Immersion

Sometimes people should really just mind their own business.
Maybe even all the time, depending on how high and dynamic your level of agitation can reach. Mine, unfortunately, was practically an infinite scale of patience enabling everyone to stick their noses and breathe in whiffs of my privacy. Sucking out anything and everything that was close to me.
It has always been this way.

Not only did I have a galaxy of tolerance, but also, a universe of transparency. It seems as though whenever I'm keeping a secret, the most brilliant one, it's either in my eyes or mannerisms that give it away. Give me away. I thought that maybe this time; this instance; this one secret, I was handling it with all the caution I've ever known. I stayed extremely discreet with my hobby; the only ones who could've possibly been suspicious were the employees at the photo shop who had the tedious job of developing my film, and even once I had them in my hand, I stuffed them away in my bag, not even examining my results. I never took such a risk.

I always waited until arriving at the driveway, dashing to the house, and reporting to my room, even locking the door. Only then could I indulge in my self-induced hunger.
I thought my safe was so air tight that not even the atmosphere could seep its way inside. It never occurred to me that Oli could possibly find out. But as I stared down into his car window, seeing a few of my photos scattered across the passenger seat, shining in the sun, I found out that such a scenario was entirely possible.

My emotions at the time are hard to explain.
I was pissed off, confused, shocked, and violated, one after the other. There was even disgust, for my own brother had gone snooping through my most intimate shit behind my back for who knows what rea-

"...the hell?" I uttered, more stunned than before.

Peering closer, I noticed a Manila envelope on the console, separated from the pictures. My immediate guess was Oli must have dumped them out of it. What had me reeling though was who the package was delivered to:

Madison High School
Journalism Club

My jaw dropped. Feelings intensified, I slowly backed away from the car in a daze unlike any I'd experienced before.
This was me walking up to school naked as everyone laughed.
This was the moment where my diary was shared with the world.
My embarrassment for the ages.

Yes, in case you were wondering, I backed up to the closest wall to support my non-responsive body. Yes, in case curiosity got the best of you, I did clutch my chest like in all those tragic scenes in movies as I crumbled to the concrete.
And yes, in case you gave a shit, I'll have you know that when I entered the house and approached Oli's room, there would be hell to pay.

The door was sticking to the frame again, and I had come to the conclusion that this only happened when I was either livid or shivering. Or both. Unspeakably furious, I was aggressively shoving my house key into the lock, cussing under my breath, and said conduct becoming more and more severe as I was denied access to my own house.
I didn't want to force it, because with my luck, the key would break, one half in my hand and the other in the knob. Then I'd be stranded on my porch with only Oli's car to take my anger out on.
This must be how all his psycho exes felt.

Finally, the door was pushed inside quickly due to my force.
I huffed, stomped in, and slammed it back shut.
The hallway was dark and suddenly windy as I charged by, with only the vision of my brother's bedroom charred in my head. As I was going past the couch, I lifted my bag off my shoulder and threw it over on the cushions. I was past fuming as I put my hand on the his door knob and barged into his room. I could barely make out his half naked body, lying on his throne of rubbish. The floor looked like it was an extension to that throne with decaying clothing and pizza boxes opened, just so its aroma could serve as a substitute for Glade. His closet door was forced open by all the shit that resided inside, drowning in itself. Across the room was the TV that only gave out static, with the volume turned up ridiculously high. Yet...he was motionless.

He was dead, that was the only explanation.
One hand was sprawled out across the mattress, and the other was gripping the window sill. Both of his legs were spread apart to their farthest angle like he was fucked by a bear.
I don't know why either.

The hair that made all the girls swoon looked more like a crow's nest and in more tangles and balls of knots that would kill to be repaired. His face wasn't contorted in that damned pout that could be taken for a permanent defect, but instead, a face that was at rest. Except his lips were puckered and slightly open as his cheek was pressed up against the mattress; most likely causing him to drool.
Standing there in fascination and repulsion, I took in this site.

I didn't go in his room to check on him in the mornings or even after I came home from school anymore, so I had forgotten how incredibly bad he looked while he was in the process of sleeping, or the process of waking up from his slumber.

It was time for him to get up after being in REM sleep for a good 16 hours. While I had to learn about mitochondria and the Pythagorean Theorem, he got to dream about a chick with perfect tits.
Or maybe just perfect tits.

"Oli, wake the fuck up."

Through all the trash that had been filling up the vicinity for an extended period of time, I made it to his bed, where I lifted up my foot and kicked the mattress. The only response I got from that was a shake of his head, then turning it in the opposite direction; away from me.

