Chapter Text
Crille wakes up on Monday morning to his brother yelling his name from the corridor, and his alarm blaring on his bedside table. It’s too loud for seven in the morning, with the early morning rising sun beaming through his flowing curtains brightly, it’s already giving him a headache. With Tommy not stopping with yelling his name and banging on his door, he climbs out of bed, slamming his palm down on top of the alarm next to his bed, silencing the little device, and opens the door, wiping his blonde hair from his face.
“Shut up, Tommy, it’s seven in the morning!” Crille punches his older brother in the upper arm, definitely not hard enough to bruise in any way, forcing a laugh out of Tommy, who hits him over the back of the head.
“Such a pussy, Crille. Hit harder next time!” And with that, Tommy swings around the banister and bounds down the stairs unnecessarily loudly.
Crille sighs, wipes a tired hand over his face, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes by driving his knuckles into his eyes, and reluctantly makes his way down the stairs after Tommy.
Tommy is always loud and over the top in the mornings for some odd reason when he gets to wake up Crille. Mainly he gets to tease him for staying up until the early morning playing video games, which is the least coolest thing Tommy can think of. Which is stupid if you ask Crille, with Tommy being an idiot, getting injured from climbing small trees with his friends and trying to write music for his band that meets in one of the other boy’s garage every other night to practise. If one of the boy’s hobbies were to be stupid, it’d be Tommy’s dumb hobbies in Crille’s opinion.
Tommy is sitting at the kitchen table scoffing his breakfast like a starved man when Crille sits opposite him, thanking his mother softly as the plate of pancakes is sat infront of him. He picks up his knife and fork and begins to eat, trying to ignore Tommy’s loud voice so early in the morning, like an annoying ringing in his ears he can’t get rid of.
“Mamm! Mamm! Määnin is coming over tonight, just letting you know.” He says with his mouth full, their mother turning around from facing the kitchen counter and raises an eyebrow.
“Does that Jean boy not have a home to himself? He’s here more than he isn’t.”
“He does have a home here. He just.. Prefers here more than his house. You’re not even here tonight anyways, why do you care?” Tommy raises his eyebrow, fork halfway to his mouth.
“Because it’s my house, Tomas. Just behave and take care of your brother.” She rolls her eyes and places her white, steaming mug on the pristine countertop, folding her arms across her chest, “You will take care of Crille, won’t you, Tomas?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Tommy shrugs, not bothering to even look at Crille.
Crille knows that Tommy and Määnin won’t leave Tommy’s room all evening, playing whatever games they play that occupy them for so long without leaving the small room. Last time Määnin stayed over while their mother was at a late night meeting, Tommy and Määnin had managed to dent the wall with Tommy’s headboard, scraping a thin layer of the navy blue paint away, and then fall off of the bed doing whatever they were doing and land with a thud that concerned Crille enough for him to slip his headset off for a second, before he realises how annoyingly loud they were being making weird noises.
So whatever those boys do, it won’t concern Crille, really. He can feed himself with snacks in the cupboard, which is enough for him to survive a night without his mother. If Tommy can have Määnin come over, Crille could invite kids from his art class to come over. Surely, Linda would agree to come over, with her massive crush on Määnin and all. Or Jockum and Svante, they’d agree in an instant.
“You’ll be okay without me here, Crille, won’t you?” His mother walks around the table and strokes the back of Crille’s head gently. Crille nods, with a hum in agreement, continuing eating while Tommy stares at them with a frown, a crease between his eyebrows.
“He’s not a baby, Mamm, he’ll be fine.” Tommy scoffs, rolling his eyes dramatically.
“I know. He acts more grown than you, Tom. But he’s still younger than you, therefore, he is still your responsibility when I am not here. I trust you and possibly Jean, to take care of him. Even if all you do is ask if he is okay once or twice.”
She presses a kiss to Crille’s hair and walks over to Tommy, doing the same to him as much as he protests by flailing around in his seat, trying to dodge his mothers touch. She grabs his shoulders and kisses his temple and cheek, ruffling his blondish brown hair, making it stick up. Tommy groans and smooths his hair back down with his palm. Crille thinks he looks like an idiot when he does that, especially when he puts his hat on and refuses to take it off, just like Määnin refuses to take his sunglasses off. But Crille is sure, by that rumor that Määnin’s sunglasses are actually prescription glasses, just like normal glasses would be, but they just have the added effect of being tinted. Crille doesn’t want to know the outcome of what asking Määnin would be like. Crille’s doing pretty well to not be beaten up by his brother or his stupid friends.
“Anyways, boys, I’ve got to go.” She strokes the back of Tommy’s neck lightly, flashing a sweet smile to Crille, who reciprocates before looking back down at the meal. His knife and fork hit the table with a gentle thud as he cradles a hot cup of coffee in his hand. “Have a great day at school, both of you. Tell Jean he’s welcome anytime, Tom.”
