Hungover on a monday

‘‘Rise and shine, cowpoke.’’

Thiago’s patience for Elliot was running thin. Especially what happened this morning. He had acted like a total child, and wasted good money on stupid, delicious, but very unnecessary, pasties. Thiago threw a boot and the pitiful lump of a human being that he had dropped of at the couch earlier this morning. In the meantime he had put the horse away, filled the milk jars again, fed the cows, checked their water, and when he had come back, Elliot was still wasting away.

Thiago dropped down on a wooden chair at the table and looked at his younger brother. And with the first signs of life, he began starting to lecture the boy. ‘‘You can’t go on like this anymore, Elliot. Do you even remember what you did?’’ He threw his hands in the air, after which he glided one through his hair. He sighed. Thiago was nothing like their father. Or Rafael. How was he supposed to do this? Taking care of animals, okay. But his brother.

‘‘And why were you singing that song?’’

His boot was soon flung back at him, but he warded it of with both of his hands. Thiago could get mad at him again. He scrunched up his face and considered picking up the boot again and throw it back, even harder now. But he decided to not be that petty and just look angry in his chair, his arms crossed defiantly.

‘‘Just a drink?’’ he responded in disbelieve. ‘‘Just like yesterday, and the day before that, hm?’’ He was wasting his life away. Thiago needed the help here, not in the city where he wasted time, money and brain-cells. He looked miserable, and that was the only thing that made this whole situation a bit better. Maybe if his words didn't reach him, maybe his headache would. But Elliot decided to be stupid and talk back. ‘‘You hit me, Elliot. And then you costed me a fortune and a bad reputation at the bakery. I can't afford losing clients. We can't afford that.’’ Because after all. This whole occupation, it was theirs. Not just his, theirs. He lived here. He didn't pay rent. So he had to earn his keep. But Thiago was too soft on him, and he wandered off without consequences. Maybe that had to change. Maybe Elliot needed to learn it the hard way. Like he had.

But Elliot had an easy way to reach his heartstrings. Thiago sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes, over his face, to the back of his neck. ‘‘That song Rafael taught us. I haven't heard it since he died.’’ Losing his brother was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. And he rarely spoke about it. Rafael maybe could not have excisted. There were no traces of him left at the farm. His stuff was passed on, used until it broke. It was easier that way.

Thiago looked at him agrily when he started to shout. Oh, he wanted to play it like that? Be the fucking victim? Thiago clenched his jaws. ‘‘Oh poor you,’’ he mocked his pathetic excuse. ‘‘You never worked a fucking day in your life!’’ Because he was too young to remember how bad it was when Rafael died. He didn't have to fill in his shoes. He could be young and be pampered. ‘‘And because you want a life outside of "this"-’’ Thiago signed vaguely around him. The house. The barn. The fields. Whatever. ‘‘-I can't have it.’’ He wasn't specifically angry about that. He had accepted his faith a few months after Rafael had died. He had to carry on the family business. He had to make money. Take care of it all. He could not get it over his heart to sell the place. And even I he did that, what else could he do? This was all he knew. But he was just so mad Elliot took it all for granted and waste it all.

Elliot stopped pacing and dropped down on the couch again, wrapping his arms around himself and Thiago scoffed at him. He really wanted to be the victim, hm? He raised his hands defeated and dropped them on his lap again. He shook his head and just watched as his brother turn into himself. He didn't know what triggered it. Was it the song? Was it something else he had said? Because yeah, he felt shitty too, but he dealt with it and carried on. ‘‘So Ellie, what are you going to do about it? Pay me my money back?’’ He leaned forwards in his chair and leaned his arms on his legs, trying to force Elliot to look at him. ‘‘Or are you going to get drunk and sing songs again, hm?’’

Thiago knew Elliot was just trying to get on his nerves. Thiago also knew that he should probably comfort him. His hands ached to pat him on the back, and tell him that everything would be okay and that he would help him through it. But he had done that. He had tried to stop him. But stopping him, or letting him do what he wanted and make his own mistakes? Nothing helped him, and Elliot dug his grave deeper and deeper. But when he said that he should just sell the horse, Elliot knew what he was doing. Thiago tried to count to ten, but somehow that was the final straw.

‘‘Fuck you, Elliot!’’ He shouted as he jumped up from his chair. ‘‘If it wasn't for me, you would be rotting away in some gutter right now!’’ He pointed between his eyes. He wanted to hit him. He wanted to smack some sense into him. But every bone in his body screamed that that would never work, that Elliot would just push back against him even more. He was a lost cause, really. Spoiled way to much for someone living like them. And now the drink was starting to eat his brain away. What if he would die, like Rafael? This whole place would go to shit and him along with it.

Thiago didn't know if he even recognized his brother anymore. Was it still him in there? Or was it the booze talking. Thiago towered above him as he talked back at him, his fists balled and he really was ready to hit him, kick him in the shins, anything. But Elliot just kept on pushing his buttons, trying to get a reaction out of him. At this point he was just asking to be hit.

‘‘Okay, let's go, dickhead.’’ Thiago grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and started to drag him of the couch. He didn't want to see him any longer. They both knew Thiago was stronger, because he, unlike someone else, was still working every single day. Thiago tried to drag him all the way towards the door. He didn't care if he wasn't wearing any shoes. He could fuck off.

Oh, he would touch him. Elliot lost that right to stand up for himself long ago. And if he wanted to be a huge dick, he could do it somewhere else. He acted like such a child. And if he had been anything less than his brother, he would have beaten him blue by now. They struggled as he dragged him across the floor ungainly. Shoving eachother, some more curse-words were muttered under Thiago's breath. ‘‘Listen here, you little-’’

And then he bit him. In a reflex Thiago pulled his hand loose and with his other hand, now balled in a fist, went towards Elliot's face with high speed. It was the same reaction he had when a horse or cow tried to bite him. It was just... nature. He got bit? The culprit would need correction. In this case, his little brother.

Thiago should be happy about this, really. They were even now. Elliot had punched him a bloody nose, now he had returned the favour. But it was nothing like that. As soon as his knuckles made contact with his brother's nose, he felt immense guilt. Their father had raised them better than to solve petty conflicts with fighting. But Elliot had started it. Thiago let Elliot push him off him and shook his hand in the air. He had hit him hard, his own hand felt bruised.

When Thiago looked at his little brother again, he was just staring at him wide eyed. But even though he desperately wanted to apologize, he held his tongue. Was that pride or dignity that kept his mouth shut? Or was it shame. But the silence was loud between them, eying each other down who would be next to move. Thiago decided that it was him and he straightened himself. ‘‘That's what you get.’’ The words were spoken with much less force or persuasion than he wanted.

Thiago rubbed his knuckles with his other hand. He did feel guilty, a lot. Their father would turn in his grave if he knew they would be fighting like this. Thiago let himself be pushed away and he just stood there, watching, as his little brother had nothing left to say. And neither did he. He had gotten carried away, that's all. And Elliot had started it. Thiago was allowed do defend himself. It was Elliot's fault. Thiago had kept his eyes closed for way too lang anyway. He had let his little brother keep wandering of, getting to deep in his glasses, hoping that he would learn the hard way eventually. Maybe this was the hard way. This was the eventually. Thiago sighed and bit his lip and after a while he raised his hand and beckoned Elliot over. ‘‘Let me see,’’ he grumbled reluctantly. He wasn't going to say sorry, but at least he could check if his brother was okay. He deserved that.