"Who's that?" He asks in a whisper, hiding behind the closed door.
"My brother. He's drunk and he's gonna kill me." I say, in the same tone.
"He's drunk. He probably won't." He says, still holding onto my legs tightly. He opens the door and walks out and down the stairs.
We look around carefully to see where he is, but he's nowhere to be found. Elijah gives me a quick pat and points to the living room. On the couch, is a sleeping Evan. He's sleeping on his stomach, his hair messily sitting on his head. Elijah walks over to the front door quickly and the only sound being heard is his faint footsteps and Evan's loud snoring. I see a bit of drool drip from his mouth hanging open and cringe.
He lets me down, so I can put my shoes on and grab my jacket. He does the same. I quickly grab my keys, shove my phone into my jacket pocket and we leave, closing the door quietly.
"So, I've got a nice place for breakfast. Shall we?" He asks