if i didn't have you

Beau: i guess i wanted to start ur birthday off by apologising for being the worst sister to the best brother. so i’m sorry i’ve been such a stinker lately.

Beau: u honestly are the greatest brother ever and i’m really glad mom and dad wanted u in their family bc my life would suck without u.

Beau: wait that’s kelly clarkson

Beau: fuck

Beau: sorry

Beau: i can do this better

Beau: sorry i’m fucking this up as usual tho and it’s just sorta embarrasing me now so ummm happy birthday lmao

There wasn’t a doubt in JP’s mind that he was being a hypocrite upon reprimanding Beau. Whether or not she was actually sneaking out was yet to be determined, but given that he was doing the exact same thing, he knew it was a dick move to call her out on the possibility. Sure, he was the older sibling, and sometimes that meant he got a little advantage over Beau as far as curfews and leniency went, but still. If Beau was sneaking out, that meant that he couldn’t – they couldn’t both disappear from the Sullivan household; their parents would definitely notice something was up if the two of them managed to simultaneously vanish for hours on end.

Staring down at his younger sister, he felt a tinge of guilt. Okay, so things usually went his way, as opposed to Beau’s. He didn’t think it was fair, not by a long shot. Their parents often favoured JP above the two, a fact that hadn’t ever gone unnoticed to either of them – it always worked to make JP feel guilty, knowing damn well that there was no justifiable reason for them to hold him to a higher, more admirable standard than his little sister. After all, he didn’t hold a candle to Beau – he’d always thought his little sister was cooler than him. But, he was being pretty selfish – he wanted to get away from the hustle and bustle of the Sullivan clan, and to kick back with his friends and actually have a decent night. He wouldn’t have hesitated to invite Beau along, even, if not for the fact that they were both meant to be staying put underneath the very roof they were trying to escape from.

“Uhh… well…” JP trailed off, coming unstuck when Beau called him out.

The two of them were in a pretty bad place as it was – he didn’t know just how he could help her, in all honesty. Beau took things so personally and tended to beat herself up about every little thing, always insisting that people liked JP more than her, and that she was simply a burden in his life. None of it was true, he knew that much. Beau was his best friend, above even Terry or Peter or Misty, and he knew even Izzy still missed her deeply – even if she wasn’t likely to admit it. All the same, he couldn’t help Beau if she wouldn’t let him, and all she wanted to do was shut him out, meaning the two found themselves bickering more often than not, and as much as it broke JP’s heart, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it.

“Aight, so, yeah, I was sneakin’ out,” he admitted, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly as he stared down at her. Chewing on his lip, uncomfortable under the weight of her gaze – despite her being almost a foot shorter, and weighing 40 pounds less than him, there was something quite intimidating about a glare from Beau. She seemed to be just about the only person who could put the fear of God into the older boy. “I was jus’, y'kna, gon’ see if anyone wanted to hang, or…”

He trailed off, wincing as he realised he’d just about confirmed that he was 1) bored outta his mind and eager to be anywhere else but here, and 2) off to meet some friends without Beau. Squeezing his eyes shut momentarily and running a hand over his face, he sighed at his sister’s words. He’d never worry about Beau tagging along, but he knew that that was a huge part of the problem – she didn’t want to tag along, she wanted to be equals, to be held in the same esteem as JP was. He didn’t blame her obviously, it was damn well justified. In his brief high school years when he’d battled with insecurities and uncertainties regarding his sexuality, he’d cut himself off from so many of his friends and even Beau, letting the guilt and stress and confusion eat away at him for months on end. He’d suffered alone with that issue, and still had found the audacity to feel envious of his friends who were happy and thriving. He’d always wondered why he couldn’t feel that same happiness, and why things couldn’t work out for him. Now that things were going pretty well for him, though, he knew he should be a little more understanding of the fact that Beau had hit her own rough patch, and that what she needed more than ever right now was her brother’s support.

“You know that ain’t it, Beau,” he insisted, his shoulders drooping as he gave way to all the tension that had been building up inside of him. It was no use letting it get the better of him, so he simply just let it go, focusing instead on the matter at hand. He hated arguing with Beau, and he wasn’t interested in letting things get to some kind of point of no return – he wanted his best friend back. “There ain’t no party or secret event, y'kna. Like, I ain’t even sure anyone’s gon’ be free, an’ if they were you know I got no problem with you bein’ there.”

