Everywhere, Everything. ★ STURNIOLO TRIPLETS

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - UPDATED!!

!! UPDATE!! PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTE BELOW !! 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi guys! I decided to add an additional scene to the end of this chapter because I felt it needed a little more before moving into Chapter Fifteen. The updated scene begins AFTER the journal entry. Everything else is the same. <3 Publishing Ch. 15 now as well! Enjoy xoxo

Nick made a garbled sound like he was throwing up as I pushed Chris back a step. "If I ever need to beat someone with a towel, you're the first person I'll call."

He wiggled his eyebrows at me. "Or, you know, anything else."

If I rolled my eyes any harder, they'd get stuck in the back of my head. I brushed Chris to the side as I made my way to the bedroom. Matt was completely covered now, wearing a gray zip-up hoodie, plain black tee, black pants, and a camo printed hat rested backwards on his head. He was lacing his sneakers up when I appeared in the doorway.

"I expected more from you," I said, resting my head against the wooden frame.

He looked up, confusion on his face.

"You let Chris beat you in a wrestling match." I shook my head like I was disappointed before moving to sit beside him on his bed.

He chuckled. "Yeah, well he might look harmless, but the kid's got a lot of pent up aggression. Kind of comes with the territory."

He finished tying his shoes and leaned back on the mattress, his elbows propping him up. I wasn't sure what he meant. I followed his lead and rested on my forearms. "Because he's the youngest?"

Matt was surveying a loose strand of fabric hanging through the springs of the top bunk. He reached up and gave it a tug; the seam unraveled a couple of inches.

"Sort of. He's always been like that, ever since we were kids. He's the first person to be by your side if you need him, but he's also got a bit of a temper. Mom wanted to sign us up for karate, but Nick refused to participate because he "didn't like the outfits.'" He made air quotes with his fingers and I laughed.

Leave it to Nick to be against a sport solely because of what they had to wear.

"So, we settled for wrestling each other." He shrugged, shaking his head.

"I'll never understand you three," I said, laying flat on my back and staring up at the now longer piece of string hanging above us. I guess rough-housing with your brothers wasn't so bad when you thought about the alternatives, like actually getting into fist fights or destroying each other's belongings. At least this way it seemed like they got some amusement out of it.

"I'll make a mental note not to piss Chris off," I said jokingly.

"Oh, Nick's even worse." A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips like he was thinking of a specific moment where this was true. "He rarely gets physical, but he knows how to cut you where it hurts."

I believed him. Not just because I could tell Nick had a way with words, a certain tone that could make you feel smaller than a penny, but because I could be the same way. That was something Mom was sure to pass down. Her voice didn't have to be raised, she didn't have to lay a finger on you to let you know that you were nothing. Even when you knew she was trying to be hurtful and she may not really believe the words she was saying, her tone sliced you to the core. It was like being sawed in half and expected to still know how to function. And it was a skill I'd eventually come to master.

That's what made us so volatile the last handful of years - our relentless bouts of slamming doors, shouting over each other. Me whittling her down to nothing but an addict, her projecting onto me. Neither of us were completely right in our assessments of one another, but that meant we weren't entirely wrong either.