☆ | daylight.

viii. making the playoffs.

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word count; 3720 words.
tw;  none.
date finished; 04/03/2024
date published; 26/08/2024

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that night, charlie had kindly invited bombay over without me knowing. it was all well and good that he was visiting, coming over, but i was meant to be the eldest that night, i was meant to be in charge. i was meant to make the last call. obviously, i was extremally angered about the fact charlie did all this without me knowing, however, to make up for his wrong doings, he agreed to make dinner for the three of us. if i got out of cooking, he could have anyone he wanted over. mum typically worked late on weekends, often leaving me to make supper for the two of us, sometimes leaving her, her own meal. it wasn't an issue with her working, i was fine with it really, mum was trying really hard to keep food in our mouths and a stable roof over our heads. she was trying her very best, being rather independent and brave, i wanted to be like her. i wanted to be brave and kind, and independent, all at once. 

after a long while of flicking through the same twenty-five television channels we owned, i switched the noisy box off. there were plenty of times, hundreds of times, where i wished we had more money, so i could get what i wanted, like more channels on the television. fate wasn't fair sometimes, and our family wasn't gifted with money or well paying jobs. yet, we were all smart, and gifted with different things, charlie with hockey, me with arts, and mum with work ethic. i looked around the consciously empty room, the living room where i spent less of my time each day. if bombay wasn't here, what would i be doing now? painting? cooking? who knew? hushed murmurs calmly drifted to my ears, my attention now focused on the dining room doorframe which lay empty and bare. i knew it was rude listening in on the coach and charlie's conversation, but if they didn't want to disclose anything, they shouldn't be speaking so loud.

"you know, i heard the northstar's wore the same underwear all throughout the play-off's last year, you know.. for luck! so i'm doing the same thing."

at the new gross information drifting from charlie's mouth, i regretted even listening to their private matter. charlie was disgusting, revolting0. yet i'd known that forever, charlie used to throw up, wipe mud everywhere, it was nothing new. i wasn't the cleanest person on planet earth, my room was disastrous, a hazard zone. though, i knew how to keep clean, and charlie was far from 'clean'. it wasn't worth my time lounging around on the sofa, listening, so i'd get up on my feet. the living room was spacious, wide with barely anything in it. i never spent my time in the living room, my greatest interest was in the privacy of my bedroom. my hand delicately rested on the frame of the door, listening to bombay brief over what charlie had mentioned;

"maybe i should've cooked."

"you're disgusting charlie."
i grumbled bitterly as i walked through the doorframe. charlie and his companion whipped their heads around to watch me, a distasteful expression on charlie's face. i never took his hostility to heart, it was sibling banter, and it happened at least four times every day. what i did do, was wander to the kitchen and start organizing the beverages to go alongside the meal. charlie started to mutter to bombay, likely about my accusation, though i couldn't care less, i was just set on doing charlie's typical job; providing glasses of cold water. while i poured the cool drinks, thoughts clouded my short mind, thoughts about the team, bombay and charlie. lately, charlie had been over the moon with everything, with the apology given by coach, and the chances of making it to the championship. i couldn't be happier for him.

"you know, i was thinking, maybe we could all go down to the winter festival tonight?"
when coaches harmless suggestion made itself known, my stomach lurched. the winter festival was my least favorite event to happen all year, and now i had to tell bombay that his generous offer was being declined? i wanted to tell him that the winter festival was disgusting, with everyone who went making an effort to leave rubbish and half eaten foods on the floor, as well as how crowded and cold it was. my feet made little noise when i trailed myself, and the various glasses, back into the small dining area. my stomach twisted more noticeably when i placed each cup down, twisting more when i noticed how bombay were both looking at me with expecting expressions. charlie spoke up in question;