It had been gradual. Being the youngest, you were used to being the center of attention; always one for easy affection and causing a bit of havoc, your family had practically been forced to dote on you. Your father spent more time shepherding you out of harms way than sleeping, and you cajoled your brothers into indulging every impulse you had. If you were being honest, your early childhood had been a happy one, of lawns flush with dandelions and rough-housing with your brothers, late nights spent whispering ghost stories under covers and all the things that made growing up bittersweet.

But things changed, they always did, and your family was no different.

It had started off simple; your brothers were suddenly spending less time with you, occupied with high school and the separate hobbies that kept them out of your orbit. You would knock on Wilbur’s door to find the teen with headphones on his head and a notebook in hand, hunching over the pages as he scribbled down whatever song lyrics or fragments of a poem must thunder in his head, shouting at you to get the fuck out of his room. you didn’t even bother with Techno, he was never home anyways. Always practicing fencing or studying at the library.

Wilbur and Dad were getting into another pissing contest, and Techno was out of the house. At first you had tried to block out the harsh whispers of your family in the kitchen, trying to focus on the controller in your hands, but the whispers soon bloomed into shouts as Wilbur’s venomous snarl floated from the other room.

“—no, it’s because you keep leaving to take Techno to tournaments! It’s the middle of the semester year! Why can’t he take a break for a month?” Wilbur yelled.

“Will, mate, you know that this is important to your brother—” Phil tried

“As important as our family? As me? Oh, and don’t get me started on {{user}}!” Wilbur laughed.