Twinfestation

When I got home, he was gone. His stuff on his bed let me know that he's been here since work, but his body was nowhere to be found. As I expected, his Ipod was gone and, once again, he left his phone. On purpose, I knew.

Great. Of course he'd run off somewhere instead of sleeping like everyone knew he should be doing. If mom was actually home, she'd drag his ass to his room and staple him to the bed by his skin. Okay, so she didn't use staples he'd wiggle out of it anyway. She usually resorted to rope and tied him up with a comforter. She stopped doing that to me when I was seven and I decided it was better to just sleep in my bed but every now and then Silver tried to burn himself out and mom had to control him.

But our mom was off on a business trip currently so she couldn't do so. Our grandparents were the owners of a hospital and when they died they left all the important things to my mom and Aunt Lilli. Aunt Dian, not showing any interest in it when they were alive, got the old beach house in Malibu. So mom was off on a lot of business trips. Also related to her interest in the hospital, she decided she wanted to become a doctor when she was little and is today probably the youngest brain surgeon you'll find in America. Lets face it, Asians have us beat.

The rare times she was home and not busy, she spent being motherly and fixing the messes we'd made in her absence. Which, as of the end of sophomore year when we'd ended up in our uncle's -a police officer- office, hasn't been a lot. So now we mostly spend the time watching movies on the big screen and wearing out mom's cook, Rachael.

Speaking of which.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

"At the super market, you ran out of butter."

"Can you buy me food?"

"Salem Dimitri," Rachael's voice sounded as if she would have a hand on her hip and a motherly look on her face. What is with all these wannabe moms today? "You're asking me, the greatest chef-cook-baker-thing in the world, to buy you food from the super market."

".......Will you make me food?"

"Where is your brother? Why don't you ask him?"

"I don't know where he is." The thought of not knowing was not one which I enjoyed. "That's why I called you."

"Why don't you cook for yourself?" Her voice pitched up at the end, like it was an ingenious idea that had never come to mind before.

"Silver won't let me near the stove." I admitted.

There was a pause then a huff of disbelief. "Of course he won't."

"You want to teach me?"

Sighing, she said, "Sure, I'll be there in about twenty minutes. Hey, do you like Slim Jims? I'll buy you one."

"Yeah, thanks Rachael."

"You have to reimburse me."

"Wh....orry..ha...brea...ye." I hung up with that and went to sit on the front porch with my guitar. This way, she couldn't avoid me when she slipped in and I wouldn't be bored waiting.

Playing the first song I learned, I started with my favorite part. Not because it was my favorite part but because I couldn't remember the beginning. "But isolation pushes you 'til every muscle aches down the only road it ever takes. But everybody's scared of this place, they're staying away. Your little house on Memory Lane."

I stopped and chuckled when I heard the neighbor's from across the street dog bark at my dying cat voice. So I wasn't a singer, my mouth was meant for other things. My hands on the other hand -haha, punny- were highly skilled in everything. Except the cello. No matter how much I practice, I just can't play the cello. I guess I was never meant to mimic the artistic genius that is Apocolyptica. Oh well.

Even though my cello skills are lacking, I can learn to play any instrument relatively well within the first month or so of picking it up. I like playing them by myself and all, but it's much better if someone can play something with you. I usually try to learn the songs I hear through Silver's walls and then try to persuade him later to sing acoustic with me. Granted, he has rarely ever agreed to it, but sometimes, when he gets bored, he'll lay on my bed and ask me to play something. If I'm lucky, he'll sing to it.

In the middle of Tell Them She's Not Scared, a semi-dark figure came into view. Even slightly illuminated by the lights placed around the yard, his face wasn't visible, only the dark bear legs.

"Hello?" I called out. No one was supposed to come over today and Rachael would have pulled up in her car. Any friends of mine would have called and any friends of Silver wouldn't be walking up so normally. Unless they were a guy, in which case, that frame was much too small. "I'm sorry, are you supposed to be here?"

"No." A familiar voice called out. "But I haven't been able to get in touch with my boyfriend. Maybe you know him, kinda tall, smarter than Einstein, really strong, extremely warm."

"No no." Putting my guitar down, I smiled, stood, and crossed my arms over my chest. "I'm sorry, no one like that lives here."

"Oh." Hayden stopped about three fourths of the way to the deck. "I'm sorry, I'll just go then."

As he turned to walk away, I ran and tackled him, twisting so I land on my back instead of on top of him. Propping himself up on my chest, the lights hit him casting odd shadows on his face when he smiled.

"You forgot about your phone."

"Right." I took a deep breath and watched him slowly move up then down. "Sorry, I had other things on my mind."

A concerned look passed over his face. "What kind of things? Worried about that report? I though you already finished the book. And the summary. And the character outlines. And everything else."

"No no, not that. Just....things"

"Wana talk about it?"

"Nah. I don't really feel like talking at all."

"Good." He smiled, leaning down a little ways. "I didn't really want to talk anyway."

Before he had a chance to reach my mouth, I rolled over and propped myself up on my elbows over him, landing a quick kiss on his lips. "Do you ever?"

The noise of someone clearing their throat sounded behind us as Hayden's hand gripped the back of my neck. Twisting to turn around, I saw the short frame of Rachael standing there with a few bags, swinging a stick in the air.

"So." She said in a whistling tone. "Still want that Slim Jim? Or are you content with the one you have there?"