Nothing More than an Acrimonious Dispute

Kellin's POV:

It was a dim, morbid day. Nothing could lift anyone's spirits, mine particularly. My decision to go on a walk to clear my head was of course, an awful idea. The bitter, cutting wind was snagging at my body, replacing any heat with a chilled feeling that made a shudder rattle through my veins. That wasn't the only thing it was inducing; my mood had hit an all-time low and I was adamant the shitty weather was not helping it improve. Aimlessly, I wandered through the near enough empty streets of Michigan, my attention caught up in the riddles of my head.

For two days I had thought, and thought, then thought some more. Mostly about Vic. Well, that would be a lie, all my thoughts were about him. I had no idea why; I didn't necessarily want to think about him- Vic was causing me a lot of unwanted stress and confusion I certainly did not need. If anything, I was irritated and pissed off. The stupid bastard toys with me so much. One minute he will incredibly sweet and act like he genuinely cares about me, the next he's practically eating my face off, then he's punching me and telling me to get out of his house. What was I supposed to think, really? Not knowing where I stood with him irked me to no end.

You see, the thing that bothered me the most is that I wanted to hate him. I really did. I wanted to despise him and not be drawn to him and his intriguing traits. But something inside me stopped any hateful feelings arising, and instead I did the complete opposite. Naturally, I wasn't a spiteful person- I tried to see the good in everyone, and I was willing to help anyone. Even a dickhead like Vic. Truthfully, I had no idea why I wanted to help him. What has he done for me? The more I thought about that, the more I contemplated about involving myself with him. If I just kept my distance then I wouldn't be walking through this bone-chilling wind, ripping my thoughts to shreds because I couldn't come to any sensible conclusions. I should just stop bothering with him; it's probably for the best.

But I had told Mike otherwise. An unsaid promise had been formed, and I didn't want to let him down; despite his misjudged decisions, he seemed like a legitimately nice guy, so I would feel incredibly guilty if I broke that unsaid promise. Thinking over the whole situation just seemed to make things worse but I couldn't help myself. The bitter air wasn't even distracting me. For fucks sake, what a waste of time that was. Annoyed, I shoved my hands in my pockets and scurried back to my apartment, resisting the urge to walk by Vic's flat as that would almost certainly end badly.

Thankfully, when I practically barged my way through door, my apartment was warmed all the way through. Carelessly, I threw my coat on the ground and slumped into the sofa, not reallocate airing about much, other than having work tomorrow. Normally, I didn't mind work- I tolerated it better than most people. But I just knew things were going to be awkward or unpleasant with Vic, most probably the latter. I was dreading what he was going to say.

Grumpily, I crossed my arms and sat there, sulking like a child. I was so pissed off with his bullshit attitude I couldn't even formulate words. So instead, I sat there for the rest of my day, the TV blaring out noise I didn't even acknowledge as I tried to fathom out the puzzle that was Vic's god damn mind.

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Vic's POV:

"Piss off, Mike!" I turned around so I was facing him, burning my glare into his worried eyes.

"No! Why won't you talk me about it? It's obviously bothering you!"

Angry. I was angry. Well, fuming would be a more suitable description. And that's exactly why I wouldn't talk to him- it just wouldn't end well. It never did, so I was certain things weren’t going to miraculously change this time round.

"Because..." I seethed maliciously, being sure to stand my ground. "It's nothing to do with you."

Mike scrunched his face up in confusion, a hint of annoyance starting to arise. I felt no guilt though- he was the one shoving his nose in my business. Mike was now scowling at me, almost giving me a warning.

"You know what Vic? It's everything to do with me if it concerns your fucking wellbeing. You need to stop moping around and pull yourself together! Kellin would be good for you- you need someone to distract you from yourself." My brother stared back at me, a shocked look registering on his face. He had just shouted at me, something that he hadn't done in years. If I wasn't such an ass I probably would have actually listened to what he said instead of lunging at him.

With a fistful of his shirt in my hand, I glared at him icily. "I will give you five seconds to get out of my face, or else..." I threatened.

To my surprise, Mike remained completely still, returning my glare. "I'm not putting up with your shit any longer Vic! Just accept that people want to care for you and look after you! Why can't you let go of the past? You're too stubborn and ignorant to everyone else's feelings, get a grip."

With that, Mike ripped my hand from his shirt and stormed past me, making a bee line for the door.

"Don't you dare walk through that fucking door, Mike!"

