pretty boy

1. brooklyn

Brooklyn Quinn got up twenty minutes before his alarm, just like he did every morning before he left the house. And just like every morning, he spent that time staring at himself in the mirror. He looked himself in the face and tried to find something worth commenting on.

My eyes. He thought. They're not like other people's. I guess that make me special?

So he wrote it down.

Maybe my hair is decent.

He wrote that down too.

He stated harder. If he were being completely honest with himself, he wouldn't have written down anything in the small journal beside him. But it was require of him every day. It was either this or therapy and Brooklyn didn't see himself doing well with some stranger invading his life.

Dimples. He finally decided. People really like dimples for some reason.

He wrote it down and shut the journal. He jumped slightly at the sound of his phone ringing, signaling that it was time for him to start getting dressed. He silenced the alarm and stared at his closet.

Getting dressed was always a hard part as well. He never knew what to wear-well, actually he did. He knew what he wanted to wear, but that didn't matter, not to him. Because Brooklyn is a Pretty Boy. He has to wear the best clothes. He has to be perfectly matched. He has to be perfect.

Too bad he doesn't see himself that way.

Brooklyn then spent the next half hour taking on and off outfits for multiple reasons from "Its too bright for this" to "I wore something like this last week" And the pattern continued until finally he went with a basic white shirt, black skinny jeans, and black converse.

He looked himself over. Can't go wrong with James Dean, right?

He finished his morning routine and snatched his backpack from beside his bead and walked down the stairs. The only other person down with him was his elder brother, Kenneth.

That's how it was every morning. Brooklyn would come down the stairs and Kenneth would be there waiting for him to give his opinion on his outfit. And to make sure he wrote in his journal.

They were so used to the routine that Kenneth simply looked up from his phone and spun his finger in a circle, signaling for Brooklyn to spin around. And he did.

Kenneth nodded his head in approval. "Nice." He commented. "Now sit and eat."

Brooklyn nodded his head silently as he fought down the feeling of disgust. It was part of the usual routine they had together, but still he never quite got rid of that shiver.

Brooklyn ignored his brother's pointed look and grabbed a yogurt and pop-tart and planted himself at the table. The brothers sat in comfortable silence, neither one of them seeking to break it. That was their relationship. They were just there for one another.

After he finished his food, Brooklyn checked the time on his phone and grabbed his bag. "I'm heading out now."

Kenneth nodded and smiled. " 'Kay. Don't forget mom and dad won't be home tonight."
Brooklyn bit his lip slightly and nodded. As he turned to leave, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his slender frame. "And please," whispered his brother, "take care of yourself."

If anyone were to watch the exchange, they'd be confused by the meaning behind his words. But to the younger brother, it made perfect sense.

Kenneth let him go and Brooklyn walked towards the door throwing a quick "I love you" across his shoulder. And while he shut the door behind him, he missed the quite voice of his elder brother.

"I wish you'd love yourself."