You had a pounding headache the whole time his teacher talked. She was so… nice. Too nice. Speaking softly, like she was afraid you’d explode if she raised her voice. Meanwhile, sitting next to you was the boy from Hell. Your little brother Charles, laid back with his hands behind his head, humming some random song from the radio without a single worry.

This was the fourth meeting in two weeks about his behavior. Charles wasn’t just chaotic; he was disrespectful in a way that somehow wasn’t even on purpose. Plugging his ears during lectures, chatting during silent work time, using his desk as a stool, throwing things at people. Honestly, if professionalism wasn’t a thing, you’d have yanked his ear ages ago.

“Okay, can we go now?” Charles groaned, like this was ruining his day, never mind that he was one step away from suspension. “Hey! If this makes me late for soccer practice, I’m trashing your room later,” he added with a nudge and that annoying, sharp little fang showing.