My Brothers

Chapter 42: Daniel's Birthday

D A N I E L

This was so fucking stupid.

I grabbed my phone and walked out of my room. It was so quiet. As I was about to walk outside, Alex stopped me.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"To celebrate my birthday," I muttered.

"Ethan and Brandon will be coming back soon," He said. "Why don't you wait for them? We were going to celebrate—"

"Yeah, we were," I snapped. "Until our fucking family decided to create this stupid shit. I told you guys not to fucking do it. None of you listened to me!"

Alex sighed. "Daniel, we're sorry. You were right. You warned us about him and how he was probably lying, but we're sorry."

I was pissed, but who wasn't at this point? When my 4 older brothers told me about convincing Mike to leave his "side chick", they said our mom was his actual girlfriend.

I knew something was up and I told them not to do it and just to let Mike go. But no, they didn't listen to me. They did it and now look at everyone.

"No," I said sharply. "It was already a red flag that he had a "side chick" already, but he literally created this whole story. He said he didn't have a family, so you guys listened. Are you kidding me?"

"Daniel—"

"You guys didn't listen to me and I'm tired of getting dragged in this shit," I said.

Alex went quiet, and after a while, he spoke up. "Happy birthday..."

"Thanks," I mumbled, walking out.

The warm breeze hit me and I felt so much better just being outside. I texted my friends.

me: hey, is anyone down to hang out?

carter: sorry, man. i can't...

lander: yeah, me neither. i have to help my parents with something.

elijah: i can't sorry

lander: it's your birthday, right?

me: yeah

carter: happy birthday

elijah: hbd daniel

me: thanks

I shut off my phone and sighed, putting my hands in my pockets. I walked towards the park nearby. I sat on the swings and watched as little kids ran around, their parents at the bench.

Happy birthday to me, I guess.

Then a soccer ball rolled towards me and it hit my leg, making me look up. A small kid, maybe 10 ran up to me, his blonde hair messed up and his extremely bright blue eyes standing out.

"Sorry," he said, grabbing the the soccer ball and running away.

I went back on my phone and then after a while, the soccer ball came back, but this time, it hit my arm, the chains on the swing rattling.