Evan bit his tongue to stop screaming. He heard his brother calling his name. Damn! When did he come? Didn't hear the door.. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Okay, stay calm, boy... You have to get into this shirt before he comes in and sees how bad you look. Do I look bad? I don't understand why I have this feeling that it's better if Hank doesn't see my body.

With the shirt on he managed to pull himself back with a grip on the shelf again. He didn't have long to act, so he got the shelf out of the wardrobe and let it fall on his feet. Man! My poor toes... now I really hurt everywhere... I just hope this helps to keep Hank calm. His eyes caught a sight that he knew wouldn't do any good to the upcoming Dr. Brother and silly accountant brother chat. But it was too late to do anything about it, Hank was almost at his door and he couldn't have come to the bottles anyway. Not the way he felt.

"Evan! You're okay?" Hanks voice made Evan shiver. His brother was more than worried. And that wasn't all, his face screamed one word: Panic!

"I'm fine, no, I mean, my toes really hurt."

Hank noticed the reek before even before he entered the room. The first look made him frown. Vomit, empty alcohol bottles, some blood on the door and some stains on the bed that he couldn't make out. The next one was his brother pale, swaying and looking on the floor as if he was confused why all his shirts where lying around him and there was a shelf on his feet. Well, that explains his scream. Not nice to have a heavy wooden shelf falling on your feet or even your toes. Ouch! Just the thought made his feet hurt.

"I know you're vain, kiddo, but this is even too much for you. Throwing all your clothes around and when did you turn into Demolition Man whose destroying his wardrobe? What happened to my brother? Is he still in there?" Hank stand in front of Evan now and knocked on his head.

"Ouch! Stop it, man! I have a headache already, no reason to make it worse. And very funny... Demolition Man, huh? I didn't know you liked this kinda stuff." He thought a moment. "I just wanted to get something off the shelf above this one. And when I leaned on there to stretch a bit.. well, it just came down. Something probably broke."

Hank raised an eyebrow, not sure if he should buy this one. His brother wasn't small, he was tall and his weight – really, he always wasn't enough, Hank had told him more than once to gain some weight, because he didn't have any resources to use off in case he got really sick. But there was this thing about Evan, he could eat a lot, more than most people would think. If they were alone or Evan was by himself he managed to eat dinner, bread a little later, fruits, ice cream, chips and a bunch of chocolate adding coke and beer to the food within a few hours. He didn't become sick to his stomach. Strange thing was that he liked cooking so much and the stuff he prepared was always healthy – Hank had even suggested that Evan should work as a nutritionist. His eyes searched the now free space in the wardrobe. "Evan, nothing broke there."

"And? Would you rather have me making up a story?" That was a good one, Evan. Making up a story. Implying that I'm telling the truth and Hank being the jerk. "That's what happened, believe it or think whatever you want."

"Hey, hey, don't get so worked up, buddy. It's okay. I believe you. Guess, the thing fell on your feet, huh?"

"Yeah, sorry. Didn't mean to sound like an idiot."

"Oh Evan, you don't have to try and sound like one – look at you – you stand in the middle of what might be a thousand shirts – why do you need more shirts than every store out there? - and wood fell onto your feet. That's enough to be called idiot."

Yeah, just stand there and smile. Calling me an idiot again. Spare me this funny grin! Evan wasn't in any mood to joke around, but tried to go Hank's way. "You know me, never fail to make a fool out of myself. Do you mind helping me to go to the bed? My feet kill me and the headache makes me kinda dizzy and sick."

"Oh, sorry." Hank laid his arm around his brothers shoulders and felt him leaning on. They walked to the bed. Evan swayed and Hank rushed his arm down his waist to get a better grip. His brother hissed for a moment. He is in bad shape. I'd even say he has lost more weight since yesterday. We have to talk. There is no way out of this today. He's shivering, when it's so hot in here.

"Let me open the window first, I guess some fresh air couldn't do any harm."

Evan used his pillow to lean on and looked at his brother. "Are you ok?"

He worried, but didn't know that it was so obvious. "Sure, I'm not the one that took a t-shirt shower, right? Let me look on your feet. Do you hurt somewhere else?"

"Yes, as I said, I have a headache. Other than that I'm feeling okay, not fine, but not so bad either. A bit dizzy and sick, but not as bad as..." He bite his lip and hoped his brother didn't hear it.

"Not as bad as when, Evan?"

