“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
Sergio peeks out from where he’s trying to hide. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Do you want me to get Mommy?”
“No.” Sergio pushes his face back into his pillow. Rose is the last person he wants to see right now. A lecture about how shittyhe is as a prospect for Jeremy Owens isn’t going to help his plight at all.
“She always makes me feel better.”
“I’m sure she does,” Sergio mumbles.
“I’m gonna go get her!” Henry yells and leaps off the bed before Sergio can attempt to catch him.
Sergio twists in the bed, getting caught in the sheets and blanket. He falls over the edge, landing with a thump, as he calls, “Henry! Wait! No!”
All he hears in answer is little thundering footsteps running down the hall.
“What’s the matter with you?” Adrien asks from the doorway. His arms are crossed, and he’s leaning against the doorframe with exaggerated casualness. “Have a little too much to drink last night?”
“Shut up,” Sergio says, trying and failing to extricate himself from the knotted covers.
“Here.” Adrien extends his hand. “Let me help you.”
Sergio knocks his hand away and manages to get up on his own with more effort than it should have taken. “I’ve got it,” he snaps and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he rises. His hair is sticking out in all directions, he has bags under his eyes, and his eyes themselves look, well, manic. Wild. Like an animal caught in a trap, or bed sheets in this case.
“Henry wasn’t kidding,” Rose says, appearing in the bedroom. She picks up Sergio’s fallen pillow. “Somebody is having a rough morning.”
“Is that what we’re calling this?” Adrien asks.
“Apparently,” Rose says, pulling Sergio’s blanket and top sheet apart. She hands him the latter. “So, what’s the problem? Henry made it sound like you were on your deathbed.”
“I’m fine.” Sergio shakes the top sheet out with a snap and sloppily throws it onto the mattress. He barely even glancesat the bed as he does the same with the blanket. It’s not like it matters. He’s going to wake up in a perfectly made bed regardless of whether he makes it or sets it on fire right now. Sergio’s eyebrow quirks up. That second option sounds like a cathartic solution.
Rose and Adrien share a look. “Sergio …” Adrien says slowly, approaching him with caution. “What’s going on? I haven’t seen you like this since …”
“Since nothing!” Sergio snaps, knowing full well that the last time he was in anything that even loosely resembled distress was when their parents died. A feeling he’s since designed his life to avoid ever experiencing again. Of course, Adrien would recognize his unraveling and link the two together. He grabs onto his hair and pulls, keeping himself from looking at either of them.
“Sergio.” This time it’s Rose. Her words are slow and even-toned. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing!” he snaps again and moves to barge out of the bedroom like a football player charging through the defensive line.
“Oh, no.” Adrien stops him and firmly places his hands on Sergio’s shoulders. He pushes him towards the bed. Sergio tries to shake loose but fails in his exhaustion. All of his energy to fight and flee leaves him from the simple touch of his brother’s hands on his shoulders. “Sit!” Adrien demands when Sergio’s knees knock against the mattress. He forces him down. “Explain.”
Sergio keeps his eyes focused on Adrien’s socked feet. He’s the one person in his life who can see right through him, and he doesn’t need that level of pity right now. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Tough shit,” Adrien says, still holding onto Sergio’s shoulders. “Whatever this is, we’re talking about it.”
“Come on, Sergio,” Rose says. She steps close enough that her slippers come into Sergio’s view. “Don’t be difficult,”
“I’m not being difficult. I just don’t want to talk about it.” He tries to stand, but Adrien won’t let him. Slowly, he looks up at his brother, pleading, “Please let me go. You’re not going to understand what I’m going through anyway.”
“Oh, really?” Adrien questions with an intense and disbelieving stare. “You’re my brother. I know you better than anyone. You’re having a crisis of conscience.”
“It’s so much more than that.” Sergio hangs his head. Maybe when this loop first started, that was the case. But now, his rough mornings have less to do with feeling guilty about a rude quip in Jeremy’s direction and more to do with him falling in love with the man with no way of experiencing reciprocation without a possibility of tomorrow.
“Look,” Rose says, sitting down beside him. “If this is about last night, all you have to do is tell Jeremy you’re sorry when you see him later. He probably isn’t even that mad. You pissed me off more than you did him, anyway.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Sergio says, clenching his jaw.
