Sister to Jonas

Best Friend

Brexley's POV

I've never lived a day without my twin brother Joe, and I wouldn't want it any other way. I can't picture a life without him, my ultimate partner in crime. He's my best friend, and I'm pretty sure I'm his best friend as well. I better be his best friend, anyway.

"Joe!" I yell.

"What!" he calls back from his bedroom.

"Am I your best friend?" I ask.

He walks out of his room and into the living room, where I'm sitting, giving me a quizzical look.

"Duh. Why?" he says.

"Just checking," I say, grinning at him as he shakes his head and re-enters his bedroom.

We've always done everything together, and I'm glad to say that hasn't changed even at 22 years old. We live together in an apartment in the heart of Manhattan, the city that we both love. Especially tonight when it's the most exciting: New Year's Eve. Joe's performing two songs from his new album Fastlife, and I'm going out to support him of course. Our younger brother Nick is coming to watch as well; he's 19 and involved in Broadway musicals, so he also lives in the city, making this a convenient performance for him to come see. Unfortunately our parents can't make an appearance, because they live in LA. Our brother Frankie is 11, and still lives with them, so he's off the list. And our older brother Kevin, who is 24, lives in New Jersey with his wife Danielle. According to him, it's going to be too cold to stand in Times Square tonight, so they're not coming out either.

"Two hours until showtime! Can you believe I'm performing Times Square on New Year's Eve by myself?" Joe asks, sitting down on the couch next to me.

"Actually, no. Are you sure your songs are good enough for that?" I tease him, and he swats at my arm jokingly.

"They're fantastic. You know that," he says, and I nod.

"Which ones are you playing again?"

"Just in Love and Fastlife," he says.

"Not Lighthouse? You love Lighthouse!" I say.

"I know, but it's not popular. Just in Love and Fastlife are the most popular two on the record," he says.

"Makes sense. What are you wearing tonight?" I ask him.

"A sweatshirt and my leather jacket. So that it looks like the album cover," he tells me.

"Are you aware there is going to be a windchill of -4℉ at midnight tonight?" I ask him incredulously.

"Yeah, so that kind of sucks. But I'll only be outside for, like, 15 minutes tops. I'll be fine," he says, and I shake my head at him.

"But you're waiting with Ryan Seacrest when the ball drops, right? And he always interviews people higher up, where it's more windy," I say.

"Yeah, I know. Oh well," he says.

"You're going to be cold," I tell him, and he waves me off.

"It's all in the name of fashion," he says, and I roll my eyes.

"You really are as stupid as you look," I joke with him.

"We look the same!" he exclaims, sticking his tongue out at me.

"You know what I mean," I say, and he laughs, walking off to the bathroom to shower and get ready for the performance.