In return, I got Mike's middle finger shoved in my face and he slammed the door angrily behind him, leaving me in a rather foul mood, which was never a good thing. I could just feel rage bubbling up inside me and I knew I couldn't contain it. Without a scrap of rationality, I spun around and slammed my fist into the wall, thinking it would resolve all the fucking problems swimming around in my head. For a split second, it felt relieving. But it was literally for a second as immediately after, a throbbing pain shot down my hand and I couldn't help but curse. Fuck that hurts. I looked down and saw blood beginning to trickle from my knuckles. Oh fuck. My hand looked almost mauled- there were numerous splits in my tan skin and I could just tell it was going to swell.

Great. Why do I do this? Sometimes I really did not understand myself. Sighing, I trudged over to the sofa, not bothering to sort out my fucked up my hand, and threw myself onto it, letting a little thought enter my mind: I wonder what Kellin was doing? I mean, I wasn't really that bothered about him, it's just he's the one who essentially caused me to hit the wall. If Mike hadn't have brought him up, I wouldn't be in this mess. Or any mess associated with Kellin at all. I had decided that what happened between us was a mistake- I wasn't thinking straight- I was high for fucks sake. And drunk. For some unknown reason, I got needy when I was fucked up on god knows what. That's all it was. If I fed myself that lie enough, I would believe it, and things would be back to the way they were before.

But something buried deep within my head wanted that company, no matter how much I tried to restrain it. I yearned for it and it was quite the challenge to keep it suppressed, especially lately. Ever since I got that stupid job at the coffee shop, Kellin's interest in me sparked something off and I found myself wanting to be around people more, even if I despised them. I blame it entirely on Kellin's months of tormenting.

In a way, I absolutely hated him. He caused me to contemplate the way I have always lived my life, and that made my animosity towards him increase. A lot. I didn't want to change; I have always just about got through life. No, it hasn't been easy, nor a pleasant experience, but I'm still here. Just about- there has never been any sparkle or motivation. I just exist. In my eyes, life was just a thing I had to get on with, I didn't necessarily want to live. So when that pathetic excuse for a human with radiant blue eyes actually kissed me, my first glimpse of living shone so brightly, and it was oh so very tempting. The worst thing is I couldn't even lie and say I hated, because I didn't- I felt the complete opposite. If given the opportunity, I would probably kiss Kellin for the rest of my life. Not necessarily because I like him, but more because he was an amazing kisser and I have never experienced it before.

It's all well and good saying that I didn't want anything to do with him until I reach the underlying problem- I turn completely mushy and sappy at a few of his well-chosen words and it infuriates me. I like to think this whole thing is skin deep; I can appreciate that he's attractive and that's it. But it doesn't stop, as much as I want it to. My thoughts spindle off on an unreachable tangent of contemplation and second guessing, and that's when I make stupid fucking decisions.

God Vic just shut your irrelevant bullshit up and get over yourself. See this is one of the reasons why I don't think- I start to question everything and ultimately end with confusing myself.

Amongst all my thoughts about Kellin I had completely forgot Mike had left the house. Shit. Oh fuck. He wasn't supposed to have left as Oli and Danny were still out for his blood. To make everything ten times worse, it would be entirely my fault if anything happened to Mike, and I'm supposed to be the responsible one. Guilt surged through me as I realised there was literally nothing I could do. I hadn't got the foggiest where he could be, so I had to just wait patiently for him to return...

Some time later...

BANG! Fuck. Without even thinking, I bolted up in my bed, eyes snapped open wide. What the hell was that? Brushing it off probably wouldn't be a good idea, especially when I heard a scratching, almost scraping sound. Carefully, I lifted the duvet from my body and placed my feet firmly on the ground, ensuring not to make a single sound. Trying to be as quiet as I could, I stepped gingerly to the edge of the stairs, wondering what the hell that noise could be. BANG! Startled, I almost fell back, stumbling over my feet noisily, causing an audible thump to travel throughout the apartment. Oh shit. Someone had definitely got into my apartment so I didn't waste any time in scrambling under my mattress, fumbling frantically for the switch-blade I knew I kept hidden under there. Yeah, I didn't live in the safest part of the city, so keeping a flip knife handy was a sort of necessity.

I could feel adrenaline start to surge through me and I felt wide awake. Through the darkness, as I warily stepped down the few steps in front of me, I couldn't make out any figures in my home, even though I was yet to look around the corner. My hands started to tremble and I knew I was getting nervous. It didn't really help that my right hand was fucking swollen and hurt like a bitch. My decision to stay with my back to the wall would prove useful as it gave me an opportunity to see the whole lounge. However, as I scanned my living room, I saw no one. No one at all. What the fuck? I definitely heard something- I was sure of that. I did not just imagine that, and if I had, I knew that I should probably stop drinking and getting high before I slept.

Then, in the midst of my confusion, a thud clattered against my front door. I didn't even give myself time to think over my actions as I practically ran towards the door and ripped it open, evidently frustrated.

