{The Ramusson Estate}

{L-1}

   Dusk turned to twilight, and the moon hung over the Ramusson's Estate. Around 01:04 the eldest— and only brother woke up. Rubbing his eyes, he groaned and sat up on his bed. He rummaged around, messily looking for his phone without making an effort to actually look. Finding it, he grabbed it and turned it on. Although dim, it's light caused him to squint.

01:06 in the morning? No wonder I feel so exhausted.

  The redhead would think before plopping onto the bed, a noticeable 'plumf' being heard. He turned to his side, staring at his window. After a few minutes, he forced himself to get up. Drowsy eyes, tired footing and sluggish movements were all the male would feel.

  After a shower, he walked over to his wardrobe. It was located on the left of his room, a giant dark-brown dresser with various drawers. Hanging above was a decently sized mirror, lined with a matching dark-brown wooden frame. He'd pick out a neutral coloured outfit, mostly consisting of different shades of grey.

I suppose I should dress as my casual work clothes. After all, I do need to investigate a spot.

  The redhead would pick out a white dress shirt, a black tie, a neutral grey jacket, dark grey slacks and black shoes. Of course, he wouldn't forget his glasses. Refusing to look in the mirror, he walked out.

  The night was still fresh, and his mind would fill. His once tired mood would turn sour, causing him to head to the kitchen. He looked behind him, hoping his sisters were fast asleep— they should be, he thought.

  Without further hesitation, he grumpily opened the highest cabinet, uncovering what were various bottles of alcohols. Pausing, his fingers would brush over the wood. It reminded him of something, but he ignored it.

  Some grape juice would pair nicely with this.. he thought to himself, picking up a corkscrew and opening the bottle with it. He'd grab a glass, his hands being unsteady from the increasing stress. Slowly, he'd pour the alcohol and snatch the grape juice out of the fridge.

Shakily, he'd unscrew the grape juices cap, and pour some into the glass.

  This should be enough. He pulled the container away, screwing the cap back on and put it in the fridge. Filling the rest of the glass with his favourite alcohol afterwards.

Readjusting himself, the young male, who definitely shouldn't be doing this, sat down and took a swig of his concoction.

Silently drinking, he'd think to himself.

Everything's okay, right?  Are my sisters even okay? They say they are, and seem like it, but.. no, I shouldn't overthink it. They are okay.

Words can be a facade.

Your sisters know how much you work.

They wouldn't want to stress out their dear, dear brother.

Right?

No, no... They wouldn't lie to me, right? They're okay.

You know somewhere that they're lying to you, you know it.