#takemecn

               they open their bedroom door swiftly, staring across the hallway with eyes that could kill. they hadn’t checked the time on their alarm clock before they had jumped out of bed with plans to reprimand their brother for the noise he’s making, but it doesn’t really matter; even if it isn’t what most would say is early on in the day, the racket across the hallway has woken lou up from their slumber, and that is enough to earn at least the small punishment of being yelled at. “charlie!” they yell, glad their aunt is out of town and unable to hear the scathing tone of their voice. “charlie!” they yell again, their stomping footsteps unable to be heard over the sound of the music playing. “what the fuck, charlie?!” they begin banging on his door with the side of their fist as loudly as they can, but when the volume doesn’t lower and their brother doesn’t appear they take it upon themself to simply open the door on their own accord. “what the fuck are you doing charlie? i’m trying to fucking sleep over there and i’m woken up by your shitty fucking music on your crackly fucking boombox and-” they make their way over to their brother’s figure laying under his covers as they speak, but once they reach close enough to make out his face they stop right in their tracks. “why are you crying?” their voice was is unlike how they had been speaking only a moment ago; if you blindfolded a stranger and ask them to make sense of the two different tones and volumes, no one would ever guess they were coming from the same person. “char, what’s the matter?” they radiate nothing but softness and the slightest bit of guilt over their earlier treatment, and before they sit down beside their brother on his bed they turn the music down so they can talk (and actually hear what the other says). “talk to me, char.”