#twinconfessional

Since you were one of the first people here, what do you think about all of the new twins? Do you think they've changed the feel of the house?

Max couldn't remember the last time that he had done a confessional by himself, so he was kind of pissed off that they had called him for one on a Monday morning. He grumbled a little to himself as he walked confidently into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. Max moved to sit down on the sofa, his legs kicked out in front of him as he eyed the producer carefully.

He raised an eyebrow a few minutes later whilst they were still setting things up, and then shook his head. "So are we gonna start this, or what?" He spoke up loudly, looking expectantly at the producer.

He turned to Max with a small sigh and read blankly from the cards. "Okay, Max. It seems that you, Everett, Ash, and Finn have formed your own little circle. How did you all manage to become so close? The fans seem really interested in how you all balance each other out, especially with such strong personalities." He looked up at the end, watching Max's reaction.

Surprisingly, Max was early. In all honesty, the sofa was just the place he had fallen asleep after deciding to go for a walk around the house in search of ghosts at 4am and then at 8 people had started moving cameras in. He wasn’t sure what the time was, but figured it was after 10. Maybe. He was told four times by the producer to ‘wait right there. do. not. move. Max, I’m serious, don’t run away’, and had decided that yeah, he might do that because his head was aching and that wasn’t so fun. Max tapped his feet loudly and waited.

Everett grumbled to himself as he stepped through the door, immediately glaring at the people littering the room. He wasn’t interested - the only reason he’d shown up was because of Max. Still muttering curses and general threats under his breath, he headed for the couch and flopped down on Max’s lap. He aimed a pout at his brother, letting out a quiet whine and leaning down to press his forehead to Max’s shoulder, earning a small laugh from his brother. “Save me.”

“I am.” He replied, bringing his hand up to rub at Everett’s back. “Gonna do this bullshit little interview and then coffee.” He replied, sitting up, still keeping Ev in his lap as he moved. He brought his free hand up around his brother’s waist to pull him closer on his lap and he buried his face against Everett’s arm. “Babe. Everyone looks the same.” He mumbled, clearly distressed.

Clearly pleased, Everett wrapped an arm around Max’s waist, aiming a look at a gawking girl over his brother’s shoulder. “It’s weird,” he agreed, tilting his head to watch the people who were still setting up. Apparently they were the first interview that morning. For some reason, Everett approved of that. They were obviously the best, so clearly they should go first. “Let’s get this shit show on the road,” he finally said, his voice loud in the quiet room. He arched an eyebrow at the nearest important-looking guy, his expression condescending and bored. Max laughed, nudging his nose against Everett’s arm before lifting his head to look at the producer and the various other people he didn’t care about.

The producer, obviously used to them by now, ignored their antics and read blankly from the card. “Okay, boys. The fans have noticed a lot about you, and you’re not shy to talk about yourselves, so what was it like to grow up without boundaries? Without anyone to tell you no?” He dropped the card onto a stool, waiting for an answer.

At the question, Max immediately frowned. He tightened his grip on Everett’s waist and stayed quiet. This wasn’t his time to answer first. Everett immediately turned to look at Max, thinking about the texts that his brother had sent him - when they had discussed their parents, and lack thereof. He pressed a reassuring hand to Max’s back, stroking slowly and soothingly, away from where the camera could see.

“Plenty of people told us no,” he finally replied, raising his eyebrows cooly. “We just didn’t listen to ‘em.” He grinned cockily, his body language screaming nonchalance and disinterest, but inside, he was fuming. They didn’t know shit about the Reeds’ home, or their lives, so who the fuck gave them the right to ask? “No point in listenin’ to people who don’t know better than us,” he added lazily, giving a shrug. “We know what we want and we do it. There’s never been boundaries for either of us, and there never will be.”

Max listened to Everett, his eyes narrowing at the producer as he watched him take in the answer. After a beat, Max spoke. “You really fuckin’ think no one told us no?” He asked, raising his eyebrows before laughing. “All of you tell me no every day.” He rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t cut your mic, Max. Don’t color the camera lenses, Max. Don’t set the shower curtain on fire, Max. Do you think I listen? Fuck no. I’m Max Reed, and anyone who tells me, or Ev no, can go fuck themselves.” He shook his head. “To be honest, I’m fucking disappointed. Get a better question next time, love.”

Everett’s eyebrows twitched upwards in surprise, but he was quick to school his features. He glanced at Max quickly, taking in his expression and the way he was holding himself, mentally cataloguing how his brother was feeling, before flickering back to the camera. He allowed his eyebrows to arch, his expression frosty, silently backing Max up.

“Is that it? Fuckin’ lame,” he muttered, turning his body away from the producers, clearly shutting them out. “Like your hair today,” he pointed out, bringing his hand up to tug at an errant strand. Max hummed, letting his eyes fall shut as Ev tugged at a piece of hair, and he blinked his eyes slowly open again. “Yeah.” He agreed quietly, squeezing his brother’s waist. “Like your shirt.” Everett let out a loud laugh, once again breaking the silence in the room, “probably because it’s yours.” Frowning slightly, Max looked the shirt up and down and then narrowed his eyes more. “Right.” He said softly, tugging at it. “Kay, take it off then. You’re such a little fucking shit. Give it back,” he demanded, tugging at the front of the shirt again.

