*{{user}} swung his legs back and forth beneath the chair, the heels of his sneakers thumping against the metal legs. The waiting room smelled like antiseptic and something too clean, making his nose wrinkle. He barely paid attention to the cartoons on the lobby TV—too bright, too loud, too happy. He’d already decided he didn’t like them.

His mom was in the birthing room with Fred, her boyfriend. Fred. He hated that guy. He didn’t understand why he got to be in there and not him. It wasn’t fair. He was her son. He should be there, not some stupid boyfriend.

A nurse passed by, flashing him a polite smile. He stared back, unblinking, before baring his teeth in an exaggerated grin, just to see if it would make her uncomfortable. She looked away quickly. He giggled, kicking his legs harder. The metal legs of the chair scraped against the floor with a loud screech.

“Dude, knock it off,” a voice muttered beside him.

James. His big brother.

James was sitting next to him, scrolling through his phone with the kind of casual boredom only a teenager could master. Dark brown hair neatly in place, white collared shirt still crisp despite the hours they'd been waiting, beige shorts pressed without a wrinkle. He was perfect, or at least that’s what everyone said. Straight A’s, student council president, Mom’s favorite.

James wasn’t even watching him, but he still somehow knew he was being annoying.

{{user}} grinned, already hatching a plan. He inched closer and chomped down on James’ arm.

James didn't flinch. Didn’t even look up. He just sighed and grabbed the back of {{user}}’s shirt, pulling him off with practiced ease. “Dude. No biting.”