He woke up with a groan. While he'd very much have preferred to sleep into eternity, his headache became so palpable he had to force himself up. Glancing at the bedside table, Nigel sighed at the sight of the rounded pills and tall glass of water.

Paying it no mind, he advanced to the bathroom at the roiling state his stomach was in. Bending over the sink, he dry heaved for what felt like all of the morning before managing to upend the contents of his meagre dinner from last night.

After giving his face and mouth a good rinse, he stepped back out to down the medicine, gaze lighting on the bowl of soup that had been next to the glass. He picked it, ripping the sticky note off the body.

Heard soups are good for hangovers. Don't forget to microwave it.

Balling it in his fist, he tossed it aside before going to heat up the soup. While he waited, he retrieved his journal from where Saxon had hung up his satchel. When no words came after waiting a whole minute, he put it aside and took a look around the room he'd hardly step into of his own volition.

He'd used a cool blue hue and where Nigel had left his walls bare, he'd had his covered with paintings upon scenic sightings. It was no wonder he didn't like to come here at all. It provided too stark a contrast against his own room that was bare of any sort of extraneous appliance. The microwave dinged but Nigel soon lost interest at the sight of wafts of steam emerging from the soup and just let it be, walking the few meters to the fridge just adjacent and grabbing some chips and a couple of snack bars.

With that, he went to make himself comfortable in front of the television, passing time with a comedy that barely made his lips twitch. He turned to his cell phone when it started ringing.

"Aries," he called, picking the remote and switching through the channels. "What's up?"

"You called," was all he said.

"Forget it," Nigel snorted. He'd just been trying his luck. Aries was the last person he'd turn to for urgent help if he'd been in any real trouble.

"Okay," he acquiesced. "Let's talk some other time."

Nigel would have cursed at how quick he was to get away if he wasn't so worried. "You good?" He asked.

"Sure." Click.

Nigel sighed, sitting up from his slouched position at the sight of his call log and then paling at the name that might well have been in bold letters.

I like you.

The memory was like a fleeting whisper, endlessly mocking his incapability to hold onto restraint. "Damn it," he cursed under his breath. Why did it stop there? What came after that? He was so fucked. Tossing aside his cell phone, he bit angrily into a chocolate pretzel just as the door clicked open.

"You're up," Saxon said, shutting his door behind him and going to hang up his bag, expression hardening on seeing the bits of all types of wrappers and balled up papers littering his floor. "The bin's just behind the door."

Nigel switched from the news channel. It was more or less white noise at this point. Had she even responded?

"Are you listening to me?" The balled up sticky note hit Nigel's head with a soft thunk and fell to the couch after being sent in a sharp projectile by none other.

"Do you mind?" Nigel scowled, irritated. He'd just about grasped a reply in his memory.

"Can you at least pick up after yourself?" Saxon sighed. "This isn't your room."

Jaw clenching, Nigel stood rigidly to pick up the few wrappers he'd littered, fingers tightening around one when Saxon's voice, light with nonchalance, came from where he stood by the bed.

"You still owe me three hundred box," he said.

Nigel met his gaze, expression lax. "Do you have to be so petty?" he scoffed.

Perhaps. Saxon knew he still felt slightly hurt when he'd tried to send him off after the ride like he hadn't just sincerely been trying to do him a favor.

"I'm not," he smiled. "Your bill was well over two thousand. I cut off over three quarters because I know you really don't have it. Still think I'm petty?"

"Very."

"Alright," Saxon nodded. "Then just pay me back in full."

"Would you stop?" Nigel scowled, giving way to his annoyance and flinging the papers at him.

Saxon snorted. "Are you picking up after yourself or trying to make it look worse?" He asked, sighing as he watched him go back to picking the trash. "I'm not trying to pick a fight."

"Could've fooled me," he said simply before going to trash the waste and going to pick another bag of chips from the fridge.

Saxon shrugged out of his overcoat, advancing to his closet and then catching sight of the food. "You didn't eat it?" He probed.

"Are you blind?" Nigel combated, mood sour.

"Weren't hungry or just didn't care for it?" Saxon asked.

"Thought you weren't trying to pick a fight?" he snorted.

Saxon didn't respond, picking up the still warm soup for himself instead. "Dad saw me after I had dropped you in my room last night,"  he suddenly said, watching his twin's grip tighten around the opened bag of chips. "Thought I was the one who drank."

"What did you say?" Nigel sighed, rubbing his thumb and forefinger idly against each other in his nervousness.

"What else?" he rolled his eyes. "I let him carry on in his misconception. He asked me to drink in moderation."

"Thanks, I guess," Nigel pursed his lips, knowing he wouldn't have just been let off with something so simple if he'd been the one caught. Lowering his gaze, he held a salty potato chip in his hand. "You didn't need to tell me."

"Just thought you'd want to know," he shrugged, raising the bowl to his lips and taking a long sip. "There might be some bread still. Sure you don't want some soup?"

"I'm good." The chips felt bland enough in his mouth already.

"I think you should though," Saxon pressed.

"I said I don't want it," Nigel glanced over, expression testy and turning irritated even as Saxon smiled slightly.

"I wasn't talking about the food," he explained. "Even though that wouldn't be half bad."

