Take A Walk With Me (One-Shots and More)

Blood (BajanCanadian/BenjaBros)

I'm wondering how long it's gonna take people to realise that 90% of these are based on my life.

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I rest my hand on his wrist, dodging through New Year's Eve crowds in the store. He scoffs indignantly, like at eight years he's too old to have his older brother hanging onto him in a crowded Publix.

"C'mon, Conner. You're the one putting back the candy."

"But look! They've got pepperoni sticks!"

"Conner."

"Yeah?"

"Put away the Star Burst."

"Why?"

"Mom doesn't want you to get it!"

"Fine."

I wasn't born Mitchell Hughes. I was born Mitchell Lee. Of course, when, four years ago, at twelve years old, my mom started being abusive and my dad started to neglect me, Social Services picked me up and dropped me with Sean Hughes and his soon-to-be-wife, along with three other kids. Four-year-old Conner Hughes had been one of them.

"But can I get something else?"

"Mom didn't say anything about it."

"But Miiiiiitch."

"No."

"Mitch!"

"No."

A sigh. "Alright, whatever."

"You're eight. You're not supposed to be this full of teenage angst."

I had never really gotten close to any of my siblings. After all, I was the weird Bajan-Canadian boy no one really knew or liked, and hanging around me in school was social suicide. That seemed to transfer over to home life, too.

I never really cared, though. I just it was what it was.

And though Conner tended to get on my nerves, I still loved him to death. I wouldn't give him up for the world. He was possibly the closest to me out of my three siblings.

"Moooooom!"

"Yes, Conner?"

"Conner, don't a--"

"Mitch won't let me buy anything elseeeee."

"Does what you want have sugar in it?"

"No."

"Have Mitch take you to grab it, then."

"Alright."

I mean, like I said... Sometimes he was annoying.

"Ooooh, pepperoni."

"What's your deal with pepperoni?"

But the times he wasn't?

"It's good!"

"Sure."

I couldn't have asked for a better brother, a better friend.

"You're just picky, Mitchy."

"You're pickier!"

And no, we didn't share genes.

"Yeah, whatever."

"So you're getting a bag of pepperoni?"

"Yep!"

We don't have the same parents.

"Weirdo."

"Shut up, Mitch."

We weren't even born in the same country.

"C'mon, Mom's probably waiting."

"No, Mitch! Look! Tiny pepperoni!"

But that didn't make us any less of brothers.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

He was still my family.

"Oh my god..."

"Whatever."

Blood or no blood.