MY LITTLE BROTHER IS DEADPOOL

CHAPTER ONE

IT'S BEEN THREE years. Three years since my mother told me that my father died. Three whole years. Over the past three years, we've grieved and mourned and had my father's funeral. Mom cried endlessly and I hate seeing him like that.
I currently sit in my desk at class. It's raining outside which isn't a surprise in London. It rains almost all the time here. I tried paying attention to the teacher, but my eyes drifted off to a tall, muscular, handsome boy, who's about a year older than I am and chatting with his friends. That boy is the most popular boy in the whole entire school. His name is Matt Murdock.
Now I've had a crush on him since middle school but I've been to shy to open up and ask him out. Let alone he's straight. I've seen him kiss girls and dated them. It's not fair. It's not fair being gay. Now I know how my Mom felt when he was in high school. Anyways, my eyes drifted off to him and my chin rested on my palm as I stared at him dreamily.
I didn't recognize the teacher calling my name until my best friend, Ned Leeds, jabbed me in the ribs with his elbows.
I glared at him and he pointed to my chemistry teacher, Mr. Banks, who has a bushy mustache and black, short hair and takes things seriously, glares at me with his arms crossed. I looked down and blushed.
"Mr. Reynolds, care to explain this situation here?" Mr. Banks says, as he points his ruler to the dry erase board that had a chemistry situation on it.
I scoffed. That is the most easiest situation ever. So, I explained it. After I explained it, I grinned and leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest.
Mr. Banks looks at me surprised.
"Well, at least you were paying attention this time," he says.
I chuckle to myself as Mr. Banks continues ranting on about Issac Newton's Laws. During his rant, I move my eyeballs back over to Matt. Man is he handsome.
He has brown, combed hair with his bangs swept to the sides like my mother's. He mostly wears sunglasses, even in class, and black. He's muscular too.
After chemistry class, I grab my bag and head off to second period: math. But as I was running, I bumped into him.
"Oof!" I say, "I'm so sorry!"
I bend over to pick up my text books but he held out his hand in a stopping sign.
"No need," he says. He bends down and picks them up for me and hands them to me. He takes one good look at me and examines me. "Your Peter aren't you? Peter Reynolds? Son of Tom and Ryan Reynolds?"
I wince when he mentions my father's name. We hardly speak it around the house any more. I nod as I look down.
He cups my chin up to meet his sunglasses. I blush deeply.
"You're beautiful. You look a lot like your Mom, except you have your father's eyes," Matt comments.
I wince again and jerk my head away from his touch. I look down again. "What's wrong?" Matt asks. "You wince everytime I say 'Father'..."
I wince again.
"You don't know don't you?" I ask, looking back up at him.
He just looks confused as heck.
I sighed heavily. "My father died three years ago in a car accident..."
"Oh..." Matt says. "I'm sorry for your loss...I'm sure he's watching over you and your mother right now."
I smile at him, but it's just a small smile. "You really think so?"
He nods. "I know so, Peter."
He hands me a small white card and grins.
"My number, in case you need anything," Matt says.
I gladly take the card and say, "Well, do," and tuck it in my pocket.
Matt smiles at me and walks off. I stare dreamily at him again.
"Peter!" I hear someone call my name. I shake my head and turn around to find Wade standing behind me.
"Oh, hey, Wade," I say, hoisting my bag onto my shoulder and gripping my text books tightly to my chest.
We walk together down the halls.
"What brings you here?" I ask Wade after a while of silence.
"Mom...something's going on with Mom..." Wade says, but he doesn't look back up at me. His eyes stay on the ground.
I freeze and turn around to face him.
"Mom? What about him?" I ask.
"I came home to check on him, see how he's doing, but he's been walking around the house all weird like. And he sounded sleepy too and he smells."
"Oh no..." I say.
Over the past couple weeks after Dad's funeral, Mom's been getting drunk. He's been going out to bars and hooking up with guys who treat him like he's a slave. And whenever Mom is drunk, he would act weird. He would be sleepy. He would sometimes forget to eat and shower. Wade looks at me, brows narrowed.
"What? What's an oh, no, Peter?"
I rush past him, bumping my shoulder into his. Wade follows me.
"Peter?! What's going on?!" Wade calls.
"Mom's drunk! We need to go check on him now!"
