"What do you want for dinner?"

It was the first full sentence Bro had said to Dave since yesterday. He looked up from his math homework that was sprawled across the kitchen counter to stare up at his older brother, who had his arms crossed waiting for a reply.

Dave was slightly surprised that it was such a casual question he had decided to break his quiet spell with. Yesterday when he had arrived back from school, Bro acknowledged him with a nod and had immediately turned back to his computer. The rest of the night wasn't any different. It was an odd experience for Dave to be given one word replies and silent gestures - such as pointing to where the food was, or a grunt - to anything he said, especially when Bro usually talked quite a lot. Dave had thought that he was mad at him, just waiting to scold him, but it never happened. The only things he did all night were clicking the computer mouse and occasionally shifting in his chair.

He went to bed still mulling over Bro's behaviour, and before turning off the lamp on his side table to sleep, he was struck with a realization so obvious that he didn't understand how it had eluded him. It was Kyle - not himself as he had imagined for the past few hours - that had made Bro, for a lack of better words, sulky. He wondered what had happened but decided it was best not to say anything.

"Well, what do you wanna eat?" He asked again when he didn't get a response.

"What about pizza?"

"You actually want pizza again."

"I just said whatever was at the top of my head. What do you want?"

Bro shrugged. "I'm not particularly picky today."

"What about that Mexican restaurant around the corner?"

"I'd like to, but not today. I have to stay home."

"Oh."

"Yeah." They both knew the implication.

Dave started tapping his pencil against the counter top. He furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, forgetting the math question he was trying to solve and focusing instead on food. Bro was in a similar state, adjusting the fit of his gloves and wondering why dinner was the one of the hardest decisions in life.

"Hey, I got an idea," Bro said. He stopped fiddling with the gloves and clapped his hands together. "I'll make something tonight."

Dave made a face of disbelief. "Do you even know how?"

"What's wrong with cooking once in a while?"

"Nothing, just that the only thing you can make are eggs and toast. And that's breakfast."

"Kid, you give me too little credit. If I could raise you by myself then I know how to cook a dinner."

"Those are two entirely unrelated skills."

"Nah, they're both life skills. Same category." He placed a finger on an equation Dave wrote in his lined notebook and said, "This answer is wrong."

"It's a new unit," he said back indignantly.

Smirking Bro replied, "Do you even know how?"

"Hey, just because math's easy for you doesn't mean it is for me."

"I don't judge - as long as you bring home the grades. Anyways, I'm going out to the store now. Probably gonna grab steak."

"Wait," Dave said. "Isn't it a bit early? It's barely five o'clock."

Bro began to speak but stopped short after the first syllable, which sounded to Dave like 'Ky'. He was hush for a moment, and then frowned. "That asshole's gonna be late tonight, so I want you to do everything quickly today. That includes dinner, too."

"What about my homework?"

"If you don't finish do it in your room, and just circle the questions you can't solve. I'll help you later, 'kay?"

Dave nodded and Bro, satisfied with the agreement, quickly left out the door. He heard a click, and as his older brother's footsteps grew fainter and disappeared down the hall, Dave felt alone. It wasn't because Bro was gone - he had been by himself in the apartment before many times - but it just didn't feel right; to Dave, though he'd never admit it aloud, Bro's presence anchored a sense of normality. He looked at his surroundings and shifted in his seat. The bright puppets scattered on the futon were missing save for Lil' Cal, and not a single sword was lying on the counter.

However, issues of Gamebro were starting to lie around again, a small stack of about three or four on the table beside Bro's keyboard and even a stray copy was found on the ground in front of the futon; it seemed the more Bro hated Kyle, the less he tried to make an impression and keep the place spotless. Still, the past three days didn't feel like home, and the little familiarities weren't enough. The company he currently held that helped to distract from the alien atmosphere was the homework that racked his brain - Dave wished it was language arts instead of math, it would have been easier - and the light shining through from outside. But that would leave him soon, growing fainter as it crawled out backward from the window, sun dipping below the Houston skyline. He hated how the days were getting shorter.

Looking back from the window to the work in front of him, Dave circled a few questions he didn't understand, including the one Bro had pointed out. Then he sighed and let the pencil fall from his hand, watching as it rolled across the counter.

"I hate math," he said to the walls. He knew it wouldn't show sympathy, but letting it out felt better nonetheless.

He tried rubbing the bridge of his nose, wondering if it would help him clear his mind or give him a genius moment where all the questions would make sense. He had seen Bro do it many times these past few days, and wondered if that's what kept his anger under control whenever he'd have one of his meetings with Kyle. Beyond sarcasm he made it hard to read his emotions, but he was obviously aggressive. If his collection of weaponry, both legal and illegal, or his sparring matches on the rooftop weren't enough evidence, he didn't know how the CPS did their job. Of course, Dave didn't want to be taken away, he just knew how much Bro wanted to punch Kyle and was surprised that with his temper he hadn't done it yet. And if the rub-the-bridge-of-your-nose trick worked for Bro, it certainly didn't work for him as he held the pencil again and went over the homework. No stroke of genius happened.

"I give up," he said, and pushed back on the foldable plastic chair, hopping off and trudging toward the futon.

He lay down on the bed, gazing out the window again and watched as a few birds perched on the edge of the next building over fly away. I want to sleep, Dave thought. But before he could shut his eyes he heard someone at the door.

"Bro?"

He sat up, confused; it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes since his brother had gone. But weren't the line ups at the check-out counter long? And the cashiers slow? He saw that a lot in television shows, but wondered if the process was actually quicker than waiting for take-out. He hadn't gone grocery shopping enough to know for sure. On occasions like today when Bro picked up 'real food', Dave was usually at school or doing homework. Steak was a pretty big deal - it was quite expensive. The fridge usually had boxes of old Chinese or frozen dinner that could be eaten the day after or longer.

He jumped off the futon and ran toward the door. As he unlocked it, Dave began to speak loud enough to be heard on the other side. "I thought you brought your keys." He remembered the click he heard when Bro left. His hands must be full. "Do you have a lot of stuff?"

He turned the knob, and his fingers felt numb. Just a little.

"Dave. What a nice surprise."

A/N: The next chapter will be the last, thanks for giving this story a try! School taxed my time to work on this and being honest, most definitely will for the last chapter - apologies that it will be some time again. I wonder, do people even read these anyways? A couple lines for my banter, ha ha!