01 || When the Plane Lands

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"That's the thing about pain, it demands to be felt." -Augustus Waters, The Fault in Our Stars



"Tyler, stop it!" I whisper-yelled to my older brother Tyler as he-blech-puts another handful of yogurt in my... Well, my other brother's hair, as if it were hair gel. And on a fucking airplane of all places.

"Quit acting like your mad," he said. "Look at the size of the grin on your face."

Can you blame me? It's not everyday that you witness someone put many handfuls of yogurt in his twin brother's hair.

You're supposed to be stopping him, said my conscience. Also known as 'the little voice in my head I never listen to.'

Terrence lets out a snore, and slightly tilts his head, and we both jut backward on our seats out of caution.

"Sheesh, have you ever met someone of a deep sleeper as him?" I asked.

"Well, yeah. There was that one time-" He didn't get to finish his sentence before a cupped hand appeared out of nowhere with gross, brown liquid, hitting him in his right cheek.

I snorted so loud I wouldn't be surprised if everyone back at my hometown would've heard me.

"Oh, what the--?" Tyler exclaimed, turning his head around to an awake Terrence. He pointed at his hair. "What is this? It smells like expired milk!"

"You're asking me? You just dumped..." Terrence stopped mid-sentence to wipe some of the liquid off of his cheek and sniff it. "I don't even know what this is."

After he had wiped the liquid off, he used my sleeve to remove it from his hand, immediately causing me to gasp and hit his arm.

"That's gravy, you idiot. At least it wasn't on your hair!" Tyler once again pointed at his hair, and I chuckled, but immediately covered it with a cough.

"Oh, well, at least I used something that people actually eat, gravy that smells like it's ten years old!"

Those two are smiling while arguing. Why do they always do that?

The twins and I, despite our two-year age gap, are just like the Three Musketeers. Except that sometimes those two musketeers work together to anger the youngest musketeer. Me.

In fact, those two musketeers were closer together than with me. Duh, they're twins. They're a lot like Fred and George from Harry Potter, those little fuckers always thinking about the same exact thing and tormenting others with their pranks.

But, really, who doesn't want a twin? No, no, ignore the 'twins may have been born together but have completely different personalities' thing. That's bullshit. No force on Earth could separate those two.

And I found that amazing.

And I feel like every twin has 'their thing.' Whether it would be dressing exactly the same (I didn't say that was good) or always having the same grades, there would always be that one thing about them. These two? No matter what, they're together. Forever.

Not to mention that annoying telepathy thing they do.

"You've got to be kidding me," they both said in unison.

That's exactly what I meant.

"Tyler?" asked my mother, standing on the aisle of the airplane beside our seats, appearing absolutely out of nowhere.

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