That feeling burnt up straight away as I cast my eyes on the scene that was unfolding before me. My brother lay slumped against my feet, beaten to a pulp. For the first time in years, it felt like something was breaking inside my head; a sense of complete despair and sorrow clutched at my emotions harshly, plaguing me with so much guilt. Mike meant the world to me and I allowed this to happen to him. In a way, I felt disgusted with myself. I was frozen, both mentally and physically. I wasn’t used to the abundant amount of emotions smothering me, so I literally felt paralysed and lost in my own mind, which really wasn’t handy. Now was not the appropriate time, but I couldn’t pull myself out of it.

"Well Vic, it's good to see you here again." A strong English accent tore me into reality and my sadness was numbed by the abundant amount of anger welling up- I knew exactly who it was. It was Oli.

I raised my lashes to be greeted with a smug grin. He thought this was funny? I certainly didn't, and I couldn't control myself. Ignoring my already fucked hand, I leapt at him, carelessly pushing him to the ground. I wasn’t surprised; despite my small frame, I knew I was strong. Fighting Oli is something I wouldn’t choose to do, but I knew I could cope with it.

My slight hesitation ended with Oli attempting to scramble to his feet, clawing at the air, his hands scraping along my calves viciously. My response was to send a harsh kick to his side, which made him splutter, but in return, clamped down on my leg and tugged at it- causing me to lose my balance, sending me tumbling to the floor. My fall wasn’t graceful either, I ended up smacking my head on the way down, sending a flood of dizziness to cloud my vision. I couldn’t recollect myself enough to stand up, so I knew I was in trouble. Just a few seconds later, I felt an unbearable agony spread through my eye. The pain didn’t stop there though. A few more punches were thrown to my torso, and I was trying so hard not to cough or show any signs of weakness. As I tried to ignore the pain, I slipped my hand into my pocket, attempting to fish out the switch blade I had put in there. Since he was so preoccupied with bruising my ribs, he didn’t even notice the absence of my struggle. After I had a firm grip on my blade, I didn’t waste any time in flipping it open and jabbing it forward, piercing through the thin skin of Oli’s stomach. The action was frenzied and not thought out, so I wouldn’t be surprised if I had caused some serious damage. Stunned, Oli stopped everything he was doing and immediately clutched at his abdomen desperately. I took the opportunity, whilst he was weak, to scare him off. Tauntingly, I ran the now bloody knife along his throat, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough pressure to cause a light scratch.

“Consider this a warning. Hurt my brother again and I will end you.” I pressed the knife harder against his neck, causing complete terror to shine from his eyes. “Luck won’t be on your side next time. Now fuck off.”

Feeling quite content that I had caused him a considerable amount of pain, I turned on my heel and set my sights on patching up Mike.

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“Keep still!” This must have been the fourth time I had scolded Mike and he still kept squirming around.

“Vic, it hurts.” Mike looked up at me with eyes full of hurt, probably hoping for some words of comfort that I couldn’t provide.

“I-I know Mike. Please, just let me finish this up. It won’t be much longer, I promise.” My voice was dulled; any scrapes of emotion had been brutally torn from it. Emotionally, I felt drained. Sure, I had cuts and bruises (and a fucking black eye now), but the physical pain would fade away in a few weeks. The guilt however would not.

“Is your face okay, Vic? Oh my god what happened to your hand?!”

“It doesn’t matter.” I mumbled, almost inaudibly.

“It does. Well, it does to me. You saved me back there Vic, again.” Shame flickered on Mike’s face and I knew, without a doubt, he would be feeling guilty. It was natural for him- I had got hurt, he blamed himself. I knew him too well.

“It’s my fucking fault you’re in this mess, so I will be the one to make sure that you’re alright. Now, sleep. You’re stitched up. And Mike, don't spare a thought worrying about me- I always pull through.” I leant down and left a small kiss on his forehead, probably the first signs of care I had shown him since we were smaller. “We’ll be okay, remember? We've always pulled through. Remember that.”

Before my feelings got trapped in a cyclone of distant memories, I spun around and headed for the couch, leaving Mike to have my bed. In all honesty, I don’t know why I was even making an effort to sleep; I had to be up for work in two hours. If I wasn’t so broke, I would have called in sick, but money was tight. I couldn’t just ‘call in sick’.

Weary and drained, I fell onto the sofa, not caring about my untreated wounds- they weren’t that bad. Despite my best attempts to stay awake, I couldn’t. My eyelids were slowly closing and in my last conscious thought before sleep, I latched onto the memory of holding a certain somebody close to me, treasuring the comfort and peace he brought me. It was alarming I was allowing myself to think such things, but it just seemed so tempting.