He heard it, of course. He's sitting next to me not in another room. How could he haven't heard it. Hank always told me: Think first and speak then. Yeah, good that I never remember that, when I talk to my teacher. Must be his authority attitude. "Not as bad as yesterday or earlier today."

"Was a wet night, huh?"

"What?" I didn't notice that it was raining last night. And I can't remember that they spoke about it on the radio or the tv last time I listened to the news.

"I mean the two empty bottles on your floor. And the two that I found in our trash can yesterday."

"There were more bottles? More than those?" Okay, I'm in big trouble and it's not just the speech that Hank will come up with soon enough.

"Yeah, don't give me that. You know there were. So let's skip your innocent look and lies and just tell me what's wrong with you." He was working on his brothers toes. They were a bit sore, but other than that it was nothing serious. The little toes on both feet seemed to be lightly broken on the right and broken on the other. How is it possible to get both of your little toes broken? Evan isn't sick or hurt very often, but if he is, he's always having the strangest illnesses or injuries. But that's soooo Evan, 'drama baby, drama'. "You decide what you want to tell me and I get something to clean up your room and to treat your feet."

The younger Lawson closed his eyes and sighed. What should he tell his brother? He didn't remember drinking those bottles on the floor, let alone the ones that were in the trash can. He couldn't come up with an explanation. Maybe I'm losing my mind. And I know there are those strange dreams of someone with me and doing something to me, they seem so damn real. But do I tell Hank about it and let him admit me to a psychiatric ward? Even if I wanted to tell him, I don't remember much more than those men and three different voices. Wish I'd remember what they keep saying or doing to me. Not that it's important, in the end they are just dreams, aren't they? Considering the bottles on my floor and the alcohol smell, when I was throwing up... I guess the drinking caused those nightmares. Nightmares? How do I know they're nightmares, if I don't even remember what happened? It's weird.

Hank came back and put his bag on Evan's nightstand. He left again and just a few seconds later Evan could hear him curse. The voice came from the bathroom and his brother knew right away that the doctor has found his urine. Water was running. It seemed that the older Lawson was cleaning the mess in the bathroom. Then he finally came back to the room. He cleaned the door first. "Where's this blood coming from?" After he finished his cleaning in the room and got rid of the items, he sat down on the bed again. "Now?" he asked while taking care of Evans feet. Not much he could do about it, though.

"I dunno where the blood is coming from." He was surprised that his brother had mentioned blood. He haven't noticed it, before the question came up. "I don't remember drinking that much either." Or drinking at all for that matter. "I do remember throwing up earlier and..."

"Yeah, Evan it was obvious that you had. Tell me things I don't know."

"I try, Henry! Okay, thinking about it, I guess I hit my head on the door, when I bent over. That might also be the source of my headache."

"Probably, but don't forget the major reason that's known as hangover." Hank became angrier with every word that came from his brother, but he fought with his temper to have a normal talk with Evan and not cause a discussion. A fight would only end one way. Yelling at each other, saying things they might regret later, insulting, princess behavior from Evan, doors slamming and one of them leaving the house. And he wouldn't know anymore than now.

"Yeah, you're probably right. And I'm sorry for the mess I left in the bathroom."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you don't like my things. My shoes are wet now, I opened the window there and let them have a bit of fresh air. Where you so drunken that you missed?" And how often do I have to ask you to sit down? Or use the urinal in the other room?

"Well, if I drank both of those bottles I guess you can answer that yourself." Man, he must be disgusted, I am myself.

Hank didn't say anything. He nodded and took Evans head in his hands, searching for a wound that could have left the blood on the door. It wasn't big and not really bad. Only needed two stitches. He could tell that Evan had a shower earlier so there was not a lot to clean. It has bled some more after that, but not much. He did his job, like a doctor to a patient, avoiding the anger and sorrow inside. "Okay, I'm done. I guess you have a mild concussion and as I said a bad hangover, but I don't think you should leave the house today. Maybe sit down on the porch a while."

"Thank you, Hank." Evan said. He was embarrassed.

"That's my job, Evan."

"Yeah, as my older brother." Evan smiled, but that didn't last long.

"No, it's my job as a doctor."

Ouch! Those words hurt more than the physical pain. "True. But I mean it. Thank you. And... I'm so so sorry, that I had too much alcohol and for disappointing you." Now, please say that I'm not disappointing you. You don't tell me your proud of me very often, but you could at least say that I made a mistake, but that it isn't a disappointment.

"Yes. You know we have to talk about this to a specialist. I think a psychiatrist or a psychologist. Someone with experience in …. this field."

