Love & War | Brad Simpson ✔️

9. "You bring it out in me"

The journey back to London the next morning is quiet. Tristan still hasn't spoken to me since our big argument yesterday and I don't think he plans to speak to me anytime soon. It's the most pathetic thing I've ever experienced in my life. I mean, my own brother isn't speaking to me because I had sex. I know for a fact he's had plenty of sex and I'm still speaking to him.

When we arrive at the train station, Brad is sat in his Range Rover outside waiting to pick us up. Tristan marches up to the car without a backwards glance at me, throws his backpack in the boot and climbs in the front seat before I've even reached the car. I shake my head at him as I walk past the passenger side window, glaring at my brother who was staring blankly out of the front of the car. I put my bag in the boot next to his, keeping hold of the large box of cupcakes from the cafe that my mum sent us back with, and then climb in the back seat with the box firmly on my lap.

Brad puts the car into gear and then sets off, and I mentally thank him for having the radio on because no one is speaking. I think Brad can sense the tension between my brother but I don't think he wants to address it.

"So..." he begins after a few long moments, "how was home?"

"Fine" Tristan says flatly.

"Did you have a nice time?"

"Yeah"

"Okay" Brad mumbles quietly and then leaves it at that. He doesn't bother to ask me how my visit home went, though I guess he assumes it went the same as Tristan's.

The journey back to the flat is almost as quiet as the train journey, except Brad manages to coax a few words out of Tristan by mentioning the gig they are doing this afternoon. When we get back in the flat, I go straight to my room and unpack my bag. I even keep the cupcakes to myself because Tristan can fuck off; he doesn't deserve them right now. I don't wanna go anywhere else in the flat because it's just awkward. I mean, Brad and I don't really talk unless absolutely necessary anyway, but now my own brother won't even speak to me so I literally don't have anyone to talk to. At least they have to go to this gig later so I can be alone in the flat without having to deal with either of them.

It's around 11 am when someone knocks on my door. I'm sat on my bed with my sketchbook in my lap and my speakers blasting Catfish and the Bottlemen loudly, the open box of cupcakes next to my bed now containing three less cupcakes than it did when we arrived. I assume it's Tristan at the door and I'm hoping that's he's come to apologise.

"Come in" I call as I lean over to turn my music down a fraction. When I sit up properly again, I see that it's Brad who is stood in my doorway. I'm a little shocked. Has Brad actually gone out of his way to talk to me? Have pigs evolved wings?

Then I notice that he isn't wearing a shirt. And I'm only human, just a hormone-filled, heterosexual teenage girl, so naturally, my brain is screaming at me to look at his body. But I grit my teeth and ignore my brain and keep my gaze on his face. I am not giving him the satisfaction of checking him out.

"Is there a reason you're stepping into my territory?" I ask. Brad rolls his eyes before he speaks.

"Tris told me to tell you that Joe said you can come to the gig later if you want" he explains, "he's got you a backstage pass"

"Has he actually sent you to tell me that instead of telling me himself?" I scoff, shaking my head, "that's pathetic"

"What's happened?" Brad asks, and for the very first time, actually appears to be taking an interest in something regarding me, "you didn't try and stab him too, did you?"