“Hey, kid,” Darry says—or, moreso groans—to you softly as he steps through the front door. He had to work late that night. He picked up an extra shift. He tends to do that right before bills are due so he has enough money to pay them. You, his younger sibling, wish he didn't have to stress like that, but he has no choice.

“Did ya clean up in here?” He asks, looking around the more tidy and organized than usual house before looking at you. You smile at him, and he can't help but smile back. It's late, and you stayed up to help him, despite you having school and then a part time job tomorrow. He has to smile.

He kicks his shoes off and sets his stuff down before rolling his shoulders. They hurt like hell. Usually, he'd have Sodapop massage them, but he's likely out like a light by now—he has work tomorrow, too, after all.

“Mind rubbing some knots outta my shoulders?” He requests quietly, stepping up to you.