"I'll be right back inside, okay Rich?" Stephen asked more than told his younger brother. And when Rich didn't answer, he took another step towards where he was in the kitchen. "Is that okay Rich? If I step outside and part with Charles?"

Richard, who was intensely reading the long chemical names on the back of a box he pulled from the pantry, looked up when he heard his name a second time. "Okay." He said.  He didn't mind.

With a smile, Steph nodded his head and assured he'd be right back again before grabbing Charles' beer off the ground and leading his friend out the front door of their apartment.

"What? You're kicking me out?" Charles didn't so much ask as he picked at or mocked his friend, reaching for the dark colored bottle he was carrying.

Steph held it away; a dangerous game he's come to know very well. Charles hadn't been his only opponent at this.

This was his friend, as surprising as it may sound to anyone who had just met him. Charles was kind and funny, and Stephen knew all of those things, but dealing with him while he was drunk was a problem he could not afford anymore. Stephen hadn't even minded all that much before he saw how much it worried his little brother, the thing that immediately changed and made up his mind.

"Charles, you can't do this anymore. You can't come here when you're under the influence." He said gently. 

"Why not? You've never been like this before!"

Charles was loud. Stephen put his free hand on the other boy's chest and made a soft shushing noise to try and quiet him. He pulled him down one flight of stairs, cautious that Richard might have been able to hear them before.

"It makes my brother nervous, Charles. You know how he's been through it all. I couldn't always keep him safe, that's why all this happened- so I could do just that. You coming here like this violates that- my promise to him."

"You promised me that-"

"I know." Stephen swallowed. Of course he knew what he promised. And he wasn't going to break it. Right? This was just a… modification. "My door is always open to you. It still is, just- keeping Rich safe is my first priority. You can come around, you can stay the night, just not intoxicated."

"You don't think I'd hurt him, do you?" Charles' voice expressed more emotion now, concerned for what his friend must have thought of him. Surely he didn't think that he was violent! Had he done something to prove that way of thinking of him?

Stephen shook his head, stealing a glance back up the stairs to see if Rich was looking for them yet. "No. I don't think you'd hurt him. You're a good guy, Charles."

Charles clicked his tongue. "So what's the problem then?"

"That he doesn't know that. He doesn't know if you'll turn on him or not. And that's not a thing I can fix. I've told him how good a friend you are, it won't fix the fact that he's terrified of alcoholics. He can't guess how someone under the influence would act, they're always unpredictable, he doesn't like the way that words sound being spoken like that- slurred. And he doesn't like the smell either." Stephen explained as calmly as he could, now raising the bottle he took from Charles a while ago for emphasis.

Reaching out, Charles tried to take the bottle back from his friend. His reach was almost drowsy, and Stephen, who was wide awake, easily held it back and away from him. When Charles reached a second time for it, he realized that this wasn't going to end til he got it back in his hand. He didn't want Charles to have it! He wanted him to quit and get better! Wasn't this sad? Would this be a memory in his friend's brain? And would he be depicted as bad for trying to keep something away from him? Or good for doing so because he was trying to help him? Would it be easier to just hand his drink back to him?

Stephen, who now worried about possibly toppling over the handrail, continued to try and tell Charles off. He wouldn't topple. He wouldn't, but the top of the black painted handrail was pressed into the small of his back now. His friend wasn't being violent so much as he was being demanding, and he couldn't really deal with either of those right now. The rusted metal of the handrail, standing proud where the paint had been chipping off for years, threatened to scratch him through his shirt. It was more successful in cutting Charles' hand when he put it there for some balance and leverage, though.

Hissing out a breath, Charles held his hand to his chest, cursing quietly that he had hurt himself in such a stupid way. Reaching out one last time, he went to take it. "Will you ease up and just give it back?"

Glass shattered against the concrete from where Stephen dropped the bottle over the edge. That wasn't his intent, he just lost his grip on the thing and couldn't stop it from falling! His eyes snapped shut at the sound, but he was vaguely aware that both of them were holding their breath about it.

"Let me get you something for your hand," Stephen said after a minute, interrupting the quiet to go upstairs and grab some things from inside the apartment. Charles could vaguely hear Richard asking if his brother was okay. Stephen said yes.

When he returned, Stephen handed him some things he could use to take care of himself. Then, he fled down the next flight or two of steps til he was on the ground, where he began to sweep up the shattered glass with the broom he took from upstairs. Charles watched from above. Frustrated. Angry. He took care of himself and returned the things he didn't use to right outside their door. He began to walk downstairs.

"I'm sorry," Stephen told him before he could even get all the way down yet. "I didn't realize it was slipping."

