble with rage at the sight of the rusted necklace sitting on his neck. His birthday gift.

Ridiculous was understating what he currently felt.

"Anyway, I'm done," she said, relief touching her features and making her literally be set aglow with happiness. "Rob didn't mind taking care of you but I could care less. You know why I've always detested you so I guess nothing else matters now. You can get out now." He was the living proof of how they'd let their own biological son slip through their hands.

Nigel's expectations had long since disappeared but he still felt his emotions take a deep dive. "Get. . . out?" he trailed, understanding her point but not really making any sense of it.

"I never wanted you in the first place," she shrugged. "You also recently lost interest in getting whatsoever validation you wanted. Just find somewhere else that'll take you. It's certainly not here."

"You're a real bitch," Nigel scoffed, saying the truth as he saw it.

"Would you rather compensate how much Rob and I have invested in you over the years?" Nadine sneered in response. "It's quite a bit. Forget emotionally investing. Tuition, feeding, training. How dare you claim we neglected you? I ought to make you spit every note we squandered on you."

Nigel was done talking to this woman. He'd gladly take her offer to leave. He wanted to be anywhere but here anyway. "Okay," he said quietly, because there wasn't much else he could say in this situation. "I'll leave."

"Fucking finally," she muttered before finally casting her attention on her laptop once more. "You don't have to sound so unwilling. It's not like you care for us anyway."

"You're right," he said stiffly. "I don't."

"Understandable," she muttered, half-assedly, gaze now glued to her system. "We raised an ingrate so I only pity Rob for being willing to take you in."

Nigel laughed though the sound felt hollow in his chest. "You're asking for a thank you?" he asked. "Would you fucking get over yourself?"

"Your own parents didn't even want you," she scoffed. "The least you could do is be grateful to those who were willing to keep you in their care."

Expression thick with hate, he pushed himself away from the table, getting to his feet and walking off in the direction of the stairs. He hated her, for throwing that back in his face and being so right.

Alfie was no longer in his room when he got back and he was glad for that, seeing as he didn't even have the emotions left over to deal with anybody else. He started by tugging his neck free of the accessory decorating it and tossed it aside, uncaring of where it landed as he went to pull out a duffel. Afterwards, he just started stuffing his things in, wanting to be as far away from here as soon as he possibly could.

He was just about done, having finished clearing his closet and desk and going to empty his drawers. He paused after stuffing in what was left of his chocolate stash, gaze lighting on the items that lay in the bottom— the photo frame and the pages of the journal he'd once ripped apart only to later bind back himself. Nearly a decade of resentment and he still found himself unwilling to let go. It was like a fuel, lighting a fuse as he stuffed it in the side of the bag alongside the pendant he picked back up from the plush rug in the center of the room.

He hated Nadine's nonchalance and disregard, hated her husband's indifference even more but now found something he hated the most. His impervious weakness to it all and unwillingness to let go.

"Nic?" he felt his heart get doused in acid at the sound of his—no, not his— brother letting himself in. He turned in time to see his confused look as he asked, "where are you going?"

Nigel didn't bother to deign him a reply.

"Nic?"

"Mom told me something funny today," he commented lightly, zipping up the bag and turning to squarely face the other.

Saxon felt his throat dry up because looking at him, he knew instantly just what it was.

"That's why you were so mad?" Nigel asked.

"I wasn't mad at you," Saxon said, lips pursing at the end.

"You couldn't say anything?" he said, the resentment coming back to bite him in his heart. "What? Were you fucking working up your courage or something?"

"I'm sorry," he said but this time, he sounded anything but. They both knew that even if he had another chance, he'd keep his silence. "I didn't really dare to believe it."

"I'm not asking you to believe shit," Nigel scowled, incensed. "Four days. You lost your shit for four days and were unwilling to divulge a word of it. You never would have."

"I didn't really see the point," he managed.

Nigel wanted to punch his face in. "Didn't see the point," he muttered under his breath, rolling the words under his tongue, tasting them, hating them. "You know how much I kept losing my mind over their attitudes. Yet you didn't see the point."

"I don't mean it like that," Saxon said, fingers still clasped on the door behind him. "I just— I hated it. We've grown up twins since we've known each other and we suddenly don't even have that relationship? It's not fair."

"Not to me, it isn't," he sneered, going to pull his potted plants and vase of carnation together. "It's not up to you to keep it to yourself no matter how much you hated it. You didn't care what I thought. I'm only asking you why."

"Because I knew you'd be like this," he said, curling his fingers to stab into his palms. Then releasing. And repeat. "You don't have to leave. Why does blood matter? I just want us to be brothers."

Nigel was past reasoning with anyone in this house. He took a glance around the room to ensure he wasn't missing anything and his gaze soon stopped on the ticket held steadfast under his digital bedside clock. Saxon's stage performance slash contest slash whatever he'd really been invited to.

Saxon's gaze followed his and for a moment, they both didn't say anything.

The door to his bathroom clicked open then and Alfie stepped out, yawning as he stretched, freshened up and dressed in an oversized sweater and joggers that belonged to his friend. "Hey," he greeted, not minding the tension.

Nigel felt the edge of his lip twitch, feeling him to still be at least seventy percent high.

"I've always thought you guys looked nothing remotely alike, fraternal or not," he observed lazily then gave another yawn as he turned to his friend. "Are you coming to mine?"

"Sure," Nigel remarked, despite the fact that his friend's words had sparked a not so distant memory.

You look a lot like someone. . .

His mother's words filtered through in the same moment.

Your own parents didn't even want you.

"Sweet," Alfie's excited remark brought him out of his daze as he took the duffel from him and started heading out first.

Nigel began following with the rest of his stuff.

"Nic," Saxon's voice had turned raspy.

"Don't look for me," he simply stated, about to bypass him in the same manner Alfie had.

"So, that's it?" he said. "We're just not brothers anymore?"

"Gee, Saxon, I don't know," Nigel retorted, words laced and dripping with venomous sarcasm. "What the fuck do you think?"

—

thoughts? I'd love to hear your original predictions❤️