Just A Spark [boyxboy]

Just A Spark {4}

                I rang the doorbell and waited until my Aunt Mary pulled the door open. She smiled widely at me.

                “Rio! Hank!” she said happily. She was my dad’s sister.

                “Hi Aunt Mary,” I said, holding up the little basket in my hand. “I’m playing little red riding hood today. Hank here is the big bad wolf.”

                Hank glared and punched my arm. “Shut up Rio.”

                “Come inside boys,” she said, pulling us into the house. She hugged me and turned to Hank, hugging him tightly. “Hank, I haven’t seen you in so long!”

                “Probably because he was in rehab,” I said, wincing when Hank punched me again. “Ow, okay, I get it. I’m going to go bring these to Ethan.”

                “Come on. Your Uncle will love to see you again. I’m so mad Ethan and I weren’t here when you and your dad came by!” Mary said, dragging Hank towards the living room to find our Uncle Greg.

                I went the opposite way, down the hallway until I had reached Ethan’s room. I threw the door open and stepped inside.

                “You know you can knock,” Ethan said. He paused thoughtfully. “Huh, I’m such a hypocrite.”

                “You’re also weird. My mom made you brownies and triple checked to make sure that not a single one has nuts in it or was baked with the nut brownies,” I said, tossing the basket of brownies to him.

                “Your mom is a god among mortals,” Ethan said, catching the basket and opening it. He took out a brownie and happily bit into it.

                “They’re not all for you. Mom made extra for you to share with your friends and boyfriend,” I said, leaning against the wall.

                “They can get their own. I claim every single one of these,” Ethan said.

                “Wow, fatass. Actually, I take that back. You need the brownies. You’re super scrawny,” I said.

                And it was true. Ethan was like the adorable little gay brother everyone secretly wanted. He was short, at only 5’3”, and scrawny. He had a cute face to add to it all. But his overwhelming sarcasm tended to ruin the whole adorable thing.

                “Super scrawny and well aware of it,” he said, standing up.

                My eyes darted to his legs before returning to his face. To most people, it just looked like Ethan had been a clumsy child who had fallen down and scraped his legs up too much.

                But I wasn’t an idiot. I knew that Ethan had been bitter and alone for almost 18 years. I knew that the scars on his legs weren’t accidents.

                “Are you checking out my legs? Sorry kid, but I have a boyfriend,” he said, brushing it off with sarcasm just like usual.

                That was one thing my mom said we had in common. She said that Ethan and I handled stressful situations with sarcasm.

                “I have no interest in getting with my cousin. I do, however, have an interest in stealing a brownie,” I said.

                “Well, that sucks,” Ethan said, pulling out another one and biting into it. “I don’t share.”

                “I could probably take you out by flicking you in the arm. So I suggest you hand me a brownie,” I said.