It was all well and good telling Beau that, of course, but that didn’t change their predicament. They were still both wrapped up, ready to make their escape, and faced with the exact same obstacle: eachother. As laughter filled the air, spilling out of the surrounding rooms, he heard their relatives laughing amongst themselves as their mother swapped stories of Nativities and School Productions that he and Beau had been involved in as children. He could hear the peels of laughter as his mom bragged about his lead role as Joseph in a Christmas play when he was 11, followed by teasing comments and muffled laughter when she’d turned the page over to reveal Beau, clad in a big, gawky, brown costume, acting as one of the trees in the background of a scene. Cringing at the memory, and their parents obliviousness, he merely shrugged at Beau, hoping she hadn’t heard the same things he had.

“Aight, y'kna, whatever. S'cool. I shouldn’t have snapped, y'kna. Go for your walk, I’ll cover fo'you.”

Beau didn’t have time to feel smug that she’d caught JP out, because his next words were like a slap in the face to her. She didn’t know if she’d flinched or not, heat rushing to her cheeks as she stared at him blankly. Had he heard what he’d said or not?

“You were gonna see if anyone wanted to hang,” she echoed numbly. Her eyelids fluttered of their own accord, an irritating twitch behind them triggering the action and she quickly looked down so her brother couldn’t see the effect his words were having on her. Naturally, JP wouldn’t want to spend his whole night chattering about football stats with their dad and uncles, and he’d be even worse off if he found himself roped into a conversation about cross-stitching with Aunt Agatha. But it was Christmas Eve. And she was there to hang with.

She figured that the football team were all gathered somewhere with the Pixies and the rally girls and the entire rest of the student body waiting for their star player to show up so the party could really begin. And then they could all enjoy the countdown to Christmas. Maybe there’d be a tree or just stupid paper chains adorning the walls. Beau supposed she’d find out the decoration situation through Kim’s Snapchats or Isabella’s Instagrams. She’d never been invited to a gathering like that in order to see for herself. If she did show up, it was always as someone’s plus one - usually Kim’s - and she spent the full night hiding behind her vlogging camera or having conversations that went along the lines of “Hi, I’m Beau!” “Who?” “...JP’s little sister.” “Ohhhh! Oh my gosh, your brother is the best.”

She barely managed to bite back a harsh and cruel laugh when JP tried to reassure her. Even if no one was free at that exact moment, all JP had to do was snap his fingers and every girl and guy in Cherry Grove would suddenly have a clear schedule. Instead of stomping her feet, throwing her head back and loudly voicing her frustrations like she wanted to, Beau forced a smile onto her face and attempted an eye roll that was meant to look like she was amused by the whole thing.

“I have friends that have parties too, I don’t need you to get an invitation to one,” she scoffed, trying to make it sound playful but it fell flat. She’d never been particularly skilled at making lies sound smooth and natural. Beau didn’t have friends that weren’t also JP’s friends. Kim was the closest thing she had to a friend to call her own, but even the redhead spent half of her time drooling over Beau’s brother and flushing a bright red whenever he turned his attention onto her. When Beau paid attention to anyone, she was swiftly told to shush after about five minutes of her obnoxious monologues.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, Beau wracked her brains for an excuse to go slink back up to her bedroom, lock the door and barricade it with a mountain of Build-a-Bear teddies and puppies and bunnies. That would be less humiliating than conceding to JP and telling him to go to his stupid party while she stayed home and sulked. 

A chorus of laughter drifted through from the living room and Beau cautiously lifted her head, wary eyes flickering over to the door just in case her mom was about to appear and shout her down in front of JP for her little act back there. She knew what she’d said had been uncalled for, but she’d been pushed to her limit. Not that it mattered, as she heard what everyone was talking about and it seemed that they hadn’t got the message when she’d stormed out. 

“Oh, he was always such a little looker, wasn’t he?” she heard one of her aunt’s croon.

“Made for the part!” another aunt agreed.

“We were so proud. Of Beau too though!” Mrs Sullivan piped up, quick to include her daughter in the conversation. Beau felt her heart swell a little at the thought of her mom coming to her defense. Maybe she was just doing it because she felt guilty about earlier, or maybe she knew her daughter was listening, but Beau appreciated the effort anyway. “Her drama teacher said she was a fantastic tree!”

Thanks Mrs Schrodinger, Beau thought drily.

“I can believe that!” she heard one of her uncle’s say and lifted her head in surprise. Until he followed it up with, “Her hair was always a bird’s nest, after all!”

