cody_jagerman

Max’s door is open. His room is dark and empty. As expected, really.

Cody creeps carefully past their father’s bedroom, where rhythmic, rumbling snores emanate from within, crossing the hallway quickly. He pads down the stairs on tiptoe in his socks, rubbing at his tired eyes, and turns the corner into the large kitchen.

The cold tile bleeds through his socks, and he moves as slowly as possible to avoid making noise. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a simple glass cup, lowering it to the faucet and turning it on, watching water spill into it before he turns it off.

The opening and closing of a door makes Cody jump. He whips around with wide eyes, worried he’d awoken his father, before he sees the broad shadow of his older brother stumbling through the front door, clearly inebriated and disoriented, which is odd, as usually he comes home from late parties freshly fucked and ego enlarged.

Cody glances at the time on the microwave that reads 2:04 a.m. “You’re home early,” he deadpans quietly, turning back to his cup, blissfully unaware of Max’s anxiety or the night that he’s had. “Rough party? Got in a fight with someone there, or something?”

@cody-jagerman

He didn't answer his questions. Instead, he headed straight for the fridge. He opened it and grabbed a bottle of soda, then started to drink.

When he was done he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his letterman and put the bottle back in the fridge.

He opened a cabinet and took out a bag of chips, and he sat at the table to eat some of them. He had thrown up like two times during the evening, and his stomach felt empty apart from the alcohol.

He was strangely silent, and he seemed lost in thought. The only sounds in the kitchen were the buzz of electricity and Max occasionally crunching on his chips.

Stifling a yawn into his elbow, he keeps his eye on Max, worry weighing his heart down. He can tell something’s wrong, but they’ve never been the type of siblings to be vulnerable with each other. He doesn’t know what to do.

He followed him upstairs after a while. He went into his bedroom and changed into a pair of shorts to sleep in. He didn't feel like taking a shower, he'd do that in the morning. He plopped down on the bed in complete darkness, and closed his eyes. He laid there for a bit, tossing and turning and trying to fall asleep. Except he couldn't. He was still thinking about what happened a few hours before.

He got up with a sigh, and silently walked to Cody's door. After thinking about it for a few seconds, he knocked.

Cody doesn’t know. It hurts his heart a little to know Max is distressed and not know how to help. It’s unfamiliar to him, and he hates it.

Cody pulls the door open wider and steps back to let Max in. He tries to be snippish, he tries to make a petty jab, by God, he tries his best to make it look like the last thing he wants is to sit beside his big brother again, to look at him without glaring, to talk without insults and know he’s at peace.

He pulled the blanket over his face, his hands shaking.

After a few moments of silence he spoke again, without facing his brother.

"Mom was eaten by this weird being with a giant mouth. I met it." His grip on the blanket tightened. Talking to Cody about it felt unexpectedly helpful. Maybe because he had been through the loss of their mom too. He could understand, to a certain extent.

"I know you're not gonna believe me. This fucking nerd at school summoned those things and they talked to us and the pink one told me that stuff- and- and it wants me, too-" he hid his head with the blanket, visibly shaking. He was silently sobbing.

Cody was expecting anything but this. Their mother’s disappearance is a very touchy subject, and had been one of the catalysts for the death of Max and Cody’s sibling relationship early on in their childhood. To even mention her name in this house is a death sentence brought onto you by their father, so to be so distraught over it, to be so open about it now…

Eaten? By a weird being with a giant mouth? Summoned by a nerd at school? This makes zero sense to Cody, who has virtually no life outside of home and school. He lifts a hand to his temple, trying to work it out. Had Max had a nightmare? Gotten too drunk and hallucinated? Had he messed with drugs? Cody doesn’t know what to believe. He hasn’t heard of such beings before. If their mother had been eaten, he would expect it be by some large animal like a bear or a mountain lion. Not…

Cody hesitates. He doesn’t know what to do. If he tells Max outright he has no idea what he’s talking about, Max might explode and retreat, erasing any progress they’ve made tonight. If Cody says he believes him, he might unknowingly be enabling a harmful delusion Max had somehow gotten himself into, and be the reason Max spirals. 

He doesn’t know what to do. What would make it better? What would calm Max down?

What does Max need from him?

Company, Cody recalls Max asking for an hour ago, “don’t feel like being in the dark tonight.” “It wants me, too.”

Maybe Max doesn’t need words at all. 

