Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

top of it like always. He looks up from the newspaper when Jace steps inside, already toeing off his sneakers, an ingrained habit from when their mum was still with them.
    Cam's still in sleep gear, old worn Led Zeppelin T-shirt and shorts, bare footed, one foot on the chair, knee tucked tight against his chest and chin resting on his knee. His hair is sticking up and the skin under his eyes looks soft, his eyes not quite alert.
    "Morning," Jace says, closing the door behind him.
    The rain from the day before had eased the heat overnight, and he can still feel the cool air against the sweat-soaked back of his T-shirt. His muscles feel worn and despite the lack of sleep the night before, he likes the tired feel of it. It means his mind is less likely to drift.
    Cam takes a sip of his coffee, chin still on his knee. "Hey." He tilts his head to the coffee pot. "It's fresh if you want."
    Jace nods, nudges the sneakers off to one side and heads toward it. The TV is on in the living room, he can hear the sound of the anchor-woman relating the morning news. It's kind of lulling. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Cam watching him, taking a sip of his coffee now and then as Jace pads around the kitchen, pouring a cup for himself and rooting around for something to eat. He gives up after peering in a few cupboards though and grabs an apple.
    There's no sign that they'd ever had a group of people over the day before. The pizza boxes are gone and the glasses and cans that he'd left in the sink yesterday are gone and put away too.
    "Sorry," he says.
    Cam sets the coffee down and shifts in his seat, dropping his foot to the floor. The scrape of the chair is loud as he resettles, sitting up straighter, arms crossing over his chest. He's got his head cocked to the side, that narrow eyed look back on his face. It's not quite as effective with the sleepy droop of his shoulders. Cam's always been like this. It's like sleep turned him to putty, leaving him looking all rumpled and soft. Pliable.
    Jace breathes through that thought. The night before is still too fresh in his mind. He takes a mouthful of the bitter brew, nose scrunching up at the spike of it on his tongue. Just that hit alone would have him buzzing for the rest of the morning. He never made it that strong.
    "For what?"
    Jace looks at Cam, tonguing the roof of his mouth to sweep away the shock of hot liquid there as his eyes sweep the kitchen. "You cleaned up."
    Cam shrugs and leans forward on the table, tilting the chair onto its front legs and balancing it there, letting it sway back and forth. Jace has to bite back the instinctive lecture on how one day the damn chair is going to slip and Cam's going to end up biting off his tongue.
    "It's okay." Then he sighs long and loud. He drops his head to his arms and rubs his forehead across them, a little too hard and there's something leashed in the gesture that Jace can't quite make out. But then Cam looks up at him. And he realizes they're not talking about cleaning up the kitchen.
    "It's okay," Jace repeats, words toneless because he doesn't get it.
    Cam sighs again, this time making no attempt at hiding his frustration. He lets the chair swing back down and the back legs hit the floor with a loud clack that make Jace wince. Cam's running a hand over his hair, an exact mimic of Jace last night and it makes Jace hurt, makes the coffee that much more bitter on his next gulp as he drops his gaze to the floor.
    It reminds him of just how alike they are. People would be amazed at how easy it is to separate himself from someone who is close to a mirror copy of him. Because at the same time that they're so alike, there are so many things that are different.
    So it's worse when he sees those similarities, driving the point home.
    "No, I mean– it's not—" Cam clamps his mouth shut, lips thinning as he presses them together. His fingers are restless on the table, no longer touching his mug, having pushed it and the newspaper away. He's tapping an impatient rhythm on the table now, back to tipping the chair on its front legs but only a little. Then he finally stops and glances at Jace again.
    "Phil called. You'd just left," Cam says.
    Jace swallows, manages to stop his breath from shuddering out of him in relief. He hides behind another gulp of the coffee. "Yeah?"
    "Yeah. He gets back in Friday."
    "Okay."
    Jace nods and goes back to scanning the front page and nods again. Then Cam says, "It's not okay." He lets out a short