bitter and twisted and broken and petty and lying

None of the Lindblads seem to be home yet, but it’s not like that’s ever stopped Liam before. They shouldn’t have given him a key if they hadn’t been expecting him to use it. He still leaves his trainers on the shoe rack by the back entrance just in case, though. That’s enough of a message. And also he has manners. 

He could realistically make the way to Arvid’s room with his eyes closed for how much he’s done it this past year, but he still takes his time watching the cringey pictures on the walls on his way down because he could never realistically get tired of Arvid’s pimpled preteen face plastered everywhere the three story house. 

The door is open when he gets there, the ‘Keep out’ sign that’s stuck to the wood just above the handle hanging by its dear life with the decade old tape that threatens to fall once and for all as Liam passes it, but ultimately doesn’t. 

That tape alone is stronger than most of Liam’s relationships, that’s for sure. 

The light streaming from the highrise windows is strong enough that he doesn’t bother turning on the lights before he throws himself at Arvid’s bed, getting engulfed by the heavy comforter because neither of the Lindblad's kids ever make their beds as far as he knows. 

Liam doesn’t really mean to fall asleep. He does anyway. 

Next he knows, Arvid’s shaking him awake way harder than what’s called for. He’s also saying something that Liam’s mind can’t comprehend just yet. 

“Mate,” Liam deadpans, feeling up his head just to check and yep, all his hairs are in fact standing up and making a game out of how many directions they can point to at once. 

The blurry silhouette that is Arvid right now has his arms crossed, staring down at Liam like he’s killed the dog Arvid doesn’t even have. “Out the bed. Now,” he says, and yeah maybe Liam can vaguely remember him saying that a couple other times in the past five minutes. Not that it matters.

“Jesus, I get it,” Liam says, hands up in surrender as he makes no move to actually get off the bed, blinking himself awake. 

Arvid scoffs, arms still firmly crossed – except Liam’s vision isn’t as blurry anymore so he can now see the amusement in his friend’s face too. Still, Arvid says: “You know I hate outside clothes on the bed, mate. You could’ve at least taken them out.”

“If you want me naked in your bed you could’ve just said so,” Liam laughs, winking at him until Arvid gives him enough of a bad look that he scoots to the corner of the bed and stands up.

“Sod off, mate,” Arvid rolls his eyes, laughing too now. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Dunno. House was crowded,” Liam shrugs, dropping down to the carpet so he can lay down there instead. The new angle makes Arvid look funny, so he laughs again. 

Arvid kicks at his shins. “You high or somethin’?”

“Nah, I wish. My sister nicked my stash,” Liam kicks him back, only being able to reach the bottom of his shin from the awkward angle. Arvid doesn’t seem to even feel it.

Still, Arvid kicks him again as he walks by, this time to the ribcage, earning himself a grunt out of Liam that he wholly ignores. “Which of them?” he asks behind his back, roaming his closet before he decides on some sweats and t-shirt combo for himself and, yup, for Liam too. 

“Beats me, mate. They’re all always nicking my shit,” Liam grumbles barely coherent as he reaches to grab mid-air the clothes Arvid throws at him. “What matters is that it’s gone, and I can’t just complain about my weed being stolen to my mum, so yeah. I’m avoiding all of them for now.”

“That bad, huh?” Arvid looks behind his back to offer a pitying face, turning back to his closet as he starts changing into his comfortable clothes. “Sorry mate. You can stay over if you want to.”

“I was kind of already planning to anyway,” Liam quips, not really joking even though there’s humor in his tone. 

He hasn’t realized he’d been staring so hard at the way Arvid’s back muscles move while he changes until Arvid looks behind his back again and catches him mid-stare. The way he raises his eyebrow is enough incentive for Liam to look away and bother himself with changing out of his own clothes. 

Arvid doesn’t say anything back, but it’s not like he really needs to. They’ve done this dance enough times by now. 

He doesn’t look at Liam for more than a second when he accidentally catches him mid shirt-swap too, eyes switching to any and every other part of his room until they’re both fully clothed and their ‘outside clothes’ are piled on top of each other in a corner of Arvid’s room that may have more of Liam’s clothes than his own wardrobe does. 

Oh well. 

They don’t talk about it, like they don’t talk about how Liam’s been staying more at his house than on his own, and how his párents haven’t called the home line once even though Arvid’s mom made sure to give Kristy Lawson the number when they met a whole year ago. 

There’s a lot they don’t talk about. 

There’s a lot they maybe should. 

“I’m starving, mate,” is what Liam says, instead. “That’s how you treat house guests?”

Arvid laughs, shoulders sagging. Liam hadn’t realized he was holding himself so tight. “Fuck off,” Arvid pushes at him, both of them stumbling as they make their way to the basement stairs. 

Liam shoves him back. They laugh.