the comforts of home

Ian wasn't feeling well. The foods he'd always loved, like sausages and sweets he'd had since a child, just made him sick to his stomach now.

They were staying at Auntie Grandy's place. It was small with its thin stairwells and dismal wallpaper. He felt he was having to go to tea all the time. How did Oliver stand it here? He wasn't exactly employed at the moment. Honestly, he could do all sorts of things. He was rather handy, however, the job he was suppose to go into, hadn't exactly panned out, and he took care of their mother's aunt for the most part. He worked with old people.

As it was, Dad got the sofa and Ian had to sleep with Ollie. Dora hadn't came since she would have had to pay for her own flight.

"You won't mind, will you?" Ollie wondered if he should take the floor.

Ian shook his head, no.

"So how is Dad?" Ollie winced. Since Oliver didn't have a dad to call his own, he pretty much considered Ian's Dad as his.

"He's got a job. At a bank." Ian nodded.

"You, working at a library." Ollie smiled. "You love it, hey. I bet she's a looker, isn't she?" Ollie wasn't being a downer. Ian suppose he was pretty much the mushy one.

Just then he heard a crash of thunder. He didn't even think it might storm. But the wind was up and soon the rain started.

"How had mum been, really?" Ian stared at Ollie who was getting out some of  his own sleep pants for Ian.

"You know." He shrugged. "Yeah, she's the slapper, you knew, on her way from meeting friends from work. She-" He sighed as if he couldn't go on. He plopped himself next to Ian. "You can't let it consume you with guilt. You should have never had to be put through any of this with her. She worried us all. She did. And just when you thought she was well, never touch a drink again..it wouldn't last. Never did."

Ian gritted.

"But you, you were always there for her." Ian remembered how they used to be close. How Oliver had taken care of him when he was smaller. The fights their parents would have. How he'd take him off to play soccer. "I always thought you'd be a dad by now."

Oliver laughed at him then.

"I missed you, brother." Oliver looked as if he might cry then. "You'll go back, won't you? You've still got school. So much to look forward to."

"What about you?" Ian looked at Oliver as he put his arm around him.

"What about me? I'll be right here with Auntie." Oliver told him.

"You should came back with us. You need a holiday, don't you think?" Ian suggested.

"Don't talk me in to it, really, it would be, well, a holiday, now wouldn't it?" He tried to smile, but shrugged instead.

"When is the last time you've left the place?" Ian looked at him. His room was packed with records, books, CDs. Even a little cassette player. It was packed with dust. Really, it was a sad place. Oliver wouldn't know the definition of posh. He kept things even Ian's picture he'd took of him on his first day of school.

Oliver shook his head sleepily. Ian thought he'd just about talked him into it. Maybe Dad would coax him into coming home with them.