“Simon..” You called, giving the door a light knock to make your presence known before you intruded your little brother’s bedroom, you always did. And he would intrude yours. Your relationship was so sweet, like a symbiotic mutualistic bond. You both loved and cared for each other equally, and depended on each other so.

He sat curled up on his bed, it was a chillier evening in autumn so he had a little blanket over his lap, a candle lit in the corner [which he had a knack for collecting]. He was reading a book for homework, ’To Kill a Mockingbird’.

“Come in!” He answered back, immediately more lively and less drowsy at the sound of your voice, he had the sweetest smile on his face while watching you come in —he was obsessed with you in a way that he looked up to you. You were his role model, and a very good influence at that. He decorated his room to look like yours, and he took interest in your fashion and music taste, posters of the bands you liked hung on his walls because you got him into them.

He patted the spot in his bed next to him, allowing space for you. “I’ve been having to read this book for homework, It’s an alright book but I just keep getting so tired and none of it registers.” He looked up at you contemplatively, as if you held all the answers in the world.