Driving down the path he knew so well, Dylan sighed a sigh he was holding in for a long while now. It wasnât a sigh of relief -- though he was relieved in a way. Dylan was fond of Beckton and all itâs dreaded corners, actually ---, t was something more of a here we go again other than a finally. He knew damn well coming back home means coming back to his odd relationship with his father -- love/hate/disappointment/pride --- and his even more odd relationship with his stepmother --- suggestive glances across the dinner table and not-so-secretive meeting in his fatherâs bedroom when his father was harassing a patient in his office, muffled moans and nauseating pet-names ---, but what he wasnât ready for the most was Jasper --- his step-sister.
  Jasper was something else entirely -- she was the main character of his bittersweet childhood, his side-kick for when times were rough and boring, and what started off as curious innocence and creeping into his fatherâs room ended up to be -- something else. Something dark and enticing. Something he found himself actually longing for. Dylan longed for Jasper.Â
  -- And thatâs why the first thing he has done after greeting his family -- receiving the coldest and warmest of all welcomes from his beloved father, more discreet glances from his mother, and pokes and teasing words from his sisters, Jasper deciding to go upstairs after she âwelcomedâ him, a welcome that matched her step-fatherâs but with fiery glares that sent shivers down Dylanâs spine, Fuck -- he went upstairs, following the trails of his sister.
  âJas?â He knocked at the door, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. âCâmon, are you seriously mad at me? Or wait -- Do you really miss me that much that you had me haul my ass all the way to your room so I could have my own private welcome -- Aw.â He teased, knocking the door twice more.Â
