Bianchi Twins | On Hold

Eighteen

May or may not be a warning: this chapter has over  8,000 words :) Also, double update. 

And I know it's been a while, so if you need to go back and re-read, then go ahead. Or if you have any questions about something like who the characters are, then ask and I'll answer 

Marcel's pov

After washing my plate, I rushed upstairs to Roman's room. I banged open his room door and strolled in.

Roman's not anywhere in sight. I hear the water running in the bathroom. I knocked on the bathroom door.

"Roman?" I called. I hear shuffling through the door.

"Give me a sec!"

I walked in anyway.

Roman's standing above the sink, doing his hair that's now wet and more combed than when we were driving home. He has a black box next to him which he quickly shuts as soon as I enter the room.

He turns to me appalled. "What the fuck Marcel? I could have been naked." He screeches.

I ignore him. "Why did you lie to dad, saying you had a big lunch? You didn't even eat lunch. In fact, it's been a while since you actually ate at school." I accused, leaning on the opened bathroom door. "You didn't eat breakfast either." I realized.

"I never eat breakfast." He defended, giving me a side look. He turns off the water coming from the sink.

"Precisely my point! You've gotta be hungry." I said.

"And this is why I said I already ate." He sighed. "You're making a big deal out of nothing Marcel. I'm just not that hungry. But I knew if I said I wasn't, then you and everyone else would make a big deal out of it. Just because I don't want to eat dinner for one day, doesn't mean I'm relapsing." He says frustrated.

"I-I know, but-" I stammered.

"But nothing. I'm fine." Roman walks past me with the black box tucked securely under his arm, and grabs his phone from the nightstand.

I bite my lip. "Sorry Roman. I know you hate it when people doubt you about this type of stuff, it's just-" He waves me off. "Yeah yeah I know. You don't have to explain. I get it." I nodded slowly.

"Still, aren't you a bit hungry...? You haven't eaten anything all day."

He grabs his football and throws it to me, which I catch easily. "No. Want to practice before bed?" I frowned.

"Don't change the subject." I tossed the football back to him. He rolled his eyes.

"Bene. Riscalderò gli avanzi della cena in poche ore e poi mangerò qualcosa al mattino. Che ti fa sentire meglio?" He said (T: Fine. I'll heat up leftovers from dinner in a few hours and then eat something in the morning. That make you feel better?).

He must have seen my hesitant look because he smiled reassuringly. "Attraversa il mio cuore e spero di morire." He promises. (T: Cross my heart and hope to die.)

I was about to give in but I curiously turned my attention to the box he's holding instead. "What's in the box?" His hold on it tightens.

"Just some razors." He smiled forcefully.

That smile is more fake than the life hacks on 5-Minute Crafts.

"Shouldn't you leave that in the bathroom then?" I questioned, crossing my arms. Roman rubbed his face in exasperation.

"I keep it in the closet." He responded. "That's odd." He hummed and turned his body away from me.

The sound of glass moving is heard when Roman accidently tilts the box. He stiffens as I perk up at the sound. "What was that?"