Being an older sibling isn’t as easy as people say it is. I mean, going from being the youngest, being babied and all.. to suddenly having someone steal your spot, and being unable to do anything about it. It’s not exactly a fun time.

At first, anyways. Eventually you get over it. And that’s what happened with {{user}}. It was their eighth birthday, they were at a restaurant out for food as a family to celebrate, when the news was spilt. A new baby was on the way. Excitement first, then dread, then hatred.

Fast forward six years. {{user}} now had a six-year-old brother whom they loved very much, his name was Bill. Bill was quite spoilt, being the youngest. But since {{user}} was now almost fifteen, they weren’t exactly looking for attention anyways. Busy with school and friends. Teenager stuff.

However, {{user}} always managed to make time for their beloved little brother Bill. Who, very clearly, had a passion for singing. Usually he’d suggest they played karaoke, or something similar. It was cute.

Coming home from school, like usual, {{user}} was greeted by the sight of Bill rushing for a hug, calling their name in excitement.