'I have issues'
Written in small bold letters, Bobby held his brother's Zippo, letting out a low chuckle and placing it back where he found it. This has been the first in nearly over four years since the last time he had been in Jack's room, his baby brother, the youngest of the four. Ma didn't know where the hell his little brother was, barely knew wherever he went to these days, apparently this has been happening a month after he moved out. Man, if he knew what he's been doing down in the streets or even sees him a little stoned, he'd wrap his hands around his neck and… the door opened.
Jack came in, his eyes lifting up to his drooping slightly. He didn't look surprise when he saw his big brother, just stood there and brushed past him. Bobby rolled his eyes, knowing that his little brother was mad at him for ditching him here. Jack hadn't spoken to him since Christmas two years ago. Jack was the type of person to hold a grudge for ages. He took his time getting out of his shirt, he didn't care that Bobby was still in the room, and took off his jeans. He changed into sweats and slowly made his way to his bed. "What are you doing here, Bobby?" He finally asked, not even a glance towards him.
"I'm coming home for the week."
"Why?"
"Your birthday is coming up, isn't it?"
"My birthday was three months ago, Bobby." Jack said bluntly. Bobby sighed and grabbed the computer seat and sat down right in front of him. Jack sat down. Sighing, he says "Now, tell me why you're really here."
Bobby didn't hesitate when he said, "I want to be here, Jack."
"Why?"
"Jack-"
"Why are you here, Bobby?"
"Jack, just -"
"It's been four years and not once have you come to visit. I'm here, sitting in my room, wondering where my big brother is. Wondering if he's alright. Wondering if he's okay. Is he out drinking with his new pals, is he screwing some girl, or has he finally got a social disease because he doesn't care if he's either screwing a girl or a guy. But he doesn't care doesn't he? He didn't even bother calling after Angel had been sent to the hospital after he got beat up on his way from work. Or when Jer had a kid."
"Jack, be reasonable." Jack stood, followed by Bobby.
"I am being reasonable." Jack shoved Bobby hard, but Bobby stood his ground. He tried to grab a hold of his brother's wrists but Jack pulled away.
"I've counted every time you called. Guess how many?" Bobby shook his head. He tucked his hands in his leather jacket and bit the inside of his bottom lip. "Three. In four years. You've only called three times. The last was at Christmas, 'member that one? You promised you'd be there, but you never showed up. Didn't bother to call either."
"Jack, you're eighteen years old. You haven't moved out of ma's house yet. Do you know how hard it is to take some days off because you want to come back and see your brothers and see your mother? I got fired because I stood up to my boss because I knew it had been four years since the last time I've been home." Jack shook his head and began walking to the door. Bobby moved in front of him, blocking his way. "Jack, I'm sorry alright. I'm an asshole. I know."
"I don't want to hear it." Jack tried to move past him.
"I'm not done with you." Bobby grabbed him by the arm and literally threw him on the bed. Bobby pulled him by the small on his neck, tying his other hand in his hair and kissed him. Jack struggled to get out of his hold, trying to push him away but slowly began to stop and kiss back. Suddenly, he was letting him take the upper hand and he didn't want that. Once Bobby began to relax, he pushed him away and stood up. Shoved him hard again, kept shoving him until he slammed against the wall.
"I'm not that boy anymore, Bobby. I'm not that fourteen year old boy who had a little crush on his older brother because he was his role model."
"Last time I checked, it wasn't just a little crush." Bobby stole a peck on his lips.
"That was four years ago." Jack gritted through his teeth. He stepped back and gave him room to leave. "Just go, Bobby. Come back in another four years; see how I still feel about you."
"You're stubborn. Always were."
"You're a dick."
"You're a child."
"Leave, Bobby."
Just go back to your life. I'm sure you can find a better job, something with better pay. I'm sure you'll be a lot happier with us out of the way." He sneered, leaning in towards him and started walking to the door again. This time, Bobby didn't bother reaching out and grabbing him.
"I don't want to."
Jack stopped and turned around. "Why not?"
"I'm tired, Jack. I'm twenty four and I'm so tired. I can't get up in morning without having at least two beers before I leave for work because I'd like to feel a little mellow because I hate my job. I'll up and leave in a couple a weeks after I find a job, I won't lie to you about that. This, between us, I know you don't want it. I understand it. I'll live with it but please Jack, I don't want to leave here again knowing you hate me."
Jack stared hard at the floor and slowly lifted his eyes to his. "This is the dumbest thing you've ever done."
Bobby smiled and laughed while he said, "Well, I don't know about that."
Jack didn't return the smile and just looked at the man he hasn't seen for four years. Bobby looked down at the door and sighed. He didn't look up when Jack stepped in front of him and leaned down. Bobby didn't mind when Jack nuzzled his neck, trailed his nose to his jaw line and lifted Bobby's face upwards. Bobby looked at him, dead cold in his eyes and pressed his lips against Jack's. The kiss lasted for a minute before Jack pulled away. He was grinning. Bobby sighed and rolled his eyes.
"You're enjoying this too much; it's kind of making me uncomfortable."
"I have the tables turned, Bobby. Just who is the Fairy now?"
"I'm still the man in this relationship, Jackie. Nothing has changed in that."
Jack laughed and placed his chin on his brother's head. "Well, I don't know about that, shorty."
I'm still learning in the whole writing thing. I'm not very good at it I know. If you have found a mistake, I am sorry and I must have missed it. Review please, thank you if you do.
