Intoxication

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[TW: mention of drinking, knives and possible harm. More brother angst!]
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Steve was home for the holidays. Home with Joe and Blue. It felt nice to be back, especially since his mentality went through a huge improvement since the last time he has been here. It felt refreshing.

He gave his loyal blue dog a lot of affection, pets and kisses, he's missed Blue. He missed when she's help him through tough times. He missed his dog. Now that he's here, Blue is thrilled. She couldn't stop wagging her tail. Seems like she missed him too.

Steve and Joe were sharing a bedroom at this moment of visiting. Sharing what used to be Steve's old room. When he got back, it still looked like how he left it. But now Joe's duck stuffy, Boris, was placed on the bed. Steve scoffed in amusement at the sight.

"He's a grown man, why does he still sleep with that thing? Yeah, he isn't getting a girlfriend anytime soon." Steve thought. His baby brother, was still his baby brother. He adored it, but used it to his advantage to make fun of Joe at times.

Steve sat on his bed, found a journal he left at the place. He took most his journals to his college dorm. But there was one he left here, carefully hidden. He can't have Joe reading the things he wrote. But the nostalgia hit as he flipped through the pages.

He sat on his bed and got his handy-dandy black pen. Started writing and sketching like he'd used to. Well, about 15 minutes into this, Joe stumbled in the room. Without knocking.

Steve scoffed, "I see you still don't bother to knock, what a shocker." He said sarcastically. But when he got a better look of Joey something didn't seem right. The younger brother chuckled, "shut the fuck up, dirtbag" he slurred. This isn't how Joe would normally act like at all.

Steve got up, concerned. He walked towards his brother, "what's with you?" He questioned. Joe's sly and playful behavior faded into something else. He seemed frustrated at the question. "Fuck you mean 'what's with me'? I don't understand, Stevieeee.." Joe hung his arms on Steve's shoulders. Yeah, this definitely set off alarms in Steve's mind.

Joe doesn't usually swear. And he isn't mindlessly touchy. And he usually doesn't have a scent of alcohol on him.

Yeah, it was crystal clear to Steve now. Joey's intoxicated. And pissed Steve off. Especially because of what happened last time Joe drank. He thought he'd learn his lesson, but nope. And another thing is that Joe is underaged! He's 19 dammit!

Steve shoved Joe away from him, "Joseph! What the fuck? Are you seriously drunk again? Although you know what happened last time?" A display of offense set on Joe's face once Steve pushed him away. "Steve, I'm a grown up. I think I can handle just a bit of it."

"No, Joe. Honestly, sometimes it feels like you're still a child. Just look around. With your Boris and everything-"

"HEY! Don't you dare insult Boris."

The way Joe snapped made Steve flinch. "It's not that deep?" He mumbled. Joe let out a hmph. And walked towards Boris, who was sat on his bed. He took the plushy duck and held him in his arms, hugging him.

"At least Boris doesn't tell me what to do." He mumbled, nearly inaudible. Steve rolled his eyes, his little brother is being unbelievably immature right now. Usually it wouldn't be a problem. But now it is, it's different this time.

Joe was tall, he towers over Steve. He's strong, he's grown so much. It was unbelievable to Steve how big he is. But Joe still has that baby face. Those rosey, chubby cheeks, his brown doe eyes, his pouty lips. Yeah, odd. It was a bit unsettling for Steve at times. But at least he didn't see Joe as a threat.

Schizophrenic Steve || ʙʟᴜᴇꜱ ᴄʟᴜᴇꜱWo Geschichten leben. Entdecke jetzt