They Called it a Break

It's Friday night and I'm sitting on a couch beside my little brother who keeps eyeing me nervously like he's afraid I'm going to dart out the door at any second. It's honestly a little annoying. It's not like I don't want to, but I'm not going to. I made him a promise after the first day of working in the psychology office that I wouldn't go out and party, at least for a month. I can make it that long but I'm not making any promises after that. One month, and maybe he'll shut up.

My phone goes off again and my palms itch to pick it up but John glances over at me so I grab the remote instead. Oh my fuck, he's freaking out way too much. John shifts in his seat and sighs as I change the channel, but doesn't say anything. I'm not sure what he usually does on his Friday nights, but this definitely isn't it. I haven't been home on a Friday or Saturday night all summer, and I don't really remember the last time I stayed home during the last school year.

"What are your plans?" he asks me timidly. I stare at him like he's an idiot. It's 9:45. I'm in my pajamas. I'm obviously staying home.

"Hanging out with you, unless it cramps your style or something," I reply and he groans at my word choice. I grin back at him even though it's forced, and he seems content with my reaction. John settles back into his armchair and focuses back on the TV so I pull my phone out while he's distracted. My friend Roger has been texting me repeatedly for the past hour, and I now have fifteen messages from him, all pretty much conveying the same message even though they make less and less sense as it gets later. He keeps saying I should be at the party, and by the deteriorating quality of his texts, he's so obviously getting wasted.

Looking over at my little brother, he does seem, well, little. It's kind of sad to think, but I don't know what he's going to do when I graduate. It's not like I take care of him or anything. I mean he obviously takes care of me more than I do him, but I can't help but still feel a sort of older brother protectiveness when it comes to him. I love my little brother, and when I graduate he's going to be stuck here in this hell-hole without anyone's puke to clean up. It's gonna be sad for him.

"So how's school going for you?" I ask, trying to make small talk. As brothers we're not particularly good at this. We communicate a lot better through video games, but times like this I force myself to talk to John because honestly, I know I should. "You still looking to date that Alyssa girl?" John sighs from beside me, so I'm guessing that's a no, but he answers me anyways.

"It's alright I guess. The same old shit as always, work, homework, and drawing. And Alyssa? Psh, no! She's not worth my time. At all." I look at John, slightly confused. I could have sworn only a few weeks ago he was totally and completely infatuated with her. John isn't like me in the sense that I pretty much go from one guy to the next. He usually finds a girl and sticks with her. Not that I hook up with a lot of guys or anything, I mean, I'm not stupid, I'm a virgin. It's just that I like kissing, and I like kissing a lot of different people, which is why party scenes are good for me. John on the other hand, doesn't party like at all. I don't know how he does it sometimes.

"Why's that?" I question, wanting to know more. I kind of like to be the one asking questions of my brother, kind of like every time he does for me when I come home from a party.

"It just didn't work out. It wasn't anything bad, but she wasn't anything special. We just kind of fell apart, ya know? She was too worried about her hair and shit, and it was so fucking annoying even if she was pretty." I grunt in agreement, but I honestly have no experience in what he's talking about. I don't have to worry about that. For one, guys are a lot better about not being too caught up in that shit. Secondly, if I'm not looking for a relationship I couldn't care less how much someone cares about their appearance, as long as they're good kissers. We lapse into a comfortable silence for a while, some stupid horror movie playing in front of us. "Hey, you know what would be fun?" John asks me, sitting up so he can see my face.

"What's that?" I reply boredly. Usually what he thinks is fun isn't fun. Fun is partying and his idea of fun is a fucking picnic with butterflies he can paint.

"There's a gay pride march coming up on 6th street in Austin and they have a brother thing. I think we should go. We could get cool little shirts made and we'd be totally awesome!" John's smiling so big at the thought of us doing something together I can't help but feel bad. Even if he is almost sixteen and totally independent, I should probably do more stuff with him. Damn, not drinking tonight is turning me into a softie.

"Are mom and dad sponsoring it?" Yeah, I'm a total ass. If they're sponsoring it, I'm totally not going. Screw anything that would make them happy. They put on stuff all the time, and I always refuse to go. Kind of like them starting my school's GSA. My brother goes to meetings every once in a while, holding up the straight side of the alliance, but I refuse to go. I live to piss them off.

"Nope," John says, popping the 'p' at the end and offering me a smile as if he checked all of this out so that I'd go. "It would totally piss them off if we went to something they don't sponsor but refuse to go to things they sponsor, like you do every day of your life."

I've gotta admit, John really covered all his bases here. I guess I should really go with him, and be all proud of my gayness and everything, march it down the streets of Austin, whatever. The only thing is, I think just going won't piss my parents off enough, and if I'm really going to stop with the whole drinking thing I don't have many opportunities to make them mad for this month. I need to get more creative.

"Instead of shirts," I say to John mischievously, "We should paint our bodies rainbow and streak through the parade. That is brotherly pride."

He stares at me for a moment before busting out laughing, which kind of disappoints me, because I was really wanting him to agree to it. I've never been arrested for public indecency before, and that trip to the courthouse seems like a lot more fun than the ones I barely remember. Besides, a naked rainbow teenager would probably make front page.

"You're a loser," John laughs, "But I'm glad you're here. My evenings are so much more enjoyable when you're not out. Plus, you're more fun when you're not drunk." John gets up to get more soda and I chuckle quietly. I'm glad I'm at home with him tonight, but at the same time I really wish I was out at a party. He thinks I'm more fun sober, but trust me, I'm a fucking trip when I'm drunk.

Damn, I can't wait for this month to be over.