CHRIS HENDERSON:
âAnd youâre not going to tell me? I donât see the sense in that.â he drew a pointed look, as if disappointed his brother would even consider such a thing. Even more questionable, Doug seemed to get a bit more hasty when he mentioned the nightmares. They only woke him up daily, seeing as their parents had yet to give them their own rooms. If he knew his brother, he knew this was bothering him in ways that could not be expressed in words. That wasnât their thing. Especially troubles.  âAw- donât be like that.â he protested with a touch of sympathy. âOf course you need a wingman. Especially with that attitude.â Chris eyed a mini convertible, moving towards it as he looked back at his brother. He didnât need to say it for Doug to pick up on what he was thinking. Convertibles were always their weakness.
âI donât know....â He wasnât sure if he should tell his brother who he was interested in. Of course he could trust Chris, but who was to say there wouldnât be a time when he decides to hold it over his head? The truth is, he was depressed and knew Chris could feel the shift in his energy. He wasnât being as fun or goofy anymore. There were long stretches of silence and deeper inhales from a half-empty pack of cigarettes. His sweat also smelled like cheap liquor. All telltale signs that heâd been in a fucked up head-space. âYou ever feel, like, one of us was a mistake? Like, only one should have been born?â Everyone has a light and dark side, but maybe Doug was all darkness. Maybe he shouldnât have been a whole person. It should have just been Chris, evening out the light and dark.Â
âWhat do you know about girls?â At first it was said with mockery, but then he was serious. âThe head-games, the interest followed by disinterest.â he thought Faye was into him but it didnât feel like it anymore. âHow do you know which part is real, the interest or the disinterest. What part of it all is a game? All of it? And if so, why?âÂ