"Wow, Hank, just because I had too much alcohol in the last few days doesn't mean I need a therapy. I just stop drinking."

"Evan, I'm not discussing this. You go and see someone, if they say you don't need the therapy than it is fine with me, but if they say you do need and you're not gonna do it, I have to ask you to leave the house until you feel better."

Please, you didn't say that, did you? Tears filled his eyes. "I go and talk to them and do all that they want me to do. I promise, Henry."

Hank's voice was more soothing when he spoke again. "Listen, Evan. I'm not saying this to hurt you, so please don't cry." Those words only caused the tears, that his brother had held back in his eyes, to flow. He was now crying and Hank put the anger beside for a moment and hugged him. "It's okay, Evan. We're going through this."

"You're not going to throw me out?"

"No, Evan. If you follow their orders, I want you to stay here. If you have to go to a clinic and things will be okay, you are always welcome back. Of course, I'd visit at the weekends. I'll be there whenever you need me."

"Thank you and again I'm sorry. It's just so, I don't remember drinking anything at all. Not those bottles, not the ones you mentioned. I didn't even remember how I got from the couch, where you left me, to my bedroom."

"I understood this. Evan. It makes things even more urgent. Who knows how long you have been drinking so much and couldn't remember anything the next days. You have lost some weight and look pale, not good at all. And that has been for a while now. It's just like it was with..."

"Hello, is anybody at home?" The man was in the living room.

"Yes, just a moment, I'm coming. Who are you and how did you get in?" Hank asked, staying with his brother.

"It's me. Dad. The door wasn't closed."

The brothers looked at each other. Hank had obviously forgotten to close the door, when he had heard his brothers scream earlier. Both of them were surprised about their fathers visit. He didn't tell them ahead and he sure couldn't have found a worse moment/time for deciding to see his sons.

"Henry? Do you mean it's just like it was with dad." Evan asked, now scared.

"Like it was with Eddie, yes." Hank refused to call his father dad. The man didn't deserve this name. Not in his eyes. And especially not from Evan, he just wished the youngest family member would understand that.

Evans fear from earlier came back. If he was just like dad... it would mean that Hank was disappointed in him and disgusted and that he'd hate him. "Do you hate me now, like him?"

Hank turned around to say something calming to his brother, but steps behind him let him turn around. "Eddie, why are you here?"

"What about: hey dad, nice to see you?"

"Yeah, hi Eddie."

"Hi dad, good to see you again. Would have been good if you'd called, I had prepared some great food." Evan said smiling. But it didn't reach his eyes. Seeing his father and knowing what they just talked about made him feel worse and the feeling of self-hatred grew and the wish to be dead came up again. That Hank didn't have a chance to answer his last question didn't make things any better.

Hank was annoyed by his father, he was annoyed that he thought he could come and go whenever he wanted. Eddie had no respect, when it came to his sons privacy and their lives, that they had lived for many years without him. And it hadn't been too bad, not after he could finally make some money, so that him and his brother could afford to live together.

He was angry that he had to delay the conversation with his baby brother. The situation was serious and the old man wasn't known for being helpful in such serious family things. He wasn't known to remember his family, if they were in trouble or sick. Like their mom.

Like with Evan, when mom was in the hospital a couple of weeks before Eddie has left his family. Before she came home dying. Evan was sick for several weeks and later with increasing fever, the end was that the cold caused pneumonia and dad refused or didn't care to take his son to a doctor for another week or so. When Evan started complaining about pain in his heart, Hank decided to bring him to a doctor. He was diagnosed with myocardial inflammation. The doctor immediately called an ambulance, because the 10 year old boys fever was life-threatening high. Evan was at the ICU for almost a week and the first couple of days the doctors didn't know, if he would make it or not. Their mother was too out of it to even remember she had sons and their father has already pulled back some from his family, when his wife got sick and he didn't come once to see his second born, even knowing that the kid was at risk to die. Hank was glad since then that Evan had been delirious and sleeping a lot during his stay in the hospital and didn't know their father hasn't been there. Hank wanted to comfort the boy and told him that Eddie has been there every day.

That was actually the time, when Hank started worrying as soon as Evan coughed or so. The illness had not left a serious damage, but whenever Evan got a cold he seemed to end up with pneumonia and pain in his chest. If he didn't get a proper treatment within the first two days. Not quite normal. But who said things with Evan were easy or normal? It was good then that Evan rarely got sick especially colds or the flu. Hank was thankful for that one thing that his brother had in common with their father. The only good thing Eddie has ever given to Evan.