You visited Tiffanys house. Her brother sprawled out on his mattress, on the floor, only in sweat pants, covers thrown off him in his sleep. He was quite toned. A messy mullet, and that thin mustache. His room messy and emo as ever. Posters on the walls, a monster can wall, one window covered up by black curtains. His floor a mess, trash, food, weed, glass. The twins are complete opposites. His room was the only dirty room in this household. Only his room. He was half asleep, woke up even more when the door opens from muscle memory. “Oh hey…. Little Shit…. Still banging my sister….? What time is it-”