Page 91 of Severance

He complies and exchanges the sandwich for the stack of napkins I hand him.

“She’s too fucking good for you, little brother,” Mikah mumbles under his breath.

I ignore his remark.

“Go to hell.” Dakota brushes him off and slides back to his seat. There’s a huge ketchup stain on his coat and he looks confused and tired.

“Are we done?” I ask, drawing a deep breath through my teeth. “It’s late and I still have to figure out how to get home.”

“I’ll take you. Don’t worry,” Dakota mutters, placing the paper bag containing what’s left of his sandwich and my fries on his lap.

“You’re just going to make a mess again.” I catch his hand and pull it away from the food.

“She’s feisty too.” Mikah snorts out a laugh and makes a growling sound.

Annoyance rattles in my chest. I swivel in my seat and shoot him an angry look, but his gaze clashes with mine, stirring something in me. Something hot and heavy in the pit of my stomach. “Can you just be quiet while I’m driving?” I demand, shaking off the panic.

“What did I say?” He shrugs. His eyes, which are still locked on mine, darken. I try to figure out what happened to all the emotions that just bled out of him thirty seconds ago. Does he hate me that much?

“Just shut your fucking mouth, okay?” Dakota says, his tone frosty. He pats his pockets and retrieves a piece of gum.

The air in the car turns dense. I can sense the shift between them again. It’s hanging over us like a case of bricks, ready to crash on us any second now.

“Fuck, you two,” Mikah says in a low voice as I buckle up. I’m not certain he even meant for these words to come out. Maybe they were supposed to stay in his head and he’s just too drunk to understand he’s not thinking it.

The rest of the drive is less tense but silent.

By the time we get to the apartment, Mikah’s passed out and we have to drag him out of the car. Not that Dakota’s motor skills are completely restored, but at least he can still stand on his feet. It takes us a good minute to figure out how exactly to distribute two hundred pounds of dead weight between the two of us.

I’m out of breath when we finally reach the top of the stairs. Mikah’s arm, which is thrown over my shoulder, feels like a cement block.

“I’ll hold him and you unlock the door,” Dakota instructs, rearranging his brother’s body. “It’s the blue key.”

Once I’m inside, I reach out for a switch on the wall and flick it on. The soft yellow light from the lonely floor lamp spills through the living room.

There’s a low thud when Mikah’s boots hit the threshold as Dakota drags him into the apartment. He shuts the door with his foot and staggers into the hallway, panting and wheezing. There’s more rumbling, followed by a series of incoherent slurs that sound a lot like Mikah.

Without bothering to turn on the rest of the lights, I quietly follow them down the dark hallway as they shuffle into Mikah’s room. I feel kind of weird going in, because it seems wrong. Not the invasion of privacy kind of wrong. Just inappropriate since this is the room of the guy whose brother I’m dating. But I’m too exhausted to listen to my common sense. All I really want is to go home.

After some maneuvering, Dakota arranges Mikah on the bed and descends to his knees to take off his boots. I stand in the doorway and watch him with fascination as thin lines of light from a streetlamp spill through the blinds and linger across his back. Despite the ridiculous fight in the car, he still tends to his brother as if it’s the most normal thing to do when your sibling isn’t able to take care of himself. I’ve never seen this absolutely selfless side of him and I adore him more with each passing second. The fact that my parents might not see any of this beauty in Dakota because of their prejudice and tendency to judge a person by his appearance, his hobbies, and his education level troubles me.

Mikah produces a groan and jerks his leg. “What the fuck are you doing, DK?”

Dakota grabs Mikah’s ankle and finally frees his foot of his heavy-duty boot. “Going to film homemade porn. I hear dudes with long hair are a big thing this year.”

I press my lips together and try not to smile, but there’s a mad laugh stuck in my throat.

“Fuck off, DK,” Mikah slurs and attempts to lift his head off the pillow.

“Relax. I’m just messing with you. No one’s going to watch you snore like a train.”

“I think the food was bad.” He blows out a heavy sigh.

“Are you going to puke?” Dakota stops messing with the second boot and sits back.

“I don’t know. I’m fucking drunk. Did that piece of shit ever tell you anything?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

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