After a grueling day of forcing myself to pay attention in pointless classes and struggle through piles of homework that I can't be bothered to give a fuck about, I'm ready to go home to my bed, where I can enjoy uninterrupted time with my YouTube, Netflix, or Tumblr.

The buses line up outside of the school in one long line, engines rumbling and doors sliding open for the onslaught of student boarders. I find mine quickly and get on before anyone else has the chance to. I walk to my seat at the back, headphones blaring a random Nirvana song.

I close my eyes and try to relax. I know that when the other kids make their way to the bus, my time for peace will be over. However, I soon find that I can't seem to enjoy my respite. I know that, by all laws of nature and creation, I should be enjoying it. I just can't seem to, though. The fog has invaded all corners of my mind now. I think it just might take over.

When the bus drops me off at my stop, I have a fresh welt across the side of my face from a ballpoint pen, a few bits of paper down my shirt, and the slurs they tossed at me burned into my memory.

I call into the nothingness as I enter my house. "I'm home!" To my surprise, a familiar voice shouts down the stairs in response.

"I'm home, too!"

A smile breaks out on my face, the first in at least a few days, and I drop my bag and race up the stairs to meet my older brother.

"Hey, Dani-ba-bani," Nick says, ruffling my hair affectionately. "I missed you at college."

"I missed you here," I state morosely.

From the moment I was born, Nick has been looking out for me. He was a father to me after my own father left, nine years ago. Unlike our father, Nick never cared what or who I was. Before he went to college, Nick was my one constant.

"I know," Nick says, drawing me back into the present. "I wish I didn't have to go and I could just stay home with you. But if I ever want to be an engineer, I've got to go."

"Yeah, I know," I reply, throwing on my best fake smile. "And I want you to. Don't feel bad about going; I want to see you out there engineering it up, man."

This much is true; I do want Nick to be able to do what he loves. In fact, I often feel guilty about how much responsibility he feels he has for me. But there's still a small, hopelessly selfish part of my brain that wishes he could just stay with me forever.

"So what've you been up to?" Nick asks, throwing an arm around my shoulders as we walk downstairs to retrieve my discarded bag. "Are you still doing that Wattpad thing?"

I feel my cheeks flush at the mention of the hobby that I've recently taken up. "Um, yeah," I respond. "Yeah, I just posted a chapter to my latest book on there yesterday."

"Oh, wow," Nick says. "That's great, little bro." Softer, he adds, "I'm glad you're doing something that makes you happy."

I look away from him, focusing all of my attention on picking up my backpack and beginning to climb the stairs. "Yeah," I manage to croak back in response.

Unlike my mother, who had no idea until about four months ago, my...issues have never been a secret to Nick. He knew from the very start. I asked him about it once, how he knew. He simply smiled and said, "Big brother powers."

It was Nick who slipped the blue folder containing articles about major depression underneath my pillow. It was Nick who was always at my door, asking to play cards or shoot baskets or teach him piano. And when I said no, claiming that I was too tired, it was Nick who sat with me in silent, unwavering support.

"Hey," Nick snaps his fingers in front of my face to get my attention. "What's going on in that big brain of yours?"

"Nothing," I reply, flashing him a dazzling smile that I hope conveys my nonverbal 'I'm fine' convincingly.

Nick opens his mouth to protest, but is interrupted by our mother emerging from the kitchen. "Boys? Is that you?"

"No, it's murderers come to kill you," I reply without missing a beat. "Would you prefer the knife or the machete, Mrs. Evans?"

Mom makes a face at me and replies, "No need for the rudeness, Daniel."

"Sorry," I say, not sorry at all. "It's in my blood."

This insult cuts her deep, I can see, and I feel a tiny bit remorseful for it. She purses her lips and says thinly, "Let me know if you guys need anything," before walking pointedly back to the kitchen, her hands clutched into hopeless fists that she'll never act on at her sides.

Nick sighs and head-slaps me gently. "Give her a break, will you?"

"Why should I?" I reply bitterly.

"She didn't do anything," Nick points out.

I whirl on him, eyes flashing with anger. "Exactly! That's the point! She didn't do anything! She just sat back and watched it happen."

The anger has given way to an almost indescribable sadness, and I can feel tears burning the back of my eyelids. I wipe them away hurriedly, hoping Nick won't see.

Of course, he does.

"Ah, kid," he says softly. "Come on. Come here." He pulls me into his chest, clearly intending for me to cry out my sorrows on him like I did so many times before he went away.

"No," I state firmly, catching him by surprise. I shove myself away from his chest. "That's okay, Nick. I'm okay. Really." He frowns deeply. I can tell he is about to say something, so I start walking towards my room quickly.

"Kid, wait," Nick grabs my arm in an attempt to stop me. I shake him off, the tears returning painfully now. It takes every ounce of willpower left in me to stop them from spilling over.

"What is it?" Nick's tone has changed from confused to desperate, and he grabs at the edges of my shirt wildly. "Hey, Dan, what's going on?"

"Nothing!" I insist. "Really, Nick, I'm fine."

I won't cry on you.

Not anymore.

I'm stronger than that.

"Okay." Nick gives up. "Do you want to play some rummy or something, then?"

I think back to all of the times that Nick and I have challenged each other in card games, usually with me winning, and feel a smile return to my face. So even though my hands are shaking with need and my skin stings beneath my black leather jacket, I blink back the lingering tears and nod.

"Yeah, I'd like that."