Cody scoots closer to Max, watching his shoulders shake and listening to him weep. Seeing his powerful, scary big brother now so helpless, so afraid, makes him feel horrible. He fiddles insecurely with his fingers. “Okay,” he mumbles. “Okay. The thing that ate mom talked to you. And it wants you, too. We can…try to figure out what to do about that later. I promise we’ll figure it out. Together, if you want. I’ll help you. In…in the meantime…”

Max’s door is open. His room is dark and empty. As expected, really.

Cody creeps carefully past their father’s bedroom, where rhythmic, rumbling snores emanate from within, crossing the hallway quickly. He pads down the stairs on tiptoe in his socks, rubbing at his tired eyes, and turns the corner into the large kitchen.

The cold tile bleeds through his socks, and he moves as slowly as possible to avoid making noise. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a simple glass cup, lowering it to the faucet and turning it on, watching water spill into it before he turns it off.

The opening and closing of a door makes Cody jump. He whips around with wide eyes, worried he’d awoken his father, before he sees the broad shadow of his older brother stumbling through the front door, clearly inebriated and disoriented, which is odd, as usually he comes home from late parties freshly fucked and ego enlarged.

Cody glances at the time on the microwave that reads 2:04 a.m. “You’re home early,” he deadpans quietly, turning back to his cup, blissfully unaware of Max’s anxiety or the night that he’s had. “Rough party? Got in a fight with someone there, or something?”

@cody-jagerman

He didn't answer his questions. Instead, he headed straight for the fridge. He opened it and grabbed a bottle of soda, then started to drink.

When he was done he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his letterman and put the bottle back in the fridge.

He opened a cabinet and took out a bag of chips, and he sat at the table to eat some of them. He had thrown up like two times during the evening, and his stomach felt empty apart from the alcohol.

He was strangely silent, and he seemed lost in thought. The only sounds in the kitchen were the buzz of electricity and Max occasionally crunching on his chips.

Stifling a yawn into his elbow, he keeps his eye on Max, worry weighing his heart down. He can tell something’s wrong, but they’ve never been the type of siblings to be vulnerable with each other. He doesn’t know what to do.

He followed him upstairs after a while. He went into his bedroom and changed into a pair of shorts to sleep in. He didn't feel like taking a shower, he'd do that in the morning. He plopped down on the bed in complete darkness, and closed his eyes. He laid there for a bit, tossing and turning and trying to fall asleep. Except he couldn't. He was still thinking about what happened a few hours before.

He got up with a sigh, and silently walked to Cody's door. After thinking about it for a few seconds, he knocked.

Cody doesn’t know. It hurts his heart a little to know Max is distressed and not know how to help. It’s unfamiliar to him, and he hates it.

Cody pulls the door open wider and steps back to let Max in. He tries to be snippish, he tries to make a petty jab, by God, he tries his best to make it look like the last thing he wants is to sit beside his big brother again, to look at him without glaring, to talk without insults and know he’s at peace.

He pulled the blanket over his face, his hands shaking.

Max’s door is open. His room is dark and empty. As expected, really.

Cody creeps carefully past their father’s bedroom, where rhythmic, rumbling snores emanate from within, crossing the hallway quickly. He pads down the stairs on tiptoe in his socks, rubbing at his tired eyes, and turns the corner into the large kitchen.

The cold tile bleeds through his socks, and he moves as slowly as possible to avoid making noise. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a simple glass cup, lowering it to the faucet and turning it on, watching water spill into it before he turns it off.

The opening and closing of a door makes Cody jump. He whips around with wide eyes, worried he’d awoken his father, before he sees the broad shadow of his older brother stumbling through the front door, clearly inebriated and disoriented, which is odd, as usually he comes home from late parties freshly fucked and ego enlarged.

Cody glances at the time on the microwave that reads 2:04 a.m. “You’re home early,” he deadpans quietly, turning back to his cup, blissfully unaware of Max’s anxiety or the night that he’s had. “Rough party? Got in a fight with someone there, or something?”

@cody-jagerman

He didn't answer his questions. Instead, he headed straight for the fridge. He opened it and grabbed a bottle of soda, then started to drink.

When he was done he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his letterman and put the bottle back in the fridge.

He opened a cabinet and took out a bag of chips, and he sat at the table to eat some of them. He had thrown up like two times during the evening, and his stomach felt empty apart from the alcohol.

He was strangely silent, and he seemed lost in thought. The only sounds in the kitchen were the buzz of electricity and Max occasionally crunching on his chips.

Stifling a yawn into his elbow, he keeps his eye on Max, worry weighing his heart down. He can tell something’s wrong, but they’ve never been the type of siblings to be vulnerable with each other. He doesn’t know what to do.