"'o way."

"I'm not going away. Get up."

He groaned as he grabbed a different pillow with the hand that was on the bed, and pulled it sleepily to his side. A little grunt of content emitted once the softness was pressed up against his ribs.
Maybe this was the girl with the perfect tits. At his difficulty, I growled and rolled my eyes irritably.

Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Brea-

"Come on Oli!" I yelled.

"'uck you Tom."

That pissed me off. I blinked at him in bafflement, then as a frustrated reflex, gripped the blanket from underneath his body and whipped it towards me. Such an action caused him to roll over; hitting his back against the wall, while twisting the arm holding onto the ledge as an added bonus. I smirked as he bellowed roughly like a dying beast.

"What the hell man?"

It made me feel even better watching how angry I had made him as he flipped himself over, slammed his hand on the mattress, and jumped up to get in my face. With a mixture of fatigue and wrath, he would have looked quite terrifying if the feelings weren't mutual.

"YOU COME IN HERE TO START SHIT?! I'm warning you Tom, I'll kick your ass, so you better think twice!"

"Oh really Oli, you will? Because last time I checked, it was me kicking your ass!"

As we continued challenging each other, we kept getting closer and closer until finally, our chests were up against the other; I waving my hands in his face, and his in mine. It usually didn't take long before one of us initiated the actual act of fighting, but he was still drowsy and I was seeing red.

"WHY THE FUCK ARE MY PICTURES IN YOUR CAR?!"

I don't know why I didn't go in this direction to begin with; I figured it was to relieve some of my frustration and, just maybe, because I was mildly nervous about asking him about it. Even when angry, I was still somewhat rational. I knew from experience that provoking Oli had a price to pay. Especially if he was in the wrong and you called him out on it.

What made this situation different was the fact that not only was he wrong, but completely out of line. Taking something special, and not to mention humiliating, from me and revealing it to even one soul was not going to just slide by me.
Not by a long shot.
His eyes widened, and his expression looked like one of amazement. Like he had hidden his secret so well and no one had the smarts to actually find out about it, even though it was so obvious.

Yeah, I knew what that was like.

He took back from me, which constituted as sitting on the bed, and held his forehead; the classic look of the person knowing that they have done something bad. Something very bad indeed.

"So that's what this is about?" he asked, barely in a whisper.

The only thing I could think to do is nod.
"Yeah."

Taking a deep inhale, he crawled across his place of power and leaned his back up against the wall. I don't know what he was thinking when he concocted this scheme of his, but what I was more interested in was how he found out about what I do in the first place. I was taking in his current attitude with a shot of delicacy, and began walking over to the bed, sitting next to him.
I had a notion that this was about to turn into a morbid time for brotherly bonding. Over my idolization for a girl.

We were quiet as thoughts raced through our minds from one end to the other, or at least, I know that's what I was doing. Typical Oli was probably trying to think of a way to get out of the hole he had dug for himself. Always trying to back out of the corner, even knowing that he just fucked over his own brother.
Going into that realm, I couldn't help but ask myself why he would do such a thing to begin with. Why would he purposely go through my photos, steal a dozen, and then go through all the trouble of driving over to my school, meeting with the Journalism department, and convincing them to use them in their next issue? How the fuck did he know about the musical anyway?

"Tom-"

"Why would you do something like that?"

Scratching his scalp, and messing up his hair even more, he shrugged.
"I knew you liked her Tom, but not like that. I was wondering why you kept having to go to the shop, always asking for me to take you. I began to get suspicious,"

I swallowed.

"I mean, you're stalking her."

And suddenly, Oli's lethargy had nothing on my more than creepy habit. For the first time, I was sickened with myself. I looked over at my brother; hoping for some approval for my ways, but all I saw was empathy.

"I decided to go out and find out about her myself. Found out about the musical, and, well, you know..."

It was like he didn't want to say it again. Even though I did what I did, he didn't want to admit that he had gone as far as he had. I was still in awe that he went through all the trouble to research and plot. Wasn't I just saying that Oli was lazy?

"I just...I can't believe you did that. Even looking her up, god Oli, I would've never thought."

He chuckled, "I'm not fuckin' brain dead, I can plot. Which is what I'm doing now."

And that was the transition to what we were discussing, to something much bigger. Hearing him say that, I had a feeling that we weren't on the same page. This plot that he was speaking of was something different than the one he had committed. And he was about to tell me.

"What do you mean?"

That's what he was looking for, because once the sentence left my mouth, the biggest, Oli-filled smirk filled his entire face.
"I think it's time I help you get a lady."