Elijah tolerated his brother's presence in their father's house; tolerated being a generous term since he had a contractual obligation to let him live there if he wanted a home and to evade becoming a mortgage slave, as he liked to say. The freak lived on the second floor, came and went through a separate entrance, at least until his boyfriend started coming around. Whenever he ditched his boyfriend for his 'friends,' Isaiah came running, playing knight in shining armour. Elijah didn't care. Not even someone as stupid as his boyfriend would go for a loser like Isaiah, if he ever found the nerve to try and swoon him.

The clock on Isaiah's laptop read 1:36 as he hunched over the device, amazed that his fucked up spine didn't protest. It was a calm atmosphere, consisting of a familiar electronic hum and a dim LED strip keeping the room alight. That was until the rumble of his older brother's car engine pierced through his ease, dispersing into the night.

Sighing, Isaiah moved down the stairs, hoodie zipped halfway, shorts bunched up. Coming into silence and darkness, he assumed his brother's boyfriend was asleep, blissfully unaware of Elijah's absence. He didn't understand why he put up with it, why he let Elijah wear him down piece by piece. It wasn't Isaiah's place to say anything, though. Not when he wasn't entirely innocent, not when he found himself craving the pieces that were left behind. The comfort he sought in him, it made Isaiah feel needed in a way he'd never known—in a way he wasn't sure he deserved.

He barely returned to his browsing, a knock echoing, pushing him up on his feet in an instant. Standing in the doorway, squinting against the cool light of Isaiah's room, eyes rimmed red. He spread his arms wide, feeling him going limp against him, heart aching for him. "You shouldn't have to come here like this every time..."