Oh Brother...

I Hate You, Dear Brother

Peter arose from his bed, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He glanced up at his calendar and smiled, as he remembered that today was his birthday. His fifteenth birthday to be exact. He stood up and walked to his full body mirror, where he had to bend down a bit to see his whole body, as he was quite tall for his age. Peter scanned himself and nodded, recognizing that he wasn't that bad looking. Which he wasn't. Peter was a nice looking boy, he wasn't too scrawny, yet not too bulky either. He had fluffy dark brown hair that he typically left messy, light brown eyes -kind of like the color after you put cream in coffee-, and a perfect smile. Peter's smile could light up a room and make anyone else smile with him. Peter got closer to the mirror and checked his chest, armpits, chin, upper lip, and still he found no trace of hair. He grunted slightly, upset that at fifteen he still hadn't grown one hair on his body other than on his head and eyebrows. Peter grabbed the closest shirt to him and threw it on, as he walked out of his room and into the kitchen where his mother was already making breakfast. She looked up and smiled at him, her owning the same beautiful smile as him. She stepped away from her cooking and hugged him tightly, "Oh happy birthday my little boy!"

Peter rolled his eyes and replied, "I'm not a 'little boy' mom. I'm fifteen."

She smiled and nodded, "Oh yes of course, my mistake."

Peter let go of her and sat in one of the kitchen chairs. He watched his mother as she skillfully flipped pancakes and fried eggs. To this day, Peter still believed that his mother was the prettiest woman he'd ever seen. She was a quiet, yet bold woman. She spoke her mind and stood up for what she believed in. She had long, golden blonde hair, and forest green eyes that left marks on people's hearts. Peter was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts and onto the ground by a small figure. Peter looked up and saw his little brother, William or Willy as Peter called him, giggling on top of him. Peter growled in his throat and pushed Willy off of him. Willy was what Peter called a pest. Peter absolutely despised Willy. He's too loud, Peter thought. Too cutesy, too bubbly, too childish, just plain annoying. Peter brushed his pants off and glared at Willy. Willy sat on the floor, looking up at Peter and frowned. Willy crossed his arms and said, "To think! I was gonna wish you a happy birthday!"

Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes, "I wouldn't want a birthday wish from you anyways."

Willy furrowed his brows and began clapping his hands and yelling "Happy Birthday Meanie-head!" at the top of his lungs. Peter stomped his foot and barked at Willy to shut up. Willy stopped and was quiet for a minute, but then burst into tears and ran to his room.

Peter groaned and sat back down at the table, rubbing his forehead. He always rubbed his forehead when he was trying to calm down. Peter glanced up at his mother, who was already staring at him. Peter nodded and stared out the window, already knowing what she was going to say. She hated it when they fought. Willy was about two years younger than Peter, making him thirteen years old. He was much shorter than Peter, and would probably only grow to be his mother's height. Willy was also very thin and scrawny compared to Peter, but apparently that was "cute", as the girls would say. As one may guess, Willy was extremely popular with girls. Especially older ones. It always made Peter jealous when girls from his own class would want to talk to Willy or see Willy instead of him, but he'd never admit that. Willy also had the lightest blonde hair you'd ever seen, which was long and swooped over his eyes. His eyes were another feature people died for. They were big and innocent, and the most beautiful shade of pastel green which reflected beautifully in the sun. Adding to this, Willy owned a mound of faint freckles skimming from his left cheek bone, across the bridge of his nose, and ending at his right cheek bone. And, like the rest of them, he had the million dollar smile. Peter was upset at the fact that Willy had gained all of their mother's beautiful qualities, and he was stuck with their father's looks. Peter couldn't even remember what their father looked like, for he had died from an unknown illness just two months before Willy's birth. But because of this, no one ever believed that they were biological brothers that shared the same parents. Until of course, they smiled. Those smiles were the only thing people could see in common between them, which was ok with Peter. He didn't want people knowing that he was brothers with Willy.

As Peter pondered their brotherhood, he noticed Willy's long mane poking around the kitchen corner. Peter turned to him and sure enough, Willy was staring right at him, his eyes as big as saucers. He glanced down and saw Willy was holding a folded piece of paper, and instantly knew it was a present for him. Peter held back a groan and nodded, letting Willy know he could come to him. Willy perked up instantly and skipped over to Peter, handing him the makeshift card. Peter took it and opened it, instantly wanting to crumple it up. But alas, Peter had to force a smile as he saw the terrible drawings and awful handwriting that spelt out, "Hapy Birday Pety!" Which was really supposed to say, Happy Birthday Petey, but Willy couldn't spell worth anything. Disgusting, Peter thought.

Later that evening, Peter got a bit gussied up to go out in the town with some of his friends. They had all pitched in and bought a bundle of tickets for all of them to go to a lantern festival for Peter's birthday. Peter glanced down at the card that Willy had made him. He picked it up and scanned over it. He looked at the time and cursed under his breath. He shoved the card into his pants pocket and ran out into the living room, where Willy was laying upside down in the recliner. At the sight of Peter, Willy sat straight up and looked to him, a giant grin on his face. Peter sneered at him and sat on the couch, shoving his feet into some shoes. Willy sat right in front of Peter and cooed, "Is Monica going with you?"

Peter growled and shooed Willy away, "That's none of your business twerp. And yeah, she is." Peter walked into the hallway where there was another mirror and checked over himself. Willy followed him and stared at him from behind the mirror. Peter glanced at him and said disgustingly, "What is it freak?"

Willy smiled brightly and said sweetly, "I told her that you liked her!"

Peter stopped dead in his tracks and his fists began to clench up. He gritted his teeth together and managed to get out, "You...what?" Peter could feel his hatred and anger for his brother swelling up. Willy opened his mouth to repeat himself, but Peter could no longer contain himself. Peter began violently yelling at Willy and pushing him every so often, "No! You just shut up! This is so freaking typical of you, you never consider anyone's best interest, just your own amusement!"

By this time, Peter was pacing the living room and was rubbing his forehead so hard it could've caught fire. Willy followed him around and finally said sheepishly, "I-I'm sorry P-Petey..! I was only trying to help..!"

Peter whipped around and grabbed Willy harshly by the arm, "Help?! I was doing just fine! I didn't need my kid brother's stupid help!" Willy's lip began to quiver, meaning he was about to cry. But Peter didn't care. His feelings kept pouring out without a filter, until he finally hissed the words, "I hate you!" And to that, Willy's lip stopped quivering, but his eyes got wide. There was a grim silence that swept over the whole house. Their mother had gone out earlier and still wasn't back, so there was no one to tell them to make up. So he didn't. In fact, Peter took advantage of no supervision and barked out once more, "That's right, I hate you William Leo Smith! Always have, always will!" And with that, Peter slammed the front door shut and went to meet up with his friends.