Matt's POV

I pushed the cart along the isle, making sure to keep careful watch of Al. I had to keep track of his reaction to food. That's what his therapist told us, anyway. It could send him into a relapse which makes sense, I guess. I'm not an expert. My irritation stems from the fact that dad didn't even consider that Al maybe wasn't ready for something like this. He could barely eat a small meal as it is. I doubt that he could take going to get groceries. It's a sensible thing to think, right?

I probably lack understanding. I don't have to deal with such a terrible thing so I can't possibly understand how it all works or how he works. I wish I didn't lack that understanding though. I wish I knew how to make him feel better; how to make him like his old self again. It feels selfish to think that but I know I'm a selfish person. The absolute worse even.

He slipped some Oreos in the cart, a crooked smile on his face. Before I could say anything, he turned back around and kept walking. I followed him until we made it to the bread isle. He inspected each loaf like there were major differences. I saw him reach for whole wheat but he stopped himself. He glanced in my direction then back to the bread. His direction changed and he grabbed Italian instead. I didn't say anything. I simply kept walking because I didn't feel like acknowledging that whole thing. It did show me his progress though. There was a certain type of pride to come with the fact that he's trying. At least he was trying. 

I looked down at the half-full cart and stopped. I turned to Al, still a little ways down trying to catch up to me. 

"I think we have everything." I said, trying to muster up a smile.

"Alright." He looked almost relieved. A few more steps and he was by my side again. I hate to say that the only thought that came into my head was the fact that despite us being brothers, we barely know a damn thing about each other. It's like we accept the fact that some things are simply too delicate to touch on. But I think that's one of our biggest detriments because then we have no one in our times of need.

God, I wish I could spill everything to Al right now but he's worse off. I wouldn't want to place to burden of information like that when he's already struggling as it is. It's so frustrating—but, I don't know, maybe I'm just tired. Maybe I'm just missing something.

~

The dial tone rang clear. A contrast from the quiet of the outside world. I watched the sun slowly set, turning blue skies orange as if it was a peak into hell. Or maybe hell was peaking at us.

"Hello?" Gil's voice came to life on the phone. Instantly, I found it harder to form words. A deep sense of guilt overcame me.

"Hey." I wheezed. My chest grew tight.

"What's up? Why did you call?" There was a tired rasp to his voice. I must have interrupted a nap.

"Is it weird to say that it's because I miss you?"

"Only a little." He seemed to perk up. His voice becoming more clear. "Well, not really, mostly because I've missed you too." Instantly the tightness in my chest disappeared. "It's weird not having you in class."

"Sorry, I had some family stuff." That was half a lie. Dad did want me looking after Al but it was all mostly due to my coming home drunk at three in the morning.

"I understand." I heard a shifting on his end. He sighed. "Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"Sorry that I was such a prick the other day."

"It's fine, I should have respected your boundaries." I picked at the tiles under me. "I can't help but worry about you, though."

"Don't worry about me, I can take care of myself."

"Still can't help it."

"I understand, I can't help it either." He giggled. "Sometimes I think I've lost my mind because of you."

"Yeah, maybe we're really the crazy ones in the grand scheme of things."

"Maybe? I say definitely."

"You're right, actually." I giggled. "But–I don't know–I think everyone goes through a period of insanity."

"I think that's just a life in general."

"A period of insanity?"

"Yep, prove me wrong."

"Well, you're not wrong."

"Of course I'm not wrong, I'm always right." I couldn't help the grin on my face.

"Now that's just fact." I heard him laugh triumphantly. My enjoyment got interrupted by the knock on my door. I peaked my head inside to hear who was at the door.

"Matthieu, time for dinner!" Francis announced. The knocking stopped and his steps faded into the distance.

I sighed, "I have to go."

"Are you going to school tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Alright then, see you tommorow, enjoy whatever you're doing."

"Thanks, you too." I paused for a split second. "I love you." I said so quickly and quietly that he probably didn't understand.

"Good night." He hung up. An anxiety struck me again. A part of me hoped that he heard but another part of me hoped that he didn't. The implications if he did meant that he didn't want to respond. A conflict. If he didn't, it would be fine but I want him to know that I love him.

Shit.