title: tyler, the worst brother ever

"What will it take for you to cut that shit out?"

Bryce giggles at this. He pokes Tyler's cheek playfully. "If you give me your soda, then I stop changing your volume and give you the phone."

"Okay, but will you stop poking me in my fucking face?" Tyler glares at Bryce angrily, sliding his bottle of orange soda towards Bryce. "Just because our dad runs this city doesn't mean you can bully people you fuckhole. It's not my fault you broke your phone and are too lazy to get another."

Bryce rolls his eyes over dramatically and leans onto Tyler's shoulder, finally giving Tyler his phone back. "Whatever. Take your phone back, your playlists suck anyways. Log me out of my Twitter please?"

"Hah! How about no," Tyler says with a laugh and a snort. "Ooh, who's this Cartoonz guy and why is he sending nudes?"

Bryce gasps lightly, partially from panic and partially from excitement and reaches to snatch Tyler's phone back. "Wait, he sent nudes?!"

"No, you horny fuck, he didn't send shit. Who even is he?!" Tyler holds the phone out of Bryce's reach, a demanding look on his face.

Bryce rolls his eyes again. "He's Luke, my boyfriend. Remember? Nice hair, lots of muscle, scar over his eye, really nice voice and kinda sings well-"

"I get it, you're gay. Better hope Dad doesn't find out," Tyler laughs. "He runs a fucking mafia, Luke doesn't stand a chance."

Bryce stands up now, crossing his arms and glaring at Tyler. "So what? It's not like Marcel stands a chance against Dad either. Why is my boyfriend the only one being threatened, huh?"

"Because Dad doesn't like me as much as you," Tyler says casually. "And if he knew his angelic little Brycey was dating a fuckboi then he'd murder both me and your boyfriend."

Bryce huffs angrily at this. So what if Tyler's right? That doesn't mean he gets to be a giant dick about it!

"You're such a jerk," Bryce spits angrily. "I don't know how we're related."

"My dad fucked my mom and had you when I was two," Tyler explains. "I'd like to start there. Not to mention we both have blue eyes and the same parents. I'm not a spoiled brat, unlike you, though, so that's about all we have in common."

"Well, I can tell! Besides, I'm the prettier one. People like pretty boys," Bryce says with a laugh.

Tyler doesn't respond, so Bryce takes this as his cue to go away. He

title: unfortunate

Brian's never been fond of bad situations. He gets nervous easily- there's no denying it. It's just been a thing he's always had, unexplainable little bits of anxiety he tries to bury deep down inside him.

It doesn't really explain why he took this job. Being a teacher isn't exactly the most relaxing job in the world, you know? He can't escape stress at work or at home.

Especially when you consider the place he lives in. Just some shady, run down apartment that's within decent distance to his work and pretty damn affordable. So what if the heating doesn't always work? At the very least, he doesn't have to worry about paying twice the rent he already does, especially considering his rent already takes a good bit out of his paycheck.

Damn the state's crappy starting salary for teachers. How is he supposed to pay his rent, his car, and his student debts like this?

He's poor, stupid, and struggling to survive daily life. Brian feels like he has enough on his plate. Today hadn't been the best, to say the least. He woke up late, his car took twenty minutes to turn on, he forgot his lesson plans at home, he's drowning in paperwork and he's pretty sure one of his kids gave him a cold. Not to mention that he started to make a bowl of cereal (it's all he has left) and he didn't even have any milk.

So, like all tired, grumpy second-grade teachers do, Brian went off to go find some milk. Or maybe cheap instant noodles, because college left Brian with an addiction to them. He hadn't felt a need to take his car, since there was a 7-11 down the street that was open all night long, and he knows for a fact that they'd have both milk and instant noodles.

Off he had went, shoving himself into a jacket and some shoes and heading out the door. It was pretty chilly out, and wet from the rain earlier that day. He had zipped his jacket up and scurried down to the glory that is his local 7-11, and had purchased his noodles.

On his way back, Brian had realized two things. For one, he's really out of shape. He hadn't walked more than a block or two, and he had ended up absolutely exhausted. Two, there was an absolutely disgusting scent coming from somewhere down the street. It smelled like rotten fish with a sharp, metallic edge to it. The scent had made Brian scrunch up his nose and pull his jacket up in an attempt to block it out.

He hadn't wanted to stick around longer than he had to