Labels│simon minter / ashley marie surcombe

VI. "boys like you don't say sorry"

tobi and manny are brother goals tbh

MAKR SURE U LEAVE A QUESTION IN THE COMMENTS FOR THE NON CHAPTER Q AND A I NEED QUESTIONS

oh and a clear up for all my mrs. all americans-

•football is soccer

•boots are cleats

•tekkers means technique in sports

and yes i do know simon has another brother but I don't know his name so i just decided to leave him out

+Simon+

"Simon, darling, why haven't you touched your food?" my mum asks with concern.

"I'm not hungry," I mumble and my dad shakes his head.

"Eat," he commands sternly and sharply jabs his fork in the direction of my plate. "Shape up for the tryouts next month."

I silently speared a small piece of steak and brought it up to my mouth.

"Oi, Simon, what about a good competition to see who's better at steak?" Nick proposes with a grin.

"I'll pass," I say. "Maybe tomorrow."

Nick mutters something under his breath, but I couldn't hear what he said. But it was something about me being different- and not in the good way.

I slowly continued to finish my plate while my parents decided to ignore my abnormal habits and instead focus on my brother.

It was nice for once to not be the center of attention.

•••

"Simon, get up," Nick hisses and yanks the blanket off my body. The force dragged me along and I collapsed off the bed.

"Was there no other way to wake me up, you prick?" I groan and glare at my older brother, who was holding a satisfied grin.

"You've got to practice for the tryouts, so you have to get to school early," he tells me, avoiding my insult. I groan loudly, irritated that football was the reason I couldn't get sleep.

Don't get me wrong, I love football more than anything, but the fact that it interferes with certain things like my sleeping schedule just sucked ass.

"I'll be up in 5," I say to him and wave him out of my room.

"And no more than 5," he warns and walks out the door.

I mentally estimated 5 minutes and before finally getting up, stepping into the shower for a quick rinse and fixed my distraught hair. I jog to my room to pick out an outfit. I choose a black Nike hoodie and white shorts.

I rush to the kitchen to make a bowl of cereal and pour more than enough milk into it. I consume the bowl fast and drop it on the counter, scooping up my backpack and my gym bag full of football equipment.

"Come on, Simon," my dad shouts through the car window. I quickly open the passenger seat door and shut it before he began to pull out onto the street.