Miscommunication (boyxboy)

Chapter Thirty-Six

~ Cole ~

Cole could not, by any measure of the word, cook. In his twenty-one years of life, he'd only learnt to master French toast and scrambled eggs, neither of which were a suitable dinner for a sixteen-year old drug addict.

Cole stood in his kitchen, hands on his hips, as he surveyed the open cabinets. There was no semblance of a meal in sight. He could've easily picked something up on the way home but Cole figured he really ought to try and be a good influence and make food at home.

Now that he stood here with barren cabinets, he was seriously reconsidering the whole 'responsible adult' ordeal.

Footsteps on the stairs heralded his brother's arrival. Max appeared in the doorway a moment later.

"Homework done?" Cole asked without looking at him.

"Just need to read a chapter for Biology."

Cole raised an eyebrow at him over his shoulder.

"I'll get it done." Max insisted before stepping further into the room. He hoisted himself up onto the bench, legs dangling casually. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to be responsible."

"Cooking?" Max guessed. When Cole nodded, he laughed. "Man, I think the last time you cooked was when you were seventeen and tried to make pancakes. That batter was so burnt it stuck to the pan."

"The pan was useless."

Max hummed. "Blaming the equipment for your mistakes. Mature."

Cole whirled around. "Hey, you're not supposed to be the wise one here. You're the kid, I'm the adult, and you do what I say."

Max snorted and slid off the bench. "Yeah, okay. I'll just wait for that to kick in, shall I?"

He stared blankly at Cole, expression unwavering. Cole scowled at him. "Little shit."

"What else is new?" Max walked over to the cabinets and stared at the empty contents. "How have you remained alive this long?"

Cole rolled his eyes. "A really persistent best friend with no concept of personal space."

"You're twenty-one years old."

"Last week I caught you eating a tomato sauce sandwich."

"So?"

"With popcorn."

Max snorted. "Don't knock it till you try it."

"Speaking of," Cole muttered, picking up his phone. "Cooking? Definitely not for me."

Max watched him. "What are you doing?"

"Ordering food. Go finish your homework."

His younger brother groaned and headed for the door. When he was out of sight, Cole turned to pick up his phone when he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. 

The front entryway was left of the kitchen entrance. Cole headed for the front door, peering closer and frowning when it appeared as though someone had shoved a piece of paper beneath the door. Cole stooped to pick it up and unfold the note before his jaw dropped open.