Another round of laughter from her extended family. Beau could hear her father’s booming chuckle joining in, as well as her mother clucking at them all a little, but she could imagine her sitting there, photo album open in her lap as she hid a smile and tried to be diplomatic before giving up and joining in with the rest of them. Beau bowed her head and stepped back until her hip hit the kitchen unit. She kept her eyes trained on her sneakers until JP spoke up.

“You go. It was Joseph that was meant to make the journey on Christmas Eve, anyway,” she told him, pretending to pick an eyelash out of her eye so she’d have an excuse to wipe away the moisture building up in them. “Trees are completely stationary. Until Taylor Marnington blocks their view of the audience and then there’s a smackdown.”

Sniffing, Beau pulled the sleeves of her jacket down over her fingers and braved a glance up at JP.

“Seriously, dude, just go to your party. I only need to get some fresh air anyway. I’ll just take a walk around the block and come home,” she shrugged, making her way over to the kitchen door and holding it open for him behind her. The winter air blew in and she shivered, but it felt good.

“Besides, they still have years of photo albums to cover. They won’t miss either of us just yet.”

Isn’t your brother that football player? What did she expect, a fucking family All-Star team? 

That’s the one. Maybe she didn’t realise we were adopted and our genetics are a little different. But also if she didn’t realise that, I’d be kinda worried about her.

I think she was too scared to try. Plus, once I graduated that was the last of my fucking bigass family to go through so she figured she wouldn’t have to bother.

Huh. Our guidance counselor loved a basketcase. As soon as she realised I wasn’t going to follow in JP’s footsteps, it was like I’d given her her Christmases and birthdays all at once. I was the perfect case study for a total shit show.

I have been told I’m disturbing. In fact, it was highlighted on my form in the guidance counsellor’s office.

And she didn’t manage to therapy it out of you?

Whatever gets your motor running, I won’t judge.

It’s disturbing that your mind went there, of all places.

Uhhh, I don’t think it can happen to anyone. Unless you’re doing it on purpose?

You think I deliberately walk into the boys bathroom just so I can see them not wash their hands?

You, you fuckwit. Although at least they were angry and not creepy.

Huh, I never really saw it in a ‘lesser of two evils’ kinda way, but I suppose... For real though, fellas, that can happen to anyone. Give a girl a break!

Dickhead.

Me or the dudes? Either way, correct.

As popularity went, Isabella was pretty much the top of the food chain. She was, quite honestly, the Queen B. Everyone waned to be her, be in her, or a combination of the two, and she’d long since accepted that. It didn’t mean that she necessarily saw herself as above others, or somehow better than her friends, but she understood the position that she was in, and that she held a certain level of authority over people. Being captain of the cheer squad meant that, much to Violet’s disdain, she was in charge, and what Isabella says goes. That same rule didn’t exactly extend to her friends, not in their every day life, as she tried to remain on equal footing as them, but sometimes it was just hard when you were this fabulous. Or, that’s what Isabella liked to tell herself.

Truth be told, when Isabella thought back on her friendships – and, more specifically, her friendship with Beau – she often wondered if she really had been to blame for the sudden dent in their relationship. Justifiably speaking, she didn’t think there was anything wrong with going off to college and making friends. It wasn’t her fault that Beau hadn’t gone to college, or that she hadn’t wanted to join the cheer squad – I mean, look at Terry. Terry didn’t even go there, yet he was still their mascot, so what the hell was stopping Beau from supporting them? Like, hello, her brother was on the team? And, yet, the distance between the two only grew, and the more time that Isabella spent in the company of her new friends, the more she realised just how much she really loved the guys and girls that she got to see every day. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Beau, she absolutely did, but Beau wasn’t interested in her new life, nor her new friends, and Isabella didn’t know quite to integrate her two very different lives into one another. And yet, Izzy couldn’t hide from the bitter sting of betrayal, the gut wrenching pain that coursed through her, when she thought about how Beau didn’t seem to mind going out to games and supporting Kim, or even Ron – JP was a given, he was her brother after all, and yet Beau seemed to make more time for Kim’s extracurricular activities than she ever had with Izzy.

“JP’s hardly the picture of innocence, baby,” Isabella noted, rolling her eyes.

