Stay Awake.
Two
"Can't I touch my own brother?" He asks, the feeling of his breath on my neck sending shivers throughout my body.
"Well, yeah, but there's a limit, bro." I reply uncertainly. I didn't like the way it felt. To have his fingertips graze my skin. Or feeling his arms wrapped around me. We were flesh and blood. We don't do this with each other. He's twenty two. I'm sixteen. That's eight years, and this is illegal, even if we weren't brothers.
"Shut up, Kellin. I just miss you." Jordan murmurs into the back of my neck. His grip tightens around my waist, pulling me in closer. My stomach was tensed, and I was all of a sudden nervous. I tried to close my eyes and melt into his touch, but I couldn't. There was this odd voice in my head telling me how wrong this was, and how we were both old enough to know better.
I closed my eyes anyway, and allowed him to grasp me. Before too long, I once again could feel his lips pressed to my neck. Shivers ran down my spine, but I didn't say anything. It wasn't too late for him to change his mind and beat me to a pulp. He began sucking on the back of my neck, obviously trying to leave a lovebite there. Regardless, it felt amazing, and I tried to ignore the fact that it was my own flesh and blood holding me as though I was his own. I tried to pay no mind to it, but when his hand rested solidly on my bum, I squirmed.
"Jordan, come on." I whisper through the never ending darkness of my older brother's room. There wasn't a single window inside, and the lights were all covered by various cloths.
"Come on, what?" My older brother asks as if he didn't know what he was doing is wrong. "This is mine."
"My ass? I, uh, you're my brother." I answer uncertainly. I try to squirm out of his grasp, but he holds me tight.
"Just go to sleep." He murmurs, kissing my neck one more time before resting his head on his pillow.
And for once, I listen to him.
•••
My hair wasn't doing what I wanted it to. There was this one little chunk that wouldn't be wavy, and I like my hair. I did everything I could, and then I finally gave up.
I went downstairs, avoiding eye contact with Jordan as I pulled my shoes on.
"Did you take your meds?" He questions, looking over at me from his spot perched on the couch. His eyes were bright and his smile was wider. I couldn't help but assume I had caused this after spending the night with him last night. But I pushed the thoughts from my head, and proceeded to answer his question.
"Yes," I lie easily, standing up straight and staring over at him with probably wide eyes.
"Did you apply your scar gel?"
"Yes," I lie again, pulling down the sleeves of my sweater. No one knew of my scars except for Jordan. Everyone at school never questioned me, and most of my scars littered my wrists. So I could easily wear bracelets, but I had bruises on my forearms from Jordan a couple days ago. I had accidentally been talking to an attractive boy at the gas station.
"What time will you be home?" He asks another question, and I wonder how many he was going to ask me. He asked these questions everyday, and I couldn't help but notice that it had gotten very old very quickly.
"Right after school." I reply, resting my hand on the old doorknob. "Okay, bye, I love you." I swing the door open, waiting for his response before I exit.
"I love you more." Jordan says, suddenly appearing in front of me. He takes me into his arms, resting his arms around my waist. I wrap my arms around his neck and take a deep breath.
"You smell like girly shampoo." He mumbles, kissing my forehead before pulling away. "Have a great day, okay?"
"I'll try." I force a smile, and drop my arms from his neck. His arms linger on my waist for a moment, before dropping them.
"Please don't leave me here for too long." He says, looking down at his feet. I stare down too, hoping that I'll be able to leave soon.
"I won't." I smile, stepping outside. I close the door behind me, bounding down the stairs before beginning my short trek to school.
I walked into school thirty minutes early, as I always do, and made my way to the office. I wondered what Kris would have me do this morning, and silently hoped it was something easy. I pulled open the office door with ease, and found that Kris wasn't seated at her desk as she usually is. Glancing over to the meeting room, I found that it was in use. She must be in there with the principle.
I sat down on one of the chairs, and grabbed my dog-eared copy of 'Jurassic Park'. I had been reading it for three months now, but I never had the time to sit down and read it. I was always doing homework, cleaning, or driving Jordan to football practice. Usually, I'd have to stay and watch him and the football team. I didn't mind, of course. Football pants are the boy's equivalent of yoga pants. I can definitely deal with watching those perfect asses running laps. I have to do my very best not to drool.
Right as I was about to open the cover of my book, the meeting room door swung open, and the principle walked out, followed by Kris, and a boy I'd never seen before.
"Good morning, Kellin." Mr. Wittman, the principle, greets me. He knows I absolutely loathe him, and I can only imagine he said that just to spite me because there's nothing I can do to him.
"G-Good morning." I mumble, rolling my eyes as he walks back into his office, closing the door behind him.
"You can at least try to be cordial, Kellin." Kris laughs, walking around the front desk and sitting down in her chair. "It's not like he hates you. He hates your brother." She adds.
"Doesn't mean I can't hate him." I reply, standing up and walking to her desk. "What've you got for me?
"I have a new kid. Can you show him around?" Kris asks, her bright brown eyes shinning behind her horn-rimmed glasses.
"Yeah." I reply, spinning around on my heel to take a look at the new kid. "I'm K-Kellin."
"I'm Vic, uh, nice to meet you." The small Hispanic boy replies. His hair was long, longer than mine and a rich chocolatey shade in color. He has a bright smile, and a promising look on his face. I wondered how I looked on first impression.
Maybe he noticed the way I slouched so badly, or how I don't smile. Maybe he noticed the lack of effort put into my hair, or the dark circles under my eyes. What if he thought badly of my chubby legs, and protruded stomach? It was always a huge 'what if' when it came to me meeting new people. But for some reason, he stared at me with such a compassion and longing. Could this possibly be another young infatuation?
