"Mitchell, I'll be fine, don't worry."

The raven-haired boy crossed his arms, shaking his head and looking at his laptop screen intently with his sapphire eyes, "I don't like you going out, alone, this late at night," He grumbled quietly.

"I do this all the time; I'm just going down the block to meet my boyfriend. And it's not even that late," The green-eyed boy replied, fixing his hair in the bathroom mirror.

"It's seven o'clock PM, Oliver, that's late enough for me. And I don't care if you do this all the time, I'm still going to worry about you. I only found out a month ago that I had a twin brother that I had no interaction with for twelve years! I'm not going to lose you when I only just found you," Mitchell said with a frown.

Oliver looked away from the mirror to his brother who sat on the bed, likely typing up another short story for his Writer's Club, and smiled softly at him. "You worry too much," He said, walking over to him and sitting down.

Mitchell looked at Oliver over the top of his dark-rimmed reading glasses, shrugging, "It's my job. Somebody has to fret over you, it might as well be me. I am your brother, after all."

Oliver chuckled, taking the glasses off of Mitchell and shaking his head, "Brandon is my brother, too. And what about Phoebe? Or Mom? Can't they fret over me?" He teased.

"Brandon is in his twenties and doesn't live here, Phoebe is two years younger than us, plus she has Down Syndrome, so it's our job to take care of her, not vice versa, and Rosemary- erm...Mom, has other work to do. She's a single mother raising a family of two teenaged boys, and a middle-school girl, she doesn't need any more pressure. Besides, I'm your twin, so I'm closest to you, anyway."

Oliver giggled, leaning against his twin happily, "You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

"I have to come up with quick retorts in order to deal with the idiots at school," Mitchell said simply, looking back to his computer screen.

"I always did admire that about you. How you don't care what anyone else says, and do whatever you want, when you want to."

Mitchell nodded, "I guess that's a nice trait. I'm the most hated kid in town because of it, but hey, what are you going to do? I'm moving onward and upward from this point, and nobody is going to stop me."

Oliver mussed Mitchell's hair, "You're ambitious, too."

"I've always been like that, you are too. You've known what you want since you were six, you plan on moving to an apartment in New York and auditioning for either the role of Elphaba or Fiyero in a production of Wicked, eventually becoming a huge Broadway star, and I have no doubts of you achieving that goal."

"You're sweet."

Mitchell shook his head, "Not really, but thanks anyway."

Oliver kissed his cheek with a smile, standing up and putting on a cream-colored jacket, "I'm on my way out, any last-minute advice?"

Mitchell tapped his finger against his chin, feigning thought, "Hm...Don't go into any dark alleys, and keep your hands above waist-level."

Oliver snorted, laughing and moving toward the bedroom door, "Goodbye, Mitchell."

"Bye, Ollie...Be careful."


Yeah, so that was that. I wrote it just because I wanted to. Nobody will probably read this, but I'm keeping it anyway. I kind of like it, but whatever.

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