There really wasn’t any need for the remark, especially as JP hadn’t ever actually done anything to offend her. He was her friend, and she worshipped the ground he walked on. Though kisses and cuddles had been shared, he was one of her few male friends that she hadn’t managed to talk into bed, and she’d always had an inkling that it had everything to do with his loyalty to his sister – a loyalty that, though Isabella wouldn’t dare voice it aloud, she shared tenfold. She’d never sleep with JP, no matter how often she alluded to such an act, for fear of really losing Beau forever. Still, the sharp and snarky tone with which the other girl had addressed her, clearly wanting to get the point across that JP was her brother, and that Isabella held no claim over him – well, it had been the exact kind of pettiness to rival her own, and Isabella never went down without a fight.

“Maybe your big brother shouldn’t be so overbearing, and he might realise that you’re not a child,” Isabella told her – though, in all honesty, there was no bite to her words. No matter how much she wanted to come out of their impromptu reunion on top, she knew that she had no real reason to go in on either of the Sullivan siblings – both of whom she held very dear to her. Sighing to herself, she shrugged, before bouncing forward ever so slightly on her hopper, and nudging the other girl’s foot with her own. “It’s, like, whatever. He’s protective ‘cause he loves you, right?”

She thought then of Ross, her own brother – or, rather, half brother, she supposed. It was no surprise to anybody that Mr Tingley slept around. He’d always been doing it for as long as Isabella had been alive. Her mother was well aware of his own indiscretions, never batting an eyelid when some floozy or another appeared on their doorstep claiming that they’d go to the press with tales of their wicked nights of passion. They usually found themselves staring back at a red-faced and furious Mr Tingley, and an entirely indifferent Mrs Tingley who merely encouraged them to do their worst – they weren’t getting a dime out of her, that was for sure. When Isabella had been five years old and had discovered that, in fact, she had an older brother, she’d been gobsmacked. As an only child to two parents who, quite frankly, could give or take you, finding out that there was someone else who might understand her plight should have been a relief, but Isabella Tingley had thrown, quite possibly, the greatest tantrum of all time. It was hard enough knowing that your parents didn’t give a damn about you, even at the tender age of five, but it was even more difficult knowing that you’d now have to share the spotlight because, in the words of the head chef (who was then fired within the our); your father couldn’t keep his dick away from his secretary. But hey, who said you couldn’t mix business and pleasure?

The point was, Isabella had wasted a lot of years being resentful towards her older brother for something that was well out of his control. Where Beau had been lucky enough to have been gifted with an older brother like JP, it had taken far too long for Isabella to see the perks, and she’d squandered years of getting to know Ross – who, in turn, had never been anything but kind and sweet to her, exhibiting that kind of familial love that she’d desperately craved for her whole entire life.

Isabella waved off Beau’s indifference to her party. There was no point in arguing. She knew Beau had no interest in coming to these things and, while anyone could show up, that it was only by chance – and a stroke of bad luck on Beau’s part, from what Isabella could gather – that the two had found themselves in this situation. She glanced over her shoulder, smirking at the ever casual Lunchable nickname that dripped from Beau’s lips, and nodded in agreement. While it seemed to go amiss to even themselves just how desperately the pair of them were in love, Isabella was happy to hear that Beau could see it too. Slowly turning her head back to Beau, she pouted at the girl, her brow furrowed as she implored the girl to be reasonable. “Beau, baby, c'mon. You don’t have to go anywhere. I want you to stay.”

Any other brave sentiments that she might have been interested in expressing soon died in her throat her gaze landed on the eyesore that Beau had spotted. Letting out a high, uncontrollable giggle, she stared fondly at the misshapen wall space. She remembered how it had gotten there so clearly – just as she could recall the way she’d fought with her father after such events. It was one of the only visible memories that she held of hers and Beau’s friendship – with boxes upon boxes of photographs and birthday gifts locked away in their basement, her parents wanting no proof that she’d ever associated with someone so common in their home. She had kicked and screamed and fought her way through conversations with her father, arguing until she was red in the face, stomping her feet as hard as she could in the most bratty fashion imaginable, until he’d eventually folded and realised he was fighting a losing battle. She’d been so insistent that he keep the gaping hole, never wanting to erase the remnants of such a fond memory with someone she loved so entirely. Her father had eventually had to resort to having another gym built – one that his friends, clients, coworkers, and side pieces could use without having to look at that atrocity.

“I still have my scar…” Isabella remarked, staring out into the distance as she remembered the way she’d gone crashing to the floor, blood spilling from her knee. She hadn’t had a care in the world, much too amused by the mess they’d made. With one finger, she tapped her knee, drawing Beau’s attention to the thin line that puckered the skin there ever so slightly. “My battle scar.”

