It was almost disappointing to see Sebastian leave. He had been spoiling for a fight by then, riled up to the point of no return, and his selfish fucking brother had to leave. They had inherited the very worst their Father had to offer; Sebastian had landed himself with quick fists, and Severin a sharp tongue. It was impossible to say which was worse.
By morning, Severin was calm again. It was over, though he had one hell of a comedown to contend with; Sebastian wasn’t the only one with a vice. He had barely moved from his spot on the sofa all morning, sheets dragged from the bedroom to form a makeshift nest. In between the usual waves of crippling nausea and self loathing, Severin had kept busy. His brother’s jacket was fifty quid lighter, and a little book he’d found inside lay open on the coffee table.
The last person Severin had expected to find at the door was his brother. He had privately been hoping he’d slink off and disappear for a few weeks until every nasty jab had faded in his memory. No such luck. After checking to be sure he had sobered up, Severin opened the door with a blank face, stepping back to let him inside. Cerb skittered around the corner to collide with Sebastian’s shins, though Severin was already collapsing back onto the sofa by then, too exhausted to care.
“Shut the door behind you, yeah?” He called, an echo of the last night. “Don’t want him getting out, the daft bastard. Wouldn’t last two minutes.”
Sebastian had to come back. Needed to. Not because of any particular amount of regret, or longing to see his brother. No...
The little bastard had his wallet.
He couldn’t remember the night before as clearly as a stone cold sober man might, but he knew enough. The basics. And he was completely and utterly convinced that he had been in the right. From what he could recall, his brother had shunned him, shouted at him, and reminded him just why he loathed the Morans. And he, being the goddamn saint he was, somehow managed to get out of there before punching the little prick to a pulp.
And so it had done nothing for his mood when he realised he was missing quite a sizeable chunk of his belongings, left behind in his jacket pocket.
When Severin opened the door, Sebastian grunted out a half-hearted greeting, glaring at the dog and nudging it out of the way with his foot as he shut the door behind him, flinching as Severin ordered him to close it, though god knew why. “Should train your mutt up then.” he mumbled spitefully, wandering into the room.
“And what have you gone and done to yourself?” he raised a brow, “You look ill. I thought you said you had everything under control.” If the kid was a little junky, that was just more to worry about. He was annoyed at him, angry, even, but strangely he still felt some amount of responsibility for his little brother. He made a mental note to bring sour worms and lucozade next time. Just in case.
“I came to get the crap I left here last night.” he grumbled, making a beeline for his jacket and pulling it on. His eyes fell on the book on the coffee table, “What the fuck is this?” he scooped it up quickly as though his brother hadn’t already seen it, snapping it closed and holding it tightly to himself, “Don’t go through my stuff.” he mumbled, unsure what else he could say about the thing.
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dailybridgerton
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