Behind His Smile (BxB)

Micah

I scrubbed the blood of my hands, annoyed that it was so hard to come off. We had to kill three witnesses today, instead of just our target—the CEO of some business that I didn't care to remember. Lewis and Ellie were the ones that liked to know everything about the missions, while Blake and I just liked killing people.

"Micah," Ellie said from outside of the bathroom door. "Hurry up, Lewis made dinner, and if you don't get your butt in there, you know Blake will eat it—"

"I'm coming!" I said, as I finally finished scrubbing all of the blood off of my hands. That took me like twenty minutes, way longer than I would've liked.

I opened the door to see my sister looking annoyed. "You've been in the bathroom forever."

"Can't talk, starving." I rushed past Ellie as she entered the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

I went downstairs and frowned when I saw that there was no food on the table. "Hey, what gives? Blake, did you eat my food!" I glared at Blake, who was sitting firmly on the couch reading one of his comic books.

Blake didn't even bother looking up when he answered me. "What food?"

I glanced at Lewis who was making himself a cup of tea, because he wasn't a normal person that could just make an entire pitcher of tea. "Ellie said you made food!"

"Well, Ellie lied," Lewis said, unfazed.

I stared at him. "Why would she lie about something that important?" I made a big deal out of grabbing my stomach, as if I hadn't eaten in days. "I'm STARVING."

"Make yourself something to eat then," Lewis said.

Blake snorted from his spot on the couch. "Please. Micah can't even make Ramon in the microwave without burning it."

"That was one time!" I protested.

Blake finally looked up from his comic, a smug grin spreading across his face. "It was three times."

"Okay, first of all, you're exaggerating. Second of all, the microwave was already broken."

"The microwave was brand new."

"Then it was defective."

"You know you need to put water in the noodles, right?"

"I did," I lied.

Lewis shook his head, trying and failing to hide a smile as he took a sip of his tea. "Just make a sandwich, Micah."

"I don't want a sandwich."

"Then cook something."

I stared at him like he'd just suggested I perform brain surgery. "Lewis, you know I can't cook."

"You've been alive for fifteen years."

Blake laughed. "More like fifteen minutes."

I grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it at him. He caught it without even looking away from his comic.

"Violence isn't going to get you dinner," Lewis said.

"It's gotten me plenty of things."

"That's not the defense you think it is."

I sighed dramatically and headed toward the kitchen. "Fine. I'll make something."

"Try not to burn the house down," Blake called after me.

"No promises."

As I opened the refrigerator, I heard Lewis sigh behind me.

"Actually, forget it. I'll make you something."