Now, Erik knows that he is fully capable of moving to a different location. This is the place with the TV for TV-watching. Erik is the one attempting to do work in the common area. However, Erik is also an older brother. An older brother with a younger brother who is perfect to annoy. An older brother who hardly gets to see his younger brother and whose love language is teasing. That’s just how siblings work.
Also, Erik was here first. Simple squatter's rights.
“Can you turn it down?” he asks cordially. There is no need to get mad at him. He might not even be aware that he is causing a problem. Erik is, unfortunately, all too aware that their mother can’t seem to give Wille a break about these things, claiming that if Erik can do something, surely Wille can too. But some people are just plain different, and she can’t seem to grasp that. They’re just too similar, her and Wille.
So Erik makes a point to be gentle with Wille—or, rather, more forgiving than their mother. Generally, he is able to get results from Wille, a “skill” the Queen now enlists from Erik with far too much leisure than what should be tolerable. She is still their parent, after all. He digresses.
“No, you can leave if you don’t like it,” is definitely not the reaction Erik expected. The words are sharp and snarky, much harsher than their teasing has ever been. Erik wasn’t even teasing him! Wille’s words have caught him entirely off guard. He’s not sure where to go from here, so he sticks to familiar terrain. Maybe Wille is teasing, and it’s come out wrong—it wouldn’t be the first time.
“Damn, who pissed in your cereal?” he fires back with a slight smile on his face.
“No one,” Wille says, firmly, angrily, glaring at the TV, and Erik knows someone certainly has. Although Wille has always been a drama queen, it surely can’t be that bad.
“It sure sounds like someone has,” Erik responds with a smirk. “And no, I’m not moving. I was here first.”
There is a beat after Erik’s comment, where he watches Wille take a careful breath, working his jaw and clenching his fists as he stares down the TV. Erik doesn’t think he’s actually paying attention to what’s playing.
“You should leave,” Wille says firmly, measured, continuing to breathe deep. Before Erik can process the seriousness of the words, his reply is out almost automatically.
“No.” There’s even a tease in his voice, like he’s making light of the situation.
Like a switch has been flipped, Wille rounds on him with fire in his eyes and venom in his voice. “God, you’re so insufferable!” he cries, rising to his feet. “Why can’t you just move?” His voice is loud, echoing slightly in the space around them, frankly a little scarily. Wille has been prone to outbursts since he was little, but while they have gotten less frequent, they are more explosive.
He crosses the distance between them as he speaks and shoves Erik in the chest with the last word. Luckily, his computer was safe on the coffee table. Not so luckily, Wille’s shove does very little. He had caught Erik off-guard, but that was about all he had going for him.
This only seems to piss Wille off even more.
