Twins Minyard and Nicky

(Idea taken from @...)
The room smelled of tobacco smoke and cheap menthol. Andrew, squinting gloomily, sat on the open windowsill, puffing on his third cigarette in a row. He was so irritated by this circus that his fingers gravitated toward his knives.
Aaron sat on the sofa, wrapped in a cocoon of a blanket, pale as death. He was shaking with chills, but his gaze remained fiercely stubborn.
Niki stood in front of him, holding out a cup of diluted antipyretic.

"Aaron, fuck, just take a sip of this shit!" Nicky begged, almost in tears. "Your temperature is almost forty degrees, you're going to die!"

"Fuck you, Hemmick," Aaron croaked, sniffling. "I'm a future medic, I know what to drink. I'm not putting that crap in my mouth, it makes my stomach churn."

"I don't give a shit about your stomach, you idiot!" Nicky turned to the window. "Andrew, just tell him! He's crazy!"

Andrew didn't even turn his head. He slowly blew smoke out the window. A forced, terrifying smile, induced by the pills, was frozen on his face, but his eyes remained absolutely dead and angry.

"If he dies, we'll have a ton of space," Andrew said icily. "Less waste."

A minute ago, Kevin, unable to bear this hell, simply howled:

"You're fucking annoying! We've got the season coming up, and you're throwing infirmaries! Stop messing around!" He grabbed his stick and ran off to the stadium, slamming the door loudly.

"You're both monsters!" Nicky pleaded, turning back to Aaron. "Please, for Eric's sake, drink!"

"Shut the fuck up, Nicky," Aaron snapped, coughing and pulling the blanket tighter around himself. "Get the fuck away from me."

Andrew abruptly stubbed out his cigarette on the windowsill. The atmosphere in the room grew tense, and Nicky cringed, expecting an outbreak of violence. At that moment, there was a loud, confident knock on the apartment door.