“My brother isn’t overbearing,” Beau snapped back haughtily. It was stupid that she kept referring to JP, not by name but solely by familial connection, but she wanted to keep any semblance of familiarity away from Izzy. It helped if the blonde only knew JP as Beau’s big brother, and not as her own friend. Was that childish and petty and totally selfish in a really, stupendously bratty way? Yes. Was Beau going to do anything to change that? Absolutely not. She was grasping at straws here and she somehow thought that justified her stand-offish nature.

“Yeah, whatever,” she mimicked back. “He’s just being a good big brother.”

Sometimes she thought that JP’s overprotective nature was just born from being a big brother. Like everything that came his way, her brother shouldered the duty of it with an easy smile, barely batting an eyelid. He didn’t shy away from responsibility like Beau did, even when that responsibility came in the form of a tantrum-throwing, temperamental little sister that had came along after his adoption and tried and failed to steal his thunder. JP looked out for her, chased away the boys he thought were bad for her and the boys that weren’t so bad but threatened the image he had of her being a perpetual baby too young to date. Beau could never articulate how much she appreciated the fact that anyone at all, never mind a jock as cool and popular as JP, put so much time and effort into looking out for someone like her, so instead of thanking him she put on a show of wriggling away from his affections and telling him that his bodyguard-like personality wasn’t needed. Besides, he was probably only doing it because that’s what big brothers were like, supposed to do.

“It’s just what brothers do, anyway,” she shrugged like it was no big deal. “I mean, you’d know. What with Ross and all.”

Ross wasn’t exactly a frequent guest in Izzy’s home, given the nature of his birth and everything. But Beau had met him enough times to decide that he was a solid guy, and that was saying something as she’d never though highly of anyone with the Tingley name when she was little, bar Isabella.

She gently rocked back and forth on the rubber ball beneath her, absently wondering if a portion of her next paycheck from Build-a-Bear could be put towards one of these for her own house. Maybe one for JP too. They could have races and he could annihilate her as always. She was so distracted for a minute that she almost missed Izzy’s words until the girl was rocking forward into her space and Beau flinched. The nickname and the closeness and the reassuring tone almost made Beau smile fondly like she would have had this been a post-prom party or something. In high school, Izzy was always persuading Beau to come to a party and stay later than she intended to. It meant that JP was always sitting outside waiting to pick her up well past her curfew, but all it had taken to calm him down and put him in a better mood was Izzy to flash a few dollar bills and instruct him to take a detour home through the Krispy Kreme drive-through.

“You don’t want me to stay, you’re drunk,” Beau dismissed the girl with a roll of her eyes. “Besides, Krispy Kreme is closed for refurb right now so it’s not like I can reason with JP if I need a ride later.” She blanched a little, realising her error to late when she called JP by his name instead of just referring to him as her brother. Even the implication that Izzy would get where she was coming from by bringing up the damn donut joint was a mistake, one that made her cool and indifferent facade falter.

It disappeared completely when the two girls stared at the wall though, broken and unrepaired. It was confusing to see. You couldn’t repair broken relationships or trust, but you could fix up the fractures of a broken house and Beau had learned long ago that that Mr and Mrs Tingley were willing to compromise and have a picture-perfect house to make up for their less-than-desirable family life. It had been years upon years since the quad bike accident, so why hadn’t they got it fixed yet? 

“Ugh, that’s not fair. Your scar actually looks cool,” Beau whined when she got a glimpse at the whitened line along Izzy’s knee. “I just got this stupid dent in my head.”

She lifted her bangs, plastering them back against the top of her head with the palm of her hand so she could show Izzy the slight indenture of her forehead where she bashed her head against a pair of kettle bells. They’d been way too cool to use helmets back then.

“I thought I was going to be a shoo-in for Hogwarts after that,but I guess they only take real scars,” she said, letting out an unflattering giggle that she immediately swallowed. But the traitorous noise had been heard and she dropped her hand back by her side so her hair flopped down in front of her eyes again. Beau ducked her head, gaze darting from side to side as she avoided looking at Izzy, although a small smile played on her lips.

“Anyway, you should probably get that fixed,” she said quietly. She could hear Ron and Kim laughing at each other from across the room, like best friends should. Lifting her eyes to sneak a peek at Izzy, she offered the girl a lame shrug. “But that was a fun time.”