Crisp.

A trickle of sweat runs down my face as I look at the ceiling. I feel the tickling sensation as it runs off my forehead onto my pillow in which my head is laying on. More sweat is yet to come, undoubtedly. I look over lazily at my small fan next to my bed that is obviously ineffective and I wince. Awesome.

A cold shower did absolutely nothing. In fact, throughout the course of the past three days that the AC has been out, I have taken exactly eight of them. It gives solace for a couple minutes, but as soon as I exit the shower and face the Sahara Desert that is my house I wish I never left in the first place. It does nothing but waste water, really. Going outside is pointless; The temperature outside practically equivalates the temperature inside. The most you can really do is eat something cold, if it stays cold long enough. The only time it's ever a tiny bit bearable is at night when the sun goes down. The house is still humid, yes, but the temperature definitely decreases. Other than that, you're roasting.

My mom said she promised that "it will get fixed soon, she tried calling somebody, just suck it up because there's nothing I can do about it." Problem is, I have no patience to begin with. My older brother Gerard pretty much had it by day two and tried fixing it himself, with poor results. He steers clear of the house whenever he can to go somewhere else with AC, which I have also been doing for the past three days. But today, I'm out of options of places to go, with my best friend Ray on vacation and me low on gas, so I have no choice but to roast here like an egg on a sidewalk.

I sit up and check my phone to see that it's 5 o'clock. I try to tell myself, just a couple more hours, the sun will go down, and you can at least sleep. I groggily wipe the remaining sweat off my forehead when suddenly I hear a low growling noise, and it takes me a few moments to realize that it's my stomach. I have been so focused on the heat that I've barely eaten all day. Maybe I can scavenge some ice cream in the freezer if Gerard hasn't claimed it for himself first. Of course, that's probably not gonna happen. With all of Gerard's complaining the past couple days about the heat, that ice cream is as good as gone. Still, it doesn't hurt to check. Maybe I could even take some ice cubes and suck on them for good measure, since I filled up the ice tray this morning.

Moving is almost painful, but I manage to stand and walk downstairs into the kitchen. I'm almost happy when I get down there. It's at least 5 degrees cooler down here than in my room. One of the huge disadvantages of having a room upstairs, but whatever. I rummage through the freezer to see that I was correct about the ice cream being gone, so I break out one of the ice cubes and plop it in my mouth. It melts almost instantly, but at least it's cold. Still, it really does nothing for my hunger.

I look around the kitchen for something to eat, staying clear from foods that I have to warm up, or foods that are hot at all. I've had enough heat for a lifetime. I think about checking the fridge for maybe some lunch meat for a sandwich when a bowl of apples on the counter catches my eye.

Red ones, which happen to be my favorite.

My mom must have went to the store today while I was roasting in my room all day. I don't eat apples very often, but I'll have one occasionally when it feels right.

I pick one up and take a huge bite. The tart, sweet juices immediately fill my mouth and I almost smile. It's not cold, but it's definitely pleasing considering the circumstances. It's really good, actually. Crisp and perfectly ripened. I take another bite and sit on the counter top and decide to eat it down here, at least until the sun goes down and my room cools off.

Between chewing I hear the front door slam, and I immediately know that Gerard must be home from work. I roll my eyes, bracing myself. He comes into the kitchen, obviously pissed off from the heat, throwing things around, cursing under his breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead frustratingly. I don't think he even notices that I'm sitting there, quietly watching him pace around madly as I take small bites of my apple.

He finally notices me starting. "What?" he scowls.

I raise my eyebrows at him and chew on my apple exaggeratedly. I'm not even offended, to be honest. I find his anger kind of comical, actually. I pierce my lips into a small smile which causes him to glare.

"Fuckin' wierdo," he spat. He rolls his eyes and turns around so his back is facing me, writing something down on the dinner table in front of me. Seriously, this heat is making him lash out like a two year old. He's been like this for days. Does he not know that maybe he's not the only one suffering this heat? At least his bedroom is in the basement where it's almost always cool.

As he's pacing, I notice his body language. Tense. Angry. Just miserable. It's almost a pitiful sight. I take a deep, audible sigh. Usually I'm not one to give pity, especially not to him considering most of his misery he brings on himself. But for this situation I'll excuse him for. He can't help that it's fucking blazing. Maybe there's something I can do. Because I'm a kindhearted little brother (and, sure, I'll admit it, maybe I am going a little loony over the heat).

Before I can really stop myself, I stand up and walk towards him. I take my hand and start rubbing his back, first lightly with my finger tips, and then with some pressure with the palm of my hand. He hesitates at first, almost confused at what the hell I'm doing (I don't even know what the hell I'm doing to be honest). But he relaxes a bit and lets me continue to rub. I take the apple and place it in front of his mouth, and he slowly takes a bite and replaces my hand with his. Since both hands are free, I rub his back with both of my hands, and eventually turn the rubbing into what seems like a massage. I rub his shoulders, his neck, his lower back. I'm not sure exactly if what I'm doing feels good, but it must be, because I can feel his muscles slowly relax to my touch. He's practically puddy in my hands; bending over the table, holding his weight with his arms. He takes large bites of the apple and chews loudly, occasionally sighing heavily out of his nose as he chews. Soft groans leave his lips. For the first time in days, he's totally serene.

I kind of smile a bit. It seems like the lashed out two year old disappeared completely with the touch of my hands.

This continues on for a couple of minutes, until Gerard turns around faces me. I look at him with concern in my eyes, maybe the loony-ness of the heat was wearing off and he finally came to his senses that, god, what I was doing was weird. But he smiles at me bit. "Sorry, if you do that any longer you'll put me to sleep," he says groggily.

As soon as my cheeks peered upward into a small grin, the clicking sound of the AC turning on almost made me jump. At first I thought I was hearing things, but I walked over and put my hand over the air vent and sure enough, cool air was spewing out.

"Halle-fucking-lujah!" Gerard cried loudly. I laugh lightly, relieved at the immediate change in temperature. "I guess mom got tired of our suffering in hell on earth and decided to finally call someone to come fix the AC," I say.

"I'm moving to a colder climate," he says, handing me back my apple. "Preferably Alaska. I'm so done with heat."

"Then you'll just bitch about it being too cold," I point out, half joking.

"Hm, good point." He says thoughtfully. He turns to leave, but then turns around to face me again. He opens his mouth like he's going to say something, but nothing comes out. I tilt my head to the side and look at him questionably. He takes my chin lightly with his thumb and pointer finger and give me a small, soft kiss on the lips. His lips taste of the sweet, crisp taste of an apple that he was eating moments ago, and it makes my head feels dizzy.

When he stops kissing me, he walks backwards towards the exit of the kitchen facing me and laughs awkwardly. "And. Uh. Thanks."

When he leaves, I'm left standing there alone in a dazed state, and something tells me it's not from the temperature change. The sound of the AC and my heart pounding through my ears drifts me back to reality.

I close my eyes and lick my lips, tasting the remains of what Gerard left on them, not ever wanting it to leave. I take the apple in my hand and take a huge bite, taking in the same flavor of his lips. I guess this will have to do for now.

From that day on every time I go to the grocery store I make an sure to buy apples.

Red ones, which happen to be my favorite.