Big Brother

Chapter Twelve: Brother Fucker.

⚠️Caution Heavily *Unedited.

✓°Chapter Twelve: Brother Fucker.

Malakai's POV.

There was a look of confusion on her face as she looked down at the plate I set down in front of her. She pursed her lips as her eyes skimmed over the breakfast plate of scrambled eggs, bread, and bacon.

Her green pairs lingered on the bread.

"Malakai?" she called. Her voice was soft, it sounded exhausted and fragile.

Her voice gave me goosebumps, in a good way.

"Mmhm?" I hummed, my hand dragging hair to the back of my scalp before dropping my elbows to the island where I was seated far across from her.

She hesitated for a second before speaking up.

"It's raw," she said.

I tilted my head slightly as I looked at her steaming plate. The scent of my coffee beside me filled my nose as I breathed in.

"The eggs?" I asked and she shook her head.

"The bread," she mutters. "It's raw."

I blink, my eyes trailing to the two slices of bread that were propped on the plate, next to the eggs. They were toasted lightly, warm shades of brown scattered across the white pieces of the loaf.

"No, it's not," I said lifting the coffee to my lips. I watched as she picked her fork up and went to eat the eggs but stopped, hesitating again before she spoke.

"B-but look, it's barely toasted," she complained quietly as if she was scared of saying too much. "It's still pretty much white with just tanned edges." She prodded the bread with her fork.

I gulped down the coffee in my mouth and started at her feeling amused. She looked up and saw me watching her already.

"It looks like it had just finished proofing." She mumbled looking away but that didn't stop the blush that invaded her cheeks.

I'm sure that she wants me to put the bread back into their toaster. She's acting up because I told her she couldn't make breakfast.

"True," I said looking at the pieces of loaf before looking at her with an amused expression.

Her cheeks hollowed slightly as she bit the insides, her eyes lingering on the plate for a second longer before she started eating the eggs.

She ate quietly, slowly. She winced ever so slightly each time she moved her wrist from her plate to her mouth.

My fingers instinctively tightened around the ceramic mug. I already have too much on my fucking plate lately, a lot of unwelcome shit going on in the business world and now this, she's getting bullied.

I felt my jaw tick at the vivid memory of her being pushed into those sturdy lockers, blood dripping from her nose as he lifted his hand to strike her, god knows how many times he lifted his hands at her before that.

I could hear her beg him not to hit her, it was fucking clear that she was in the middle of another anxiety attack but that little piece of shit dismissed it.