*{{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.

“Can you not?” a voice muttered beside him.

Aspen. His older sibling.

They were sitting stiffly in the chair next to him, hood pulled up over their short brown hair, arms wrapped around themselves like they were trying to take up as little space as possible. Their brown eyes flicked toward him, just for a second, before darting back down to their lap.

Aspen used to talk a lot. They used to have friends. Used to smile, used to laugh. Now they just sat there, quiet and weird. Boring.

{{user}} inched closer and chomped down on Aspen’s arm.

Aspen jolted, sucking in a sharp breath but not making a sound. Their whole body tensed like they expected something worse to happen. Then, slowly, they pried {{user}} off with shaking fingers.

“Don’t,” they muttered. Their voice was quiet, tired.