“Will do, Mamm. See you later.” Tommy mumbles, standing up from the table, chair screeching as it is forcefully pushed back. He scoops his empty plate and mug and deposits them in the sink. Crille recognises that as a sign of Tommy leaving them there so he can force and intimidate him into doing the dishes for him. That’s how lazy and a dick Tommy is. All to hang out with Määnin and make weird noises all night. Brilliant. Crille can’t wait to get home, maybe he’ll stop at Jockum’s house instead, Jockum’s brother and his friend don’t make weird noises in the room next door. It’s just Tommy and Määnin being weirdos.
Crille empties the last of his plate and slides them into the sink too, Tommy ruffling his hair, messing it up. Crille groans and smooths it out, not to the ridiculous state Tommy prefers his hair in for some reason, just patting it down enough to not look like he got shocked by lightning.
The front door closes with a click, and Tommy begins to retreat upstairs, with Crille following behind to get dressed too.
Once in his room, Crille pulls a random shirt from his floor, then zips his usual jacket up all the way to hide the print on the front, knowing when Tommy sees it, he’ll take the piss out of him until he changes it in embarrassment, making him late as a result. He sits on his unmade bed and yanks up his black jeans, the ones Daisy and Kristian had complimented the other week. So they must be good enough.
From his chair tucked into his desk, he scoops up his green cap, fixing it on his head backwards, like he has always done, and checks its position on his head in the mirror above his desk. The same mirror Tommy had called gay when he got it installed with his own birthday money. Crille lifts up the hat and pushes his hair back, then pushes his hat down. Perfect.
When he leaves his room, now dressed, he notices the bathroom door is closed and the water is running. Crille rolls his eyes and bangs on the door with a closed fist.
“Tommy! Hurry up, you dick! You take forever.” He groans.
Tommy yells back, because of course he does. Crille knows his brother well enough to know that he takes forever in the one bathroom on purpose and is extremely loud for no reason at all. Crille doesn’t know how his friends put up with the same shit he has too, maybe they are the same, loud, arrogant and unusually obnoxious for an 18 year old boy in his last year of school.
Eventually the door opens, and Tommy emerges. Wearing his jeans with the suspicious stain on his thigh and the white shirt tucked into the blue jeans with the american flag on it, but the blue is a lighter shade and instead of the fifty stars in the corner, it’s the Vörå coat of arms. Underneath, it says ‘Vörjeans’, which, since the beginning, Crille has been unsure whether it’s a joke for it to sound suspiciously like ‘virgins’ or Tommy is so oblivious to the coincidence. Once again, Crille really, really, doesn’t want to ask.
Tommy has his cap on too, his ‘Fuck You I Drive A Volvo’ hat, the hat he bought at the fair last year and decided to make his whole personality revolve around it since. Their mother had disapproved of the hat for obvious reasons, telling him it was a silly purchase influenced by that Jean-Filip boy. And Crille had found it hilarious because Tommy is still unable to drive, failing his test multiple times, hell, even Määnin has his license, even though everyone thinks the little card is forged and Määnin just must be a good enough driver to not be flagged. Tommy, however, is an extremely bad driver.
His denim jacket is dirty, and reeks of beer and cigarettes, once again, probably from Määnin. They spend so much time together, they smell like one another. Crille decides to put no more thought into his brother’s choice of clothes and pushes past him, with Tommy purposefully walking into his shoulder, nearly knocking him over with the force.
“Dick.” Crille mumbles under his breath.
Tommy doesn’t reply, instead, walks into his room, grabs his bag and stomps his way down the stairs. His friends are probably waiting for him outside. When he looks out of the shitty bathroom window, he spots a taller boy, dressed in double denim with his jacket buttoned all the way up, holding a trip in one hand, the other clasped around his backpack strap, he’s wearing a black cap that says something on the front, like Tommy’s. The other man is Määnin, shorter, black shirt and denim jacket he’s sure Tommy’s worn in the past, and the boots are weird too, having flames up the side. Too much for a regular day at school. He looks like he robbed a cowboy on the way here. He has his sunglasses and his hair cut into a shaggy mullet, with his upper lip and chin covered in a smattering of facial hair. Tommy runs straight into him, for a hug Crille presumes, which makes him recoil in cringe. Määnin chuckles, petting his back and Tommy pulls away and straightens up, scratching the back of his head in a weird nervousness Crille has only ever seen Tommy have around Määnin. After that, they start walking, like some tacky tribute band for a dead group from the ‘70s.
Crille brushes his teeth, ties his shoelaces and grabs his bag. In the distance, he can see Jockum and Svante. Danne must be skipping today. He grabs his bag and locks the door behind himself.
His friends are a breath of fresh air compared to Tommy. Thank God he isn’t like him in any way at all. Sharing a last name and a look is nothing compared to personality.