The Bad Boy Likes Batman

Chapter One: Manhattan

The last box slipped from my hands, hitting the awaiting pile below with a loud, resounding thud; its valuables within, clashing and clicking heads just as loudly, adding to my pain-induced headache. My arms were broken. Literally. The whole day had been spent filling the new house with stacks of boxes. Heavy, heavy boxes. Ones that broke your frickin arms.

5 minutes passed before my gaze shifted, deciding to finally stop glaring at the damn brown weightlifters to take a brief looked around the place I was going to call 'home' for the next few years of my lame teenage life.

White walls, White carpeting, no furnitures, no frames, no nothing. It wasn't much with its emptiness and dull colours, something which didn't really come as a surprise as, after all, we had just about moved in. The house was a lot bigger than the last back in Texas. A three floored, four bedroomed house accompanied by a decently sized garden, one that seriously needed to be sorted out, and an impressive-looking white balcony that hung from a room on the top floor. Sounds pretty average right?

After have lived in a small, worn out, and incredibly cramped house- if thats what you could call it- all my life, this place felt like freedom with a breath of fresh air. Better yet, I didn't have to share rooms with my annoying twin brother anymore. An experience which was fun at times with its midnight snacks and all-nighters, though finally getting away from his arrogance and gross boyish habits was more than awesome; for example how he'd dump his socks wherever his idiotic self felt like, favourite spot being on my bed... on my pillows.

"Alex, lazy ass. Give me a hand." Talk of the devil.

I turned to see Mason coming through the doorway, supporting a box full to the brim with Moms precious collected souvenirs and old embarrassing baby photos, a few making me cringe as they peeked out through the gaps. No matter how much Mason and I begged Mom to bin those damn things, she just wouldn't. She loved them as much as she loved blackmailing us with them.

The stuffed box looked heavy, as if the cardboard holding it together would suddenly give way, spilling Moms treasures all over the floor, shattering them. A moment of silence passed, where I contemplated between being nice or taking revenge on the spider prank he pulled on me this morning, Should I?... "No"

"Pleaaaassseee" His voice was over strained with obvious exaggeration whilst his mouth formed into a sad pout.

"Just drop it. Maybe all those stupid pictures might rip." Now that was a good idea. Just as long as Mason took the blame.

"Fuck no. You go ahead and do it. Good luck when Ma finds out though." He shook his head, replying in a tone that spoke its own words of 'You wouldn't dare', cause Mom was really that bad when she was pissed at you. "Now help me with the box since you're the best sister I have."

"Im the only sister you have." As enjoyable as it was to watch my idiot brother weep in pain, I walked over to help the ass like the perfect little sister I was. Sadly he was born first, a spot where I should've been since I was much more sensible than that brat... most of the time. Well whatever, I'm just grateful for being the one to develop a brain first.

"Why does Mom have a picture of me hugging a weird coloured pineapple?...Oh wait." Mason let out a small childish laugh. "Thats you."

Scratch that. Im grateful for being the only one to develop a brain.

I snatched the photo out of the box, glancing at it before looking away scowling. It was of me and Mason at six years old, back when we looked almost identical with our same height, same Mickey Mouse clothes, and same cringing-worthy short haircuts... Actually that would only be mine since Mason looked pretty cute with his messy blonde hair and huge smile. As for me, Mom had tied my dark brown spikes into a small ponytail on top of my head, making the short hairs stick up like a... pineapple.