Eighteen

"Why are you here?" Zach asked, not letting his grip on me. "Is this your f*cking plan? Is this!" The bottle on his left squeezed, and it burst. The water dripped on the floor. Gio didn't look at him, which made Zach furious.

"Zach, stop! You are throwing a tantrum here, being so immature," I remarked and touched his arm, which was rigid, and his veins throbbing in rage. "Can we talk?"

I pulled him to the kitchen, and I needed to pull him hard, like a hard cow. He was silent, and he sat on the chair of the kitchen table. Still, his hand is fisted, and I don't know what he's thinking. Jaw clenching, and I am standing there waiting for him to say something.

I sighed, not knowing how deep the anger the two had with each other and more than I am confused.

"Sit," he ordered, and one chair was on his right. I did and asked if he could take his anger out on his brother.

And I was shocked when he grabbed the bottom of the chair and pulled me closer to him. And his head rests on my should