"Why'd you keep it from me, Steph? You're kicking me out anyway, what was the point of that? I could've kept that."

His grip tightened slightly on the broom. He focused on trying to find any more shards of glass he hadn't found yet. "I know. I'm sorry."

Charles let out one last angry huff before calming down. He didn't like to be angry, he was just worked up. It was late, he was tired, he was drunk and was now being denied hospitality in the one place he knew of at the moment that would take him. Well, not anymore, but still. He thought he could be upset over his drink being tossed, with all that happening.

He watched as Stephen threw away the glass he picked up in the nearest trash bin around, and followed him over there. When his friend turned around, he gave him a hug. He could tell Stephen wasn't expecting it, as for the awkward pat on his shoulder he received in turn. Charles was proving Stephen's earlier point. When intoxicated, people become unpredictable.

"Look, Charles, come here." Stephen said after a moment, pulling away to set the broom and dustpan against the stairs. He walked to the closest outside light, one of the only ones that hadn't burnt out yet. Standing right underneath it, he pulled out his wallet. His intention was to give something to Charles, to part ways and give him something to use, but there was nothing he could actually spare.

Ten dollars. That's all he had on him. Ten dollars to spare through the week. No no, five. The other five he was giving to Richard for his field trip tomorrow. This other five dollars he had was supposed to get him lunch at school this whole next week. Richard got free lunch at school, they had enough stuff at home to last around a week, and he got a paycheck on Friday. And another on Saturday, for his weekend job.

"Here's five, but listen." Stephen said, serious as he could be as he handed off the last of his spendable money to the other. "Please use it wisely."

"Stephen, I know- I've heard this a million times."

"Then please, please do it." He begged. "If you get a job Charles, I will help you pay your own rent for an apartment. Okay? I will pay half of what you need. So you'll have a safe place to be."

"You don't have the money for that,"

"You're right." He agreed. "But it would be worth more if you got something out of it, like security. Please think of it, Charles. It's… a little more difficult to support three people than one might think."

Oh, it was very difficult. Stephen wouldn't say it though. He knew that Charles knew, but saying it in the open air would do something. It would jinx them somehow, and their lives would worsen significantly- the rent would jump up, a paycheck wouldn't come in, he'd be fired… Stephen was amazed that he managed to be debtless this far into this mess.

"I'll see you in class tomorrow, Steph." Charles said blankly, turning and leaving the circle of light they stood in, walking off into the dark. He didn't know where he was going. Or where he would end up. It would be a miracle if he could end up some place for the night anywhere. Oh well.

"See you tomorrow." Echoed Stephen in the light. Maybe he'd be able to talk to Charles tomorrow, when he was more sober and able to understand things. That scene they just had, over the bottle? That's why he couldn't stay. That's the stuff that scared Rich, and that's the thing that even managed to scare himself a bit too. God, there was only so much he could handle at once.

Picking up the broom from the stairs, he went back up and grabbed everything from in front of their door too. Inside, he took off his shoes and placed them right next to the door before going to put everything away. He was quickly followed by Richard as he did so.

"That took a while." The boy said.

"It did, didn't it, Rich?"

"You brought bandaids outside."

"I did."

Richard furrowed his eyebrows. He was worried. "Did you get hurt?"

"No, Charles accidentally scratched his hand on the railing at the stairs. You should be careful of that too, I don't want you to get scratched either."

"Why did you bring a broom?"

Stephen answered this just as he put it away in its place, a small closet. "I dropped glass. I didn't want anyone to get hurt by it so I had to sweep it up. Or for anyone to think I'm littering."

Richard thought for a moment before nodding his head. As if he decided what he heard was okay, instead of demanding some other kind of answer from his big brother. He watched Stephen with quiet curiosity until he reached down to pick him up, where he still did so, just much closer.

"Ready to go to bed? Have your PJs on?"

Richard didn't answer.

"Huh, Rich? You ready?"

"I have my PJs on. You can see-"

"Okay okay," Answered Steph quickly to his little brother's comment, which made Richard snicker the tiniest bit. "You're right, you're right, little dude. Let's go now."

Stephen then carried his brother to the bedroom and placed him down on their bed- which was nothing more than a mattress with plenty of blankets on it. Richard didn't mind, and already began shuffling them around til he found his favorite, and cuddled up with that. Laughing lightly, Steph flopped down next to him and wrapped an arm around his brother, already feeling sleep settling in on him.

"Goodnight Rich," He said calmly, ignoring the rest of the long week ahead of them. He'd worry about that tomorrow.

"Goodnight Stephen."