He followed him upstairs after a while. He went into his bedroom and changed into a pair of shorts to sleep in. He didn't feel like taking a shower, he'd do that in the morning. He plopped down on the bed in complete darkness, and closed his eyes. He laid there for a bit, tossing and turning and trying to fall asleep. Except he couldn't. He was still thinking about what happened a few hours before.

He got up with a sigh, and silently walked to Cody's door. After thinking about it for a few seconds, he knocked.

Cody doesn’t know. It hurts his heart a little to know Max is distressed and not know how to help. It’s unfamiliar to him, and he hates it.

Cody pulls the door open wider and steps back to let Max in. He tries to be snippish, he tries to make a petty jab, by God, he tries his best to make it look like the last thing he wants is to sit beside his big brother again, to look at him without glaring, to talk without insults and know he’s at peace.

He pulled the blanket over his face, his hands shaking.

Max’s door is open. His room is dark and empty. As expected, really.

Cody creeps carefully past their father’s bedroom, where rhythmic, rumbling snores emanate from within, crossing the hallway quickly. He pads down the stairs on tiptoe in his socks, rubbing at his tired eyes, and turns the corner into the large kitchen.

The cold tile bleeds through his socks, and he moves as slowly as possible to avoid making noise. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a simple glass cup, lowering it to the faucet and turning it on, watching water spill into it before he turns it off.

The opening and closing of a door makes Cody jump. He whips around with wide eyes, worried he’d awoken his father, before he sees the broad shadow of his older brother stumbling through the front door, clearly inebriated and disoriented, which is odd, as usually he comes home from late parties freshly fucked and ego enlarged.

Cody glances at the time on the microwave that reads 2:04 a.m. “You’re home early,” he deadpans quietly, turning back to his cup, blissfully unaware of Max’s anxiety or the night that he’s had. “Rough party? Got in a fight with someone there, or something?”

@cody-jagerman

He didn't answer his questions. Instead, he headed straight for the fridge. He opened it and grabbed a bottle of soda, then started to drink.

When he was done he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his letterman and put the bottle back in the fridge.

He opened a cabinet and took out a bag of chips, and he sat at the table to eat some of them. He had thrown up like two times during the evening, and his stomach felt empty apart from the alcohol.

He was strangely silent, and he seemed lost in thought. The only sounds in the kitchen were the buzz of electricity and Max occasionally crunching on his chips.

Stifling a yawn into his elbow, he keeps his eye on Max, worry weighing his heart down. He can tell something’s wrong, but they’ve never been the type of siblings to be vulnerable with each other. He doesn’t know what to do.

He followed him upstairs after a while. He went into his bedroom and changed into a pair of shorts to sleep in. He didn't feel like taking a shower, he'd do that in the morning. He plopped down on the bed in complete darkness, and closed his eyes. He laid there for a bit, tossing and turning and trying to fall asleep. Except he couldn't. He was still thinking about what happened a few hours before.

He got up with a sigh, and silently walked to Cody's door. After thinking about it for a few seconds, he knocked.

Cody doesn’t know. It hurts his heart a little to know Max is distressed and not know how to help. It’s unfamiliar to him, and he hates it.

Cody pulls the door open wider and steps back to let Max in. He tries to be snippish, he tries to make a petty jab, by God, he tries his best to make it look like the last thing he wants is to sit beside his big brother again, to look at him without glaring, to talk without insults and know he’s at peace.

“Hey, man. Is… is your brother doing ok?”

(@retrotwins2003)

Cody whips around at the tap, eyes meeting an unfamiliar face. Oh, no. Wait—he knows who this is.

“Hey, man. Is… is your brother doing ok?”

(@retrotwins2003)

Cody whips around at the tap, eyes meeting an unfamiliar face. Oh, no. Wait—he knows who this is.

“Hey, man. Is… is your brother doing ok?”

(@retrotwins2003)

Cody whips around at the tap, eyes meeting an unfamiliar face. Oh, no. Wait—he knows who this is.

“Hey, man. Is… is your brother doing ok?”

(@retrotwins2003)

Cody whips around at the tap, eyes meeting an unfamiliar face. Oh, no. Wait—he knows who this is.

“Hey, man. Is… is your brother doing ok?”

(@retrotwins2003)

Cody whips around at the tap, eyes meeting an unfamiliar face. Oh, no. Wait—he knows who this is.

“Hey, man. Is… is your brother doing ok?”

(@retrotwins2003)

Cody whips around at the tap, eyes meeting an unfamiliar face. Oh, no. Wait—he knows who this is.

Max’s door is open. His room is dark and empty. As expected, really.