We run to the doors but when we get there, the school's principal, Mr. Blake, stops us with arms crossed over his chest and gives us a stern look.
"And where do you think you're going, boys?" Mr. Blake says.
Wade and I exchange looks and give Mr. Blake puppy eyes and we got on our knees and folded our hands together in a prayer way and begged him to let us go.
"Please, Mr. Blake sir!" Wade whines. "Our mother needs us! He's in great danger, sir!"
Mr. Blake scoffs. "Yeah, right. Get back to class you two."
"Please!" I say. "Please, this is serious!"
"And how serious can it be?" Mr. Blake says, raising an eyebrow.
"Our Mom's drunk! He does stupid things when he's drunk! We just want to make sure our Mom is okay and that he's not driving!" I explain.
Surprisingly, Mr. Blake steps aside and let us go. Wade and I stand up and thanked him over and over again, running home in the rain, not caring if we get sick. My text books are back in my locker, in case you were wondering.
Splash, splash, splash! Our feet stomps through the puddles on the sidewalk as we ran. We didn't stop for breath. We just keep running and running. We made it to our house, which is a two story house and big enough to fit a family of five.
I sigh in relief when I see Mom's black Mercedes in the drive way. Good. Mom hasn't left yet. Wade bursts through the front door first and I follow him. My eyes widen when I see the inside. The inside is completely trash.
Beer bottles are thrown every where, maybe five or six of them. Pillows from the couch are thrown into the room. Blankets from the couch are on the floor too. We slowly walk in.
"Mom...?" I call. Nothing. "Mom...?"
Still nothing. Wade walks over to the bottom of the stairs and tries to see if Mom went up the stairs. He gasps when he sees his bedroom door open.
"Wade? What is it?" I ask, when I hear him gasp.
Without answering, Wade speeds up the stairs and rush to his room, calling Mom's name over and over again. I follow him.
"MOM?!" Wade says. "MAMA?!"
We hear a groan coming from Wade's bathroom. Wade and I enter his room and thankfully, Wade's room isn't trash.
"MOM?!" I call.
Groan. We run to the bathroom and gasp. We see our mother laying next to the toilet, clutching his stomach. Mom's hair is messed up and he is still in his normal every day clothing: a flannel t-shirt, blue jeans, and a black leather jacket, which I believe used to be my Aunt Zendaya's but she doesn't wear it anymore so she gave it to Mom. She and Mom are the same size. Mom's dog, Tessa, whimpering next to him and curled up next to Mom.
I crouch down next to him and brushed Mom's sweaty bangs and wipe his tear-stained cheeks.
"Mom...?" I say. "Mom? What happened...?"
Eyes closed, Mom's head sways side to side laizily and he groans, clutching his stomach tighter.
"Everything hurts..." Mom groans. "Everything..."
Wade and I exchange sad looks and I look back at Mom.
"Shhh, Mom. It's okay, I'm right," I whisper to him.
Mom covers his mouth with his hand and pukes in the toilet. I shushed him and say "It's okay" and "Let it out, Mom". After Mom finishes puking, he lays back down and cries.
"Mom. You need to stop drinking," I tell him.
"I can't!" Mom sobs. "He's gone..." Sob. "You're father's dead..." sob.
I sigh. "I know. But this...this isn't gonna help, Mom. You need to see a therapist about this!"
Mom slowly sits up, Wade helping him. Mom groans again and what do ya know, he pukes. In the toilet.
"I-I guess I can try," Mom says after puking. "To see a therapist."
I pick Mom up bridal style in my arms and say, "You better not puke on me, mother."
Mom giggles. I smile softly. He's actually smiling. It's good to hear his laugh again.
"I'll try not too," Mom yawns. He rests his head on my shoulder and I carry him to his bedroom.
Wade pulls back Mom's bed covers and I gently set him down on the bed. Mom groans as I did so. Wade grabs the trash can from Mom and what used to be Dad's bathroom and set it down next to Mom's bed.
"Here's the trash can in case you need to throw up again, Mom," Wade says.
Mom smiles weakly and places a hand on Wade's cheek.
"Thank you. Thank you boys...for everything..." Mom whispers to us.
We smile as Mom drifted off to sleep. I bend down and pecked Mom's forehead.
"Of course, Mom. Sweet dreams," I say.
With that, Mom falls into a deep sleep.