"Well, yeah, but there's a limit, bro." I reply uncertainly. I didn't like the way it felt. To have his fingertips graze my skin. Or feeling his arms wrapped around me. We were flesh and blood. We don't do this with each other. He's twenty two. I'm sixteen. That's eight years, and this is illegal, even if we weren't brothers.
"Shut up, Kellin. I just miss you." Jordan murmurs into the back of my neck. His grip tightens around my waist, pulling me in closer. My stomach was tensed, and I was all of a sudden nervous. I tried to close my eyes and melt into his touch, but I couldn't. There was this odd voice in my head telling me how wrong this was, and how we were both old enough to know better.
I closed my eyes anyway, and allowed him to grasp me. Before too long, I once again could feel his lips pressed to my neck. Shivers ran down my spine, but I didn't say anything. It wasn't too late for him to change his mind and beat me to a pulp. He began sucking on the back of my neck, obviously trying to leave a lovebite there. Regardless, it felt amazing, and I tried to ignore the fact that it was my own flesh and blood holding me as though I was his own. I tried to pay no mind to it, but when his hand rested solidly on my bum, I squirmed.
"Jordan, come on." I whisper through the never ending darkness of my older brother's room. There wasn't a single window inside, and the lights were all covered by various cloths.
"Come on, what?" My older brother asks as if he didn't know what he was doing is wrong. "This is mine."
"My ass? I, uh, you're my brother." I answer uncertainly. I try to squirm out of his grasp, but he holds me tight.
"Just go to sleep." He murmurs, kissing my neck one more time before resting his head on his pillow.
And for once, I listen to him.
•••
My hair wasn't doing what I wanted it to. There was this one little chunk that wouldn't be wavy, and I like my hair. I did everything I could, and then I finally gave up.
I went downstairs, avoiding eye contact with Jordan as I pulled my shoes on.
"Did you take your meds?" He questions, looking over at me from his spot perched on the couch. His eyes were bright and his smile was wider. I couldn't help but assume I had caused this after spending the night with him last night. But I pushed the thoughts from my head, and proceeded to answer his question.
"Yes," I lie easily, standing up straight and staring over at him with probably wide eyes.
"Did you apply your scar gel?"
"Yes," I lie again, pulling down the sleeves of my sweater. No one knew of my scars except for Jordan. Everyone at school never questioned me, and most of my scars littered my wrists. So I could easily wear bracelets, but I had bruises on my forearms from Jordan a couple days ago. I had accidentally been talking to an attractive boy at the gas station.
"What time will you be home?" He asks another question, and I wonder how many he was going to ask me. He asked these questions everyday, and I couldn't help but notice that it had gotten very old very quickly.
"Right after school." I reply, resting my hand on the old doorknob. "Okay, bye, I love you." I swing the door open, waiting for his response before I exit.
"I love you more." Jordan says, suddenly appearing in front of me. He takes me into his arms, resting his arms around my waist. I wrap my arms around his neck and take a deep breath.
"You smell like girly shampoo." He mumbles, kissing my forehead before pulling away. "Have a great day, okay?"
"I'll try." I force a smile, and drop my arms from his neck. His arms linger on my waist for a moment, before dropping them.
"Please don't leave me here for too long." He says, looking down at his feet. I stare down too, hoping that I'll be able to leave soon.
"I won't." I smile, stepping outside. I close the door behind me, bounding down the stairs before beginning my short trek to school.
I walked into school thirty minutes early, as I always do, and made my way to the office. I wondered what Kris would have me do this morning, and silently hoped it was something easy. I pulled open the office door with ease, and found that Kris wasn't seated at her desk as she usually is. Glancing over to the meeting room, I found that it was in use. She must be in there with the principle.
I sat down on one of the chairs, and grabbed my dog-eared copy of 'Jurassic Park'. I had been reading it for three months now, but I never had the time to sit down and read it. I was always doing homework, cleaning, or driving Jordan to football practice. Usually, I'd have to stay and watch him and the football team. I didn't mind, of course. Football pants are the boy's equivalent of yoga pants. I can definitely deal with watching those perfect asses running laps. I have to do my very best not to drool.
Right as I was about to open the cover of my book, the meeting room door swung open, and the principle walked out, followed by Kris, and a boy I'd never seen before.
"Good morning, Kellin." Mr. Wittman, the principle, greets me. He knows I absolutely loathe him, and I can only imagine he said that just to spite me because there's nothing I can do to him.
"G-Good morning." I mumble, rolling my eyes as he walks back into his office, closing the door behind him.
"You can at least try to be cordial, Kellin." Kris laughs, walking around the front desk and sitting down in her chair. "It's not like he hates you. He hates your brother." She adds.
"Doesn't mean I can't hate him." I reply, standing up and walking to her desk. "What've you got for me?
"I have a new kid. Can you show him around?" Kris asks, her bright brown eyes shinning behind her horn-rimmed glasses.
"Yeah." I reply, spinning around on my heel to take a look at the new kid. "I'm K-Kellin."
"I'm Vic, uh, nice to meet you." The small Hispanic boy replies. His hair was long, longer than mine and a rich chocolatey shade in color. He has a bright smile, and a promising look on his face. I wondered how I looked on first impression.
Maybe he noticed the way I slouched so badly, or how I don't smile. Maybe he noticed the lack of effort put into my hair, or the dark circles under my eyes. What if he thought badly of my chubby legs, and protruded stomach? It was always a huge 'what if' when it came to me meeting new people. But for some reason, he stared at me with such a compassion and longing. Could this possibly be another young infatuation?