Cody creeps carefully past their father’s bedroom, where rhythmic, rumbling snores emanate from within, crossing the hallway quickly. He pads down the stairs on tiptoe in his socks, rubbing at his tired eyes, and turns the corner into the large kitchen.

The cold tile bleeds through his socks, and he moves as slowly as possible to avoid making noise. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a simple glass cup, lowering it to the faucet and turning it on, watching water spill into it before he turns it off.

The opening and closing of a door makes Cody jump. He whips around with wide eyes, worried he’d awoken his father, before he sees the broad shadow of his older brother stumbling through the front door, clearly inebriated and disoriented, which is odd, as usually he comes home from late parties freshly fucked and ego enlarged.

Cody glances at the time on the microwave that reads 2:04 a.m. “You’re home early,” he deadpans quietly, turning back to his cup, blissfully unaware of Max’s anxiety or the night that he’s had. “Rough party? Got in a fight with someone there, or something?”

@cody-jagerman

He didn't answer his questions. Instead, he headed straight for the fridge. He opened it and grabbed a bottle of soda, then started to drink.

When he was done he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his letterman and put the bottle back in the fridge.

He opened a cabinet and took out a bag of chips, and he sat at the table to eat some of them. He had thrown up like two times during the evening, and his stomach felt empty apart from the alcohol.

He was strangely silent, and he seemed lost in thought. The only sounds in the kitchen were the buzz of electricity and Max occasionally crunching on his chips.

Stifling a yawn into his elbow, he keeps his eye on Max, worry weighing his heart down. He can tell something’s wrong, but they’ve never been the type of siblings to be vulnerable with each other. He doesn’t know what to do.

He followed him upstairs after a while. He went into his bedroom and changed into a pair of shorts to sleep in. He didn't feel like taking a shower, he'd do that in the morning. He plopped down on the bed in complete darkness, and closed his eyes. He laid there for a bit, tossing and turning and trying to fall asleep. Except he couldn't. He was still thinking about what happened a few hours before.

He got up with a sigh, and silently walked to Cody's door. After thinking about it for a few seconds, he knocked.

Cody doesn’t know. It hurts his heart a little to know Max is distressed and not know how to help. It’s unfamiliar to him, and he hates it.

Cody pulls the door open wider and steps back to let Max in. He tries to be snippish, he tries to make a petty jab, by God, he tries his best to make it look like the last thing he wants is to sit beside his big brother again, to look at him without glaring, to talk without insults and know he’s at peace.

Max’s door is open. His room is dark and empty. As expected, really.

Cody creeps carefully past their father’s bedroom, where rhythmic, rumbling snores emanate from within, crossing the hallway quickly. He pads down the stairs on tiptoe in his socks, rubbing at his tired eyes, and turns the corner into the large kitchen.

The cold tile bleeds through his socks, and he moves as slowly as possible to avoid making noise. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a simple glass cup, lowering it to the faucet and turning it on, watching water spill into it before he turns it off.

The opening and closing of a door makes Cody jump. He whips around with wide eyes, worried he’d awoken his father, before he sees the broad shadow of his older brother stumbling through the front door, clearly inebriated and disoriented, which is odd, as usually he comes home from late parties freshly fucked and ego enlarged.

Cody glances at the time on the microwave that reads 2:04 a.m. “You’re home early,” he deadpans quietly, turning back to his cup, blissfully unaware of Max’s anxiety or the night that he’s had. “Rough party? Got in a fight with someone there, or something?”

@cody-jagerman

He didn't answer his questions. Instead, he headed straight for the fridge. He opened it and grabbed a bottle of soda, then started to drink.

When he was done he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his letterman and put the bottle back in the fridge.

He opened a cabinet and took out a bag of chips, and he sat at the table to eat some of them. He had thrown up like two times during the evening, and his stomach felt empty apart from the alcohol.

He was strangely silent, and he seemed lost in thought. The only sounds in the kitchen were the buzz of electricity and Max occasionally crunching on his chips.

Stifling a yawn into his elbow, he keeps his eye on Max, worry weighing his heart down. He can tell something’s wrong, but they’ve never been the type of siblings to be vulnerable with each other. He doesn’t know what to do.

He followed him upstairs after a while. He went into his bedroom and changed into a pair of shorts to sleep in. He didn't feel like taking a shower, he'd do that in the morning. He plopped down on the bed in complete darkness, and closed his eyes. He laid there for a bit, tossing and turning and trying to fall asleep. Except he couldn't. He was still thinking about what happened a few hours before.

He got up with a sigh, and silently walked to Cody's door. After thinking about it for a few seconds, he knocked.