Brotherly Bonding [BoyxBoy]

Brotherly Bonding- 2

My second attempt at a nap, well I can only say it went better. I wake up in an odd fourteen hours, an hour later than I should have.

I spring out of bed, horrorstruck, scrambling through my clean clothes and throwing them on sloppily. I can hear some of the guys making a ruckus downstairs, not sure who and not sure why. It sounds safe enough to run past; sometimes it may not be. Especially when Lucas and his temper are involved, he gets the others riled up even more than necessary.

I tip-toe down the hall, not sure who's sleeping or working or banging around downstairs. Then I nearly fly down the staircase, missing every other step.

Blazing past the cousins in front of the living room entryway, I stop short to see Ash standing, staring distantly in the kitchen, a glass of orange juice clutched in his hand.

"I'm late..." I state, looking down. I don't hear the slightest reply, and when I look up again, he hasn't moved an inch. He just stands, blinking sluggishly. "Ash? Hello? I was um... Wondering, could you drive me this morning? Hello?!"

He does turn his head, but his lips stay perfectly still. I glare at them half-heartedly, knowing that even when he's like this I can't hate him. He just has to act like he doesn't care. About anything.

He gets like this occasionally... When he just refuses to interact with me, he doesn't talk much, and he's just too damn cool for school.

Perfect expression for someone that's going to get about four detentions before lunch...

I growl angrily, storming past and grabbing a bagel from the counter. "Its already past eight!"

Jesse walks in and throws me my bookbag, immediately searching the fridge after. I mumble a confused and rushed thanks as he walks away empty handed. By the time I have my slow ass set to go, I see Ash ready by the door, brown leather jacket pulled on and keys held limply in his hand. His expression holds nothing more than exhaustion, he looks almost dead.

I hate it.

I push through the door, past him. I can still hear him when he calls to the house, "Kay guys, I'm taking the kid to school!"

A couple half-hearted groans that turn to chuckles follow, and I honestly don't know what to make of them. They hurt a bit.

He laughs along, then we're driving. It's a crummy old car but big enough to fit almost all of us; eight, semi-comfortably. If it ever broke down and there were eight guys huddled inside, I have no idea what would happen. A whole lot of seperate hitch hiking, that's for sure.

"Ash?" He starts fiddling with the radio, soon it's blaring some song that I have never heard, pretty much drowning out conversation. He starts mouthing the words, and I just watch him. I watch his lips move and his eyebrows pull together when he mixes up the lyrics at one point. There's nothing to do, so I decide to practice my photographer eye.

I never had lessons for this, I taught myself most of what I knew. I know my way around a camera, and I'm good at positioning and timing and the lingo you have to be able to speak. But you can never have enough practice.

As I look at my brother, I try to time my blinks to the louder beats of the music. There's a line that is stronger, and I closed my eyes at that part. When I do that, I am left with the image of his face being smooth, his mouth only slightly open, eyes alert but calm, anticipating the rise of tempo.

As soon as I have that covered, I tap my middle to pinky finger on my right hand to the beat, then a split second before the strong note, I hit my index finger against my leg. Click.

My 'picture' stays in my vision for a good ten seconds, finally fading away before I reopen my eyes. But I took it at the exact moment, and I am pleased with my short-term memory photography.