This Is Me

Being Supportive (Part One)

Being Supportive (Part One)

The sound of my alarm drummed into my ears, and I let out a slight groan as I opened my eyes and moved my hand out from underneath me to turn it off. I was not a morning person. I didn't understand how anyone could wake up from a restful sleep and be happy about it.

"Peter, you'd better be getting up!" My mum's voice floated from what I assumed was the top of the staircase, causing me to stir under my blankets.

"In a minute!" I called back, shoving my face deeper into my pillows and curling up into a tight ball.

"I'll beat your ass in a minute. Now get up!" She called back. I heard the sound of footsteps descending the stairs, and I let out another groan before practically falling out of my bed.

In what seemed like the most gruelling ten minutes of my life, as it seemed like every morning, I managed to get dressed and make my way down the stairs.

"It's not like I haven't been out of the country before, but I've never performed out of the country, and it's quite a large tour as well." Bradly's voice drifted out of the kitchen and through the dining room as I wandered into it, slowly, but surely making my way to where his voice had come from.

"Honey, it's a great opportunity! I know it's a bit daunting, but I don't want to see you regret it if you don't go." My mum's voice followed my brother's just as I set foot into the kitchen.

Both of them were sitting at the large island counter that sat in the middle of the kitchen, and both of them turned to look up at me as I entered.

"I've just put some bread in the toaster, sweetie," my mother stated, smiling at me, and I did my best to return it, though it didn't have the same brightness as hers did.

"It's a big step. That's all I'm saying." My brother had turned his attention back to our mother, continuing their previous conversation.

"What's this?" I asked, grabbing some sliced cheese out of the fridge, and deciding on a bland breakfast.

"It's called minding your own business," Bradly commented, and my mum hushed him.

"We both know I suck at that." I let out a small chuckle and turned to face my mother and Bradly. "Is this for dancing?"

"Performing," Bradly corrected me, and I rolled my eyes.

"And you perform by dancing."

"That's not the point—" Bradly started, but our mum cut him off.

"Yes, it is."

"Oh, sweet. That means I don't have to care." I smiled at Bradly and turned just in time for my toast to be ready.

"Actually, you'll be able to help him make a decision," Mum stated, and I heard her push her chair out and walk over to me. "Just give a little insight."

"What insight could I possibly give?" I asked, placing some cheese on my toast before taking a bite. "Plus, I'm still pissed about the birthday thing."

"He asks a good question, Mum," Bradly chimed in, and my mum looked between us.

"Fine, then, don't. Sorry for thinking brothers could support each other." With that, she walked out of the kitchen, leaving Bradly and me alone.

"Seriously? Just cheese?" Bradly asked, staring at me with a questioning look and I let out a slight scoff.

"Well, yeah. Wouldn't want to get fat like you, would I?"

"Hilarious," Bradly said shortly, before looking down at the kitchen counter. "Do you think I should go?"