Everytime You Blink, There's One More [open]

Despite all the bullshit that had happened through the fucking year, he couldn't deny that it was a fine damn day out, and there was no way he wasn't going to enjoy it. The sun was comforting, it's warmth seeping deep into his skin, and a gentle breeze to brush any discomfort away. The only way to spend such a perfect evening? Sprawled out across the grass, near the shade of a tree, at just the right angle for maximum comfort. He lay there for a good while, staring up not at the sky, but at the screen of his old DS, gritting his teeth and slamming his thumbs against the buttons.

"Just fucking die already..." He grumbled to the stubborn Miltank on screen. One of the most annoying pokemon have lived, he swore, completely oblivious to the world around him.

Paris knew the campus already, even before arriving. His numerous older siblings had basically ingrained the map into his mind. So instead of exploring during his first few days, he just sat around. He quickly tired of that, as he was one of the more impatient of the Andrews Crew. He started wandering around the campus and around Rosebury. Even that was boring to the young boy. So he resigned to sitting in the Courtyard, napping under the sun when it was nice.

Today, however, one of his older brothers decided to play his old Pokemon game exceptionally loud. He opened his eyes and sat up, looking at Preston with annoyance. "Would you keep it down?" he said. "Besides, they don't die, that would be cruel. They faint."

The sharp remark hit him out of left field. He could only sniff, keeping his eyes glued on the screen just as the stupid gym leader hit him with another stupid roll-out. "It'll be dead by the time I'm done with it," Preston grumbled, pulling himself up just enough to prop onto his elbow and give Paris the stink eye. "You don't get it. This game is a strategy rpg. It's life or death." All for the title of glorious champion. Vienna would've understood.

Paris laughed dryly. He never particularly understood his brother's obsession for a game that was both old and meant for kids younger than 12. "I'll never understand you, Pres," he said, standing up. It was no use trying to get back to napping now, he was already awake. The boy dusted himself off from being on the ground and headed over to his older brother. "How long have you been playing that today?" he asked, figuring the answer would be something close to four or five hours.

He blinked, looking from Paris to his game, then back again. ... How long had he been playing again? It was with him when he passed out in his bed. He played a bit when he woke up, carried it with him around some, with him when he had his breakfast, and his lunch, and in between. Preston chewed at the inside of his cheek, clasping the small system shut in his hands. "None of your business," the Autumn muttered, sitting up. He reached up and flicked his fingers in Paris' direction, sending a small frenzy of sparks popping in his face. "Name one thing better than this shit."

The sparks only served to make Paris blink and scrunch up his nose. "Pizza, for one. And for another, you have no idea how long you've been playing for, have you?" he replied, flicking sparks back at the older Andrews. His stomach growled loudly at the mention of pizza and hoped his brother didn't hear that. It was getting pretty close to dinner time, plus he had forgotten to eat lunch, so he was doubly hungry.

"Do you ever think about anything but food?" Preston scoffed. Although, he had to have been one of the last people on campus who could have teased his brother over eating. Not when he spent half his free time in the kitchen, when he wasn't annoying his roommate or stuck with a video game in his face. The elder Andrews slid his DS into his pocket and jumped up onto his feet. "I get the hint." He reached over to teasingly ruffle at the boy's hair.

The boy chuckled and swatted Preston's hands away playfully. He fixed his hair with his hands. His "messy" hair was purposefully done. "I think about food just as much as you're playing that game," he said teasingly, sticking his tongue out. He stretched, getting the last bit of sleep out of his system. "Speaking of food, are you cooking tonight? I'm starving,"

He clicked his tongue, eyebrow raised as he looked down at Paris. Who was apparently not even that much shorter than Pres himself, fuck this poor boy's life. "I wasn't planning on it." Pres raised an eyebrow. He would have been fine chowing down on chips and ramen for dinner, but shit. "What do you want? Consider it your welcoming present." Anything at all. He stretched out and let a long yawn, stepping off the lawn.

Paris shrugged, feigning a moment of thought. He already knew what he wanted. "Ever since I mentioned it, pizza does sound pretty good. Your choice of toppings, though. I don't want everything to be about me," the boy replied. Pizza was by far his favorite food, although an argument could could be made for ravioli being his favorite.

He leaned back on his heels, tapping his finger on his chin. A stupid smirk reached the corner of his lips. "Anchovies," he started, stuffing his fingers in his pocket and starting off back towards the building. They could make it easy enough in his dorm. They had all the ingredients he needed there. "Pineapple. Hot Dogs. Potato chips. Peanut butter." He listed each one by one off the top of his head, watching out of the corner of his eye for a reaction. "Sounds good to me."

As Preston listed off the "toppings," Paris's nose scrunched up in disgust. All he could do was imagine the monstrosity that would be created if those toppings were used. "I think the family gift has short-circuited your brain," he replied, sending sparks at the older boy. "I guess I get to pick the toppings then." He followed his brother back to his dorm in a similar manner, with his hands in his pockets. They looked very similar in their walking styles; anyone could tell they were brothers.

He let out a laugh under his breath, quick to get out of the warm heat and slip inside. "That doesn't bode well for you then, lil' Parasect." His light comment nipped back at the younger boy. He'd always found it odd, but he felt more comfortable being around with his yoinger siblings, away from Dublin and Verona anyways. Or maybe it wasn't weird at all. The only one of the oldest without the whole fall-in-love-with-me lifehack gift, maybe he liked being idolozed as the cool older brother.

Or he liked to try and come close to that lame image, anyways.

Thankfully, the walk back to the autumn dorms wasn't any sort of long or perilous journey. He didn't bother to knock as he barged into his common room. (Feli and Kayla would just have to deal with the company, if they were even there.)

"You know you can't hide near me forever," He mused, low and trading. " You have to make friends sometime. I could drag you to a party, if you'd want. Find you a girl or two." He offered Paris a small perk and cleared him a spot on the couch.

Paris's face turned slightly pink when his brother mentioned getting out there and meeting new friends. The pink darkened to a light shade of red when Preston threatened to drag him to parties to meet girls. "You know how well I do with 'people,' Pres. It's not pretty," he replied, sitting on the couch. The last time he had been forced into a social situation he had had a panic attack and ran away like a weirdo. "Please don't drag me anywhere.*"

OOC: Please drag him somewhere

And that was exactly the reason why Preston had to drag his brother out! "There's only one way to make friends in this world," the Autumn mused with a sharp smirk. He tossed his stuff aside and leaned over the back of the couch, pinching away at his little brother's cheek. "Don't worry. I'll teach you all the tricks. Ladies will be falling at your feet." Preston laughed and backed off, disappearing into the kitchen.