"Speak properly or just don't."

"You should drink in moderation," Saxon said. "Past your health, well, you really can't afford it, can you?"

"Mind your own business," Nigel tossed aside the barely eaten bag of chips and started packing up his stuff.

"Should I?" Saxon asked. "Then don't bother me next time."

"I didn't call you," Nigel sneered.

"Right," he nodded. "I care too much. I won't bother next time then. What do you think would happen in any case?"

Nigel didn't respond, quietly picking his journal from the top of the microwave and placing it in his bag.

"You'll probably be there long into the night, perhaps they'll turn you to the police," Saxon broke down. "They'll call your guardian. How much do you think it'd influence mom's opinion of you? Dad's?"

Nigel's throat worked as he forced down the nausea he felt. "The littlest mistake can negate my good record and alter their opinions of me," he stated, tone as cold as the word could entail. "I know well enough. I don't need you reminding me."

"I wasn't," Saxon said, lowering his gaze and drinking a mouthful of soup.

Expression terse, he jacked his bag off the table and started for his own room.

"Mom made a list," Saxon suddenly called out, watching as Nigel's hand closed around the knob of his open door but he made no move to leave. "We should go to the supermarket."

"Why should I?" Nigel scoffed. "It's not like I eat much of it anyway."

Saxon steeled his mind against the incoming bang but still flinched the slightest bit at it, expression turning to one of defeat as he raised the soup bowl to his lips once more.

–

"What is it?" Nigel asked, calmer now after so long had passed in his irritation. He adjusted the potted plant until it was directly under a soft beam of sunlight, paying no mind to his twin who hadn't thought it a breach of manners to let himself in without much of a response and make himself comfortable thereafter.

"Still upset?" he probed.

"I wasn't," Nigel said, tone measured as he poured just a little more water into the ceramic pot.

"Okay," Saxon said. "I'm sorry though."

Another useless, contrite sentiment but Nigel acknowledged it, taking off his gloves and staring with a peeved expression at his twin slowly twirling about in his swivel chair. He stopped it with a mere stretch of his leg.

"You're still mad, aren't you?" Saxon asked.

"I have homework," Nigel stated.

"Do it later," Saxon tried to persuade. "Let's attend to the grocery shopping first. It's not like I also don't have things to do."

"I said I wasn't going," Nigel said. "Did you think I was joking?"

"That's just it with you," Saxon said, lip twitching. "Why are you so quick to get angry?"

Nigel didn't respond, turning to his desk to pick out the assignments that were due much sooner.

"Should I apologize again?" Saxon pressed, a small smile toying at the corner of his lip. "I'm really sorry."

"You didn't say much wrong anyways," Nigel muttered, picking his pen and going to recline in his bed. "It's for my own good and you were just trying to help. Right?"

"Yeah," Saxon said. "Now that that's out of the way, can we leave so we're back before dark?"

"It's not like I'm playing," Nigel said, pausing so he could grab some sweets from the bottom of his drawer.

"What do I have to do to get you to doing your own responsibility?" Saxon groaned.

"Like I said, I don't see why I should be responsible for something I benefit in no way from," he said, pen moving swiftly over his homework sheet.

"You eat, don't you?" Saxon asked.

"Sure," Nigel sneered, not even looking up. "Every once in a blue moon, I guess. Just enough to be barely existing."

"I didn't come here to listen to your sarcasm," Saxon said, expression deadpan.

"Then go?" Nigel finally looked up with a smile. It hardly reached his eyes.

"Should I give you a bottle of wine?" he inquired. "Would you come along then?"

"You were just asking me to learn to drink in moderation," Nigel's gaze turned puzzled.

"I can't think of anything else that'd work as an incentive with you," Saxon said, crossing his arms.

"That's hardly an incentive," Nigel snorted, tone brutal. "I could easily help myself if I wanted at Alfie's. Speaking of. . ."

"Fine," Saxon folded before his twin could start up a grand plan and return far more intoxicated than when he'd picked him up. "Forget the wine."

"Any other good offers?" Nigel probed.

"Still don't see why I'm trying to convince you to do something that's partly your own duty," Saxon sighed.

"Suit yourself then," Nigel picked a textbook from the side, flipping through it for reference sake as he twirled his pen around his fingers.

"Then, how about I waive that three hundred box?" Saxon suggested.

Nigel snapped his textbook shut before getting off his bed and tugging on a hoodie. "What are you waiting for?" He suddenly smiled, a truly genuine one this time.

"I suddenly feel like you were planning on going with to the grocery store. You just wanted something out of this whole journey," Saxon analyzed, expression almost pained. "Am I wrong?"

"No, you're right," Nigel grinned, slipping on his shoes. "Come to think of it, you do seem to know me quite a bit."

"I wasn't going to press you for the money either ways," Saxon explained. "It's not that big a deal."

"Maybe," Nigel shrugged. "It's always good to have a notary you can't weasle out of, no?"

"Notary?" he arched a brow.

Nigel waved the screen of his cell phone where he'd just stopped a recording.

Saxon was all sorts of speechless. "You win."

"Let's go then?" Nigel pressed.

Lips pursing, Saxon only shook his head before following him out to his car.