While the other house members messed about with their business, mostly eating or chatting with their friends, Link made his way to the confessional office or whatever area they had set aside. He didn't know he'd be asked this time around, but he was familiar with the show and their confessionals. He opened the big door, finding himself in a rather plain room. He raised his eyebrows as he made his way to the desk at the back wall. He noted the single cameraman and the director -or dictator, Link had seemed to think- standing aside, waiting rather impatiently for Link to give his confessional. He slowly made his way to the large, leather chair, wanting to take in the room. It seemed so stupid to have a separate room for this; especially such a plain room. Maybe add some color. (Sitting in front of a colorful would be more visually pleasing to viewers, more than likely.)

“Describe your relationship with your twin.” It wasn't a question, just a sentence. Simple enough. Much more tame than some of the questions he could've imagined up. And although he was tempted to snort, Link resisted. He looked up at the director as he reclined in the large leather chair.

↳ you must know that you're one of the most popular cast members on the twins, right up there with the reeds - so we were wondering, how do you deal with that pressure? how do you feel about fans tracking you down? feel free to tell us about an experience you've had.

Ash stepped into the room, worrying at his bottom lip. He was pretty nervous about this whole joint confessional thing, but he was excited that he got to do it with Max instead of anyone else. Well, he wouldn’t mind doing one with Andy, but other than that, it just wouldn’t feel comfortable. Not for the first time, at least. And oh, that was a weird thought. He glanced around the room, spotting the couch, where Max was sitting, and immediately headed towards it, a smile on his face. Max was deep in conversation, well, disagreement really, with the producer.

“No, no.” He shook his head, bringing his hand up to point at the man. “Either you all sort out some kind of fund for take out, or I’m gonna sue your little TV show for false advertisement. I was promised free food, and right now, I’m spending more money on that than anything else, and that’s not fucking cool.” He brought his hand up to run through his hair, glancing up as Ash crossed the room to him. “Right, Ash, back me up on this okay. We should have a fund, right, for food, yeah?” He looked back up at the producer, reaching a hand across the couch for Ash.

Frowning in confusion, Ash reached out and took Max’s hand, a familiar act by now, tangling their fingers together and settling down on the couch next to his boyfriend. “A fund?” He questioned, tilting his head and glancing between the exasperated producer and Max. “For food? If you were hungry, I could have made you something before we came.” Max was shaking his head before Ash finished his sentence. “No, no, no. That’s not the point. I’m not hungry now, I just mean in general. I ordered pizza yesterday and then they asked me for money.” 

“Babe,” Ash started, a smile on his face - before deciding to just go along with it. “Right, yeah, you’re right. It’s a little silly that we all have to pay for our food, right?” He shrugged. “Let’s bring it up again later, yeah? Maybe to the like, executive something or other. I don’t know everyone’s titles.” The producer looked grateful, but Ash ignored him in favour of leaning up to give Max a quick kiss. Returning the kiss, Max hummed gratefully afterwards, content that he’d won that.

“Right, okay.” The producer said after a minute, straightening out his cards. “So, the fans seem to love you both, do you think you were pressured into a relationship by the fans?” He paused, before adding, “And how do you think the fame is going to impact your relationship?”

Max frowned as he thought the question over, rolling his tongue over his bottom lip as he thought. “You first, boy.” He decided, tilting his head to smile at him. Ash frowned a bit, tilting his head to rest his chin on Max’s shoulder.

“Uhm,” he started, blinking owlishly at the camera. “I don’t think we were pressured. Or, at least, I wasn’t.” Ash glanced at Max, a little worried, but continued. “I didn’t really take much notice of it? I mean, I just… didn’t think about the fact that I even had fans, let alone fans of Max and me. I just knew I cared about him. Care,” he corrected himself, smiling shyly. Max watched him as he spoke, moving to wrap an arm around his boyfriend’s waist to pull him closer, their other hands still entwined together. “Mm,” he agreed, nodding. “Yeah. I don’t think I’ve been pressured into anything in my life, to be honest. I do whatever the fuck I want, I’m not gonna let some 15 year olds on the end of a computer screen decide my life for me.” He shook his head, but smiled still. “Ash kinda snuck up on me, I guess. I didn’t get a chance to even pretend like I didn’t like him.” He leaned forwards to press his lips to Ash’s temple gently. “I dunno. He’s cute.”

Ash blushed a bit, turning to smile at Max before ducking his head to bury his face, briefly, against Max’s neck. “You’re cute,” he fired back, mumbling a bit - although he was sure the camera would pick it up, anyways, and Max laughed, a knowing smile on his face. Still blushing, Ash lifted his head again. “I have no doubt that the fame might… well, impact us. But I don’t think it’ll hurt us, or anything. I… trust Max, and I trust us,” he finished, biting down on a smile.

Tilting his head with a bigger grin, Max raised his eyebrows. “Yeah. That was pretty well said, boy.” He decided, nodding as he pressed his lips together. “I don’t think fame’s going to change us, I think I’ll still be me, and boy will still be boy.” He shrugged, and Ash ducked his head, a pleased smile on his face. “But I dunno, who knows what’s gonna happen, I didn’t exactly predict this, but I like that.”

Ash settled into the couch that was placed in front of the camera, eyeing the way that it was... well, rather askew. He straightened the cushions for a few moments, watching the producer from the corner of his eye - he looked stressed, and Ash didn't want to bother him. The man rubbed his face before turning to look at Ash. "Alright, Ash. Your fans have been messaging the show about how you never seem to go out to see them - and if you do go out, you ignore or avoid them," he started, and Ash winced, ducking his head.